#personally i don’t think they’d get along but if you do don’t let me stop your party

[zarstarss]

Universe where Silco adopted Viktor and He’s finding out his son has become god

a heartwarming reunion 💙

[stealingyourbones]

Danny, being a halfa, falls under the strange category of people who can converse with the dead and act in their names. Most mediums simply convey messages. It was rare for someone to be able to fulfill a ghost’s dying request and have that act tied to the ghost’s core.

Honestly it’s annoying.

He doesn’t get any alone time anymore for homework or hobbies. The dead are constantly pestering Danny to help with their desires - which, sure, it helps them move on which means they’re out of Danny’s hair, but come on!! Give a guy a break! Just because he doesn’t need as much sleep as a fully living person doesn’t mean he can go without entirely!

“No Scott,” Danny repeated for the fifth time, “I am not flying to California tonight. Do you know how far that is? Literally the other coast of this massive continent. Meet me there in August like everyone else on the list.���

Spending the first spring break of college creating a map and calendar for Last Rites was not something Danny expected when he moved to Gotham.

Why did this city have so many ghosts?! It was ridiculous. And he thought Amity Park was bad? At least the ghosts here were mostly Shades. Not visible to anyone unless they were also dead-adjacent or had The Sight or a bloodline curse or a magical amulet… you know what? There were enough of those in this curse ridden city, why couldn’t these ghosts go find one of those people instead? Danny was exhausted.

So exhausted he didn’t notice the vigilante dropping down from the rooftop.

“Hey there kid, you alri-”

“Yeah yeah,” Danny waved a hand dismissively at the voice without looking up. “Wait in line like everyone else. But honestly you’d be better off coming back tomorrow when I’ve had some sleep.”

“Think maybe you outta get started on that sleep now, bud?” the voice behind him spoke in a calm careful tone.

One Danny had heard all too often since dying.

His head jerked sideways to stare wide-eyed at Nightwing, who tensed just a little as if expecting Danny to run or fight. Instead he let out a groan and slumped onto the park bench, rubbing his eyes to ease the burn of fatigue. He’d been coming out to this park at the corner of campus each night to keep the Shades from mobbing him all day long in classes, but they’d spread the word around Gotham that he was here and his precious spring break had become a non-stop line of requests and arguments. Made sense he’d caught the attention of one of the Bats. Should have expected it sooner.

Danny ignored all the voices around him and looked at Nightwing directly as he prattled off his usual list when someone caught him talking to thin air.

“No, I’m not hallucinating. I got all my Rogue Gallery immunizations the day I checked onto campus. I’m not schizophrenic. The only meds I take are for adhd and the occasional Tylenol. I’m not a danger to myself or others. Unless they attack me first.”

Nightwing nodded along, but tilted his head at the end.

“I’m talking to the dead,” Danny answered the unspoken question in a tired monotone, waiting for the usual skepticism or plea for help with lost loved ones.

“Oh. Okay then.”

“What?” That wasn’t expected.

“No yeah, that makes sense.”

Danny was sure his jaw was on the ground. “You… you believe me?”

“Well sure,” the hero shrugged and chuckled. “I can’t see ghosts myself but I know a couple magicians who work with one, and my little brother Robin has a ghost on his team - she’s actually visible most of the time so I don’t know if that’s a special skill or something else going on. But I’m glad you’re okay and don’t need any emergency medication. I know a couple 24 hour pharmacies that would help but it’s nice when they’re not needed. We don’t get a lot of mediums around Gotham holding court at night so you really can’t fault me for checking in.”

Danny was still floating in the relief of not being questioned or doubted. That hadn’t happened since Jazz found out his secret. She’d had plenty of questions about his halfa status, of course, but never called him crazy for talking to things others couldn’t see. Even Sam and Tucker would forget sometimes and give him strange looks before realizing he was dealing with a Shade, Wisp, or Memory.

He didn’t realize he was wobbling until Nightwing’s arms shot out to stabilize him.

Danny blinked up at the pretty face that was trying not to chuckle, held by strong arms, and so far past tired he might be getting delirious after all because his brain seemed to have lost its filter and he said out loud,

“You actually believe me. I think I love you.”

Then the horrifying embarrassment hit at the same time as Nightwing’s laughter. Which… sounded delighted rather than mean spirited?

“Well now it’s your turn to wait in line, cuz that’s the fourth confession I’ve had this week!” They both devolved into snorts and giggles, Danny still relying on those arms for balance, but when they’d caught their breath the vigilante said, “Come on, you’ve really got to get some sleep. I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”

Ignoring the whispers and grumbles of the Shades was easier with someone walking beside him.

This is so incredibly cute oml. It’s so rare to see the bats actually go with the flow and god it isn’t done enough. 12/10 immaculate, glorious.

The entire plot I can see so clearly in my mind dude:

Danny chatting to Nightwing as they walk to his dorm

Nightwing asking some casual questions about ghosts and Danny asking about vigilante work.

Nightwing informs the Bats of Danny as he might be a valuable asset in the future.

Nightwing helps free shades with Danny and he realizes why Danny is so incredibly tired all the time.

Nightwing managing to stumble into Danny every day of his break, slowly getting to know each other more and more and becoming really good friends (perhaps lovers 👀).

Wonderful stuff man ty for the ask!

[hello-sweetheart]

You know that trope where Person A thinks Person B is just being nice but they’re actually flirting. What about the opposite? Person A misreading their behavior and being the only one falling impossibly in love.

Clumsy in Love Part 2

It’s hard to listen to Eddie talk about this guy the same way Steve wished he did about him. Eddie, already so full of life and words, doesn’t seem to need to take a breather between his praises.

“Can’t believe this guy is actually into me, did you see him? Oh my god!” He groans and smacks his palms against the steering wheel, literally bouncing in his seat.

The van swerves a bit to the left.

“He’s just my type, too. Those eyes, prettiest eyes that have ever graced human existence, and they were looking at me. Me! Wow! The darkest green— I don’t think there’s any precious stone that can compare actually.”

He beams at him and Steve’s traitorous heart still flutters like a wounded bird helplessly flapping its broken wing. Eddie is smiling so hard his cheeks must hurt, eyes crinkled at the corners and teeth on full display.

Steve will close his eyes at night and replay these words, pretending that this excitement and instant adoration is about him. That Eddie’s love-struck smile is for him.

“And, to top it off, he’s a geek. A fucking nerd. He actually knows DnD! What are the chances, Stevie? I’m no religious man, but an angel must have heard mine desperate pleas.”

His name is Adiel, Eddie’s perfect guy.

Steve spends that night feeling the need to cry, the hurt is right there at the base of his throat refusing to spill.

Steve kind of wishes he did, maybe letting everything out would leave him feeling empty instead impossibly full of heartache.

Adiel is blond, a dirty blonde that means he must’ve had light locks as a kid. Face slim and cheek bones prominent, but his features are soften by button nose. Maybe Eddie is right, he looks like the angels depicted in stained church windows, but whereas angels are depicted in white, Adiel wore exclusively black.

He wasn’t decorated in rings and chains like Ed, only a few silver piercings in his ears and a couple on his lips. But it was evident they had much in common, even just by looks. More than Steve could ever say about him and Eddie.

Over the next couple of weeks they share their music, intrinsically understanding what it means to one another.

Getting it.

Getting it the way that Steve never could, even with hours of Eddie breaking it down for him. Maybe Steve never understood, but he loved those moments shared between them. Wonders if Adiel cherishes those moments too. If he takes it for granted.

They share everything with each other and Steve hears every little detail gushed between sickly sweet sighs. He’s trying to be a good friend, to listen and share Eddie’s happiness, but something inside him grows bitter. Angry. He hates feeling this way.

“I met his friends already, they’re a really cool bunch. I really think you guys would get along. They know all the best spots for people like us. There’s a whole world out there, Stevie—“

Stevie. His breath stutters.

“Of people like us with places for us. We could take Robin and Vicky and be surrounded by people that won’t, that won’t think we’re… wrong. And who knows,” he nudges Steve’s side with a suggestive smile, “maybe you’ll meet the one there, huh Stevie?”

“Stop. Just, just stop!”

Steve doesn’t mean to yell. He just can’t take it anymore. Everything that has been building up inside him has reached a point where he just can’t. He pushes Eddie away from him who looks startled. Offended and bothered and confused.

“I don’t want to meet his friends, or least of all him. I don’t get it, okay! I thought—“

What did he think? That one day he would confess to Eddie or vice versa? That they’d kiss and go on double dates with Robin and Vicky? That he would fall asleep each night in love and loved? It seemed plausible at some point. That’s what hurts the most.

“Hey, Stevie—“

“Don’t call me that! You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

“What? Your name? You don’t want me to call you by your name?”

A bitter laugh, “yeah. My name from your mouth.”

“I, You’re not making any sense!”

Steve knows. He knows. But Stevie, Big boy, Ozzy… even his own name, can’t bear to hear them. Not from him. Can’t bare the way his heart squeezes.

Eddie’s looking at Steve with furrowed brows and down turned lips, standing still. Has Eddie ever been still before in his life?

Once. When he was still and pale and red. His chest gone quiet for the most terrifying seconds of Steve’s life.

Steve looks at him, his eyes burn. Steve’s breath from his own chest brought Eddie back to them. Eddie’s lungs still carry his desperation. His ribs healed but the cracks must still be there from the palm of his hands. He’s tasted Eddie’s blood before from his mouth—

He’s kissing him. Steve, dumb stupid in-love Steve, has his lips on Eddie’s once more, but this time they’re warm and full of life and his ringed hands are on him and,

They’re pushing him. Away.

“Eddie,” his sight is blurry, eyes hot, and breath stuttered. “I, it hurts. You with him. I can’t—I just can’t.

And Eddie looks, terrified, dark eyes searching Steve’s face. For what, he does not know. Sincerity, maybe. Truth. Maybe looking to see if he’s really shattered inside.

“I’m sorry, I… I didn’t…I don’t…”

And Steve?

Steve smiles. It’s watery and his lips quiver.

“I know.” And that’s the problem, isn’t it. It’s always the problem. “I know, Eddie. I’m sorry. It’s, it’s okay.”

Eddie leaves Steve there in the living room.

There’s still two cans of Coke half full on the coffee table but only one person left in the room.

Part one < 💛 > Part 3

Tagged: @bananahoneycomb @margaglitterdeath

[parkersbliss]

if you’re willing to, how about 141 reacting to you saying “no one will hear you scream”? i know they’d all play the biggest uno reverse card, especially gaz because he just has such a sweet face you wouldn’t expect it.

I am always willing to!!! anon thank you for blessing me with this. you're so right like don't threaten the military men who are masters of stealth, now that's asking for trouble...

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x reader 

warnings: um, gaz threatening you? actually, all of them threatening you bc you threaten them

a/n: see me personally I would not mess with this. and certainly not price.

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

SEE TIKTOK HERE

—

Gaz:

It was easy to convince Kyle to come out here. In fact, he didn’t even think twice when you asked to go out on a hike. He had grabbed a light jacket, laced up his boots, and was out the door. He was an outdoorsman, after all, and any time he could spend with you was well spent. You weren’t going to hear an argument out of his pretty mouth. 

It’s nicer this time of the year. Not too hot and not too cold with the leaves changing into the sunset colors. Honestly, you were glad you had come out here, even if it was because you had other intentions than some fresh air. 

You were lagging behind Kyle, his hand flexing and calling for yours. You jog to grab his when you notice, swinging them as you approach a viewpoint. 

You can overlook the area below you, coming up on a small cliff that showcases the changing leaves and sun. There’s a slight breeze that ruffles your hair, making the tips of your ears a little cold. 

“It’s so beautiful,” Kyle breathes, taking in the view. 

You nod, gazing out at the leaves tumbling in the wind. Then, with a practiced ease, you say: “No one would hear you scream out here.”

Kyle steps back from the edge, whipping around to look at you. “What?”

“What?” You ask dumbly. 

“Don’t “what” me.” He points a finger at you. “I heard that shit.”

You step toward him, feeling guilty when you see his face. “Kyky-” you call. 

“Nope!” He grabs something from his pocket, pointing it at you.

You put your hands on your hips, scoffing and stepping back. “You brought a taser?”

“And I’m not afraid to use it.” He continues to point the weapon at you as you take steps back. You were messing with your boyfriend, but your boyfriend was not messing with you. 

“Babe, it was a joke!” You protest. 

He narrows his eyes. “Oh, not so funny now, huh? No one could hear you scream.” 

“Kyle!” You hiss at that, his point made.“Please put the taser away.”

“Please don’t threaten me,” he retorts, but relents and slips the taser back into his pocket. 

“Why do you even have that?”

Kyle shrugs. “You never know. As you just proved.” 

“Oh my god,” You said, walking back over to him tentatively. Once you’re close enough, he grabs your waist pulling you to his side. “Don’t ever say that shit again,” he whispers. 

You glance at the taser in his pocket. “Lesson learned.” 

Kyle smiles, kissing your cheek. “Ice cream?” 

Ghost:

You take a deep breath, letting the crisp autumn air fill your lungs. It’s cold, cutting through the skin of your throat, yet at the same time it’s comforting. It’s much better than the humidity-laced air of summer at least. Where each breath you took felt like you inhaled oven air. 

Simon glances over at you, cocking his head to silently ask what you were doing. 

“Just taking in the air,” You said. “’s nice.” 

He hums an agreement, walking along the stream you two were hiking. A few birds were chirping, leaves crunching under your boots, and the sound of water running over rocks. It’s a quiet you’re not used to from being in the military. That still doesn’t stop the idea from forming in your head. 

“No one would hear you scream out here,” You muse, falling in step beside Simon. You say it casually, not looking at him. You act as if you had just asked where he wanted to get dinner tonight. 

Simon, of course, is aware of everything. He stops walking, turning to you at an agonizingly slow pace. “Excuse me?”

You shake your head. “Nothing.” And continue along the trail. 

He doesn’t follow you. You can tell when his footsteps aren’t echoing yours, a little slower and more steady. Instead, they fall silent on deaf ears. You can’t hear anything and the hair on the back of your neck stands up at the sudden stillness of the forest. 

“Simon?” You call, turning to face him. And of course, he’s gone. You curse under your breath, spinning around to find him. You walk back to where he was, checking around the trees and the bushes. You shouldn’t threaten a lieutenant, the master of infiltration nonetheless. You peek around another tree, trying to get a view of him when a hand grabs your shoulder. You scream, throwing the hand off your shoulder and raising your fists. You come face to face with your boyfriend and drop your hands. 

Simon stares at you, a deadpan look on his face with arms crossed. “What was that about no one hearing me or, should I say you scream?” 

You swat at him. “It was a joke.”

“Damn right, it was. You think you could take me?” He begins walking again, offering his hand to you. He was a true gentleman even after he pulled that stunt. You really needed to learn to keep your eyes on him. 

You lace your fingers together, sighing. “No.” 

Simon is content with the answer, placing a soft kiss on your temple. “Let’s finish this hike without any other threats, hm, sweetheart?"

“It was a joke.” 

“Mine wasn’t.” 

“Simon—!” 

Soap:

Johnny took convincing to go out for a walk. He was more inclined to spend his days on the couch, relaxing next to you. Not some boring “walk for fresh air.” He would argue he’d already gone on plenty of walks while deployed. 

You dragged him out anyway, saying it’ll be good for him to do one without worrying about being shot at. 

So here you are, on a quiet trail in your local park, pointing at the various colored leaves and their unique shapes. 

“This is stupid,” Johnny said, kicking at a pinecone on the ground and sending it flying. 

You roll your eyes, squeezing his hand, which was intertwined with yours in his jacket pocket. “You could humor me a bit.” 

“What good would that do?” 

You huff. “I actually quite like it out here.” 

“‘m sure you do, love.” 

You tap your chin with your free hand. An idea forming in your head to spice things up a bit. Or at least raise the stakes for your walk. “Like, no one would hear you scream out here, you know?” A mischievous grin curls on your lips as you look at Johnny with innocence. 

“What?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed. He knew what you said, just hadn’t quite processed the implications yet. 

“I said, we can go get ice cream. As a peace offering.” 

Johnny removes his hand from yours, taking a step back. “I don’t think so.” 

“You don’t want ice cream?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. I’m actually tired. Thinking we should head back now.” 

You jut your bottom lip out, enjoying the slight panic on his face. “Already?”

He spins on his heels. “Yep! Right now. Let’s go. Back in public. With people.” He urges, walking away from you at a brisk pace. 

You laugh to yourself, jogging after him. He glances at you over his shoulder, clearly paranoid and you feel a little bad about it. His pace quickens and within seconds, he’s out of your line of sight and you sigh. Damn him. 

You exit the trail, and back into the regular park, squinting your eyes to spot your boyfriend. You can’t find him anyway, which is weird because his mohawk makes him unmissable. 

A hand taps your shoulder and you jump. 

“Oh, relax,” Johnny said, holding out an ice cream cone for you. “We’re out of the woods now. Everyone would hear you scream here.” 

You take the ice cream from him, glaring at him and his smug look as he remixes your words against you. “Not funny.”

“Now imagine how I felt. Except I wouldn’t really have a problem if people heard.” 

“We’re going home.” 

Johnny laughs madly, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “That’s all I wanted.” 

Price:

You stand at the end of your hike, overlooking the view beneath you. The cliff dips into a valley, scattered with red and orange trees, the telltale sign of the approaching cold. The sun sits high in the sky, blessing you with a little warmth as the clouds drift through the breeze. 

Price stands next to you, hands on his hips like a proud dad after completing the hike. He pushes his sunglasses to sit on his forehead, taking a deep breath. 

“We should do this more often,” he said.

“We should,” you agree, watching a pair of hawks circle and dive. “It’s so peaceful out here.” 

“So quiet,” Price added. 

You hum. “No one would hear you scream.” 

You knew the risk of saying something like that to your boyfriend, but you couldn’t help it. A little challenge for him. 

Price doesn’t hesitate, he takes a step back from you, putting considerable distance between the two of you. His eyes scan the trees, the valley below, the space behind you — he’s clearly checking for any threats. 

You take a step toward him and he holds up his hand. “No. Empty your pockets.”

“What?” You asked with a laugh. 

“You wanna say shit like that? Empty your pockets,” He said again. 

You stare at him, and you can see the serious look on his face. Within the minute you had uttered that sentence, you already regretted it. Leave it to John Price to take everything so seriously. Even when it was his girlfriend who could never hurt him. You sigh, dropping your phone, wallet, keys, tissues, and everything else. You stare at him. “Happy?” 

“Hands up.” 

“John!” 

“Not hearing you out, darling.”

You begrudgingly raise your hands as he steps towards you, patting you down and inspecting the things you’ve dropped. “It was a joke.” 

“Am I laughing?” His hands come to rest on your shoulders, squeezing them slightly. “Believe me, darling. You wouldn’t be able to scream before I drop you.” 

You spin around to face him, a shocked look on your face. He had gotten you there. Price wouldn’t be stupid enough to let you make any noise. 

“It was a joke,” He mocks you, a sly grin on his face. 

You purse your lips, grabbing your things off the ground. “Point made.” Price grabs the rest of your belongings, handing them to you with that sweet smile of his. 

“C’mon, let’s hike back down. We can go to your favorite sandwich place.” He places a hand on your back, leading you off the cliff.

“As long as you don’t slip poison into it.” 

“No promises.” 

-- END --

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🏷 taglist: @trxpslxt @looking1016 @the-kakawshi-bird @Bitchyzombietaco

[solbaby7]

I love the blurb bar idea and I loved the pina colada one, how about a neat gin n tonic with a salt rim?

[ forced proximity: “you can’t seriously be insinuating that i should sit on your lap.” + smut + az ]

guys i got carried away 🫣🤭 but at least it’s finished and has minimal spelling errors 🤍🩷

-> BLURB BAR <-

To put it quite frankly, you and Azriel didn’t really get along.

It seemed almost easy for everyone else in the Inner Circle to latch onto him; to gravitate towards him and all his shadowy mysteriousness—but not you. Between his victim complex, lack of self-control and the inability to properly communicate his feelings like a normal person, you’d lost your patience for him long ago.

Maybe that’s why you laugh right in Rhysand’s face after he lays down the guidelines for your temporary deployment to the Steppes. Everything sounds perfectly normal up until the end when Rhysand’s lips form the words, “—and you’ll be going with Azriel; he’s already been briefed.”

“Very funny,” Shoulders shake through your laughter, tickled from the joke. “But, you don’t have to go to such lengths just to make me laugh Rhys.”

Your grin fades comically fast and the deep frown that takes it place doesn’t falter long after you’ve left the High Lord’s office and scrounged back to your own chambers to pack. Every move is mechanical, clothes being folded and stuffed away a little rougher than necessary as you try not to think about having to spend seven whole days holed up in a creaky cabin with some brooding bat.

To be fair, Azriel seems no happier than you about the situation, his signature brood securely in place when you meet on the balcony at the witching hour with bag in hand. “Come—let’s get this over with.”

You refrain from commenting on his attitude; hold yourself back from snapping when he snatches your duffle from your grasp just to watch it disappear in a puff of sentient shadow. They’d almost be cute—Azriel’s shadows—if they weren’t so fucking useless. Capable of procuring intel and acting as camouflage but can’t manage to hold two fae long enough to get them to the Illyrian mountains.

No, instead you were subjected to this. Close contact and his fucking hands holding onto your body as he flies on a route you’re unfamiliar with. You eye his wings cautiously, trying to be subtle when you peek over the strong line of his shoulder but being this close? He can feel every beat of your heart against your sternum. Every squirm and twitch of a limb as you try to find a more comfortable place to put your arm. “Will you stop moving?”

“I can’t help it,” Hips shift once more, one leg hitching just a little higher on his hip. “Your fucking daggers keep poking me.”

Azriel tenses up, muscles locking and suddenly you’re being moved how he pleases—both legs wrapped around his waist and a firm forearm clasped around the base of your spine. “Stay.” His voice is rougher than your used to, his blunt nails biting into the sliver of skin exposed to the elements. “Don’t move, we’re almost there.”

That was a lie—it would take hours to make it to the Steppes but the gruff command is surprisingly easy to follow. And while you’ll never verbally admit it, the secure bracketing of his arms around your body was more of a comfort than a nuisance. It’s all too easy to ease into his grasp, allowing sleep to take over until the journeys over and you swear you can feel him cradle you in closer, his nose ghosting over the crown of your head.

He makes absolutely no comment on it when you finally arrive with your hair ruffled, clothes crinkled and the imprint of Azriel’s syphon on your cheek other than a chuffed out, “You snore.”

Instinct screams at you to make some snappy comment back but reason doesn’t allow it to be voiced—not here. Here, you and Azriel would have to appear as a united front, for the males raised in this terrain were bred to sniff out any and all weaknesses to exploit. Only here do you allow the hand that permanently glues itself to the dip of your back, pushing you past rabid animals swollen with pride and snarling with hatred.

Slurs are spat from their lips but Azriel doesn’t pay them any mind, so you don’t either.

He walks through the camps as if he owns them, spine straight and shoulders square. Strong wings stand proudly behind him, shadows guarding your flank until the unforgiving chill is replaced by the stuffy warmth of a mess hall. It’s cramped—a little dirty and smells like a mixture of male and tobacco but either way you’re given a warm meal and fresh water to drink.

The vulgar comments grow more frequent, mutterings of their unwanted appreciation towards your body so sickening that your appetite threatens to scurry away. “They’re disgusting.” You scoff, setting down your tray of food, one hand curled around the chair.

It doesn’t give. Azriel’s boot curled around the leg holds it in place. Arched brows furrow at him, nose scrunching under the effort it takes not to kick him in his shin but there’s something about his body language that make you stop. “They’ll keep doing that shit if they think you’re free game.” Every syllable is clipped; laced with a wildness you’re unfamiliar with—almost as if he’s insinuating that it’s your fault that such brutish males were salivating at the sight of you. Darkness cloaks the hazel tones of his eyes when he meets your own and you nearly miss the gesture he makes.

One hand patting twice at his lap.

“Absolutely not.” Azriel’s boot shoves the seat away completely when you make a move to sit down on it once more. He settles deeper in his own, thick thighs manspreading as deft hands adjust the positioning of his holsters, guiding sharpened weapons away from the area of space he frees up for you. “You can’t seriously be insinuating that I should sit on your lap?”

“I’m not insinuating anything, this is me telling you—sit down.”

You pray he doesn’t see the blush that burns against your cheeks when you take a seat in his lap, his hands resting along the sides of your hips. He keeps eating as if nothing is new. As if he doesn’t realize the way his touch has you squirming against solid muscle through thick leathers, legs subconsciously parting to make more room for the wandering fingers that slide down your thighs, digging into sensitive inner thighs. “What are you doing?” You ask, barely able to grab at the food before you with the way your hands shake.

“I’m sending a message.”

Breath catches when you feel Azriel’s thigh flex between your legs, pressing against your sex in such a way that you’re certain it’s impossible that he hadn’t felt the way you clench in response. “What kind of message?”

“The kind that says someone already owns you.” People are looking, that much you know—can feel their eyes tracking every move. Azriel’s hand splayed over your stomach, his head tucked in the curve of your shoulder as his free hand spies its way through your breeches. There’s a pause, one where you’re time to push him away, to declare that this was entirely too far and smack him clear across his face.

That doesn’t happen. Your legs only part further, making more room for needy fingers to shove past your panties.

It’s a foolish decision, you can feel it the second you make it. As if you’d just unconsciously confirmed the ridiculous notion that you were one of Azriel’s possessions. To do as he pleased. To sit there splayed out across his lap like some puppet and allow him to take the reins and show off all your tricks until you’re boneless and drooling.

He’s too good with his hands. Too slick with the sly filth he mutters into your ear as he fondles at your clit under the table, pressing firm circles into the bundle of nerves until you’re panting like a bitch in heat.

You barely remember how much you hate him when he touches you like this. Until the orgasm fades and your consciousness clears and even though the way you lean into the dip of his neck appears like some typical lovers embrace—bystanders fail to hear the sharp way you sneer, “Tell anyone about this ever and I’ll fucking kill you.”

[sim0nril3y]

I cannot get enough of ghost and his little civilian reader!!! I broke my arm today (boo do not recommend) but now I get to rest and fantasize about my favorite cod men lol. How do you think Simon would react if his girl broke her arm??

Note: oh my, I'm so sorry to hear that you broke your arm, honey. I hope that you are doing okay and that you are on the mend now. Please try to enjoy your time resting and fantising about the wonderful men of COD. I hope that this helped bring you some comfort. Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), established relationship, broken arm, talk of pain, talk of pain medication, hospital talk, canon-typical swearing.

Simon was cursing himself. If he had been quicker then he might have been able to catch you before you slipped onto that patch of ice. Maybe if he’d been more observant Simon might have been able to steer you around it and avoid the problem all together. Hell, if he hadn’t insisted on walking on the side of the pavement closer to the road then it would have been him slipping and you wouldn’t be in agony sitting on an uncomfortable hospital bed after hours of waiting in A&E.

Not long after you’d been admitted they had taken you away for an x-ray to confirm that you had broken the bone, but that was something that Simon could have told them with utmost certainty considering he had heard the sickening crack of the bone breaking. It was a sound that was going to haunt his dreams for months, along with the sounds of your sobs and cries of pain, they had been imbedded into his mind and even now were echoing.

After you had been returned to him Simon kept a strong hand planted on you at all times, as if you were something that could be lost easily. It seemed to deescalate his anxiety just being able to hold you, that was something you even noticed through the haze of the pain relief they’d given you that hadn’t seemed to kick in entirely yet as your arm still throbbed in agony.

“Oi…” You said gently, gaining his attention as it focused in on your arm. Reaching over with your good hand to gently pinch Simon’s chin and force his gaze up into your eyes. “Will you stop it with that face?” You requested in a gentle voice. “What face?” Simon replied as if unaware that he looked like he had been kicked in the stomach over and over. “That face.” You whispered, gazing deeply into his eyes and gifting him a delicate smile, even if it didn’t quite reach your eyes from the pain you were fighting. “Yes, it’s broken but accidents happen-”

In a sharp tone Simon replied. “Not with me.” His brows pinched together, as if internally scolding himself for his short tone. “Not… not with me.” He said again, his voice lower and softer. “Accidents don’t happen with me and especially not to you.” You pat his hand that was gripping your knee tight and leaned back into the pillows finally feeling the pain relief beginning to take some effect. It was just in time too because the nurse had arrived to begin to cast your arm into an uncomfortable position to ensure that it would set right.

After that they sent you away with Simon, some instructions for the pain pills and a sling to help relieve the pressure on your broken arm.

Arriving home Simon helped you through the front door, stepped inside behind you and carefully prying your coat from your wounded body. Then he knelt down and began to fight the knots from the laces on your boots. “I could do that, you know?” You informed him. “I know.” Simon answered before tilting his head up to look into your eyes. “But you’re gonna let me help you anyway.”

Gently you tugged your fingers through his hair and nodded in agreement. Simon helped you remove your boots and then rose up to his full height, glancing down at you as he cupped your cheek lovingly. “Let me get you settled, alright?” Coaxing you to walk in front and upstairs, Simon never took his hands from your body, keeping you clasped so that you didn’t stumble or injure yourself further. “Good girl…” He muttered softly as you entered your bedroom, Simon held you from behind and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your head. “Let me get you out of these clothes, yeah?”

A tired scoff fell from your lips. “I broke my arm and you’re gonna help fix it with your-” “Behave.” Simon smirked. “Fuckin’ brat…” Then shaking his head as he crossed the room to gather some loose fitting clothes for you. They were his clothes. Simon loved seeing you dressed up in his clothes, but seeing you comforted by them after your injury hit him on a whole new level. “C’mere… We’ll get you into something comfortable and then you can rest. Okay?”

Gently nodding your head, you responded with an almost teasing tone. “Yes, sir~” Which earned a tested look from Simon before he carefully began to undress you. It was fine until he removed your shirt, trying to move your arm as little as possible. The movement earned a noise of discomfort from you, eyes squeezing closed and not a moment later Simon’s lips pressed against your forehead. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” He assured you gentle. “Not gonna let anything hurt you. Okay?”

You trusted him. In that single moment you knew you trusted Simon to protect you from any danger that would come your way. There was so much certainty to his voice. There was so much need to make sure that you were never going to be in pain again. “C’mon… bed…”

Now that you were dressed up in some of his clothes Simon lead you to your bed, pulling back the covers and placing you under them, tucking you in tight and ensuring that your arm was raised by a couple pillows. “Here.” He placed the remotes to the TV within you reach but knew that whatever you were going to put on you wouldn’t even last a couple minutes watching considering the way that your eyes were drooping closed now.

“Try and get some rest and I’ll make some food-” “Can you stay for a little while?” You questioned; your tone practically slurred from the exhaustion that was beginning to sweep through your body. “Course…” Simon agreed, moving to carefully slot in beside you, rubbing his fingers over your face, carefully drawing slow lines over your forehead, down your nose, coaxing you further into tiredness. “Can’t… can’t promise I’ll be… be good conversation…”

Simon chuckled quietly, kissing the hinge of your jaw tenderly and then requesting. “Sleep, babe. Get some rest for me.” He heard the way your breathing changed. He felt the way your body sank and your muscles relax and finally he whispered into your ear. “I will never let you fill this way again; I will never let anything or anyone hurt you.” He observing your peaceful slumbering face, knowing it was safe. “I love you.”

Masterlist | Ask | 09-12-2023

[astrxsee]

I absolutely loved "price bringing the boys to his country home for the holidays," RAHHHHH, thank you for sharing your visions 😁 also re: your tags, I Will be getting you started on how soap talks SO FREAKING DIRTY About Price's pride and joy - - lord -- anyway, love for the New Year!

<3 -@horny-for-tf141

ilysm this is my first ask ever eeeeee

also this is part 2 to this

no bc simon wont shut up about you. johnny would hear about every interaction between the two of you that day. the scot eating up every sweet word that falls out of the larger man’s mouth.

“i could just smell her ‘air, took everythin’ in me not to grab her right there.”

soap would nod like an eager puppy, probably holding back something borderline feral.

“yeah, l.t., those eyes, they just do something for ya. don’t they?”

he’d say to ghost, pushing him to say more. he’d try and miserably fail to hide the growing tent in his pants as his superior kept talking. soap couldn’t help but to notice the tension in simon’s body and the way his hands would ball into fists as he kept talking.

“now what was she thinking putting on that slutty little dress on new year’s eve. god i wanted to rip that little number in half. our little birdie should know that she’s all mine.”

simon would say, his eyes peering over to johnny.

“aye, l.t., poor lass doesn’t know what’s good for her is all. show her what she needs. cap’ can’t keep her here forever.” the scot speaks up, the light from the warm fire your father made earlier flickering over his face.

-

AND OMG don’t even get me started on how they’d treat you in person like…

just imagine it’s christmas eve and your father is throwing a party for his team and a couple of his friends. simon can’t keep his eyes off you the entire night, and you know it.

you’d eventually drag him out to the porch for a smoke, him grumbling in opposition while you sweetly bat your eyelashes at him. of course he followed you like a dog, he’d follow you anywhere.

imagine cuddling into his side complaining that it’s ‘too cold’ and him putting his arm over your shoulders and pulling you in.

“why can’t you stop looking at me, simon?” you asked innocently, your eyes looking up at him. you knew the exact answer but this was just too fun.

he lets out a long groan, his hand running over his masked face.

“don’t do this to me, princess.” he practically begs you. his eyes filled with a feeling you can’t quite place.

then imagine you starting to tease him more as you trace cute patterns into the fabric of his stupid christmas sweater. his breathing becoming labored as he leans his head back, his eyes shutting. my man is fighting for his life

“please, lovie, you don’t know what you do to me.” he grits his teeth as his hands travel down to your hips. his large hand taking up so much space, squeezing onto you like you’d disappear.

“i’m sorry, si. i just can’t help it when you’re exactly what i want.”

you think it’s the doe eyes and the small kiss you pressed to his neck that gets you into the next situation.

in a split second, he had you pressed up against the siding of your father’s his captain’s house. his large arms caging you in between him and the wall. you could hear low growls coming from his throat. one of his large hands comes to rest on your hip as he buries his nose in your neck.

“you haven’t left my mind since i got here, dove. you’ve grown up so much since the last time i saw you, i just can’t help myself.”

he inhales sharply, breathing in your scent. he trails feather light kisses along your jawbone, almost like you’d break at any sort of pressure.

“you’ve been mine and you’ve always known it. just had to let you figure it out for yourself, princess.”

now don’t imagine johnny watching from inside, chubbing up at the sight of his lieutenant devouring price’s lovely, innocent little daughter. maybe ghost would let him watch when he takes her virginity

[loveandleases]

Tormenting Chris and Jade submission for balance: I forgot to ask how they'd react to the poly route with Kara X Isaac. Chris's desire to love and support Kara in direct opposition to their desire to judge any dynamic with Isaac--

Love having some balance. (Called for a scenario so rest will be under the cut!)

Chris taps along their phone, their finger hovering just above the screen, caught between pressing and not pressing, between action and restraint. One name. One person their mind refuses to release. They can still see your face clearly; hear the way their name sounds when it leaves your lips. Their expression is taut, posture rigid as they scan the apartment around them—pristine, perfect, just like their life used to be. Until you came into it.

A scoff escapes their lips as they run a hand through their icy-blonde hair. How typical, they think, people stirring up trouble, thinking Chris cares what you do.... How did they even know? Is it in their face? In the way their thoughts creep in, reminding them of what was lost—or what, no, who, they tossed aside?

Jade’s voice rings in Chris’s ears, the memory of her words sharp and biting: “MC was always so hard to please, always unsatisfied despite everything our parents had given them. Since they couldn’t have you, they settled for Kara. Isaac was just the cherry on top—a person with a jaded past that they could take pity on. Along for the ride, because everyone knows the rumors about Isaac. Never staying with someone for too long unless they get bored.”

Their jaw tenses as their eyes linger on the photo laid out on the coffee table—your smile, a smile they hadn't seen in so long. You give it so freely, so easily. To Isaac and Kara of all people. One on either side of you, Kara’s lips close to your ear, whispering something while Isaac’s hand rests casually on your knee. Isaac was never good enough to be friends with Kara, not after everything Chris learned. They deserve to be with you even less. The number of times they’ve seen their hand roam on people’s bodies…they shouldn’t be touching you so freely. So openly. Where people can see, where Chris can see.

The photo cuts deeper than Chris anticipated, and before they can stop themselves, their fingers are already dialing Kara’s number. Their leg begins to shake with annoyance, the phone ringing louder than their pulse. Kara always picked up quickly—never more than three rings. So why isn’t she now? Was there always something there? Was there something going on behind the scenes?

Were the two of you… no, Kara wouldn’t do that to me. You wouldn’t do that to me.

Kara finally answers, her voice groggy with sleep. “Hello?”

Chris freezes. It’s four in the morning. They’d spent the whole night obsessing, thinking about the three of you—disgusting.

Chris opens their mouth to speak, but the sound of Isaac’s groan and your voice cuts through the silence. “Who is it?”

The question makes their blood run cold. You’re both there? Why are you with her?

“Chris?” Kara’s voice breaks through their thoughts, sharp and concerned.

“Tell me this is a joke.” Chris’ voice cracks, disbelief flooding their words. They force out a thin, bitter laugh. “This is a joke, isn’t it, Kara?”

“Chris, how di—”

“Let me talk to them.”

“Wh—who?”

“Let me talk to my fiancé.”

The line grows quiet, and Chris can’t help but imagine the look that passes over the three of you.

“Former fiancé,” Isaac adds, a cool edge to his voice, as Kara reluctantly hands you the phone.

“Why are you with them?” Chris’s voice is quieter now, rawer, the reality of it all begins to settle in.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

Another scoff. Chris’s anger surges, bubbling up and threatening to spill over. “Of course it’s my business. You’re my f—” They stop themselves, letting the word die on their tongue.

A heavy sigh escapes them as they lean back against the couch. “You’re my ex-fiancé. Do you realize how this looks? Fucking my little sister and her friend. After everything, this is how you repay me?”

“This has nothing to do with you. Who I’m with is none of your concern, Chris. Kara might be your sister, but you don’t own her, or me, for that matter.” Your words are sharp, almost like a smack to the face.

Chris’s fingers twitch, plucking at the photo until the three of you are separated—tearing you apart. “And Isaac, what? You just had to bring the trash with you, Kara? It’s not bad enough you’re sharing a bed with my ex, but now you’ve got your friend, too?” Isaac was never good enough to be friends with Kara. Especially once Chris had their background looked into. No, they don’t deserve Kara and they deserve you even less.

“Stop it, Chris.”

Despite the tightness in her chest, the guilt she carries, Kara can’t bring herself to yell. Not yet. “Don’t talk about them, about us, like you know what’s going on. You don’t know anything about it. We’re happy. I’m happy.” Her voice cracks, and for a moment Chris feels a feeling in their gut. One they’re afraid to give a name, because why should Chris Clarke feel guilty? “Isn’t that enough?”

It should be. Chris knows that deep down, under all the anger, the pain, and the jealousy, they should be happy for Kara. She found people who love her. But that gnawing feeling inside them won’t let go. The more they try to bury it, the more it consumes them. They can’t shake the feeling that you’re slipping further away—both of you.

For a long moment, they just sit there, lost in their thoughts. Kara hangs up the phone, but it doesn't stop the storm inside them from raging. Their words tumble out, raw and desperate. “You deserve better than that. Better than them. Aren’t I enough?” They know who the questions are for, and the thought alone sickens them.

[krirebr]

I Know I Should Know Better 7/End

Pairing: Curtis Everett x Female Reader

Word Count: ~3.6k

Summary: Curtis has been working as your body guard for almost two years now. Standing by and watching you work and party your life away is becoming more and more difficult, but is there anything he can do about it?

Warnings: Angst, adult themes, explicit language, anxiety, but mostly, it's a goddamn happy ending, you guys!! Finally!!! All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Holy shit. I can't believe it. We've made it to the end of this series. Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who's been along on this ride. Your support of this story has really bowled me over. I so hope you love this ending as much as I do.

For this one, especially, any comment, reblog, or ask will mean so much to me. I can't wait to talk to you all about where we leave our sweet beans.

Curtis stood on the front step of your house, waiting to be let in. He'd never gone in this way before, not even the first time. But he didn’t work for you anymore. He was the boyfriend now. A guest. So he'd play by the rules he'd always been so annoyed with Colin and Johnny and the like for flaunting. 

It only took a few minutes for Jensen to open the door. “Hey man,” he greeted warmly. “You know you don’t have to stand out here. Come on, get in.” Curtis followed Jake in, then stood somewhat awkwardly in the entryway. Luckily, Jake kept talking. “I should’ve texted you, but I was really sorry to hear how that whole thing went down. It wasn’t fair to either of you.”

“Thanks, Jake,” Curtis said sincerely. “I appreciate it. And I’m sorry, for all the secrecy.”

Jake shook his head. “No, don’t be sorry. You didn’t owe me any of that.”

Curtis gave a slight nod. “I hope you at least got a promotion out of it.”

Jake ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, kind of. Although I’m sort of pulling double duty right now while we try to find a new driver. But I think the trip went well, so…” he trailed off and shrugged. “You found something, yet?”

Curtis just shook his head. Honestly, he’d barely started looking for his next job. He’d been tired of personal security for a while now, and this seemed like a good opportunity to see what was next. Figure out what he actually wanted. Growing up in foster care, he’d been too aware of how easily things could be taken away, so as soon as he’d started making money, saving had been a priority for him. He had a decent rainy day fund set aside now. He figured he might as well make use of it. And if he got to a point where he needed to pick up a short-term gig here or there, he was sure, with all of his connections now, that he’d be able to do that. “No,” he said, “I think I’m gonna take my time.”

“Nice,” Jake nodded. “Good for you. Well, if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. I always liked working with you.”

That got a genuine smile out of Curtis. “Thanks, Jake, you too.” He glanced around your house anxiously. He thought he heard Michelle in the living room, but he didn’t know who else might be here, occupying your time. “Everybody still busy with her?”

“No, the stylist and makeup artists left a couple of minutes ago. I think she’s just getting dressed now, in her room. You should be good.”

Curtis nodded, patted Jake on the shoulder, and made his way through your house.

Two weeks apart. They’d been filled with constant texting, evening phone calls, as much checking in as he could manage in your busy schedule. Hearing about your appearances, junket days, meet and greets. You were finally back, as of that morning, but he still had to steal time for your reunion before the last of your late-night talk show appearances. Your schedule never stopped.

He took the stairs up to your bedroom two at a time and gave a light knock once he got to your door. It immediately swung open to reveal you standing right in front of him in your underwear. He barely had a moment to process before you were throwing yourself at him, filling his arms with you, burying your face in his neck. “I’m so happy you’re here,” you breathed.

“Yeah,” he whispered, holding you as tight as he could. “Me too. Me too.” He shuffled you further into the room so he could kick the door shut behind him and then stood there with you in his arms for as long as you both needed.

You finally pulled away and he took his chance to look around. A rolling rack of clothing your stylist must have brought over was against one wall. Two outfits were laid out on the bed. Your suitcase was flung open in the far corner of the room, items spilling out of it. And then he took you in. Your hair and makeup were already done, but if he looked very closely, he could see the barest hint of bags under your eyes. Your smile was a little sad and you were picking at your nails, seemingly without realizing it. “How are you doing?” he asked, softly.

“I’m alright. I’m– I don’t know. I’m really tired, but,” you looked around yourself, “I’m happy to be home.”

He nodded. The exhaustion was radiating off of you. You’d told him in one of your late-night phone conversations that you’d barely slept on your trip. He wished he could wrap you up and tuck you into bed right now. “Were you able to sleep on the plane at all?”

You shook your head. “No, there’s just been,” you shrugged again, “too much to think about.”

He opened his mouth to ask what was on your mind, but you were already turning away. You went to the foot of your bed and stared at the outfits laid out there. 

“Which do you think?” you asked, your hands on your hips.

He looked at the two outfits. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was looking for. He didn’t feel like he really knew clothes well enough to offer any sort of an opinion. One was a dress, low-cut and mid-length, maybe. The other was a pair of shiny black pants, although not leather, and a billowy metallic tank. Each outfit had a corresponding pair of sky-high heels sitting at the foot of the bed. “What are you gonna be most comfortable in?” he finally asked. 

You sighed ruefully. “Yeah, I'm sure jeans and a t-shirt would go over real well.” After a moment of thought, you picked up the pants and blouse and started putting them on. 

You were both quiet as you put on the finishing touches. He helped you with the necklace and bracelets, his big hands carefully opening and closing the clasps.

You stepped away and turned to him. “What do you think?” you asked, a touch of shyness in your voice. 

He closed the space between you and put his hands on your hips. “You’re beautiful,” he said, sincerely. 

You just looked at him for a moment, studying his face for something, he didn’t know what. Finally, you asked, “You really do love me, don't you?” with just a touch of awe in your voice.

“Yes,” he said without a moment of hesitation, trying to infuse that one word with all of his certainty. 

He'd only told you he loved you a few times, since that first time, not wanting to overwhelm or pressure you. He knew he'd jumped ahead. You hadn't said it back yet which was fine. He understood. You'd get there when you were ready. But even if he was trying to go at your pace, he never wanted you to doubt him.

You kissed him unabashedly at that and it did something to settle the worry he'd felt since he laid eyes on you. You pulled back and grinned, the first real smile he'd seen from you since before you left for New York. “I'm gonna get yelled at for messing up my lipstick, but I don't care,” you said, before going in for another, shorter one. He gripped your hips tighter as you pulled your head away, giving him a knowing smirk. “Come on, I’m sure I’m already running late.”

He didn’t let go. Something about this time, just the two of you, felt too precious. “I don’t work for you anymore. I’m the boyfriend now, so I don’t fucking care if you’re late.”

You laughed, big and loud, and it quieted the rest of the unease he’d been feeling about how you were doing. When you were done, you leaned into his chest and just stood there. “I missed you so much,” you whispered.

“I missed you too,” he whispered back wrapping his arms around you. He took a deep breath, savoring the fact that you were there, in front of him, in his arms. Right now, he had you.

And then, of course, there was an impatient knock on the door. “I'll be right there!” you called out, then knocked your forehead against his shoulder, taking a deep fortifying breath. 

“Hey,” he said quietly, “you're so good at this. No matter what, this is something you can do. I've always admired the way you handle this stuff. OK? You can do this.”

You sighed and nodded into his shoulder. He was quiet for a moment, thinking. You’d talked, a little, about how upset you’d both gotten the night before you’d left for New York. He couldn’t help but feel that maybe in his frustration and desperation and worry, he’d come on too strong. He knew you weren’t upset with him, but– “I just want you to be happy. No matter what that looks like, I just want to help you get there.”

You moved your head from where it was tucked into his shoulder so you could look him in the eye. “I know,” you said, gratefulness shining in your eyes. “If I know anything, I know that.” You kissed him again, short and soft and sweet. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

It was an odd experience, climbing into the back of your SUV instead of sitting with Jake in the front. Michelle sat in the middle row, acting pointedly cold to him. That was fine, honestly. He wasn’t quite ready to forgive her for the things she’d said when the news of your relationship broke. He didn’t know when he would be. You deserved better.

You were very quiet. He wanted to ask, again, about what was on your mind, but he didn’t want to do that with an audience. So he held your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, and didn’t move a muscle when you rested your head on his shoulder.

Curtis couldn’t stop fidgeting. He was sitting by himself on what he used to derisively think of as the boyfriend couch. Michelle was on the other couch, focused on emails as always, while Tanya hovered in the middle of the room. There were snacks and drinks laid out on the green room’s coffee table that he was welcome to now, but he hadn’t touched them. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, filling up the big TV on the wall as you chatted with one of the countless late-night Jimmy’s. You looked okay. A little stiff. A little tired. But that was probably only because he knew all the signs to look for.  

You’d covered all the benign greetings and small talk and were now getting into the meat of the interview. Whichever Jimmy this was reached across his desk and held up a black paperboard-backed picture of you, twelve or thirteen years old, complete with braces and awkward pigtails. It was from that fucking show. 

He saw the anxiety flash across your face, quickly followed by your cheerful mask, although he didn't think he imagined the way it was more strained than usual. Tanya saw it too, judging by the way she took a step forward. 

Jimmy was blathering on about the recent influx of TV reunions and reboots and wouldn’t it be fun, wouldn't everyone just love it if there was some sort of reunion for this? The audience roared in agreement. 

You forced a chuckle that wouldn't have fooled anyone, pure panic in your eyes. And then you looked directly into the camera and Curtis knew, he knew, that you were looking at him. He tried to send you all of his confidence, all of his support, all of his love. All of his certainty that however you wanted to handle this, you could do it.

He was fooling himself, he knew, but he was sure that you felt it, because in the next moment you took a deep breath, turned to Jimmy, and said, “No, I don't think so.”

Jimmy just gaped at you for a second, clearly taken aback by you suddenly not playing along. He tried to cover with a good-natured laugh and “What? Oh no! Why not?”

You didn't match his tone. You responded seriously, “I really hated making that show.” There were a few audible gasps from the audience, but you ignored them. “Everyone did. It was a miserable place to be. Everyone hated each other. Everyone fought all the time. For seven years! I was a child and no one protected me from that. I went to work every day, as a child, in the most toxic environment. But I was making money. So I guess it was ok.

“And now, god, it’s been ten years! And everyone just keeps bringing it up. It’s all anyone wants to talk to me about. And I just can’t talk about it anymore. I really can’t. I’m not gonna do it again. I’m done with that.”

“What the hell is she doing?” Tanya muttered next to Curtis, who was standing up now, unable to take his eyes off you. Whatever you were doing, it was incredible.

He could tell that the host wanted to break in, he kept looking wildly off-camera to someone for help, but you just kept talking. You wouldn’t stop.

“There’s just– There’s so much I don’t want to do anymore. I’m not doing ok, you know? I mean, you must know. It’s all over every gossip site. I’m not ok. I haven’t been ok for a very long time, maybe ever. But I just keep going forward in the same way, because that’s all I’ve ever done since I was a kid. That’s all I’ve known how to do. But I think– I think I’m done doing that now. I want to figure out how to be ok.”

Curtis took a step closer to the screen. “Holy shit,” he mumbled, deep pride filling his chest, “she’s doing it.” 

“What is she doing, Curtis?” Tanya asked, somewhat hysterically.

He ignored her. He couldn’t see or hear anything other than you. 

Back on the TV, Jimmy cleared his throat and opened his mouth, trying to somehow stop his show from careening wildly off the rails. But you put your hand up to stop him. 

“Please, Jimmy, I know. You asked a simple question and you got all this instead,” you laughed, unabashed, and there it was. There you were. Curtis beamed at seeing it. “Just let me say this one last thing.” You looked directly into the camera again. “I– I am really proud of this movie. We worked really hard on it, and I hope you go see it.” 

A laugh escaped Curtis. God, you were so good at this, knowing exactly what you were contractually obligated to do. He glanced quickly at the other end of the green room. Michelle was standing now too, her mouth wide open in shock, while Tanya looked like she might have a stroke.

“And I think–” you continued. ”I think it might be the last movie I do for a while. The last anything. We'll see.”

A wave of murmurs went through the studio audience. Curtis had fully forgotten they were even there during all this, they’d been so quiet since you’d really gotten going, just as enraptured by you as he was.

“Ok,” you said, with a sheepish smile. “That’s it. I’m– I’m done.” Then you stood, took off your mic pack, gently laid it on the chair, and walked off stage.

As Jimmy awkwardly threw to a commercial break, Curtis raced into the hallway. He walked towards the stage as fast as he could, intercepting you about halfway there, a lost-looking PA trailing behind you. You looked a little shell-shocked but good. You looked so fucking good. 

He gently touched your face with both hands as soon as you were within reach. “Holy shit, that was incredible. You’re incredible. I can't believe you did that. I'm so fucking proud of you.”

“Yeah?” you asked, your voice a little shaky, your eyes a little watery. “I didn't– I wasn't planning to. But then he asked about the show and, I don’t know. I’ve been thinking a lot about all of the things you're always telling me. About living my own life and what I'm worth. And I just thought, ‘What if I actually do what I want for once?’ And, yeah.” You shrugged.

“Fucking incredible,” Curtis whispered and leaned in to kiss you. It was soft and a little desperate and so, so happy. 

So of course it was cut short when Tanya called out your name. You both turned around to look at her standing at the end of the hall, looking harried. “What was that?! How on earth am I supposed to clean that up?!”

“Tanya,” you said, your voice shockingly calm and firm. “Stop. There's nothing to clean up. You're fired.”

It took everything inside of Curtis not to whoop with joy or pick you up and spin you around. But, shit, he wanted to. He really, really wanted to.

Your gaze moved to where Michelle stood behind Tanya. “Sorry, Michelle,” you said with a frown, “you too. I don't think I'll need a team or an assistant for a while.”

“You need to stop and think about this,” Tanya said, her tone placating. 

“I already have. Thank you both, sincerely, for everything you've done for me, but it's time to try something new.” And then you grabbed Curtis’s hand and led him back down the hall. 

You quietly got your things from the green room and changed your shoes, then brought Curtis outside through a side door, far away from where fans were gathered, expecting you to run into your SUV.

You took a deep breath as soon as you hit the fresh air. “I kind of just want to walk around for a while. That ok?”

“Yeah, whatever you want,” he said softly, squeezing your hand. There were a few hours before the show aired on the East Coast. A few hours, hopefully, before the bomb you’d just set fully exploded. A walk sounded nice.

 You headed away from the studio and Curtis was content to follow your lead. You didn't say anything, which was fine. He figured you had a lot to process. 

After several minutes, you let out a long, deep breath. “Holy shit. I can't believe I just did that. Holy shit, Curtis, I just quit!”

“How are you feeling?” he asked, carefully, wanting to make sure you weren't wracked with regret.

You took your time answering. Then finally, “So relieved. Just so fucking relieved.”

He stopped you from walking, using his grip on your hand to turn you to face him. “I hope you understand just how incredibly proud of you I am. How brave I think you are.”

“Curtis,” you said quietly, ducking your head, clearly overwhelmed. 

“I mean it,” he said as he squeezed your hand and started walking again. 

After several more minutes of companionable silence, you slowed down a little. “So, where do you think we should go?”

He shrugged and glanced around the area. “I don’t know. I could eat. Think you can get away with ducking into a burger place?”

You laughed and he stopped short at how nervous you sounded. “No, that’s not– I didn’t mean–” You shook your head and he turned so he was fully facing you. “I don’t know, it’s just– You said a year, remember? Back on my couch, you said I should take a year.” You were avoiding his eyes now, and you sounded so shy.

Your couch. That night, however many months ago. When you’d let him really see behind the mask, and he brushed his fingers against yours for the first time. As he realized what you were trying to ask him, the weight of it, the enormity of what you were offering, all he was able to do was whisper, “I remember.”

“Ok, well, I thought that maybe we could do that. Take a break. Go somewhere maybe, if there was somewhere you wanted to go.”

It took him a minute, as he was flooded with so many things—how much he loved you, how much he wanted to do for you, give to you, how happy he was in this moment—but once he found his voice, he gently grasped your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Wherever you are,” he said, with the most conviction he thought he had ever said anything. He leaned in and kissed you. It was short and more chaste than he wanted, but he was too conscious of how out in the open you were. He pulled back and rested his forehead against yours. “Absolutely anywhere you are.”

You threw your arms around him and moved your head so your lips were right next to his ear. And then you said, so so softly, so that it was just for him, “I love you. I'm so in love with you.”

A warmth he didn’t think he’d ever felt before filled his whole chest. All he could do was just hold you, right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, murmuring in your ear just how much he loved you, too.

Eventually, you’d start walking again. You’d find a little restaurant to duck into for a bite to eat. He’d make you put your phone on speaker as you told Lloyd and Wilford they were fired. And you’d figure out what came next, where you would go, what the logistics of quitting actually entailed. Then you’d get an Uber home and show each other with your bodies just how much you cared. 

But for now, he just wanted to hold you in the middle of the sidewalk.

I love you all. Thank you so much for reading. 💜

Tag List

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[purplephantomwolf]

Love in Motion

Chapter Four

Synopsis: You are a normal college student until you get a wrong number text.

Note: This is not an accurate portrayal of how the real people in this act. I do not know them personally, so I will not be portraying them accurately.

Previous chapter: Chapter Three

Masterlist

I AM REWRITING THIS FROM AN OC STORY. IF I MISS ANYTHING, PLEASE LET ME KNOW SO I CAN FIX IT! THIS IS CHAPTER 4 OF 5 OF ALREADY WRITTEN CHAPTERS.

April 22, 2022 7 pm Italy Time

Lando’s POV

     I walk back to my drivers room from the media pen. I grab my phone, hoping to see messages from Y/n. I frown when I see no messages from her. “Why are you frowning? You’re starting P3 in the sprint tomorrow!” Jon asks, walking into the room. 

     “I was expecting a message from someone by the time qualifying ended, but I’ve got no messages,” I sigh. 

     “He’s expecting a message from a girl,” Daniel says, entering the room. I sigh and roll my eyes at him extending the word girl. 

     “Yeah,” I sigh, “We’ve been talking every day, so I’m not sure why I haven’t got any messages besides her good morning message. She’s a big F1 fan, so I assumed I’d get messages about qualifying like I did last time.” 

     Jon puts a hand on my shoulder, “I’m sure she’s just busy.” 

     “Yeah, she probably is in class or something,” I nod. Daniel and Jon nod along with me. 

April 22, 2022 3 pm United States Time

Y/n’s POV

     You grab your laptop, sitting down on the couch. You turn on the tv, pulling up qualifying for the Imola grand prix. Your plan is to look for photography jobs while qualifying is happening. You are having to watch a replay of qualifying because you had class all day. You grab your phone so you can text Luke throughout watching it. 

You: I finally am free, so now I can watch qualifying. Stupid school getting in the way of my hobby. 

     You set my phone down, not expecting a message back because it’s 10 in Italy. Your phone vibrates immediately.

Luke: Oh good! I was getting worried after not hearing from you for hours. 

You: Sorry, I had exams in two of my three classes today, so I wasn’t on my phone. 

Luke: All good! Let me know what you think of qualifying! 

You: Don’t worry, you’re going to be getting all my reactions as I watch it. 

Luke: Oh good. I loved reading your comments after Australia.

You: Good, cause I’m not going to stop. You’re the only person I know who likes F1. 

Luke: That sucks. Well, at least you have someone now. 

You: Yeah! 

     You look up at the screen as Alex’s car catches on fire and a red flag is shown. 

You: Holy shit! Alex’s brake is on fire! 

Luke: Yeah, that sucks when it happens. 

You: I can’t believe you say that so casually. I would be scared as hell.

Luke: Yeah, but these guys can’t be scared of these sorts of things, otherwise they’d never get in the car. 

You: True. 

     As you wait for the red flag to finish, you head to the McLaren job website. You’ve been checking different Formula 1 team’s job sites to see if any of them post anything about needing a photographer. You sigh when y6ou don’t see any new postings. You switch over to the Red Bull site next. You see a new job posting and start to get hopeful. You click on it and the words “Red Bull Photographer” stare back at me. You immediately hit apply and start the application. 

     You look up at the screen when you hear the commentators say something about a yellow flag and Latifi. 

You: Aww, Latifi spun. Williams just isn’t having a good day. 

Luke: No, they didn’t. 

     You turn back to the application, filling everything out. You submit the application with your photo portfolio just as the commentators go “And Sainz in the wall!” Your head flings up to see Carlos’ car against the wall. 

You: No!! Carlos hit the wall! Thank goodness he’s okay. I always get so worried about the drivers when they crash. 

Luke: That’s so sweet of you. It’s always worrying when drivers crash. 

You: Yeah. I hope you’re staying dry this weekend. Looks miserable out there. 

Luke: I’m luckily in the hospitality all weekend. 

You: That’s good. It’s bright and sunny here. 

You: Hopefully it doesn’t rain too much during the races. 

Luke: Hopefully, that would be good. 

     You watch as the cars come out on track for Q3. You groan as Kevin Magnussen crashes and causes another red flag. 

You: How many red flags are there going to be?

Luke: You just see Magnussen crash?

You: Yeah, luckily it won’t be too long it looks like. 

You: I still have 6 minutes left of Q3 but there’s 25 minutes left in the video. What happens?

You: Ohhh! Valtteri is off! And it’s another red flag. 

Luke: Three red flags. It was an interesting qualifying. 

     You patiently wait for the red flag to lift. 15 minutes later the flag is lifted. You know you can skip until the flag is done, but you like watching everything you can on the sport. You groan when you see another red flag. You gasp and yell, “No!” It’s Lando who’s caused the red flag. 

You: No! Lando crashed! Hopefully he’s okay! But hey! He’s starting P3 tomorrow!

Luke: He’s okay, happy to start P3 tomorrow.

You: Oh good! He did great today. 

Luke: I should head to bed. It’s midnight here now. 

You: Okay! Have a good night!

Luke: Good night, Y/n. 

     You turn off the tv and head into the kitchen to make some dinner. 

April 23, 2022 9 am

     You sit down on the couch as the five lights go out for the sprint race. “Oh no, what happened to you, Zhou?” you ask, seeing his car in the wall. “Ooohhh, contact with Pierre,” you hum, seeing Pierre limp around the track. 

You: Poor Zhou and Pierre. 

You: Zhou should’ve given Pierre more room, but it’s going to go down as a racing incident probably. 

You: The fact that Carlos is fighting against Fernando, who is the driver he idolized as a child, is crazy. 

You: Noooo, Perez passed Lando. 

You: NO! Carlos! How could you do this to your bestie? How could you pass him?

You: Let’s go! Lando finished P5!

     You set your phone down, standing up. You start cleaning your apartment, waiting to see if Luke responds any time soon. 

     You’ve just finished cleaning the bathroom when you hear your phone vibrate. You grab it, expecting to see Luke’s name. You frown when you see that it’s an email from a name you don’t recognise. Curious, you click it. You almost drop your phone in shock when you see the contents. “RED BULL WANTS AN INTERVIEW WITH ME!” You shriek. You’re shocked that they want an interview and the incredibly fast response time. You immediately respond to the email, wanting to set up a time as soon as possible for an interview. As soon as you get that figured out, you start pacing your apartment. “Oh my god, this is it. This could be you fulfilling your dream, Y/n. Don’t freak out,” you mumble to myself. Your phone vibrates, and you dive for it. You grin when you see a message from Luke. 

Luke: I’m sure Lando would be grateful for your support if he knew you.

You: Hi, Luke!

Luke: Hi, Y/n. How has your day been?

You: It’s going amazing. I have an interview on Monday for a possible photography job.

Luke: That’s amazing! Congrats!

You: Thanks!

Luke: I’m sure you’ll do great.

You: Thanks! How’s the weather look in Imola tomorrow? More rain?

Luke: Lots of rain.

You: Damn, good luck to the drivers then. 

Luke: They’ve driven in all kinds of weather, I’m sure they’ll be okay. 

You: I hope so too. 

Luke: What’s your plan for the rest of your day?

You: I’m finishing cleaning my apartment, then doing some homework. Can’t slack off for even a day or I’ll fall behind. 

Luke: Damn, I really hope you get some free time soon. 

You: I should, it’s almost the end of school. Just two more weeks. 

Luke: Oh, that’s good!

You: Yep! What’s the plan for your night?

Luke: Well, just resting and preparing for the race and events tomorrow. 

You: Okay! Have fun with that! 

Luke: I will!

Lando’s POV

     I pick up my phone, grinning when I see messages from Y/n. My disappointment from losing positions in the sprint disappears when I see she’s excited that I finished P5. I dive into a conversation with her, lounging on the bed to relax. We talk for a good hour before I feel myself start to fall asleep. I groan, wanting to spend more time talking to Y/n. I fight sleep for a couple minutes before it starts to take over. 

Me: As much as I’d love to continue talking, it’s 9:30 here now and I’m fighting sleep. 

Y/n: Okay! Good night Luke!

Me: Good night, Y/n!

April 24, 2022 8 am

Y/n’s POV

     “And in Imola, we’re racing,” Will Buxton says. You grin, as Lando takes two places right off the bat. “And Sainz has been hit!” You gasp, seeing Carlos and Daniel in the gravel. 

You: LET’S GO LANDO! TAKING TWO PLACES OFF THE BAT!

You: Oh no! Not Carlos and Daniel! It must be so hard to see with all that rain. 

You: The drivers need little windshield wipers on their helmets. 

You: It sucks that Carlos is beached. 

You: Oh! Mick had a little trip through the grass too. 

You: I could never be a race strategist. So many variables. 

     You bite your nails as Charles makes an attempt to pass Lando. “Charles, I swear if you take Lando out,” you say. You pout when Charles passes Lando, “Come on, Lando. You can do this.” 

You: Aww, Mick spun again. 

You: Stroll is worrying me going onto the wet part of the track on slicks. 

You: I don’t want anyone to crash!

You: No! Charles! He crashed! 

You: BUT THAT MEANS LANDO IS P3! LET’S GOOOO!

You: YESSS LANDO GOT P3!!!

You: Awww, his reaction on the radio is so cute. 

     You laugh as Lando appears on the screen, his hair sticking straight up. After the podium ceremony, you shut off the tv. You grab your laptop, setting up camp on the couch to work on homework and get ready for your interview tomorrow. 

Lando’s POV

     I step out of the conference room, still stinking of champaign. “All I want right now is a shower and sleep,” Max says, coming up next to me. I nod, making a noise of agreement. We walk back to our drivers rooms together. “See you later, Lando. Congrats again on your race,” Max says, waving bye. 

     “Thanks, Max. Congrats on your win,” I say, before heading into the room. I race for my phone, grinning when I see a string of messages from Y/n. I quickly read through them before replying. 

Me: Lando is super happy with his final position. 

Y/n: As he should be! He did amazing! 

     I almost send a thank you to her, before catching myself. “She doesn’t know she’s talking to you, idiot. Don’t mess it up now,” I mumble.

Me: He did.

Y/n: Any plans to go out and celebrate?

Me: Not tonight, I’ve got an early flight to catch. Celebrations will be later this week. 

Y/n: Sounds like fun!

Me: Yeah! Now it’s time to head back to the hotel and get some sleep. 

Y/n: Sounds like a fantastic idea. Sounds like a lot more fun than what I’m doing. 

Me: What are you doing?

Y/n: I’m studying for my final in my java class. 

Me: That sounds awful.

Y/n: It truly is miserable. But I’m getting through it. 

Me: I’ll leave you to it then, I’m headed back to the hotel now and will probably fall asleep as soon as I sit down. 

Y/n: Alright! Have a good night and sleep, Luke! 

Me: Have a good day and study, Y/n. Good night. 

     I grab my stuff, heading for the hotel. As soon as I get back, I shower and fall into bed, quickly falling asleep.

Next chapter: Chapter Five

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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@faithshouseofchaos

Story tag list:

@anotherapollokid

@freyathehuntress

@hadids-world

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@delululeclerc

[pirateunderapineapple]

Agathario Ao3 FanFic Recommendation Post

IT IS HERE, IT IS QUEER!

Okay so, I'm trying to gather all of the fics that i have either bookmarked ( so multichapters that i'm following ), and also i'll be going through my ao3 history (oh it's a dark place) to check for either completed works or oneshots etc. They will not be in order of how much I recommend them obv, just in random (except for a couple that you must read or i'll stab you). I haven't found the authors on tumblr but if anyone knows them feel free to tag them, I want all them to know how much i love them hehe This is how it's gonna go: I'll leave you the name of the fic and the author, their summary of the fic and maybe a personal comment, sounds good? Disclaimer: these are fics that i have read and enjoyed so i would like to recommend to other fans as well. If anyone has any other recommendations feel free to add them to the list, i think everyone will appreciate it, myself included! OKAY HERE WE GO

-MULTICHAPTER-

Unraveled by EchoesInTheMargins Summary: The thought of being with a woman had once seemed impossible to Agatha Harkness—a door locked tightly and never to be opened. After all, she was 48 years old, for Christ’s sake.

Then, without so much as a warning, Rio Vidal, a first-year associate, strode into her perfectly controlled life and blew Agatha’s closet door off its damn hinges.

PC: I mean, I trust that everyone knows this one by now and I don't even need to recommend it but just in case! THIS IS A MASTERPIECE! The epilogue was just posted and honestly I can't even describe how I feel about this fic. I would wake up for uni at 7 in the morning and the first thing I did was check if there was an update. How to not keep a secret by disaster_top Summary: Agatha liked to keep her work and personal life separate, which was why even a decade into working as a detective her coworkers had yet to know who she was married to. And unfortunately, her wife had no interest in keeping things that way.

PC: every chapter in this one is kinda like an oneshot, but same universe etc. I really, really love their freaky dynamic ( they're the definition of they much eachothers freak) in this one and I strongly reccommend it!

It’s Bloody and Raw (But I Swear it is Sweet) by Adimnos

Summary: “I don’t believe you. You prefer me—“

“Compliant?” Rio stood slowly, her eyes never leaving Agatha’s face. The action put her inches away, her body heat radiating out, searing Agatha’s skin. “Obedient?”

Agatha’s hips shifted against her will, her lips parting slightly. She closed her eyes against the heady mortification that razed through her chest. She felt Rio move closer and she parted her legs without thought.

Rio stepped between them but didn’t touch, hands settling on the desk inches from Agatha’s hips and hands.

“You always were such a brat.” Rio’s breath was hot against Agatha’s ear, her voice throaty and raw and filthy. “You never knew how to do what you were told.”

Or: After five years away, a still-grieving Agatha is dragged back into the FBI and the arms of her ex-wife. PC: this is art, it's just sto intense, so well written. pure, pure art. i'm thrilled whenever there's a new chapter

Sugar and Honey by visadero Summary: “No way,” Rio said, crossing her arms defensively. “Good for you, get that bag, but I’ll figure something else out.”

Jen’s laughter bubbled up, bright and teasing. “Sweetheart, you’re so sheltered. These women aren’t crusty old grandmas in rocking chairs. They’re powerful, rich, and they smell like Chanel, not mothballs. Some of them are absolutely stunning.” She tilted her head, studying Rio as if sizing her up for auction. “You’d clean up if you stopped being so stubborn. They’d eat you alive—and pay you for the privilege.”

OR: Struggling bartender Rio stumbles into a sugar baby situation with CEO Agatha Harkness. She can't figure out what the woman wants from her, or why she's letting herself go along with it. PC: I really loved this one and I have to add that this fic is actually part of a series, the second work being Honey and Wine , which is basically Agatha's POV i think (sugar and honey is Rio's POV). I haven't got around to reading the second work cause i wanted some time to have passed so as to not remember every detail of the fic. I think i'll be reading it in the next few days tho so can't wait!!

death's doorstep by villhag Summary: One day, Wanda’s spell fades, and Agatha Harkness is awake again.

Pissed off and powerless, she casts a spell to take her somewhere, anywhere but Westview—and it takes her to the last place she wants to be.

Death’s doorstep. -- Agatha and her ex-girlfriend, Death, have a very tumultuous sleepover in Hell. PC: the ending we deserved, thank you author

A Kingdom by the Night by visadero Summary: “You’re early,” Agatha managed, feigning a flicker of annoyance, though her pulse quickened. "I missed you.” The words were simple, almost soft. Her dark gaze held Agatha’s, steady and unyielding. "Agatha huffed, “Is that so?” She turned away, trying to mask the slight flush rising to her cheeks. "I’d think the Queen of Shadows wouldn’t be so sentimental.” The woman’s lips curved ever so slightly as she closed the distance between them. “Think what you want. But here you are." / or : Hadestown came on shuffle, thought about the Hades/Persephone Rio/Agatha parallels and things spiraled wildly out of control PC: this one had me reaaaaally invested

Something Wicked by motherconfessor Summary: While an apprentice witch, Agatha grows frustrated when she's not permitted to learn magic.

Until someone makes her an offer that she can't refuse PC: love, LOVE, LOVE

You'd have to stop the world by Echolux Summary: In the events leading up to Jen and Alice’s wedding, their respective best friends Agatha and Rio have to work together despite their… creative differences.

Oh, and then there’s this: Rio doesn’t fall for straight women. Agatha's not a lesbian. And one of them is lying. PC: This one was one of my recent discoveries and I wish I hadn't gone through it so fast. I appreciated so much the way this author approached the characters and their relationship, it was so pure.

The Ethics of Attraction by Sunshinesongbird Summary: Agatha Harkness prides herself on being a no-nonsense ethics professor, keeping students in line with sharp lectures and sharper looks. But when Rio Vidal—brilliant, sarcastic, and infuriatingly captivating—decides to test those boundaries, Agatha finds herself facing dilemmas that have nothing to do with her syllabus. As playful banter gives way to undeniable attraction, the two must navigate the fine line between rules and reckless abandon. In this classroom, the lessons go far beyond ethics.

THEY ARE BOTH CONSENTING ADULTS THIS IS A DOCTORATE PROGRAM NOT UNDERGRAD THANK YOU!

PC: hehe loving these dynamics

you'll just have to taste me (when she's kissin' you) by agatharioluvr Summary: "You alright, buddy?" She asked, and Nicholas stared up at her, star-struck. "Sorry about that." "It's alright, I caught it before it could hit me!"

Agatha stared at her in disbelief - seeing Rio right in front of her, a little sweaty and breathless; it was unbelievably attractive. Rio looked over at her, smiling that fucking smile of hers, before turning back to Nicholas.

"Well done, little man." She laughed and ruffled his hair a little as he smiled up at her. "I like the jersey - you keep the ball, we've got plenty more."

With that, Rio nodded a farewell to Nicholas and ran back onto the court, signalling for the assistant coach to grab a new ball to use. Nicholas held his new gift to his chest tightly, squealing with delight at the fact that he'd just talked to his favourite player of all time.

OR, Agatha's son idolises a certain star basketball player, Rio Vidal - and maybe she does too...

PC: I actually recently discovered this and read it all in one sitting. Honestly, I think i'm digging the athlete!rio fics a little too much!!

The Green Witch by MickeyJrWrites Summary: Agatha takes her kid to a market where he instantly becomes attached to the sweetest farmer, Rio Vidal. It's a romcom involving carrots and celery. PC: Just cuteness overload and rio calling nicky papito like IM DYING

honey come put your lips on mine (and shut me up) by tinyteamug Summary: “Do not,” Agatha said to herself from her spot in the media booth, “you absolutely do not need to defend your honor against-”

Rio dropped her gloves.

“God fucking damn it.”

The Sharks’ forward had barely gotten her own gloves off before Rio’s fist connected with her jaw. The crowd erupted.

“I am going to kill her,” Agatha announced to no one in particular, already mentally drafting press releases. “Should’ve kept managing curling teams. Nobody ever gets punched in curling.”

OR: Gently feral hockey star Rio and long-suffering publicist Agatha who definitely doesn’t get paid enough for this shit PC: Like i said, athlete!rio is my thing...

break me, shake me, devastate me by saturnreturn Summary: Rio, owner of Westview’s local floral shop “Wisterical,” finds herself with an early Christmas present when her hag of a landlord, Evanora Harkness, keels over. With the biggest pain in her side gone, she’s expecting a relatively stress-free life from here on out.

That is, until the daughter. PC: This doesn't have many chapters yet but i think it's really got great potential!!

hand in unlovable hand by villhag Summary: “You know, it’s kind of illegal to drink here. School property and all.”

It might as well have been the voice of God. The quip came from above; Agatha seeing her shoes before she saw the rest of her. White Nikes, splotched with dirt and grass. Ribbed socks pulled all the way up over gray sweatpants. A dark green sweatshirt. Salem Elementary Soccer embroidered on the front. All culminating with a tan neck, jet-black hair, and a very annoying—should she say condescending—smirk.

Someone had been stupid enough to encroach on Agatha Harkness’s domain. -- Agatha is a widely-despised soccer mom. Rio Vidal is Salem Elementary’s new coach.

Chaos ensues.

PC: same as the previous one honestly

Time Warp by 324b2fun Summary: When Agatha signs on to do a long-awaited sequel to one of her beloved movies, she thinks it'll be an easy check and a chance to reminisce on her youth. Little does she realize her past has come back to bite her in the ass, primarily in the form of one Rio Vidal. PC: I love this fic and especially the flashback chapters

Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light by motherconfessor Summary: “Lucky gal,” Agnes said. “The only way––” and she tried to say Ralph. That had been his name, hadn’t it? The idiot of a man whose house she’d taken over. Instead, what came out, tugged by the spell was, “Rio would remember our anniversary is if there was a beer named June 2nd.” - When Wanda's spellwork traps another person in its bindings, Agatha makes a deal that all she needs is seven days to get what she wants.

But seven days is a long time to be stuck in a PG-13 sitcom. PC: agathario in wandavision universe just hits different

-LESS CHAPTERS/ONESHOTS-

anything, and I mean ANYTHING from this author : 324b2fun THEY ARE DOING GOD'S WORK periodt also like, usually when i like a fic i go and check the author's other works so i recommend you do the same

creator, you destroy me by velvetprayer Summary: Time, suddenly, means the moments in between her. PC: there is no need for introductions here i think... this fic was what gotta us all through the finale and i don't even have words to express my gratitude to the author.

i bite my tongue, it's a bad habit by tinyteamug

Summary: In the week since the bonfire incident (which she was absolutely not thinking about), she’d run into Rio approximately seventeen times.

Not that she was counting.

There was Tuesday, when Agatha had taken Nicholas to his first surf lesson. Rio had been teaching the advanced class, wetsuit clinging to her like a second skin, and Agatha had absolutely not watched her demonstrate proper form on the beach.

(“Your coffee’s getting cold,” Wanda had said smugly.

“Shit.”

“And you’re drooling a little.”)

OR Agatha has a mid-life crisis and bails for LA. That’s what people did, right? Terrible breakup, mid-life crisis, pack up your sixteen-year-old kid and move to California. Completely reasonable sequence of events.

Then start sleeping with the hot surfing instructor, royally fuck up keeping it casual, and try your damndest not to fall in love. Less reasonable sequence of events. But whatever.

i looked to the children (i drank from the fountains) by seabiscuit Summary: “Wait, you haven’t even heard my pitch,” She can hear William’s footsteps quickening behind her, “She’s gay, too.”

Agatha turns sharply on her heel, “How could you possibly know that?”

“I asked.”

“You asked?” Agatha slaps a hand over her face, covering her eyes, “Oh my God, Teen, one of these days you’re going to get slapped in the face, and you’re going to deserve it.” * Or,Agatha’s teenage neighbor tries to play matchmaker with her and the hot funeral director who just moved in next door. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

better in the dark by seabiscuit Summary: “I don’t have sex.”

Agatha’s face screwed up somewhere between delight and incredulity, “You don’t ever?” She scoffed, “As in you’ve never at all? How long have you been here?”

“Since the inception of life itself.”

“And you’ve never fucked?” The way she said it, it did sound a little stupid, “What do you do to pass the time?”

“I scare children,” Death shifted in her chair, still rubbing at the skin of one hand with the other. No wonder Agatha had nowhere to live, she thought. She was unbearable. “Amongst other things.”

Or, Upon meeting Death, Agatha takes it upon herself to educate her on some of the finer points of being human. PC: This is pure, pure magic.

death and taxes (a series) by paddingtonfan69 Summary: They’re staring at each other over the now evenly stacked forms at the table. Agatha’s mask has fully slipped and Rio is fascinated by what’s underneath it, an unruly sort of anger, a sharp passion. Agatha looks like she wants to tear Rio from limb to limb. And Rio, god help her, would probably let her.

“Moving on to property taxes…”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Agatha lets out. “Don’t you have a life?” — Rio is the best IRS agent in her field. Agatha refuses to pay her taxes. A love story for the ages.

PC: This story is so random but man I love it

when we kiss (i have anger issues) by lgbtimelord Summary: there’s no one agatha hates more than rio vidal

but there’s no one evanora hates more than the vidal family

so, when her mother forces her to go home for halloween, bringing rio as her pretend girlfriend is the best course of action to piss her off

PC: i remember enjoying this one

with your boots beneath my bed by dumblibramoon Summary: "Here,” Rio said, standing and shrugging off her flannel overshirt. Of course she was wearing layers. Of course.

“I'm fine,” Agatha said automatically, even as a cold shiver ran through her.

Rio just raised an eyebrow and held out the shirt. “You're dripping on my hay.”

“Your hay will survive.” But Agatha took the shirt, trying not to notice how warm it was.

Nicky desperately craved this dusty hellscape of a ranch for summer camp, and because Agatha's not about to leave her son alone with a bunch of horse people, she rents a cottage nearby. And here comes Rio, wearing an incredibly unserious pair of Wrangler jeans PC: just cute little lesbians

if i could take her down and run (then i'd call her) by dumblibramoon Summary: “You're late,” Agatha manages to quip, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.

“A lady is never late,” Rio retorts, kneeling beside the fallen witch. Her eyes rake over Agatha's form, taking in the severity of the wound. “Looks like you've had quite the night, sweetheart.”

Agatha tries to laugh, but it comes out as a pained cough. “What can I say? I like to live dangerously.”

“Clearly,” Rio murmurs, her cool fingers brushing against Agatha's cheek. Agatha jolts quickly before listing back and slightly leaning into Rio’s hand. Goddamn, she was woozy.

Rio can sense when Agatha is anywhere near death (the physical kind). Featuring Agatha flirting with both her mortality and Death.

the way i feel about you baby can’t explain it by seabiscuit Summary: “She won’t even admit that she’s gay for a New York City Ballet dancer. You think she would go for you, Rio Vidal of Cobb, Oklahoma?” Jenn raises an eyebrow, “IT service provider who plays Elden Ring in her spare time.”

“Maybe.” Chirps Rio. Hope does, after all, spring eternal. * Or, Rio goes from IT service monkey to fucking her very beautiful, very poised boss in a very short period of time. And then, of course, there’s the aftermath. PC: ngl i don't remember much about this one but i remember liking it lol

She Gets The Job Done by visadero Summary: Cars don’t crash through fences for free,” Rio replied smoothly, shrugging. “But,” she continued, eyes glinting, “I’ll make you an offer. You cover just the cost of parts—let’s call it a grand—and I’ll throw in the labor for free.” Agatha frowned, knowing there had to be a catch. “And what exactly do you want in return?” Rio leaned back against the workbench, arms folded and expression deceptively casual. “Dinner with me.”

OR: Agatha is making her way cross country when she wrecks her car. There's only one shop in town ran by a deeply irritating and magnetic mechanic. She offers a discount on the work in exchange for dinner. Then she really puts in the body work (heyo). PC: this was a cute little piece

so maybe when you kiss me, i can let you see me cry  by rainbowinbeigeboots Summary: Agatha reluctantly has her first sleepover

PC: my babies i loved them so much in this

witchcraft filling your void (a series) by wariangle Summary: Pulling the sheet to her, Agatha gets up, draws a hand through her hair. “Get up,” she says, loudly.

The woman – Rio, if Agatha remembers correctly, Jesus fucking Christ – only mumbles something in response and turns over, away from the noise. On her back, right below her neck, the black tendrils of a tattoo spiral across her shoulder blades.

Agatha’s too fucking old for this. “Get up,” she repeats. She’s been teaching for over twenty years; she knows how to make her voice carry in a room. PC: this series has 4 works with 1-2 chapters each, i just put the summary to the first one. I enjoyed reading it and had some laughs with my baby rio

por eso by stick2theplan

Summary: In the seventies, Wanda decided Westview needed some queer representation. If Agnes hated her husband so much, maybe she’d prefer a wife.

(In which Ralph wasn’t real.)

PC: didn't know if i should add this in the multichapter or not since it is about 15000 words only but in any case, READ THIS

Underneath The Tree by Cthulhus_Curse Summary: Rio is back in her hometown after years of disappearance. Having always been seen as the black sheep for going three decades without meeting her soulmate, she finds herself awkwardly going through the motions of a rather disastrous family Christmas. But when a rather hasty brunette runs into her in town, Rio finds herself happy to spend as much time getting to know her before returning to the cruel reality of the holiday season. — Or Soulmate AU. Everyone has a journal that allows them to write back and forth with their soulmate, but need to leave it to fate to let them meet. ----------- OKAY SO, these were the ones i could find, god this list is long, maybe in the future there will be a part 2, who knows i hope i have been helpful to yall and you guys give these fics and authors the love that they deserve! seeya my babes<3

[maitadori]

WEAK WILLED CLOUD KNIGHT pt. 2 sfw. blade x fem!reader.

SPOILERS FOR XIANZHOU LUOFU STORYLINE

word count : 1.9k

part one. part two. part three

summary : you finally come across blade once more after avoiding him, his will is strong, and he still seeks his prize.

a/n: PART 3 WILL BE NSFW!!!!

DARK CONTENT BLOGS PLZ DNI

you fiddled with your hands nervously, yanqing let you know that jing yuan wanted to meet you, now you stood outside his door, scared and anxious. it was only a couple days after the incident with blade, and you had a feeling that jing yuan’s conversation would end up pertaining to that.

you tried shooing away your nerves, taking a deep breath in and exhaling before you knocked. 

“state your name and business.” jing yuan drawled. to any other person that wasn’t you, or his other counterparts like fu xuan or yanqing, they’d probably think everything was normal, but you noticed the exhaustion in his voice. he was probably about to doze off before you arrived.

“it’s [name], sir. you called me here?” you asked, unsure.

he hummed in affirmation, “come in.”

you walked in, making sure to shut the door behind you. a smile curled on your lips as you jokingly chided jing yuan, “no sleeping on the job, general.” you made a small note of how you were starting to sound like blade (he just couldn’t seem to leave you alone, even in your thoughts).

jing yuan smiled, “you caught me just before my daily doze. anyways,” he gestured to the seat in front of him, “sit. i wanna talk to you.”

you sat as told, really hoping your nerves weren’t too apparent.

“is there something wrong, general?”

“not necessarily, but it is about the stellaron hunters.” 

you quickly became skittish in your seat, shuffling around under the guise of getting comfortable as you avoided eye contact. 

you were no fool to jing yuan’s observing eye, you were sure he could see right through you. you were lucky he trusted you so much, for he didn’t push the issue, or he didn’t notice— which you both knew wasn’t the case.

“you remember those three that came from the astral express, correct?”

“yes, the ones who proposed to help us.”

“well, they caught one of the stellaron hunters, kafka. fu xuan will be using her matrix of prescience on her later tonight. the astral express crew along with tingyun will be there, i’d like if you’d accompany them.”

your pupils shrunk. “me?” you stammered, pointing at yourself as if in disbelief, which you were.

“i don’t see anyone else in here,” he answered back teasingly.

“but i don’t understand…” you faltered. your fumble with blade was a serious concern for everyone in the cloud knights, including jing yuan. he proposed to have someone else take your position as blade’s watchman, which you accepted without hesitation.

i mean you quite literally agreed to kissing the man, how could you face him after that? you swore to yourself that everything that transpired was just the both of you acting in the heat of the moment (yet blade blatantly saying he liked you played on a loop in your head).

“you have unfinished business don’t you?” jing yuan asked, a sly lilt to his voice, as if he knew something you didn’t. it made you anxious.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you say, a bit nervous. 

what business do you have with kafka? other than the man you’d rather not think about, the stellaron hunters had nothing to do with you outside of ensuring their capture.

maybe there was something jing yuan wanted you to experience. you tried to convince yourself this was him acting as your general and not a friend, it made you feel a bit better.

“you know where fu xuan will be, i suggest you make haste.”

you made it just in time, for you arrived just as fu xuan begin using matrix of prescience. you stopped abruptly, eyes traveling to your other companions before you tuned your focus in on kafka. 

even though she was in the hands of the remarkable fu xuan, she seemed as calm as ever. her feet lifted from the ground as she slowly rose in the air, a factor of fu xuan’s work.

your gaze flickered to fu xuan, and whatever she was seeing seemed to make her stunned. she pushed herself further, eyeing kafka’s grin with a glare. the gem on fu xuan’s forehead glowed brighter and she flinched back harshly with a gasp. she tried her best to regain her breath as her eye stayed glued to kafka.

“that’s.. why you’re here? all for that…?”

“well, not what you were expecting?” kafka asks.

fu xuan spared her a mere glance before she started to run off, not hesitating to get to jing yuan.

“what? fu xuan what’d you see?!” you called out to her distant figure.

“ask her yourself! i have to let the general know about this!”

you watched her figure as it decreased in size. you turned back to see stelle already approaching her. you knew jing yuan would fill you in on the details, but you couldn’t help but let your curiosity make you antsy. 

not only that, but stelle seemed to be having an irritatingly long conversation with kafka. you eyed them and still, even now, questioned what your purpose was for being sent here.

kafka spoke in a voice that you were able to hear, “it’s begun.”

before you could question what you mean you shrieked in surprise as a strong rumbling nearly tumbled you off of your feet. “what the hell?” you muttered.

you stabilized your stance and gasped in shock as you watched the ambrosial arbor grow in size, a sight you’d never had the privilege to witness until this moment.

kafka decided that was the perfect distraction to make her escape.

“hey, hold on!” you took notice immediately, running to reprimand her. before you you could get close, a man suddenly jumped down to defend her, brandishing his weapon in your direction.

your eyes widened as you made eye contact with a familiar face. his eyes clashed with yours and the tremble of your hands returned tenfold.

“come on bladie, two more places to visit,” kafka spoke up.

“gimme a second.” blade said, stalking closer to you, causing you to flinch. “[name], you owe me.” blade told you simply, his face blank as he stared at you— he swung his weapon to hold it behind him— you flushed at the mention of your agreement.

“oh?” kafka perked up, smiling as she eyed the both of you.

“no… all that happened… was just me being too deep in the moment.” you balled your hand into a fist, the other gripping your weapon tighter. you decided now was the best time to bury whatever nonsense you felt for him. is this why jing yuan sent you? did he predict this would happen? does that mean he knew all along?

the assumption made you feel slightly sick— guessing that jing yuan set this up to force you to confront your feelings, it made you lightheaded.

blade could only blink at your words, his face was still devoid of any expression. you shuffled anxiously, his lack of response making you nervous. he then nodded, speaking lightly, “you’re right, i guess i was just too into the moment as well.”

you felt your heart stutter in your rib cage, and suddenly your confident demeanor faltered. you barely noticed the change in your expression, but blade did, and he finally smiled— or smirked. he stepped closer to you, using his index finger to tip up your chin.

“you basically tell me that this meant nothing to you but get upset when i say it back. you’re such a hypocrite.. so cute.” he trailed off mumbling as he leaned into your face.

“i’m not…” you denied, “i don’t care. i don’t… i don’t like you..” you try to say confidently, yet with a trembling voice. you knew you weren’t convincing, yet you could only hope you were.

even then, you couldn’t stop the pull of weight on your eyelids as his face ventured closer. he was definitely putting some type of spell on you. you couldn’t bear acknowledging that you liked this man on your own will.

“my plan worked, didn’t it? you owe me that kiss. unless, you know. it was just us being in the moment.” blade backed up a little, obviously provoking you.

“no!” you exclaimed hastily, gasping covering your mouth once you realized. blade’s lips adorned that familiar smirk and you shrunk. “i.. i mean.. whatever, it’s not like i care.”

“hurry it up you two, we don’t have all day, blade.” as much as kafka liked seeing blade so expressive, she didn’t like wasting time.

“i’m gonna kiss you, okay?” he gripped your chin and decreased the space between you two before you could even conjure up a response. you didn’t have time to squeeze your eyes shut before your lips locked with his. 

kafka turned the other way with an exasperated sigh, willing to give you both a semblance of privacy.

all of your defiance and denial meant nothing now, you were blatantly attracted to him, and it was embarrassing how quick you melted into him. his kiss was somewhat harsh— yet passionate— he kissed you as if he was trying to devour you whole. it was shocking, yet so like him.

his hand moved to the back of your head to keep you in place and move you about as he liked as he deepened the kiss. you weren’t new to this, but you were most definitely inexperienced. yet, the feeling of blade surrounding you as he took your lips over and over again had you easing into it naturally. 

“blade..! wait..!!” you tried to pull away, in desperate need of air. blade couldn’t bother to listen, you’ve kept him waiting for way too long, he wasn’t taking his precious time with you for granted. he’d only grant you a second of reprieve before he was nibbling on your lips once more. your knuckles were paling due to your harsh grip on his clothes.

“no way..” he muttered between kisses, harsh grip on your face. “you avoided me, so now i’m getting my compensation.”

the kiss lasted for a little longer, becoming a little too heated for your liking. blade’s tongue swiped across your lips and you squeaked. he finally pulled away, but not before biting your bottom lip. you gasped in surprise, and he watched as you tried your best to catch your breath. his eyes were full of adoration as he spoke, “i’m a free man now, so i can visit you whenever i please. keep your door unlocked.” he gave you one last peck on the lips before diving after kafka.

“n..no way..” you brought your fingers to your flushed, swollen lips. “i cant believe.. i actually kissed him..”

you crossed your arms in frustration, looking at the hologram of jing yuan. 

“you knew didn’t you?”

he could only smirk softly. “my subordinates told me he wouldn’t shut up about you, plus whenever i even said the word ‘stellaron’ you would jump. you’re a horrible liar.”

“if you knew… why didn’t you do anything? i almost kissed a former criminal, you know?”

“he’s no longer a criminal now, since we’re aware his goals don’t clash with ours. also what do you mean ‘almost’? seems like you kissed him to me… was he trying to eat you?” jing yuan asked innocently, even though you both knew he was trying to rile you up. good for him, because fortunately, it worked.

“s-shut your goddamn mouth!” you swiped a hand over your lips, your other fist balled up in anger. “when i see you in person i’m gonna fucking strangle you!”

taglist : @96jnie @btshoetaehyung27 @caesadele @altusha @twinkdrakez you all asked for part two so i decided to make you part of the taglist, hope you enjoy!!!!

[fairyberkshire]

FALLING FOR SHADOWS | RAFE CAMERON AU

pairings: frat!rafe cameron x female!reader

a/n: this is officially the first chapter of this au ! i hope you all enjoy !

parts: 1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . .

The music loudly played from the speakers as she walked around the frat house– this was not at all what she expected her Friday night to look like, but her friends decided to drag her along saying they’d bring her one way or another, so she caved. Though, obnoxiously enough, her friends had gone in their own directions, going to do their own things, leaving her…alone. So, here she was, standing slightly off to the side, nursing a drink in hand as she tried to act as if she belonged, her eyes glancing around the room when all of a sudden they locked with a pair of blue eyes– though she has no idea why but as she stares into the eyes of this boy, she senses something behind them…Something she can’t quite explain. 

It's almost as if he’s looking at you like he could save you, all while completely ruining you.

Though, she has no time even to think further, before he walks over, stopping in front of her. 

“Let me take a guess– you only here because of…boyfriend? friend?” he questions, eyes not leaving hers. And, she knows she should probably just brush him off– this whole party scene isn’t like her– but something about the confidence he holds makes him impossible to ignore.

“No, uh– no boyfriend…” She starts, and a small smirk appears on his lips. “Friends dragged me out, thought I could use some fun– but clearly frat boys and I have very different types of fun”  

“And what exactly is your type of fun?” 

“Well certainly not beer pong– more so…bookstores” 

And there it is again– that smirk from him. “Tell you what– you beat me in a round of beer pong, And I’ll personally take you to a bookstore here in town– it’s on me” She lets out a soft laugh, “You don’t exactly seem like the…reading as a hobby type” she hesitates, curious if he’s playing with her or not.

Guys like him don’t usually go for girls like her…right?

“So you’re checking me out?” 

“Awfully cocky for someone failing their classes–” 

“Damn– but I’ll have you know, I’m actually passing…some, of my classes” 

“Oh? And here I thought I was getting wrapped up with a bad influence” 

Rafe smiles, “Thought you’d like a bad influence…” 

“Who knows– but you do look like trouble,” she says as she takes a sip from her drink. Rafe's eyes flick down to her lips when she pulls the cup from her mouth. 

“You look like someone who could use some trouble…”

a/n: feel free to leave feedback and come chat in my inbox !

[chronic-escapixt]

Human Sacrifice (Part 2)

prisonworld!Kai x f!reader

content warnings/tags ~ Minors DNI, 18+ ONLY, Dark fiction, NONCON, kidnap, rough sex, bondage, oral (f receiving), abusive behavior, spanking, degradation, explicit language, forced overstim, toys

*Kai is the king of pet names- calls reader babycakes*

word count: 3.8k

summary: you wake up alone in the middle of nowhere. unfortunately for you, you're not completely alone.

Kai sets me down at the table. Each passing moment I spend sitting still, stewing in my own idleness, eats away at my adrenalin. Leaving a fatiguing hunger gnawing in its place. Worsened by the smells coming from the stove. I crane my neck just to get a peak at the bacon frying in the cast iron skillet, sizzling and popping in its own oils, the pancake cooking up to a perfect crisp brown edge before it's flipped over.

Pretty soon he’s setting the plate on the table, directing a sly wink at me to which I return a scowl, not even looking down to acknowledge the food, not even moving to touch the silverware since I wouldn’t put it past him to get my hopes up just to snatch it away and gorge himself on the entire thing right in front of me. If I wasn’t practically starving, I’d be more tempted to vault the plate at his dense head and deal with whatever consequences came later. 

“Oh! Can’t forget the oj!” he squeals, dashing over to the fridge. My critical gaze follows where I notice the children’s doodles tacked to the door with novelty magnets along with what looks to be report cards and a refrigerator magnet with a frilly cursive font that says: Kiss the Chef. 

Not if I can help it.

He pours me up a tall glass then stares down his nose at me expectantly. I lean forward with squared shoulders, tight lips, creased brow, posturing to let him know that this silent standoff between us can go on forever. He leans back with a frustrated sigh and I know I’ve won until my stomach growls out loud, undercutting my small victory.

He smirks and nudges the plate closer to me, “eat up before your eggs get cold.”

“I’m not hungry,” I bite back.

“Mhmm, right.. I bet you think I’m trying to poison you or something - Well, babe, if I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it already.” Each word is slow and direct with brazen condescension. 

I collect my annoyance behind a placid mask.

“It’s just that my parents expected me home like.. yesterday. They’ve probably already reported me as a missing person. If they’re not already, the police will start looking for me soon and no matter what you do to me, everything is going to lead right back to you.”

He nods with consideration as I continue. “They’re gonna either find me alive or dead and you’re going to end up in prison. Doesn’t that scare you? I mean.. a pretty boy like you wouldn’t do too well in prison. Surely they’d do much worse to you than you could ever think of doing to me..”

Kai meets my gaze with a wickedly sharp grin, “you underestimate my imagination.”

His threat makes a tightness take hold of my throat, straining my words in my chest, “I - just think you should consider how this might end for you.”

He groans so loud, it makes me stiffen. “You still don’t get it, do you? We’re not in your world anymore! Your parents can report whatever they want to whoever they want, but no one is going to find you, so as long as you’re stuck here with me, you’re mine.” 

My palpable disbelief makes him inch closer, resting his palms on either side of the table and leaning down to me.

“Let me spell it out for you: we’re in my prisonworld, circa 1994, and there’s no one else here but you and me.” 

He’s dead serious but it’s so ridiculous I can’t help but let out a stream of chuckles, little laughs that clearly bite into his inflated ego the more I go on. I cover my face, trying to stop, desperately as tears prick my eyes. I feel crazy because I’m terrified, but laughter is all that comes out.

“Oh.. you don’t believe me?” His voice laced with reproach, “FINE! When you clean your plate, I’m taking you into town.”

When he turns and leaves me alone, I start to perk up, listening for his retreating footsteps before I stare down the buttery stack of pancakes in front of me, thick cut bacon that’s somehow just as crispy as I like it and a side of fluffy eggs. His proposition provides me food for thought as I begin cutting into my pancakes. Getting out of this house is my best chance at being found and getting away from him, even if it is on his terms. The food is so good I struggle not to scarf it down, still careful as I’m unsure if he snuck razor blades in my scrambled eggs. I cleaned the plate in minutes and chugged the orange juice. 

“I’m changing,” I try to bypass him to get to the stairs but he blocks my path with his body, folding his arms as to make himself even wider.

“No need. The only person that can judge you for looking like a slut is me, and personally, I like it,” he replies, biting his lower lip. I feel exposed as he eyefucks me in nothing but the slinky black dress. I feel a draft with every step, forcing me to tug it down over my backside and compromise the coverage of my breasts. I suppose it doesn’t matter anyway. 

He takes us into town. Mr. Motor-Mouth tells me all about the lore he built lore for his own delusions but I barely pay it any mind. Beyond the periphery of my attention, he continues - prisonworld this, coven that - I’m sure, the only prisonworld that exists is in his own deranged head.

I welcome the growing familiarity of our surroundings as we approach downtown Portland. The strange thing is, it doesn’t look the way I left it last break. There’s almost a nostalgic feel to the way the cars parked along the street are all vintage models I haven’t seen since I was a kid. The gas prices made me do a double take. The way payphone booths stood at each street corner. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this was just one of those traditional towns that didn’t change with the times, but I DO know better. I grew up here. I notice as we pass the old theater that used to play classic films for 90 cents on the weekends that it’s suspiciously lacquered with the freshest coat of paint I’ve ever seen on it, which is impossible considering the building was abandoned when it went out of business last year. 

“- and so my coven created this little hell dimension for me.. where I’ve been on my own ever since.”

I search for people. In what should be the business epicenter of the town, there’s no one. Not a single soul walking, driving, making any noise. In fact, everything looks undisturbed, like an interactive picture taken in the mid 90s. My attempts to conceal my rapid breathing create an involuntary squeak from the back of my throat. 

“See, Portland, 1994 - just the same as it’s always been..” his voice trails off bitterly before meeting me with a grin that reaches his eyes.

Either I go with his neurotic story and magic really created this prison dimension - Or he’s managed to go to considerable lengths to create his nostalgia wet dream.

“Where is everybody?”

His brow shoots up, “Have you not been paying attention?”

Kai parks the car just outside the market and grabs a newspaper off the stand on the way inside. I take it from him with trembling fingers just before scanning the headline: Family Massacred in Portland. May 9, 1994… the murders of 4 kids.. One missing.. Malachai parker.. Malachai - Kai. I lower the paper to my lap.

“You believe me now right? I can tell you’re putting the pieces together.”

“Your name is Malachai Parker.” I repeat for clarification.

“Kai-” he corrects me shortly. 

“And your dad is Joshua Parker?” 

He nods slowly. 

So the family mentioned in the article is them. I grew up close to the Parker family, often having play dates with the twins, Liv and Luke, when we were little - Liv was on my soccer team and Luke was my extremely awkward date to the Freshman spring formal. I never knew they had any older siblings, let alone a psychotic brother.

“Okay, so let’s just say I believe you about the magic stuff.. why was I sent here?”

“Well, clearly my dad has come to regret his decision and needs me back. I imagine you’re like the sacrificial lamb.. like a chunk of meat thrown to the lion so that he's full and happy before they let him out of the cage.” 

He really knows how to paint a horrific picture, but that still doesn’t explain why I was chosen out of all people. I subconsciously rub at the mark he left on my neck from his teeth, not deep enough to break the skin, but enough to still leave a sore ache when I touch it and to clearly convey his intentions. I’m a piece of meat.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that. Who names their kid Malachai anyway? It’s like they expected me to be evil.” 

I stop just outside the door, giving one final glance back for someone - anyone else.

“Come on,” He takes my arm and pulls me along.

“If you’re a witch, why not use magic to free yourself?”

“What do you think, I can just bibbidi-bobbidi-boo my way out of here? It doesn’t work like that for a lot of reasons,” He starts chucking random junk food and snacks into the shopping cart as we go along, “One of them being, I’m a siphon, meaning I don’t make my own magic, but I can suck it out of other witches or objects with my touch,” he shoots me a dismissive glance, “and since there’s none of that here, we’ll have to wait until my coven makes a move.”

How convenient. He’s a witch without any magic. I feel stupid. I want to kick myself for even playing along with his lunacy. The only thing that article proves is that he's a sociopath, but what could explain the apparent time travel that’s happened here or the absence of civilians? I don’t know how he did it, but I haven’t ruled out the possibility that he’s either the most successful serial killer of all time or he’s not working alone. 

I put that thought on the back burner because prisonworld or not, I have to find a way to escape. There’s no such luck while we’re in the store as he makes me hold onto the shopping cart, not letting me out of his sight. I retreat back to the car as he loads the trunk with groceries, fully resigned to head back to the house with him, but he makes one last stop at a seedy windowless building. 

We enter a small sex shop. 

“Why are we here?”

“Thought we’d get some new stuff to try before things start to go stale between us.”

I scoff, but he ignores me, fully occupied by the fleshlight toy display. I take the chance to look around, heading deeper into the store, past the aisle of gags and bondage devices and to where they keep the X-rated videos and magazines in the back. 

“This could be fun..” I hear him murmuring to himself from the other side of the store. If I’m going to do something, it has to be now. I slip behind the counter and find a pistol tucked underneath the register. Bingo! Then I grab the set of car keys next to it, likely belonging to the pick up parked in the small lot. My plans to slip out the back are thwarted by the fact there’s only a storage closet behind the counter.

My heart drops to my knees when he calls out to me, “Hey! So, I just found the cutest little collar for you. Ooooh, and it comes with a matching leash. Come try it on!” 

I slip into the closet, clutching the pistol to my chest as I steady my breathing. 

It’s now or nothing.

I hear him approach. “Come on out, dollface. Unless.. we’re playing a game of hide and seek.” My heart pounds as fast as a hummingbird’s as he creeps closer. “I love this game, but I should let you know, I always win. Bet you can’t guess what my prize will be,” He’s on the other side of the door, hand slowly turning the loose knob.

“Gotcha!” he yanks the door open but stops in his tracks. I have the gun pointed at the middle of his chest.

His narrowed eyes stare past the barrel of the gun right into me. 

“Aww, are you gonna’ shoot me?” his jaw ticks, but the corners of his lips perk up like he’s slightly amused. I’m more afraid of the gun than he is.

“MOVE!” I hold firm and solid, my trigger finger twitching.

“Woah, woah, just put the gun down, hotcakes.” We’re frozen in this standoff until he gets annoyed and lurches at me for the gun. I pull the trigger, flinching in anticipation of the kickback but nothing. Is it even loaded? I don’t have enough time to try the trigger again before he wrenches the pistol from my grasp and decks me across the head with the barrel.

I’m lying on my back, stripped completely bare with my hands secured above my head.

His blurred image comes into focus, watching me from the foot of the bed.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” his grating voice pierces through the ringing in my ears as he moves up my body.

“Wanna see the cool new stuff I got for us?”

He drags the bag on the bed without waiting for my reply and shoves his hand inside, pulling out a vibrator, built like a blunt bullet.  

“You’re gonna like this.”

My jaw drops when he grabs a crystal plug and he takes notice, his sinister grin widening, “I don’t even remember putting that in there..” His mocking laughter sends a shiver down my spine. 

The next thing I see is a flogger, several leather prongs with shining enamel donning the tips.

“The way you’ve been acting, we’ll get plenty of use out of this one..”

He leans into me and his lips softly ghost along my own even as I sink back and tuck my chin, “So, what am I going to do with you first?”

It’s a rhetorical question, yet his eyes dart to mine eagerly awaiting a response. I don’t have anything, not one quip nor retort. I fucked up my only chance at escape and now I’m going to have to pay the price.

“Awww, nothing to say, babycakes? Where’s that bitchy attitude, hmm? Not one adorably pointless little struggle?”

“.. m’ sorry..” I all but whimper out, letting my emotions choke me up.

Something changes in him. I see through my teary eyes, a frown etched into his face as if he’s disappointed in my submission, like he expected more of a challenge before I completely crumbled.

He sighs and turns to his arsenal of toys, giving it a considerable once over before lifting up the flogger.

“Maybe start with this? How many do you think you can take?”

He holds it in his grasp like a gladiator ready to tame me, I notice how his veins ripple all the way up his scarved bicep.

“NO!” I belt out, kicking my legs with ferocity. He scoops them up and flips me over on my stomach. I hear rattling behind my back and he yanks one leg to the side, fastens a shackle around my ankle and secures it to the adjacent bedpost. The other follows suit despite my protests.

“Wrong answer.. guess we’ll just have to see -”

“Malachai..” I hissed out his name. My final recourse to get him to hear reason, but I can’t force any more words from between my lips before he captures the base of my hair in a tight fist, yanking me up into his chest.

“Let’s set some ground rules, shall we?” I whine as he callously tightens his grasp, tearing locks of hair from the follicle, “I don’t want to hear you call me that again, yeah? I will make mass murder look like child’s play compared to what I’ll do to you. I have nothing but time, baby. Understand?” His threatening words burn like venom along my neck.

“yEss” I croak, paralyzed with fear.

“Wonderful! I’m glad we agree on that. Now, back to the main event.” His tonal change is startling, something I couldn’t get used to. He picks up his weapon, the clang of the metal tips rattling against each other. 

I can barely lift my head before I feel those prongs lash across the bare flesh of my ass. The noise I let out is bone-chillingly inhumane, the way it tears up through my vocal cords, it barely registers as my own voice. His short grunts, gruff moans are perfectly timed with my sobs as he makes my thighs raw. I feel him cup my ass cheek with his hand, feeling it burn as blood rises up in my swollen capillaries, the surface welting up beneath his touch.

I think he’s had his fill by the time he places the flog down on the bed, then his hands are on me again, rubbing sloppy circles along my puffy pussy, lips prominent as he pushes them apart to dip into my drooling center. 

“Nearly two decades with nothing but pent up sexual frustration then they drop a cute little thing like you in my cage. Whoever sent you here, doesn’t give a fuck about you.” He releases an airy sigh as he slaps my clit with his rough palm.

I tense into an arched position, choking back a moan. 

“Poor baby doesn’t know if she wants to cry or come..”

He drives two fingers to the second knuckle, pumping in and out, scissoring me open as I whimper at the stretch.

“What’s all this, huh?” He withdraws and raises his digits to his face to analyze the viscosity of my slick, the way it creates clear strings between his thick fingers when he pulls them apart. “What are you trying to prove here? Think you’re too good to get off to me?”

I bite my tongue, but it’s alright because he speaks enough for the both of us.

“It’s not like you really have a choice. You’re gonna come real soon, aren’t you?” He reads my bodily responses expertly. I hear the buzzing of the vibrator before it finds my clit. My eyes roll back and I clench in place. 

“Bet you’re really having fun now, huh?” 

I feel the sheets grow damp below me. My cool slick soothing my sore flesh all the way down my thighs.

“You love it… you don’t gotta’ tell me.. jus’ keep making those pretty noises I like.. I feel like you’re just as deprived as I am.. all sheltered with no one to really touch you. Just your one shitty little vibrator you hide in your nightstand and keep on the lowest setting so no one overhears how the perfect princess isn’t so innocent.” 

He curls his fingers and I come so hard my brain misfires and my vision goes blurry. 

The next moments move in slow motion. I barely register him pulling off his shorts and freeing his cock before he’s back on me, yanking me closer by his firm grip on my hips. I gasp as he pushes into my pulsating heat, stretching my sex as my tight lips move along with the drag of his cock. 

He angles my body to his thrusts, tilting my pelvis up so he can drive me down onto his length. The rapid tempo knocks the air from my lungs. His pelvic bone digging into my sore backside. I make the mistake of looking back at him just as he stalls, his cock pulsating against my cervix as I can do nothing but milk him dry with my own orgasm. Becoming even more familiar with the way his brow tenses over his glassy hooded eyes, his powder pink lips fall open for small gasps and grunts as his load coats my inner walls.

He stutters forward, plunging his length deeper into my aching core. When he opens his eyes, I notice his lip twitch and curl in a smirk before he pulls away and I feel empty. 

He moves to release my ankles from their restraints and flips me over like a pig on a spit. He follows the length of my body with his eyes, feasting on my gooey center where his own cum starts to pool at my opening, dripping down my slit. He leans down and there’s a devious glint within his steely gaze that makes my breath hike.

He pulls my tender bud between his lips, alternating with wet open-mouthed kisses along my inner thigh, building me back up.

“S.. st… ss. Op… pl- EASE!” I gasp and sputter out my words between uncontainable moans. 

It feels so strange, like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Maybe like my rose toy. But better? No, worse. It hurts. He sucks and pops my flesh, savoring me like sweet taffy, winding his tongue through my tender labia.

A feral noise rumbles in his chest as he scrapes his teeth along my engorged clit. I keen out loud as he alternates between suckling on me, turning me into a rapid ball of fire.

“D’ you see how much I spoil you? I cook for you, clean you up.. so ungrateful.” he slurps on the mixture of our juices leaking from my pulsating core. I try to swivel my hips and scoot away from him as he rolls my clit with his tongue, his face following my movements. 

“The more you try to squirm away from me, the more you open yourself up for me to taste you, babycakes..” His hold locks onto my trembling legs, pinning my thighs flat to my stomach. “Heyyy.. stop it.. stop running from me..”

I weep helplessly in his grasp.

@daisy-renae @quinsly

Part 3? (comment or reblog to join taglist)

[shy-urban-hobbit]

“I mean, you’ve got to feel a little sorry for them really haven’t you?” Jaskier said from where he was mopping up the last of the evidence of the half dead rat Roach had thoughtfully decided to gift them (the first time it happened he’d shrieked in surprise before Geralt put it out of its misery with a matter of fact “Welcome to country living, city boy”). Geralt gave a non committal hum from where he was warming milk up for Ciri on the stove. The little girl sat colouring at the large kitchen table - too large for two, but that would change when Geralt’s brothers and any guests they decided to bring descended on them.

“I mean they’re just minding their own business like, Oh I’m a hungry rat. Please don’t kill me.” Here Jaskier put on a slightly squeaky voice and held up his hands in imitation of paws, still holding onto the mop, “And then wham one of the last things they see is Roach’s teeth coming towards them. So many teeth.” He gave the resident farm cat a critical stare and received a dismissive tail flick in response.

Ciri giggled at his antics which caused him to grin back at her in return. It always felt like a special sort of personal victory when he managed to coax a laugh out of the little girl.

Despite being together for six months, he was still being introduced to her as her father’s ‘friend’ (which was true enough, they wouldn’t be dating if they didn’t get along) and Jaskier was happy to go along with it. Geralt had explained without revealing too much that the little one had been let down by too many adults in her life already, himself included, and ‘boyfriend’ was maybe just a little too official sounding for the time being (and if he said his heart hadn’t broken a little for the five year old smiling at him from Geralt’s phone, he’d by lying), especially after the shit that had gone down with his ex. Geralt hadn’t gone into detail but from what Jaskier had gathered, the woman had had a hidden agenda in wanting to get back with Geralt and Ciri had almost gotten seriously hurt as a result. Geralt had blamed himself for jumping back into the relationship too quickly and so, any potential partners now had to pass what Jaskier had dubbed ‘The Ciri test’.  

He liked to think he’d passed the first portion with flying colours, the tiny blonde seeming perfectly comfortable with him in public places. Now they were dipping their toes into Jaskier staying in their home for longer periods, with Jaskier having graduated from the guest bedroom to sharing with Geralt the previous visit (the brunette wanting the ground to swallow him up when she happily informed her Uncle Eskel of ‘Daddy’s sleepover’ when the man had dropped by unexpectedly the following morning. Geralt had just shrugged and told him to be thankful it hadn’t been Lambert; who could and would, happily take the piss forever).

“Alright Ciri, put your things away and then go get your bedtime book. I’ll be in in a minute.” Geralt said, pouring the warm milk into a plastic My Little Pony cup.

“I want Jask.” Ciri declared form where she was trying to force the crayons back into their box by the (relatively small) handful, Causing both adults to stop what they’d been doing and stare at one another. This was new.

“You sure you don’t want daddy?” Jaskier asked, looking to Geralt for some sign as to what he should do.

“You do better funny voices. Daddy’s all sound the same.”

It took everything Jaskier had not to burst out laughing at that as he took in the minute eye twitch from the other man at that statement, “Geralt?”

Geralt nodded, “Mind if I stay and listen? You know how much I love The Gruffalo.”

Jaskier snorted and felt a surge of fondness. The lies we tell for our children.

It ended up being a joint effort, with Geralt guest starring as The Gruffalo “On account of you being so, well...gruff.” and admitting to a slightly too smug looking Jaskier and a mostly asleep Ciri that “Yes, Jaskier does better voices for everyone else. Especially Mouse.”

"Everything ok? You’ve gone all quiet on me.” Jaskier said from where he had his head in Geralt’s lap as they watched some mindless Netflix show. “I didn’t overstep did I?” He was suddenly frantic, his anxieties bubbling back up to the surface now that he didn’t have a performance and an audience to focus on, “I know you probably just said yes so things wouldn’t be awkward. I probably should have told her no and come up with an excuse but how can anybody say no to that face-“

“Jaskier. It’s fine, honestly.” Geralt said, rubbing his hands up and down Jaskier’s arm in a way he knew calmed him, “I’ve built up something of an immunity to Ciri’s puppy eyes. I would’ve said no if I had a problem with it. I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

“About how I might have a question for Ciri.”

The next morning saw Jaskier seeing both of them off with a hug (also accompanied by fishing a stray cheerio out of Ciri’s hair which he had been too tired to question) before heading back to his city apartment and his job as a music tutor.

“Ciri?” Geralt asked, putting her school backpack by the door as he knelt down to help her button up her coat, “You know how Aiden is Uncle Lambert’s boyfriend?"

It had slowly been killing Jaskier not to check his phone as soon as the text notification came through but he was nothing if not professional and he would not check his phone when he was in the middle of a lesson. Thank the Gods he did wait as he was prettu sure he gave his retreating student a minor heart attack with the squeal he let out at Geralt’s message:

‘Ciri has been proudly announcing to her classmates this morning that Jaskier is her daddy’s boyfriend. Much disappointment from the single mums.’

[thebroccolination]

“IF NO ONE ACCEPTS YOU, YOU HAVE ME”

Lately I’ve seen the narrative around Krist shifting from “he’s homophobic” to “he was homophobic, but he got better :)” so!

Let’s go back to a moment in 2017 during a ceremony where Krist and Singto accepted an award from the Thai branch of the gay magazine Attitude (now defunct). That’s the magazine that published this photoshoot:

[Attitude, 2018, promoting SOTUS S] (they also did one in 2016 for SOTUS)

Krist said that a friend of his once came out to his parents, and the parents wouldn’t accept him, so Krist told his friend, “It’s okay. If no one accepts you, you have me, and I accept you for who you are.”

So, yes, Krist was hotheaded when people kept harassing him about his sexuality, but can anyone truly blame him? No one looks at all the times he answered politely. Just the one time he broke. [EDIT: I just spoke with someone who was there when the infamous IG story was posted, and they said: “Krist's tone and demeanour when he emphatically said "no" was like, y'know, still friendly. It's like when friends tease you relentlessly and you say ‘no’ more forcefully to get them to stop?” And that actually was my first impression of it back in 2020—a joke that landed badly. And it lines up with his first apology: that he felt badly because his answer was taken out of context.]

There are people today who film these guys at the urinal. Who treat them like property because of money and time spent on them. Who hire trucks to drive around their company building making demands. And it’s 2024. GMMTV has legal teams on this stuff now. But you and I can’t imagine what kind of invasiveness Krist and Singto went through in 2016 as one of the first pairs in the BL industry to gain overnight fame and rabid, unprecedented focus from millions. Of course he snapped. It’s widely known that fans and reporters target Krist over Singto to get information even today because Singto never gives anyone the satisfaction of a reaction, but Krist is a people-pleaser and truly struggles with saying no to people. He’s always been the emotional one, the one who overthinks, the one desperate to make people happy. And when fans wanted to force KristSingto to publicly say that they were secretly dating, fans thought they could get Krist to break first, and they were right. (Personally, I always thought the Instagram story was an exaggerated joke that was a barely veiled “drop it.” EDIT: I’m glad at least one person who was there at the time can corroborate this.)

Then interfans came along, marked him as an easy target, and maliciously miscast him as a bigot to wave after wave of new interfans who never bothered to research further after a random person on the internet told them he’s a homophobe.

Krist asked his parents for their blessing to audition for SOTUS when he was still a teenager. He was afraid of what they’d think, but because his parents are lovely people, they supported him. And they still do. Krist’s father has a running joke that he’ll let Krist marry Singto if Singto brings a durian for the dowry.

I never included Singto in my clarification thread because I knew how quickly people would dismiss anything with Singto as conniving, tricksy fanservice. But you really don’t know anything about Krist until you see him with people he considers his safe spaces. That includes people like Mike. Like Gawin. Godji. Oat. These people who love him because he’s earned it.

I know I talk about this a lot. But I won’t ignore it when people try to twist his character, especially with I see them making assumptions about the premise of Ex-Morning. All I believe is that he was angry and afraid and overwhelmed. Then he reacted, apologized, and learned how to handle the fame and the invasiveness better.

Please stop trying to claw marrow out of a past mirage.