#this afternoon was as soon as they could see me

[pearlispunk]

How'd that get there, Mr. Miller?

pairing: dbf! joel miller x female reader summary: you’re sent to spend the weekend in a cabin by a lake with joel because your dad’s off to a work trip. tags: 18+ (minors please dni!), big unspecified age gap but reader’s in her twenties, DBF JOEL, smut, unprotected piv, f masturbation, m masturbation, oral (f receiving), pussy pronouns, pet names, soft! joel, daddy kink (??), praise kink, cream pie, no outbreak, no sarah word count: 2.9K

a/n: i recommend playing shades of cool by lana del rey while reading this, keep it on loop and enjoy °༄ !

“Well? You comin’?” Joel asks, tilting his head as if to get a better look at you. He’s just asked you to come with him to spend the weekend in his cabin by a lake. “Your dad’s asked me to bring you anyway so I dun’ think you have a choice, kid.” He clicks his tongue, his palm placed by the edge of the table. 

Alright, what could go wrong? Joel’s your dad’s friend, they bonded over work– he’s a great guy. You’ve been in his place a few times, mainly ‘cause of barbecues and sports nights– he’s neat. He’s always there when you ask for help around the house or your car– he’s handy. So, what could go wrong?

“‘Right then, ‘ya should go pack up. We leave early, angel.” He says with a nod, finally walking out of the house. 

Curse your dad for leaving you for an entire weekend due to a work-related thing. Curse your dad for making you spend the weekend with Joel. 

Joel. 

Joel, the man that you ogle at every Sunday morning when he’s out mowing the lawn. Joel, the man who always hikes his sleeves up to his forearms whenever he worked on your car. Joel, the man that calls you any pet name and leaves you blushing and well.. wet.

Joel, the man that you fantasize about at night, when you’re three fingers in, mouth agape, and whining about how he would fill you up much, much better. 

Snap out of it. What were you thinking? The man’s around your dad’s age– hell, maybe even older. 

You hurry upstairs to your room, pulling out a travel bag big enough for an entire weekend. You settle it by packing one red gingham bikini– for swimming, of course. Two sun dresses, a tank top with matching shorts for sleeping, one loose polo for covering, and then a summer hat. Alright, you’re set.

The drive was a blur. You immediately dozed off to sleep when your head hit the pillow by the car window. 4 hours later, Joel’s voice causes you to wake up, his hand placed on your shoulder– gently nudging your senses awake. “We’re here, doll.” He lets go as you stir, a small grin playing on his lips as you yawn. 

As soon as you step into the cabin, you place your things in the guest room. “Y’know, we can switch rooms. I know that mattress is a ‘lil too old, feels weird on the back.” He leans by the doorframe, his hands making gestures that match his words. “I’m alright here, Joel.” I let out a chuckle, shaking my head. 

“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn ‘ya.”

“Need some help around the cabin?” You hum aimlessly from inside the cabin. Just then, the front door opens, his tall frame shadowing the entrance, “‘M alright, sugar. Don’t want such a pretty girl like you doing any kind’f work.” He’s shirtless. Changed into something more comfortable when you set down your things. His chest displayed beads of sweat, his arms looked rugged, and his hair was tousled into perfect curls that almost resembled a halo. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was flirting with you.

Well? Do you know any better?

The afternoon hours dragged slowly, and you were bored out of your mind. Joel was working around the cabin, breaking wood for fire and fixing a few things for his truck. He’s caught you staring a few times now, a smirk tugging on his lips whenever he did. How could you not? When he’s right there outside your window, all his glory displayed for your eyes to witness. His shorts seem unbelievably tight, seeing as how you can practically see the outline of his cock. His arms, his hands.. they were so big, big enough to have them all over your body, over your mouth as he fucks you from behind, or over your breasts as he kneads and teases your nipples. 

You backed off from the window, shaking your head as you tried to bring yourself back to reality. Sighing, you grab your bag– changing into that red gingham bikini. You let your hair down, brushing it with little care through your fingers. You reach out to the sunscreen lotion by your nightstand, applying a thin layer on your body. Think about something else, go do something else, anything else– instead of checking out your dad’s friend. 

You look at yourself in the mirror, the bikini a stark contrast to your skin. You let your hands run down your sides, your hips, your thighs, your heat. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth as your index finger reached in, slowly rubbing your clit in small circles. It slips in, and your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape, whispering his name so sweetly. 

Joel. 

Need you, Joel. 

You walk back down on your bed, laying on your back as you start fingering yourself in front of the mirror. Your other hand finds its way down your body, taking care of your clit. You add another digit, your walls clenching around your fingers. 

Ah, fuck- would’ve been much better if it was you, Joel. 

Your back arches and you squeeze your eyes shut, your thoughts lingering on the sight you beheld earlier. Your hips start to meet the rhythm of your fingers, your mouth whispering obscenities as you chase your release. You tear your eyes open, looking at yourself in the mirror. Your legs are spread, two fingers buried in your cunt, and a dazed-out expression. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You hear the squelch of your skin combined with your essence, and you let your head fall back. Your hips stutter up as if to grind on something, on someone. You let out a whine, burying your digits in your cunt as you lay still, letting your orgasm wash over you. You catch your breath, regaining your consciousness as you let yourself melt in the bedsheets. Your eyes instantly snap open as you swear you heard the squeak of your door. Your neck cranes towards the direction of the door, seeing as it slightly creaked to the right, you knew.

He was watching you. 

Two can play this game, you decided. You took your bikini top off, putting on just the loose white polo. You left the last two buttons as it is, not bothering to cover your peeking cleavage. Bikini top in hand, you left the room. Joel was nowhere in sight, but the front door was open– letting the afternoon sun spill into the cabin. 

You walked towards his room, the door was open, but he wasn’t there. And so, you hurriedly slipped inside, dangling your bikini top right between your fingers. You place it right by the headboard, stepping back to look at it. You nod, a smile creeping on your face as you exit the room.  

It would be funny, you imagine. Him coming to find that in his room, a silent acknowledgment that you knew. Getting the Joel Miller all flustered as he sees what you’ve left for him. 

After your little adventure, you grab your summer hat and walk outside towards the lake. You reach the end of the porch, sitting on it as you let your feet sink in the water.

About a few moments later, you decided to go back to the cabin to help yourself with some refreshments. You figured Joel was somewhere near the cabin, gathering more wood or whatnot. 

As you stepped inside, you heard muffled grunts. Your head perked up, your body slowing your steps as you approached the door to his room. 

Was he..? 

You pushed the door open, revealing Joel on the edge of the bed, his left hand stroking his cock as it leaks pre-cum. On his other hand, you can see the piece of clothing you left. The red gingham bikini top. His cock almost looks angry with the pinkish-red tip of it, and you can’t help but admire Joel’s frame. His face, contorted into a look of pure bliss. His chest, heaving laboredly with beads of sweat. His large hands, the other stroking his cock rabidly, the other clinging on to that bikini like some kind of lifeline. 

“How’d that get there, Mr. Miller?” 

Your words pry his eyes open. The grip over his cock tightening as he lets out a breathy chuckle, “How’d this-?” He holds up the piece of garment, “You really are somethin’, huh?” He stands up, tossing it aside as he backs you up against a wall. “Actin’ all innocent, like you weren’t just touching yourself and moaning my fuckin’ name.” He says the last bit in a whisper, his eyes locking with yours. “Think I don’t notice the way ‘ya look at me, angel?” He nudges the tip of his cock against your covered heat and you buck your hips up to meet it with friction. He hisses, his hands landing on your hips to make you stay in place, “You want this, baby?” He looks up at you with an earnest expression, his thumbs circling the plush of your hips as he waits for your response.

You nod, almost frantically, as you start to unbutton your garment. You’re impatient, crashing your lips on his as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. His hands fall under your thighs, pulling you up and carrying you. It’s an effortless task for him, picking you up like you’re all but a peach. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip, seeking entrance. You tilt your head to the side, your right hand tangled with his hair, the other on his cheek as you deepen the kiss and your tongue meets his. You feel his hands grope your ass, his hips grinding his cock up your clothed heat. 

You let your garment fall off your shoulders, exposing your chest to him. You pull away, resting your forehead on his as you try to catch your breath. “So beautiful, angel.” He murmurs, moving his head and latching his lips on your neck. The nickname feels so contradicting now, and though you’ve heard it so many times before, this time it just felt so… good. “So beautiful, and all for me.” He hums against your skin, leaving a trail of love bites as he sets you down on the bed. 

“Open up and show me.” Were his words as soon as you felt the soft bedsheets. You felt the rush of blood racing to your cheeks, painting you red. You squirm under his gaze, your knees touching as you look at him. 

“Now don’t get all shy on me, darlin’.” He kneels in front of you, both hands on the flesh of your thighs, urging them apart. He dips his head down, kissing your knees up to your thighs. You hesitate for a second before finally giving in, spreading your legs apart. He lets out a low whistle, fingers hooked on the sides of your bikini as he pulls it down. “She needs me,” He smirks, his fingers rubbing along your folds, “Look at that, all wet and ready for me, hm?” He looks up at you as he pushes a finger in. 

“J-Joel.” You strain.

“That ain’t my name, sweetheart.” 

“Daddy.” You sound it out, whimpering as he pushes another finger in. “‘S more like it.” He leans in, his tongue licking on your clit. He drags it out slowly, allowing himself the pleasure of properly tasting you. Two fingers from him were three from you, and right there and then you knew you were fucked.

His other hand reached up to your breasts, taking a nipple between his fingers and rolling it teasingly. You lay your back, arching against his mouth. Your hands reach out to his arm, holding on to it for dear life as he laps you up greedily. At the same time, he put his fingers to work, your walls clenching around his invading digits. 

“T-Think I’m gonna–” You squirm beneath him, hips bucking up to grind more of yourself against his mouth. He looks up at you, practically committing the sight to memory as he keeps the steady pace of his fingers and mouth. He encourages you, muffled grunts omitting from his mouth– causing vibrations to ripple through your cunt. This snaps something inside of you, and you finally let go. Your grip on his arm tightens, the heels of your feet digging into his back, a string of moans leaving your mouth as he slowly exits his fingers from your aching core.

He brings his fingers to his mouth, never letting your eye contact break as he brings it up to his lips, his tongue darting out and licking circles all over it. “Feel good, angel?” He asks softly, leaving kisses on your inner thigh down to your knees. You nod, trying to catch your breath. Your eyes widen in shock as he stood up, the tip of his cock leaking more of his pre-cum– still red with anger, with interest. It was twitching too, more so when he looked at the state of your gaping hole. 

“Think she can take me, sweetheart?” He asks with a rasp, leaning over you to rub the tip over your dripping cunt. You say nothing, your mind is too distracted by how good he feels just by rubbing the tip against you. “Figure that’s a yes, right, sweet girl?” He holds your chin, tipping it up to face him. 

There was something in your eyes, a tinge of desperation, perhaps. Whatever it was, it’s what caused Joel to snap his hips, pushing all of his length inside you. You hook one of your legs by his waist, your arms over his shoulders as you adjust to the girth of his cock. “Feel so f-full..” You mumble, looking up at him. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away, “Doin’ so good f’me, angel.” He pulls his cock out til the tip is what’s left inside you before slamming it back in. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your back arching so far up on his body that your tits press up against his chest. He groans, his hand snaking around your back for support. He keeps an unforgivable pace, the tip of his cock reaching all the spots that make you see stars. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, your nails digging on his back as your cunt clamps down on his cock. “Drivin’ me crazy,” He pants against the side of your ear, “You take me so well, angel.” He praises, leaving open-mouthed kisses by your jaw. 

“Like y’were made for me.” He speeds up his pace, and the sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the room. His other hand reaches down to your clit, rubbing it with fervor. At this rate, you feel a knot tighten by the pit of your stomach, desperate for release. 

And just then, he pulls out. 

“Joel–” You start to whine, your cunt squeezing around nothing. You feel his hands by your waist, lifting you off the bed and flipping you over to your knees. Your mind had very little time to process what had happened before he slams his cock back into your needy cunt. “Shit- ah, d-daddy-” You slur on your words, lifting your ass up to meet his cock. “Mhm, doin’ so good for me, sweet girl.” He starts to move relentlessly, wanting you to break. 

“Look so pretty like this.” He moans lowly, fucking into you rapidly. You arch your back, pushing your ass back against him. That earns a groan from him, “Jus’ like that, angel.” He thrusts his cock, no– buries it in you, punctuating every word with the movement of his hips. 

His hands dig down on your hips, pulling you impossibly closer to him. You can feel his cock twitching inside of you, and his hips start to stutter and go out of rhythm. Your hand continues down on your clit, combining the pleasure with his cock. He holds out, wanting to feel you come undone on his cock before he fills you with his spend.

“Come on, angel.” He coaxes you, and you swear you saw heaven flash before your eyes. You moan out his name, your head collapsing on the bed as your arms give out. “Daddy–! Fuck, fuck, fuck.. Fuck!” You feel your juices gush down to your thighs, your legs trembling as he fucks you through your orgasm.  

He leans down, latching his lips on your neck and biting down on the flesh, positively leaving a mark on it as he pushes one last thrust in you. “Fuck, look at you.” He pants, burying his cock further in, flooding your walls with thick, white ropes of cum. “Milkin’ it all out,” He squeezes the flesh of your ass, pulling his cock out to reveal your stuffed pussy, a string of cum connecting you both. A gush of cum creeps its way out of your cunt, and you can feel his fingers push it back in you. 

You try to catch your breath, your mind completely fucked out as your body melts into the sheets. He lays down beside you, pulling you close til your head leans on his chest. “Such a good girl f’me, angel.” He kisses the top of your head gently, “Did so great, sweet girl.” He wraps his arms around you, his head leaning down on yours. 

Well, you got what you wanted, didn’t you? 

red gingham divider by @issysh3ll , yellow divider by @strangergraphics ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ !

a/n: this is my first ever work, so please feel free to correct me about my mistakes T w T, i hope you guys enjoyed it as much as i did writing it! i'm actually thinking of making a part 2 for this but i'm not so sure ab that, reblogs, notes, or any kind of interactions are deeply appreciated!! xo, pearl!

tags ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ @pedrostories @syd-djarin @knockk0ut @joelscowgirl @rav3n-pascal22 @joeldjarin @tokkiwrites @taeslarityy @tcmmysheiby @magpiepills @joelsrose @slowdivinqs @mssalo @il0ve-urm0m @ladybirdswritings @fuckyeahdindjarin @joeloverture @wannab-urs @amyispxnk @yxtkiwiyxt @littlcdarlin @joelscurls @goldenispunk @coquettepascal @hellishjoel @joelslastofus @punkshort @iamasaddie @almostempty @gutsby @arcanefox207 @sanarsi @pedrohub @katiexpunk

[dipperscavern]

Okay your post about Cregan being a father has got my little heart growing three sizes and I'm even more in love with this fictional man.

I do wonder what your take would be on how he'd react to a partner's interaction with Rickon, his one year old son in the books during the dance.

Your posts are giving me life though the new season is disappointing me. ❤️❤️

Hope you are having a wonderful day!

An in love witchy anon. 🌒🌕🌘

omg stop :(( it could even be something small, like teaching rickon how to make and throw a proper snowball.

you had grown up with siblings in the north — and both hands weren’t enough to count the times you had an all out war the day after fresh snow. walking back indoors afterwards, sitting round the fires’ hearth while recalling with laughter how your brother had slipped on ice, or how you and your sister had managed to sneak up on your eldest sibling. yes — snowball fights were something all northerners looked back on with fond nostalgia.

and with or without siblings, you intended for rickon to learn all about such matters.

i can picture it sooo vividly. you and cregan, freshly married, going about your separate ways during the day — and him stumbling upon quite a sight in the afternoon.

perhaps he wanted to spend the small free time he had with rickon, or you for lunch. perhaps it was just coincidence that brought him upon the courtyard the day after fresh snow.

but here he was; and here you were.

rickon, giggling madly as you shaped the snowball in his small hands. cregan could hear your voice, laced with childlike glee, ordering your sworn shield to remain still. if brought before the gods, cregan would attest to the twitch of the knights lips — to the faint smile upon them.

it is a clumsy throw, brought about with untrained muscles and even less coordination. but your knight remains dutifully still, and it lands upon his lower visage.

cregan feels much like the knight now. a smile wears itself on his lips, and cregan could not tell you when it appeared if his life depended on it. love doesn’t explain itself like that.

he watches just long enough to see rickon tackle you with a fierce hug, and for you to return it without the faintest trace of hesitancy. he’s now aware of his smile when he walks away — and he makes no effort to wipe it from his features.

and when you both tuck rickon into bed later that night (he specifically requested you with his father), as he tells cregan of his day in the snow, you have the faintest blush on your cheeks. that same very smile returns to his lips; it seems intent on not being kept at bay.

you both whisper goodnights to the little lordling as you close the door, and as soon as you do — turning to cregan — his mouth captures yours in a kiss so sweet it reminds you of the pastries stolen from the kitchen by lord & lady stark when sleep can’t be found. you sigh into him, and it somehow makes cregan fall even more hopelessly in love with you.

[multific]

Healing the Emperor's Heart

Emperor Caracalla x Reader

Summary: You were to care for him. Instead, you loved him.

From the first day, you were assigned to care for Caracalla.

When you met him, his appearance startled you. 

He appeared worn and weak, a shadow of the man others whispered about in the palace corridors. 

Your role was more than that of a servant. You were trusted to tend to his every need and ensure his comfort.

Your days became routines entwined with his. Each morning, you prepared herbal remedies and charmed him into eating. 

At first, Caracalla resisted your efforts, his pride bruised by your efforts. He barely acknowledged your presence. Because if he ignored you, you would go away.

But you didn't. Instead, you stayed.

Slowly, he began to change. His eyes lingered on you longer, his tone softened when he called your name, and his occasional questions about you became sincere and kind.

One quiet evening, he decided to speak up.

“Why do you bother with me?” His voice was low.

“Because I was tasked by your brother.”

“Many would refuse such a task."

"Not me, Emperor Caracalla. I believe everyone has some good in them."

“You’re either brave or a fool.” For a moment, his expression faltered, a flicker of vulnerability shining through. 

“Perhaps both, My Emperor” You offered a faint smile with an aching heart. "Please, drink your tea." you handed him the cup which he took.

It was the first time you gave him the medicine.

After that, you gave it to him daily. A little into his daily tea which was prepared by you, so he never failed to drink it.

The medicine gradually began to take effect. 

Day by day, Caracalla’s strength grew, and his eyes got clearer and clearer. 

The haze clouding his mind slowly lifted, and his thoughts sharpened. 

The transformation was impossible to ignore, and soon enough, his brother, Geta, took notice.

It was after a rather quiet afternoon that you were summoned to Emperor Geta’s chamber. 

You felt uneasy as he looked you up and down. 

“What have you given him?” he demanded, his voice cold and sharp.

“Tea to ease his suffering, nothing more, Your Majesty.” You chose your words carefully. 

“Do not take me for a fool. My brother’s sudden recovery defies explanation. What are you hiding?” His tone grew more vicious.

"I meant no harm. And he is a lot better." you tried defending yourself.

Geta punched his chair as his anger grew.

"I'm not going to ask any more, what did you give him?"

Before you could respond, the door swung open, and Caracalla stormed in. 

“Leave them, Brother” Caracalla ordered, his voice firm.

“You trust them so completely, yet you fail to see how—”

“Enough,” Caracalla interrupted. “You will not question their loyalty. They have done more for me than the doctors ever have.”

Geta’s lips pressed into a thin line.

"I'm not angry because you helped him, I only wish to know how you did it when all doctors said we should give up." Geta's tone softened.

"Tea, My Lord I can assure you. Tea my grandmother taught me how to make." you replied.

Geta simply nodded before he left, closing the door behind himself.

Caracalla stepped closer, his expression was soft as his eyes met yours.

“You shouldn’t have come,” you murmured, your voice tinged with worry. “I could handle him.”

“I won’t stand by while my brother questions someone so important to me.”

Your breath caught, his words catching you off guard. “Important?” you echoed softly.

He reached for your hand, his touch warm and steady. “You’ve given me more than my health. You’ve given me hope. A second chance in life.”

“Caracalla…” you began, but he silenced you with a gentle look.

“There’s something I must say,” he continued, his voice low. “You’ve brought light to my life. You healed my illness and my heart. I wish to marry you.”

“Will you marry me?” Your heart raced as he knelt before you, his gaze filled with sincerity. An Emperor kneeling in front of a simple servant.

Tears blurred your vision as words failed you in the moment. 

"I would be a fool to say no to you. But I'm simply a servant. I am no Empress."

"Of course you are." He rose, pulling you close, and his lips met yours in a kiss that was tender yet full of promise. "You are my Empress."

In that moment, nothing else mattered.

Gladiator II Collection

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief  

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen @brevlada24

@mel-vaz @akamitrani @ange-olras @nicholaschavezslut69

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[danyasblogsblog]

MY LIVING LEGEND KEEGAN RUSS

warnings : SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, death, grief, gunshots, sad ending, SOO angsty, probably more

- after y/n’s best friend, ajax’s death, they havent been the same. in the end, all they want is to die. until they dont want too.

based off the lana del rey song, living legend

a/n: magpie is your codename!! finallyyyy im doing a gender neutral reader!! hope u guys enjoy. sorry if it all moves too fast. im not very used to writing long fics.

‘tangos. next building.’

the afternoon horizon glistened as gunshots reverberated through the air. the burgundy hats worn by federation soldiers fell off as they dropped to their knees, crimson blood rippling out of their chests. you held your sniper scope up to your eye, holding your gun in a white knuckle grip. as soon as you spotted one of those maroon hats, your trigger went off. the gunshot was loud, but your headgear stopped the sound from blowing out your eardrums. you watched as the solider fell backwards, blood pooling out of his bullet wound. a sigh escaped your mouth as you pulled the scope away from your face, holding it against your chest.

‘nice shot kid, almost getting better than me.’ keegan’s voice was like an angel call from behind you, and his calloused hand went to grip your shoulder. ‘almost? wow, could you be more narcissistic?’ you chuckled.

‘just watch and learn.’

you stared as keegan removed his firm grip on your shoulder and pulled out his gun from his back. he brought it close to his face, and his hands lingered over the trigger. of course, you thought to yourself, safety is already off. his eyes scanned the nearby buildings for federation soldiers, and within a matter of seconds, he spotted one. pulling the trigger, the man was dead on impact. the death rattle shook his body, as a pool of blood circled itself around him.

‘thats how its done, kid.’

keegan looked down at you, waiting for your approval. ‘wow, mr living legend. that was a beautiful shot.’ you quipped, silently clapping for him. before he could respond, merrick’s voice erupted out of your radio. ‘everyone, move forward. enemy contact ahead in further buildings.’

you huffed out of your mouth as you and keegan made your way out of the abandoned house. you thought about the memories that were once created in the very room you and keegan were killing people in. were those people who lived there even alive anymore?

‘whats on your mind, magpie?’

keegan’s voice slightly startled you. ‘nothing.’ you muttered. it really was nothing- you didnt have time to be worrying about the people who once lived in the houses you and your team ended lives in- especially when your life was at stake.

keegan looked bothered by your answer, but nevertheless, you two continued walking. side by side, arms lightly grazing eachother when you wandered a bit to his direction. soon enough, you met up with the rest of the ghosts.

‘keep working with the people you’re with now, don’t split up. there are too many of them for us to risk it.’

merrick’s barked orders were copied and obeyed as everyone slowly split up with their partners. keegan’s footsteps echoed yours in a rhythmic manner.

you knew why he told everyone to not split up.

‘theres a building up there- high enough to see everything. we set up there to prepare. be quiet though, because sometimes federation soldiers are surrounding the building.’ his words were confidently spoken, and you followed pursuit.

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

‘imagine falling off this thing.’

you looked down through a broken window in the building, the ground seeming so far away.

‘well you better not, im not dragging your dead ass back to fort santa monica, y/n’

‘you’d cry if i died, i know you would.’ you imitated a crying face, and wiped imaginary tears from your cheeks. you chuckled and keegan rolled his eyes. your hushed voices could only be heard by each-other as the shuffling of footsteps from keegan echoed off the walls, bouncing back to you two quietly.

the sound of gunshots and spanish orders being screamed frantically switched a flip in the two of you- your joking demeanours suddenly serious and concentrated. you pulled your gun out of your back sling, taking off the safety. you glared as you stared into the scope, searching for the familiar burgundy hats that you had learned to hate.

‘see anything, magpie?’

keegan pulled up close behind you, and you could feel his breath on your neck as he leaned down to your ear. his silent whispers to you were like a mantra you wish could be repeated thousands of times. ‘nothing. not a single solider in sight.’ you mumbled.

he leaned back up, straightening his back.

you put your scope down, your eyes finally resting, and the tension in your jaw relaxing. you sighed. spanish was heard below you and keegan. you immediately pulled a pistol out of your holster, your reflexes making your body move fast. footsteps and creaking floorboards could be heard, and to say you were on edge would be an understatement.

‘its fine, kid. they wont come up.’ keegan’s hushed voice soothed you, but you were still unable to shake the feeling of the need too protect him and yourself. ‘did you hear me? its fine.’ he was a bit louder now, but there was still not a chance in hell the enemy could hear him. the floorboard creaking and quiet voices stopped after a matter of seconds. ‘better safe than sorry.’

silence.

you raised an eyebrow at keegan, wondering why he was suddenly muted.

‘i know you still blame yourself, y/n.’

first mistake.

your silence indicated you knew exactly what he was talking about. something that killed you inside. ajax’s death.

you had blamed yourself for it- you took one minute apart from him and when you had returned, a bloody trail and a missing ajax were all to be seen. the multiple nightmares you had had the days following his disappearance plagued you, even to this day, it still did. thinking about how, maybe, his death could’ve been avoided if you had just listened to your gut.

you still remembered the day he died. when keegan held him as he died in his arms. when you guys had gone between hell and earth to find him- just for him to die the minute you got your hands on him.

you still remembered sobbing in keegan’s arms with your head pounding, blaming yourself and wanting to just die. since that day, suicidal thoughts carried around you. you just wanted ajax back. he was your best friend- the first ghost you met. he was the first person you told about your crush on keegan. you would do anything for 5 more minutes with him- to tell him how sorry you were. to tell him how much you cared about him.

‘it wasnt your fault. you know that.’

you were silent. the way keegan’s smooth voice talked about it made something rattle inside of you. you felt weak. you were distracted. your airway felt tightened- as if you were being choked. tears threatened to fall but you couldnt dare yourself to let them roll down your cheeks. you had to focus. you had too.

keegan thought about what you had said earlier, about dying. come to think about it, he liked you a bit to much for your death. he didnt want you to be just another funeral he’d have to attend. he wanted you to be alive. he’d miss the concentrated face you made when you were on a mission. all the memories you two had together.

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

‘i saved you a chocolate bar, kee.’

‘how healthy.’

‘i know, right?’

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

you fell silent. gunshots could still be heard, and it was the only thing that was stopping you from falling apart. the fact that you were on a mission, and it wasnt the time to fuck around.

‘keegan, this isnt the time.’ you huffed. you so badly wanted to talk about it, but how could you? it simply wasnt the moment, and both you and keegan knew this subject wouldnt come up again for a long time. you thought keegan would stop pestering you with questions, that maybe, he would just leave it. but oh, how wrong you were.

his strong, broad frame walked over to you, and his wintry blue eyes stared down into yours. his hands firmly gripped onto the back of your elbows, not too tight, but he had a stable grip. god, you thought, i forgot how stubborn this man is.

‘i wanted to talk about this with you, and i know its not a good time too right now, but i dont get another opportunity like this again.’

keegan was a man of very few words- his eyes and actions speaking more than his mouth did, but now, you could tell he was serious. you pulled your eyes away from his, but the intense glare he carried still was focused on you.

‘keegan-’

a louder gunshot could be heard- one closer to you and keegan’s position. immediately, you felt on edge. but keegan’s grip on you tightened, and you felt compelled to stay where you were. that was your second mistake.

‘ajax wouldnt want you to blame yourself. you.. you doing this to yourself is hurting you. its distracted you for months i can tell. you’re always on edge, you just arent the same. the jokes you make arent the same. you just aren’t right.’

‘keegan stop. youre not.. youre not a fucking therapist. just leave me alone, i dont want to talk about this.’

third mistake.

your annoyed tone set something off in keegan- you’d never been like that with him. you had always been even-tempered, something the rest of the ghosts admired. your words, enunciated by the way your voice seemed sharper to him now, made him furrow his eyebrows as he stared down at you. he let go off your arms, but for some reason, you longed for his touch still. you shook off the feeling, and stepped away from him.

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

you didnt know how it happened.

the spray of blood sprinkled itself over the walls as it erupted from you like a fountain. the ringing in your ears felt like the devil screaming at you as you fell back, your head hitting the wooden floorboards.

a wail of pain escaped your lips as your hands travelled your stomach trying to find the bullet wound, and when you finally laid your fingers on it, your body felt stiff.

suddenly, all your fantasies of dying and killing yourself were gone. now, you just wanted to live. your life was fading, and it was fading so quickly.

keegan had rushed over to you, screaming into his radio, telling merrick you got hit. over the incessant ringing in your ears, you could hear the panic in his voice. his trembling hands went to your wound, examining it. birds sung as he begged you to open your eyes- the sun’s light slowly fading, just like you.

‘magpie, y/n, open your eyes, open your fucking eyes, please.’

keegan’s eyes were horrified when he saw what he was looking at. blood trickled from your mouth, falling off your chin, and your uniform was stained with crimson.

‘kee-’

you tried to say his name, but only half came out. blood spluttered out of your mouth as you wailed in agony. ‘speak to me, y/n, solider. come on, talk to me.’

keegan ripped open his medical pouch, taking out some gauze in an attempt to prevent more blood from spilling out your wound. it pooled around you as you tried to speak. ‘i- i just want to..’

you were appalled at how difficult it was to talk. it was like your vocal cords had been ripped out, and all that was left to leave your mouth were gasps that made your lungs ache. ‘keep going, magpie, come on.’

‘i- i always wanted to.. die, after aja..ajax.. but i just want to- to live.. now’ every few seconds you had to pause your speaking so you could cough out blood. it blocked your airway as if it was trying to silence your cries. ‘i dont- i dont wanna di..die im not- not ready.’

keegan’s hope of you living was slowly disappearing. the bullet was still lodged in your stomach, ripping at muscle and letting its molten heat play with your flesh. ‘you’re not gonna die, im not letting you, im not. youre gonna live, for me and for merrick and the other ghosts and ajax, especially him, okay?’

even though keegan was trying to calm you, he could barely keep calm himself. his breathing felt difficult and forced as he watched the life escape from you. your eyes were still fluttered closed, but tears ran down your cheeks, mixing with blood as they went further. ‘please.. p-please keegan, i dont want too di-’ ‘stop talking like that, youre gonna be just fine, i promise.’

it was a ridiculous thing to promise. oh, how keegan wished he hadn’t said that. he knew. he didnt want to think about it, but he knew deep down what was gonna happen. ‘im not ready, god. god.. im not ready… i wanna.. i wanna..’

‘come on, keep talking to me, please.’

keeping you talking has keegan’s way of making sure you were still awake- that, atleast your body could keep your lips moving with phonics.

keegan felt so weak. wrapping the gauze around you felt like covering your corpse with a cloth. ‘i wanna live.. and be.. with- with you.’

keegan was taken back by what you said, to say the least. his heart thumped against his sternum, as if it was trying to escape. blood mixed with phlegm coughed and spluttered itself onto his balaclava from your mouth, but he couldnt care less.

he tightly wrapped the once white, but now, deep ruby red gauze around your waist. he stared at your face as your lips trembled, his hands tying a tourniquet at the end of the gauze.

‘i.. i wanna be with you too, y/n.’

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

they say hearing is the last sense to go. however, speaking was the last thing you ever did.

‘you re..really are, my living legend.’

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

WAIT LET ME REQUEST‼️‼️ how about the reader which ls us , we are like months pregnant about 6-9 and everything ls going wonderful but unfortunately Baldwin lsnt fully healed since they are close to finding a cure so what lf guy got lnto a argument with Baldwin but to get Baldwin back , guy pushes us down the stairs when we are that many months pregnant and something goes wrong??❤️

♧ The Fool's Undoing - King Baldwin x Reader ♧

♧ Angst ♧

A/N: Hello everyone! Thank you for this request Anon, sorry it's taken so long to get too 😔. I hope it's what you had in mind! This one is very angsty guys so I'm sorry in advance about that 😭. As always, this is based on the movie Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

P.S. I had a freaking STROKE because I forgot the word "physician" while writing this and spent a good 20 minnutes trying to figure out what it was😭😭😭. Big thank you to @minminambus for helping me through the stroke and finding the word 😭🫶.

TW: Mentions of violence, Mentions of m*scarriage, Leprosy

It had been a beautiful first few months. The maids worked tirelessly, adding the final finishing touches to the nursery adjoining the royal chambers. 

It was a rather windy afternoon when it happened.

Y/n lay comfortable in the bed she shared with her husband, reading a book as she rubbed the swell of her stomach. Her pregnancy had been practically perfect with no complications and the young couple were expecting their first born (and heir to the throne) very soon.

Baldwin lay dozing beside her, worn out from a particularly stressful meeting earlier that day. He had been writing letters before y/n beckoned him to her side and insisted he lay with her. The poor man was too tired to refuse and after her delicate fingers worked through his sandy blonde curls for a few minutes, he was fast asleep.

The queen smiled down at him. Things really could not be more perfect at that very moment.

A sharp knock at the door disturbed the peace all too soon. Y/n called out for them to enter and was displeased with the news that Lord Guy requested to see the king.

After a few gentle nudges, Baldwin came awake slowly, drowsy and confused.

“Wha- what's going on? Are you okay?” he asked, a slight panic in his tone as he propped himself up on his elbows.

Y/n chuckled lightly.

“Yes my love, I am just fine. Guy wants to see you apparently”.

Baldwin sighed and flopped back onto the pillows, dragging his bandaged hands down his face in annoyance.

“And what does that harlott want from me now exactly?” he asked, his voice dripping with malice at the very mention of the man.

The queen grinned, her husband only spoke cruelly when he was tired. It was always interesting to hear the well mannered and measured king speak ill of another.

“I'm not sure, but you best go find out before he gets angry and questions your competence again” y/n replied.

Baldwin sighed heavily, sitting up as his wife placed a gentle hand on his back to assist him.

“Very well, only because I don’t need him causing another fuss” he reached for the silver mask that sat on the nightstand and slipped it onto his face, pulling his hood up and standing.

“I'll see you in however long this takes”. Baldwin pressed the iron lips of the mask against his wife's forehead softly.

“And i'll see you again then too” he said again, pressing the lips of the mask to the swollen stomach of his wife.

Y/n smiled as her husband disappeared out the door.

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

Baldwin walked down the halls of the castle, in no real hurry to face Guy and deal with whatever made up problem he had fabricated in an attempt to make the king seem incompetent.

Baldwin knocked on the door of Guy’s chambers and entered upon hearing approval.

Guy stood to bow, a small jerking motion that showed no real respect and was only done out of mere necessity.

“My lord, I was hoping to speak with you,” he said, smirking.

Baldwin scowled under the mask.

“Please make this quick, I have other duties to attend to,” he said, taking a seat at the table, opposite Guy.

“It's a small matter it really shouldn't take too long at all- I was just thinking about where I will sit if your.. Child.. Is born as a boy? Because I understand as it is now, that I am the only heir but if your child is a boy then I will be.. Removed from the role when you.. You know..” he chuckled nervously and smiled sarcastically.

That damn smirk only made Baldwin's blood boil further.

Perhaps if the young king was in a better state of mind and more well rested he would have reacted differently. But unfortunately he wasn't.

Baldwin took a deep breath before speaking.

“So let me get this straight, you called me in here to tell me about how you're concerned that you won’t be king when I die. You called me in here with you, to talk about how you're worried you wont have your time to shine when I’m dead. How dare you remind me of such things! I am going to be a father Guy, something you wouldn't know about since my sister won't even touch you and give you an heir of your own. Not like you will need anyone to rule after you anyway because as I stand here today, I tell you that no matter the gender of my baby that they will rule. Man or woman. Just to ensure that you will never get the chance to call yourself king of this land”

Baldwin stood and left the room swiftly, not giving Guy a chance to even open his mouth. 

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

Later that evening, dinner was called. As the young king usually took his meals alone, the queen was expected to attend the royal dinners as the figurehead.

Much to Baldwin's disdain because it meant that the two would have to part ways for an hour or so. They said their goodbyes and y/n slipped out of the chamber doors.

She was surprised to not find a maid outside their room as there was usually one there to assist her down the stairs and to the dining room, as her heavy pregnancy made it difficult to walk down the steep, stone staircase.

Y/n looked around for a moment, and then began down the stairs.

She was focused and methodical with her steps.

Perhaps too focused.

So focused that she didn't notice Guy approaching her from behind, only taking notice when two firm hands were pressed into her back.

The young queen was sent forward, losing her balance on the hard stone staircase and plummeting down to the bottom.

And then everything went black.

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

The first thing y/n noticed when she came too was the pain. Pain everywhere, a dull ache that spread deep in her bones.

The second thing she noticed were the panicked voices from every direction. One of which she recognised almost instantly.

“I DON'T CARE ABOUT WHAT MY DAMNED, SISTER SAYS, HE IS TO BE KILLED IMMEDIATELY. SENTENCE HIM TO DEATH” 

“Right away my lord"

The queen's eyes fluttered open at the sound of her husband's voice.

“B-Baldwin?”

The king practically ran to her side, crouching down beside the bed.

“I'm here my love, I'm right here” he took her hand in his and kissed it with the silver lips of his mask.

She smiled weakly at his presence.

“What happened?” she asked as physicians bustled around the room.

“Guy defiled you with an act of violence most cruel but I can assure you he has been put to death for his crime and will never get a chance to harm you again”.

Hot tears brimmed in the young queen's eyes as she remembered the staircase.

“And.. and the baby? Is the baby okay?” she asked, a sudden rush of panic flooding her.

Baldwin took a deep breath before answering.

“We don't know right now. But while you were unconscious the baby was felt kicking by several physicians, so that is a good sign” he said, a spark of hope in his melancholy voice.

Y/n breathed a sigh of relief at that. 

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

Later that night, when the physicians and maids had deemed the queen as stable and healthy aside from a few bruises and scratches (no broken bones, thankfully), the king and queen lay together in their bed.

The moonlight basked the room in a comforting pale glow and y/n was just about to fall into a light sleep when she heard a small sob from behind her.

It was quiet and if there was any other sound in the room she would have missed it.

“Baldwin?” she said gently into the darkness.

“Y-yes?” came the reply.

“What's wrong my darling?” she said, turning over to face him.

Her voice was so soothing, so kind, he could never hide his emotions from her.

“It's all my fault” he sobbed, burying himself into her warmth.

“What's your fault sweetheart?” y/n asked, wrapping her arms around her husband, sliding her hand into his soft hair.

“It's my fault that Guy did what he did! It's all my fault. I was such a child, I provoked him. He would never have hurt you and our baby if I didn't yell at him, I was immature, I'm so sorry” he cried, tears soaking into the bandages that covered his cheeks.

“Oh my darling man, it's not your fault. It's his own fault, you know that Guy is- was a savage man. He would have done it no matter what you said to him, the only reason he did it was because he wanted to be the only heir and eliminate any possible competition. His savagery is not your fault my love” she said, pressing a kiss to his head.

“Oh y/n, what did I do to deserve someone like you?” Baldwin replied, wiping his tears on the blanket that covered them both and burying himself further into her body.

Y/n chuckled lightly, pulling him closer.

“I could ask you the same question you know”

[lunaandco]

i'm the girl you'd die for

pairing: pedri x ofc

summary: olivia has pedri wrapped around her finger.

warnings: smut, handjob, car sex, sub!pedri

taglist: @htpssgavi; @joaosnovia

masterlist // I do not take requests

Olivia clicked her tongue. Pedri's hand on her hip wasn't unwelcome, but it was a reminder of what her boyfriend needed. Which wasn't unwanted either, she had chosen that red dress on purpose because it had that effect on him, but she had expected him to last longer before he became needy.

She kept ignoring his silent pleading, making small talk with Ana while she discreetly checked the time. It was still too soon to leave the Barça event. Pedri would have to wait.

He had been hanging out with his teammates most of the afternoon, doing his part and behaving, but it was when Olivia spotted him approaching the corner she and some girls had found, that she knew he was done.

And he would become a problem.

"I need to go to the bathroom," she announced to the group with an awkward smile, slipping away without looking back. She knew Pedri would find the way to meet her there.

He did, five minutes later and Olivia locked them in a stall, hands finding his neck and pressing him against the wall softly.

"You're being a whiny baby," she told him, delighted by the sound vibrating under her hands. "I need you to behave until it time to go home, alright? Can you be a good boy for me?"

"Yes. I'll be. Please..."

💙❤️

Pedri did behave. Olivia had shown him in numerous occasions the consequences of stepping out of line, and he wouldn't risk it again. Not when he was needy and she was wearing that red dress.

Once they were alone in the car, Olivia let him drive them home, without saying anything. She could sense Pedri's impatience, as he tapped on the steering wheel. She fixed her lipstick, knowing that the red gloss was driving him crazy.

Once he finally parked at home she moved to sit on his lap, the kiss smearing the make up she had just put on onto his mouth. Pedri whined, hips twitching as his hands rose to the bare skin of her back.

Olivia unbuttoned the white dress shirt he was wearing, long nails scrapping the muscles of his torso, the light pain making him breathe harder.

"Oli, please," he begged. Her hands dropped to the fly of his pants, pulling his cock out.

"You were good, baby," she told him, kissing her way down his jawline and neck. "So good."

Her hand wrapped around him, slowly tugging up and down, creating a maddening rhythm that had her boyfriend crying out. Olivia loved torturing him a little, seeing how far she could take him before he shot his load, but today she had no patience either.

She sped up her movements, her free hand finding his nipple and tugging on it, just to watch as his cheeks turned pink and his lips were red from biting them. Olivia kissed him again, muffling his moans.

Pedri was close, she could feel it. His body was tense waiting for the orgasm to hit, Olivia considered denying him, but it seemed pointlessly cruel.

"Cum for me, baby," she told him. "Let me see how badly you wanted it."

Pedri did with a gasp, ropes landing on her hand and his stomach, miraculously not staining her dress. Olivia offered her fingers to Pedri, who licked them clean obediently.

"My good boy," she praised, as he tried to recover his breath. "Such a good boy for me, aren't you?"

Pedri smiled, knowing Olivia was far from done with him.

[okasuka]

Part two of my last post -

A few days after your first visit to Wayne Manor, Damian invited you over again. It was a Saturday afternoon, and you were looking forward to spending time with him in a more relaxed setting. As you arrived, Alfred greeted you with his usual warmth, and you felt yourself growing more comfortable in the lavish home, which now seemed more like a second home rather than an intimidating mansion.

This time, you weren’t just hanging out in the living room. Damian had insisted you join him in the training room, a large space filled with various pieces of gym equipment and a few sparring mats. You were sitting on one of the benches, watching as Damian practiced his martial arts routines with a practiced grace, his movements sharp and fluid.

As you were chatting, trying to keep up with the complex martial terminology he kept mentioning, the door suddenly opened, and in walked a man with a friendly smile, his features undeniably handsome. He had a youthful energy to him, and his playful demeanor made him seem more approachable than most people you’d met.

“Well, well, what’s this? The elusive Y/N?” The man said, his voice laced with humor. You turned to see a tall, athletic figure leaning against the doorway, clearly amused.

Damian froze, his entire body tensing as soon as he saw who it was. “Dick,” he muttered, sounding like he’d just been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

You blinked in confusion, trying to piece it all together. “Uh, hey there,” you said, offering a small wave. “I’m Y/N.”

Dick Grayson—Damian’s older brother, as you quickly learned—grinned and walked in, his eyes darting to Damian. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Y/N,” he said, his voice warm and teasing. “Damian talks about you more than he lets on.”

Damian scowled, rolling his eyes. “That’s not true,” he said quickly, though the slight flush on his face betrayed him.

Dick smirked, glancing down at the bracelet on Damian’s wrist. “That’s not what it looks like to me,” he said with a raised eyebrow, reaching out to gently tug on the bracelet. “Matching friendship bracelets, huh? Is that what we’re calling it these days?”

You felt your heart skip a beat as you saw Damian’s face turn bright red, clearly uncomfortable with his brother’s teasing. You could tell that the teasing wasn’t meant to be mean-spirited, but Damian’s reaction was enough to make you feel a little awkward.

Before you could say anything to ease the situation, another voice entered the room. “Is it true? Does our little bro have a soft spot for someone?” Jason Todd, the third Wayne brother, walked in, wearing his usual casual attire, a smirk playing on his lips. “I can’t believe it. This is actually adorable.”

Damian’s glare shot from Dick to Jason, and you could see the flush on his face deepening. “This isn’t funny,” he muttered, his voice low.

Jason crossed his arms, looking from Damian to the bracelet. “Oh, come on, man. It’s cute. Who knew you could be this… human?”

Dick chuckled and glanced over at you. “Does it feel like you’re dating a brick wall yet? He’s not exactly easy to read, but hey, he’s got a heart under that tough exterior, I promise.”

Damian’s patience finally snapped, and he yanked the bracelet off his wrist. “I don’t need this,” he muttered under his breath. His actions were swift, and before anyone could stop him, he threw the bracelet into the trash bin with a frustrated sigh.

You stood frozen, the lump in your throat growing as you watched Damian angrily rip the bracelet from his wrist and throw it into the trash. The simple action stung more than you anticipated, the weight of the gesture sinking into your chest. You had poured effort and care into making that bracelet, and now he was discarding it without a second thought. It felt like a rejection, like everything you’d built up between the two of you had been undone in an instant.

Damian turned to face you, clearly irritated but avoiding your gaze. “It’s stupid,” he muttered, as if trying to justify his actions to himself more than to you.

You blinked, the words hitting you like a slap. “What?” You could barely process what he was saying. “You think it’s stupid?”

Damian rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed by your reaction. “I don’t need some stupid bracelet to prove anything.” His voice was sharp, and his posture was rigid as if trying to defend himself from something. “I didn’t ask for it, Y/N. You didn’t need to do that.”

You shook your head, feeling a rush of emotions surge through you. “That’s not the point. It wasn’t about proving anything. I made it for you because I care about you,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “I thought it would mean something.”

Damian’s eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite read, his frustration building. “You’re being stupid.” He shot back, his words cutting deep. “It’s just a bracelet. You’re making a big deal out of nothing. You care too much, and I don’t need that.”

The sting of his words hit harder than you expected. You tried to steady yourself, but your voice wavered. “I thought I was doing something nice for you. You don’t get it, do you? You’re so afraid of anything that means something, so you push it all away. You push me away.”

Damian stood there, his chest rising and falling with frustration, but his eyes avoided yours, a tightness in his jaw betraying his inner turmoil. “You’re making this a bigger issue than it needs to be,” he said, his voice low and defensive. “I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.”

You took a step back, trying to calm yourself but finding it harder to keep your composure. “I’m not feeling sorry for you, Damian. I’m just trying to be your friend.” The words felt like a punch to your gut. You were trying to reach him, but it seemed like he wasn’t even listening.

Damian’s fists clenched, his voice coming out sharp and cold. “Well, maybe you should stop being so stupid about it then.” He didn’t look at you as he turned away, his frustration building into something deeper. “I don’t need a bracelet to tell me that you care, okay?”

The anger in his voice took you by surprise. You swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. “Fine,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, a heavy bitterness seeping into your words. “If it’s so stupid, then never mind.”

You turned away from him, your heart heavy in your chest. The argument, the hurt, the confusion—it was all too much. You didn’t want to keep fighting, but the feeling of rejection was too strong to ignore.

“Y/N, wait—” Damian started, his voice softer, but the words hung awkwardly in the air. You didn’t stop to hear him out. You just wanted to leave, to get away from the pain.

“Don’t bother,” you said, without turning back. You didn’t want to hear anything else from him right now.

You headed toward the door, leaving the room behind, feeling a sinking pit in your stomach. As you walked out, the last thing you heard was Damian muttering something under his breath, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop and listen.

The silence in the hallway was deafening as you made your way out of the manor. It felt like your chest was caving in, and all you wanted was to be far away from the tension that had just exploded. The door closed behind you with a soft click, and you didn’t look back.

You arrived home, the weight of everything still pressing heavily on your chest. The house was quiet, eerily so, as you stepped inside. Your dad wasn’t home yet—he worked late often, leaving you alone to deal with your thoughts. Usually, you welcomed the solitude, but tonight, the silence felt suffocating.

You walked up the stairs and into your room, closing the door behind you as you collapsed onto your bed. The emotions you had tried to keep in check all day came rushing out in an overwhelming flood. The argument with Damian, his harsh words, the way he’d discarded something so small but meaningful—it all weighed so heavily on you.

You curled up on your bed, the tears coming faster than you could control. The hurt burned in your chest, but there was also a deep confusion. You’d never seen Damian like that before—so closed off, so defensive. It made you question whether he really cared at all or if you had misunderstood everything between the two of you.

Just as you were trying to compose yourself, you heard your phone vibrate on your bedside table. You wiped your eyes quickly, trying to get rid of the evidence of your tears before looking at the screen. The caller ID read Damian Wayne.

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared at the phone. You weren’t sure if you were ready to talk to him. After everything that happened, you weren’t sure what to expect from him, but you answered anyway.

“H-Hello?” Your voice trembled, betraying your attempt to sound okay.

There was a long pause on the other end, and you could hear the soft sound of Damian breathing, as if he were struggling to find the right words. Finally, he spoke, his tone filled with genuine remorse. “Y/N, I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. I was being an idiot.”

You wiped your eyes again, trying to stop the tears, but they kept coming. “You really hurt me, Damian,” you said, your voice breaking as you finally let the emotions spill. “I don’t understand why you threw it away. I thought it meant something to you.”

Damian was quiet for a moment, and then you heard him let out a soft, frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry. I was scared, okay? I don’t know how to… how to handle feelings like that. And I pushed you away. I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have acted like that.”

You sniffled, trying to get your breathing under control. “Damian… I don’t know what to think. I thought we were getting closer, but then you just—” You choked on your words, the hurt still so fresh.

“I know. I screwed up,” he replied quickly, his voice full of regret. “I don’t want to lose you over something stupid like this. Please, can I come over? I’ll explain everything. I just—I don’t want you to think I don’t care.”

You hesitated for a moment, the conflict swirling inside you. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that he truly did care and that his actions hadn’t just been a way to push you away. You wiped your tears away, exhaling shakily.

“I… I’d like that,” you said quietly, feeling the sting in your words but also a glimmer of hope. “But I’m not sure what to say, Damian.”

“I understand,” he said, relief clear in his voice. “I just… I need to fix this. I need to talk to you.”

You felt your heart ache as you heard the sincerity in his voice. Despite everything, you knew he was trying. And as much as you were hurt, you couldn’t deny that you still cared about him.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Come over, then.”

“Thanks,” he replied, the relief in his voice almost palpable. “I’ll be there soon. Just… wait for me.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “I will.”

The call ended, and you sat there for a moment, still reeling from the conversation. You wiped your face again, trying to pull yourself together. Damian was on his way, and maybe, just maybe, he could make things right.

As you waited, you tried to calm your racing thoughts. You weren’t sure what to expect from this conversation, but you knew you needed closure. You couldn’t keep carrying this hurt around, and if Damian was truly sorry, you wanted to hear it. You just hoped it would be enough to heal the rift between the two of you.

The doorbell rang a short while later, snapping you out of your thoughts. You stood up, wiped your eyes one last time, and made your way downstairs. The sight of Damian standing at your front door, looking just as nervous and guilty as you felt, made your heart skip a beat.

He looked at you with a mixture of hope and apprehension as you opened the door. “Y/N…” His voice was softer than usual, almost unsure. “Can we talk?”

You nodded, stepping aside to let him in. “We can talk.”

As he stepped inside, you couldn’t help but notice how his usual guarded demeanor seemed to falter in your presence. It was the first time he looked truly vulnerable, and it made your heart ache with both understanding and a quiet desire to fix things between you.

You led him to your room, where the silence between you hung heavy in the air. Damian sat down on the edge of the bed, looking up at you with an earnest expression.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice barely above a whisper. “I really screwed up. I was scared. Scared of getting too close, scared of what it meant. But I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to lose you.”

You sat down next to him, wiping your eyes again, though this time the tears felt different—less full of anger, more full of understanding. “Damian… you’re not the only one scared. I am too. I just don’t want to keep feeling like I’m just some afterthought.”

He reached for your hand, his touch tentative, but warm. “You’re not an afterthought, Y/N. I promise you. I just didn’t know how to let someone in.”

You squeezed his hand, offering a shaky smile. “I just want to be here for you, Damian.”

He nodded, squeezing your hand back, a quiet understanding passing between you both. “I know. I’m sorry. And I’ll do better. I promise.”

For the first time in a while, the tension in your chest started to ease. Damian was here, truly here, trying to make things right. And maybe that was enough—for now.

The conversation had drifted into a comfortable silence after a while. Damian was sitting beside you, his fingers still gently intertwined with yours. His usual guarded demeanor seemed to have melted away, replaced by something more vulnerable, more human. The air between you was filled with a calmness that hadn’t been there earlier, a quiet understanding that you both needed time to process everything, but that you were willing to try again.

“I never really let anyone in,” Damian admitted quietly, breaking the silence. His voice was low, almost tentative. “I didn’t know how. But you… you make me want to try.” He glanced over at you, his gaze soft but sincere.

You squeezed his hand, offering him a comforting smile. “I know. And it’s okay, Damian. I get it. We’ll figure it out together.”

He smiled slightly, but there was still a trace of uncertainty in his eyes. You knew it wasn’t going to be easy for him to fully open up, and maybe it never would be. But you were willing to be patient, willing to wait for him to let his guard down completely, knowing that when he did, it would be worth it.

After a moment, the conversation dwindled down, both of you content to simply exist in each other’s presence. You felt a heaviness in your eyelids, the events of the day finally catching up with you. It had been an emotional rollercoaster, and now that the tension had eased, sleep seemed like a welcome escape.

Damian, too, seemed to grow quieter, his head resting against the headboard. You turned to look at him, noting how his shoulders had relaxed, and his usual sharp demeanor softened. He looked… peaceful, in a way you hadn’t seen before.

“Damian?” you whispered, not wanting to break the quiet but needing to make sure he was still with you.

“Hmm?” He opened his eyes, looking at you with that familiar intensity, but there was something gentler there, something almost tender.

“Are you… staying?” you asked, your voice still soft but hopeful.

He raised an eyebrow, then glanced toward your bed. “I don’t want to leave. Not right now.” His voice was steady, though there was a slight hesitation to it, as though he was unsure of how he should handle this moment.

You gave him a small, reassuring smile. “You can stay. I—” Your words faltered, but you didn’t want to overthink it. “I don’t mind.”

Damian looked at you for a long moment, his gaze unreadable. Then, without another word, he shifted closer, lying down beside you. His movements were slow, almost as if he wasn’t sure how to navigate this kind of closeness. But then, as if something inside him clicked, he settled in beside you, his body a warm presence next to yours.

For a few moments, neither of you said anything, simply lying there in the quiet of your room. The only sound was the faint hum of the night outside and the steady rhythm of your breaths.

It didn’t take long before the exhaustion from the day hit, and your eyelids grew heavier. Damian, too, seemed to relax further, his tense posture giving way to a more comfortable one.

You didn’t know if you had ever felt this close to him before. The weight of the day’s emotions had been heavy, but now, in the quiet darkness, it felt like everything was finally falling into place.

As sleep began to overtake you, you found yourself pressing closer to Damian, the warmth of his body grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. You could feel his steady breathing next to you, and somehow, despite all the confusion, the vulnerability, and the hurt of earlier, this felt right.

Damian shifted slightly, his arm coming around you instinctively. His touch was gentle, almost tentative, but it was enough to make you feel safe.

“I’m here,” he murmured quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I won’t hurt you.”

You nodded, your eyes fluttering closed, already beginning to drift off. “I know,” you whispered back, your voice drowsy with sleep. “I’m not going anywhere either.”

And with that, the last remnants of the day faded away as the two of you drifted into a peaceful slumber, the closeness between you a silent promise of something more, something better, to come.

The morning light filtered in through your curtains, gently waking you from a deep sleep. You shifted slightly, stretching and letting out a soft yawn. For a moment, you forgot where you were, but the warmth beside you quickly reminded you.

Damian was still lying beside you, his arm draped over your waist in a way that felt surprisingly natural. His face was relaxed in sleep, the usual tension in his features softened. You smiled, taking in the quiet moment. Everything felt peaceful, the chaos of the day before forgotten in the comfort of this quiet morning.

But just as you were about to drift back into sleep, the sound of the front door opening broke the stillness. A voice—your dad’s voice—called out from downstairs.

“Y/N? You up yet?”

You froze, your heart racing as panic set in. You quickly looked at Damian, but he was still fast asleep, unaware of what was coming. You gently nudged him, trying to wake him without causing too much of a scene.

“Damian,” you whispered urgently. “My dad’s home.”

Damian blinked awake, his eyes adjusting to the light, clearly startled at first. His gaze flickered to you and then to the door, and he seemed to quickly realize the situation. You could see the flush creeping up his neck as he sat up, scrambling for an excuse, but before either of you could say anything, your dad’s voice rang out again, this time louder.

“Y/N? You alright in there?”

You glanced at Damian, quickly muttering, “Just stay calm. I’ll explain.”

Damian’s face reddened even more, but he nodded, and you quickly got out of bed, pulling the blanket over him to hide him from your dad. You walked to the door, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Uh, yeah, Dad. I’m fine!” You smiled, hoping you didn’t sound too guilty. “Just… um, getting ready.”

Your dad’s footsteps grew closer, and you hurried to the bathroom, hoping to avoid any more awkwardness. You heard him pause by your door, and then there was a quiet knock.

“Okay,” he said, his voice filled with that teasing tone he always used when he was being playful. “If you need me, I’ll be downstairs.”

You felt yourself relax as he walked away, heading back to the kitchen. When you turned around, you saw Damian sitting up in your bed, looking thoroughly embarrassed, a hand running through his hair.

“Your dad…” he trailed off, clearly flustered.

You chuckled, feeling the tension break. “It’s fine. He won’t think anything of it,” you assured him, though you weren’t entirely sure yourself. Still, Damian looked like he needed a minute to compose himself.

“Well, that was… awkward,” he muttered, standing up and stretching.

“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” you said, grinning at him. “Besides, he likes you, remember?”

Damian shot you a side glance, his lips quirking upward just slightly. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

After a few minutes, you both went downstairs, finding your dad already sitting at the kitchen table with his coffee. He looked up and gave you a knowing smile.

“Morning, Damian,” he said, casually sipping his cup.

“Good morning, sir,” Damian replied, his voice surprisingly polite as he pulled out a chair to sit down. He was trying his best to act natural, but you could still see the slight redness in his cheeks.

You sat across from him, trying to keep things light. “What’re we doing today?” you asked, eager to distract from any lingering awkwardness.

Damian shrugged, looking out the window. “I don’t know, we could hang out, I guess,” he said nonchalantly. “Just… don’t tell anyone, okay?”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

He seemed to catch himself, realizing how it sounded. “I mean…” he trailed off, looking over at you. “We’re just… friends. Right?”

You felt a smile tug at your lips. “Right,” you agreed, trying to make light of his sudden discomfort. “We’re just friends.”

And for the rest of the morning, it felt like old times. You and Damian hanging out, laughing, enjoying each other’s company without any of the tension that had once defined your relationship. You ate breakfast together, joked around, and watched TV until the sound of your phone broke the peaceful mood.

It was a call from Bruce. Damian checked his phone, sighing in frustration.

“Great,” he muttered, his hand rubbing his forehead. “I have to go. It’s Bruce.”

You could tell he didn’t want to leave. He had a frown on his face as he looked at you, clearly conflicted.

“Don’t worry,” you said, standing up and walking over to him. “Go, Damian. You should answer. It’s your dad.”

Damian hesitated but finally nodded, standing up to grab his jacket. “Yeah, yeah… I’ll be back later, I guess.”

As he turned toward the door, you couldn’t help the small smile that played on your lips. Without thinking, you quickly moved toward him. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if it was the right thing to do, but then you stood on your tiptoes and kissed him gently on the cheek.

He froze, his eyes wide in surprise, and you immediately felt a blush creep up your neck.

“Goodbye, Damian,” you said softly, your voice a little shaky but filled with warmth.

Damian stood there for a second, stunned, before his hand reached up to touch the spot where you had kissed him. He gave you a soft, almost imperceptible smile.

“See you soon, Y/N,” he said quietly, before turning and walking out the door.

You watched him leave, your heart racing in your chest. The moment had felt so natural, and yet you couldn’t help but feel a fluttering in your stomach. You knew there were still things to figure out between you both, but for now, it felt like everything was moving in the right direction.

As the door closed behind him, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. You hadn’t expected things to go this way, but deep down, you were glad they had. And you couldn’t wait to see what the next chapter held.

The afternoon drifted by quietly as you and Damian spent time together, the two of you more relaxed than ever. The awkwardness from the past few days had dissipated, and there was something comforting about the way you just were together now. You sat side by side, the hum of the quiet room filling the spaces between the moments.

Damian had an intensity about him, something you had come to recognize over time, but it was different today. He was quieter, his gaze sometimes lingering on you in ways that made your heart flutter. You could feel the change between you both, and while you weren’t sure exactly what it meant, it felt like something meaningful was unfolding.

You were talking about nothing in particular, just enjoying each other’s company when, out of the corner of your eye, you caught him looking at you—his dark eyes focused on you with an almost unshakable intensity.

“Damian…” you began, trying to shake off the way it made you feel, but the words didn’t quite come out the way you intended. “Don’t look at me with those eyes.”

He blinked in surprise, and you could see a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Why?” he asked, his voice soft but laced with curiosity.

You felt your cheeks heat up under the weight of his gaze, suddenly self-conscious. “Because…” You hesitated, trying to put into words what you were feeling. “Because you dazzle me.”

Damian’s expression softened, and his gaze deepened. He turned toward you, his posture shifting so that he was facing you fully now. His voice was quieter this time, almost reverent, as if he too was caught up in something unspoken between you. “You make me whole,” he replied simply.

The words hung between you two, warm and sincere. There was something about the way he said it, something real. It wasn’t just a compliment or a simple exchange; it felt like a truth he had been holding back. You both sat there for a moment, allowing the weight of his words to settle.

You swallowed, unsure of how to respond, but the sincerity in his eyes kept you from looking away. “I didn’t expect you to say that,” you murmured, barely above a whisper.

Damian’s lips quirked up, and he leaned closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “I don’t say things I don’t mean,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “Not to you.”

You didn’t know how to react, but your heart was racing. For a moment, it felt like the world outside your shared space had disappeared, leaving just the two of you in this quiet bubble where everything was simple and true.

The air between you thickened, and you could feel the unspoken words swaying between you both, but neither of you were rushing. You didn’t need to say anything else for now. There was a mutual understanding, an acknowledgment that the space you shared, however small, was enough.

Damian shifted back slightly, his gaze softening as he looked away for a moment, breaking the intensity. But even in the silence that followed, the connection between you both felt stronger than ever.

“Y/N,” Damian said after a beat, his voice still quiet but with a hint of that usual confidence, “Thank you. For… putting up with me.”

You gave him a soft smile, trying to steady your racing heart. “You’re not as bad as you think,” you replied, playfully nudging him with your elbow.

Damian chuckled, a real sound that surprised you. It was rare for him to let his guard down like that, but it was a moment of peace between you both. And in that moment, you knew that whatever happened next, you were ready to figure it out together.

It didn’t matter that things had been messy or complicated in the past. All that mattered now was that you were here, in this moment, with him. And no matter what, you were going to be okay.

[live-laugh-lenney]

could you do Arthur tv helping r with her anxiety/period symptoms? Either in a separate fic or together love youuu

he would be such a softie, for sure.

she hears him, his footsteps thudding and echoing down the hallway, before she sees him.

the door to his bedroom creaks open from it's ajar position, a rustling sound of a plastic bag coming soon after, and she can feel him enter the room by the warming presence of his figure now standing in the doorway. she sniffles softly, wiping her face in the sleeve of his grey jumper and leaving damp stains in the cuff from where she wiped her tears and running nose, sitting up on the mattress and looking at him as his eyes held sympathy and sadness behind them.

his heart aches at the sight before him; how she looked so small on his bed, hood pulled up and the strings pulled to keep it tight to her head, jumper almost swallowing her whole and she had red cheeks with tear-stained skin and blood-shot eyes from how she struggled to keep her emotions at bay throughout the afternoon. the bag in his hand felt heavier and he was instantly reminded how she would most definitely want the contents hidden behind the orange plastic.

"god, menstruation sucks."

"i'm not in the mood for your stupid jokes right now," she grumbles and his lips purse tightly together, a frown forming on her face before her eyebrows pinch together, eyes forming a sheen of tears that went shiny under the flickering candles filling the room with a yellow hue, "i didn't mean that, arthur. i'm sorry."

"don't cry, you silly goose," he laughs softly, stepping closer to the bed and perching down on the empty side of the mattress, "i've got some stuff for you. i went to the shops when you were asleep."

"i didn't sleep," she mumbles truthfully, pulling her knees to her chest and she could feel the pit of her stomach begin to cramp and the way her muscles tightened made her feel achy and sore, "i just couldn't."

he sets the bag upon the bed and lets her have a rummage through the things he'd brought for her.

her favourite box of chocolates, a tub of her favourite ice-cream (that he was, for sure, going to help her finish off), some tampons and a variety of pads that she could use and keep under his bathroom sink for the future week she would struggle with, some paracetamol and some stronger ibuprofen for when she was really dealing with strong cramps and pains, and a lavender bubble bath that she took a sniff of once she saw the scent.

"an old lady actually helped me pick this out," he admits sheepishly, a blush on his cheeks that she found so endearing as he pulled out a heating pad and some lavender oil, her eyes welling up with tears again as how thoughtful he had been for all aspects of how she was feeling, "i told her i was buying for my girlfriend who has it really bad, she took one look at my basket and told me to get this heating pad because it makes you feel relaxed and helps with the cramping. the lavender oil is for massaging purposes," he grins cheekily, "she said that when her and her husband were young, he used to rub this into her tummy and it made her feel a lot calmer."

she wipes her eyes with the sleeves of the jumper, shaking her head with a soft smile on her lips, and he reaches for her hands.

"i figured you could have a bath, i'll make some dinner, you could get into some clean clothes and feel a little more fresh and we could just have a cuddle on the sofa," he suggests, squeezing her hands tightly, "we could move everything into the living room, make the sofa into a bed, eat all the chocolate and ice-cream i brought today... what do you think?"

she shrugs softly and looks at their joined hands.

"will you have a bath with me?" she asks quietly, almost coming out as a whisper, "i just want to be near you. wanna be held today."

"of course i can."

-

the water lapped against her skin and the warmth kept her from the cold air of the bathroom, with arthur's arms tight around her, holding her against his chest. her legs were bent up to her chest, his legs were stretched out either side of her, and she was comfortably in a position to lay her head back against his shoulder without feeling she was going to slip away. the smell of lavender filling the air and the gentle sound of the bubbles and the foam popping could be heard over the silence of the room.

"how are you feeling now?"

she nods softly, turning her face and letting his nose brush against the skin of his neck, and she smiles a genuine smile that gave him a sense of a little satisfaction; he'd accomplished what he had set out to do and he could only hope she continued feeling this way for the rest of the day.

"so much better," she says, "not sure if it's just being around you or whether the water and the lavender scent is helping."

he presses a kiss to her forehead and lets his lips linger a little longer than normal, feeling her melt under his touch, a soft hum leaving her throat and filling the room.

"it's you," she whispers after a while, turning her upper body so she could look him face-on, the water sloshing either side of her, "it's always you who makes me feel better. i'm lucky. so lucky."

"anything for you, lovie." x

[thievinghippo]

46 for Emmrich/Edda! Or Sonnet if you prefer :)

A kiss out of envy or jealousy for Emmrich and Edda! This is set during the 'Blood of Arlathan' quest

#

“Do you think the Antaam gossip about you as much as the Venatori apparently do?”

“Ugh, Neve, don’t remind me,” Rook says, finishing up the buckles on her gambeson. She is so grateful to be out of that itchy Venatori armor it’s not even funny. Hopefully they’ll all move faster through the camp now that they’re in their regular gear. They have to find the Dalish. And quick. “As if they could ever turn me.”

“Fair point,” Neve says as she adjusts her fascinator. “Emmrich might have called that one a fan, but to me, it sounded more like a bit of a crush.”

Rook lets out a laugh. She can’t help it. “I am not the type of person people crush on.” She looks over at Emmrich and smiles. The dopey one that only he ever gets to see. “With one really big exception standing right over there.” A horrible thought crosses her mind. “Wait. Emmrich, do you still have a crush on me? Or are we past that stage already?”

“I most assuredly do, my darling.”

“Phew. Good. I still have a crush on you, too.”

“That is very gratifying to hear.”

Neve shakes her head. “You two are ridiculous. Stop me if I ever sound like that about Lucanis.”

Rook fake coughs. “Seafood and candlelight.”

“Fair. I’ll give you that one.”

Once Rook straps her shield to her back, she looks at Emmrich and Neve. “Ready to head out?” She’s not sure where exactly they need to go, but they need to get away from the main Venatori forces. Ideally soon.

“If you would excuse us for just a moment, Neve,” Emmrich says, sounding far too serious for a man who has a crush on her. “Rook, a word?”

He’s already marching off to a small alcove and all Rook can do is look at Neve and shrug. “I think I’m in trouble,” she whispers, wondering what could Emmrich possibly want to talk to her about. When they’re in the middle of a Venatori camp. “I’ll make this quick.”

 Rook follows Emmrich into the alcove. Who is already down on one knee. Which usually only means one thing for them. She takes a step closer and isn’t surprised in the slightest when he grabs her hand and pulls her into his arms.

He kisses her then, first hard and demanding, before making way for soft and slow. When they break apart, Rook palms his cheek. “What in the world was that for?”

“I just… That Venatori. I don’t like the way he said your name, Rook.”

Rook hooks her hands behind Emmrich’s neck and leans back, just a bit. This is most certainly a surprising development. She didn’t think the man had a jealous bone in his body. But maybe this isn’t jealousy, per say. Maybe it’s something else. And when they aren’t in the middle of a rescue mission, Rook will take the time to think about that.

“Would it help if I told you that the way you say my name is my favorite?”

Emmrich nods, and Rook can’t help but lean in for another quick kiss.

“And you smell absolutely lovely. No Venatori deserves that knowledge,” he says, running his fingers through her ponytail.

“I smell like dirty laundry and blood,” Rook says with a laugh. “But I did use that lavender talcum powder you gave me this morning. So maybe I don’t smell all that bad.”

Rook bites her lip as Emmrich leans in, kissing her neck, before taking an exaggerated sniff. “Don’t think I didn’t notice, darling. Like I said. Lovely.”

If only they could stay in this little alcove for the rest of the afternoon. But they can’t waste any more time as they look for the Dalish. Maybe once the Dalish are safe and this area is cleared from Venatori forces…

“One more kiss,” Rook says, before doing just that. They really need to find more time during the day for kissing. Would be good for morale. Her morale, specifically, and probably his, too.

Emmrich stands but doesn’t let go of her hand. All Rook can do is blush as he brings her fingers to his lips. He is absolutely getting laid tonight, assuming they both survive.

Rook jogs a few steps, then stops, looking over her shoulder. Emmrich is right there behind her.

She grins. “Now lets go save the day."

[ekingston]

Hello! So sorry to bother, but have you had any updates on the Word-Stream/Speechify situation?

Just one: like I posted on Xitter and Bluesky last night, as of yesterday afternoon, the links to individual works as they were listed on WordStream are gone from both Google and Bing. Hurray, right? Surely we’re all sick of this whole debacle and there’s far more important things to worry about. If all is well that ends well, surely there’s no need to still be angry.

Well, I am. Here’s why:

When I checked on Wednesday, the links to my own work on WordStream were still listed. So rather than it taking a week after Cliff Weitzman first hid the fanwork from view, it took a little over a week from the moment he first promised privately that they would be deleted. Which, fine. Perhaps Cliff didn’t really know what he was talking about when he gave that timeframe. Or maybe he told a little white lie to create the impression that he always intended to do the right thing. It seems more likely to me, though, that Cliff still believed—even after the backlash he received—that he would get away with honoring only individual takedown requests. Or worse, that he needed just a little bit more time with the stolen material to figure out an alternative way to profit off it—preferably without us noticing, this time.

But who knows? I certainly don’t! All we can do is speculate, because publicly, Cliff Weitzman has remained completely silent on his copyright infringements. All we got was the initial justifications he and his sockpuppet accounts used in comments on the original Reddit and Tumblr posts. After those were so understandably ill-received, Cliff only ever communicated with a few individual authors who contacted him directly and repeatedly, blocking people who addressed the issue on Twitter and quietly distancing himself from WordStream by deleting a blog he’d posted to Speechify.com dated December 20th—where Cliff promoted WordStream’s platform specifically to fanfiction readers. (See my enormous timeline post for details and screenshots of said posts before they were taken down.)

And this is why I’m still angry: As long as Cliff Weitzman faces no real consequences for his actions, he won’t see a need to own up to his mistake; and as long as he’s able to delay taking responsibility, this isn’t over. This didn’t end well.

After all, wasn’t this the next-best scenario for Cliff, second only to him turning WordStream into a (for him) effortless, infinite money-making machine? He took something we provided for free and fed it to AI so he could more easily put it behind a paywall; we found out and protested; Cliff quietly erased all evidence of his crime; and we went—almost equally quietly—away.

I want to make sure you know that I continue to be genuinely amazed and intensely grateful for how quickly the news about WordStream’s copyright infringement was shared—and continues to be shared—throughout fandom, on tumblr in particular. If it hadn’t been for our collective outcry here and on Reddit, WordStream would very likely still be up in its original form, and Weitzman would be reaping the benefits (those subscription prices were steep) today.

But it’s been frustrating to see that, with the exception of mentions in articles on Substack and Fansplaining (the latter of which is a particularly awesome and thorough read on fandom’s decontextualization) and a Fanlore listing, our outrage never really spilled out beyond the safely insulated, out-of-the-way spaces that are tumblr, a handful of subreddits and bluesky. And I believe that—unfortunately—we are collectively responsible for that part, as well.

Most of us seemed content to only spread the word by circulating the same two posts on tumblr. (Have we all given up completely on every other social media platform? Am I the only remaining straggler?) And soon after Cliff Weitzman hid WordStream’s fanfiction category from view, our interest in the issue took a sharp dive even there. Are we genuinely deceived into believing the issue has been fully resolved? Do we truly fail to realize that Weitzman’s refusal to admit that what he did was wrong left the door wide open for the next greed-driven tech bro to wander through? Or is the true naivety in thinking that, as a community, we can keep this kind of attack on fandom from happening again? Has our disillusionment already gotten that bad?

However the situation spins out from here, Cliff’s actions will set a precedent. If we fail to show Cliff and his ilk that attempts to profit off fandom’s unpaid labor have consequences, their tech companies will keep trying until something eventually sticks. They might be a little smarter about it next time; obscure their sources a bit better, maybe leave the titles and the authors’ names off. Or maybe they’ll go a bolder route: maybe next time they cross the line they’ll do it boldly enough for IP holders to take notice and stop tolerating fanwork entirely.

Doesn’t that make you angry, too?

There’s this whole other mess of thoughts I would love to be able to untangle about how commercial influence is contributing to the steady erosion of fandom’s foundations, but I’m tired, and other people have said it all much more eloquently than I ever could. Seriously, go read that article on Fansplaining. Or listen to the podcast version of it. Better yet, as long as you’re wearing your noise-canceling headphones, go listen to a podfic of one of your favorite fandoms’ works, and enjoy the collaborative joy and creativity of the people who Cliff Weitzman refuses to believe exist. (In one of Speechify’s other blogs, Cliff claims there are only 272 podfics on AO3. Would you like to run that ChatGPT prompt again, Cliff?). Honestly, much like Cliff Weitzman’s infuriating denial of the fact that fandom fucking has this covered, thank you very much, there’s so. Many. More. Things for us to talk about. There’s the connotations of WordStream’s dubious ‘upload’ button, for instance, or the fact that the app scraped (and in some cases, allegedly, still lists) copyright-protected original fiction as well, or WordStream’s complete lack of contact information, which is illegal for an internationally operating app. And oh! Has anyone reported more thoroughly on Cliff’s app’s options to ‘simplify’ or ‘modernize’ uploaded works, or—my own very favorite abomination—to translate them into something Cliff calls ‘Gen-Z Language’? Much like his atrocious AI book covers, it would be hilarious, if it didn’t make steam come out of my ears.

Anyway, there it is. I highly recommend you do all of that. And then, if you aren’t familiar with it already, go do some research re: fair use and your rights as the copyright owner of your works. A good number of people commenting on this controversy expressed stunned surprise or fearful hesitation about claiming any sort of ownership of their fanfiction. The more informed we are about our rights, the more willing we will be to defend them.

Please don’t stop writing or sharing your work. If you can’t bring yourself to work on your WIPs today (trust me, I get it), post about this situation instead. Tweets, skeets, whateverthefucks—about WordStream’s theft, about how this reflects on Speechify’s already shady business practices, about how Cliff’s actions and justifications have personally affected you. You’re welcome to share or copy my posts on these platforms, but since Cliff already blocked me, I very much prefer you post your own. If you do, call Cliff Weitzman by his full name and tag or include both WordStream and Speechify to ensure Weitzman will recognize he has both a personal as well as a professional stake in handling the situation with integrity. Leave your concerns in reviews on the Speechify app. (We weren’t provided with a more appropriate place to put them, after all!) Consider calling for a Speechify boycott until Cliff accepts accountability for his actions.

Do avoid making exaggerated claims, and don’t call for physical retaliation against Cliff’s person or his property. We don’t want to give him or Speechify even the weakest of grounds to claim defamation or threats of violence. Focus on the facts: they’re incriminating enough by themselves. Show Cliff that we’re determined to keep bringing up his company’s wrongdoings in public spaces until he demonstrates that he understands why taking these freely shared fanworks and monetizing them was wrong, and takes steps to ensure it won’t happen again.

One last thing—and this is really more of a general reminder—please stop suggesting I handle this situation for you. People have come to me asking for action items. The resulting flashbacks to my days as an office assistant were extremely upsetting. In all seriousness, casting me as some sort of coordinator or driving force behind this backlash actively hurts the cause. Not only does it downplay fandom’s collective efforts, it also makes our message extremely vulnerable. It would be all too easy for Cliff to silence one singular source. Wikipedia will not maintain mentions of this controversy as long as it leads only to Easter Kingston’s attempt to summarize what happened as it was happening. You only know my name because I stumbled upon WordStream’s theft and decided to get my friends involved. I am not more knowledgeable, more skilled or more angrily invested in this issue than you are (or can, or should, be). I draw pictures and I write stories and I worry about the shift I’m seeing in fandom after having been on this ride for even a few pre-livejournal rounds.

I’m not going to stop doing any of those things. But I am going to allow myself to step away for a bit, make my wife dinner, and catch up on our shows.

I trust you’ve got it from here.

[theborzoiarebackintown]

Send mr. Charles some good vibes, he got a hole in himself somehow and it’s looking infected and he’s not feeling very good. Off to the vet this afternoon to hopefully get him all fixed up!!

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

🖤

[cathymee]

maybe it's to maintain a sense of tension & turmoil that would eventually reach an explosive peak, a sense of tug-of-war, a back-and-forth to hammer home the ideals they want to deliver and for the viewers to chew on, but although these arguments regarding hiroshi & his stance as a man torn between his loyalty for his country & the loyalty for his Filipino friends and lover is of course important, how they write these scenes & the points they present from this week alone is getting too repetitive...? literally the argument scenes from last night & tonight between adelina & hiroshi is basically the same; the ideas were the same, the dynamics were the same: the aggressive, radical adelina, bristling rage and fear over the injustices she's seen thus far, and the cautious, inspiriting hiroshi, all hopefulness and reassurance one moment as a lover, defensiveness and sternness as a japanese soldier in another. this debate will be ever-present ofc, it is one of the series' biggest conflicts, but it is unfortunately so easy to tell when it is a.) being pulled up as a main topic to move the plot along / be a necessary conflict for character development/introspection / be the conflict to deliver the morals & messages the writers want to send to their viewers, or b.) when it is being pulled up only for the drama and filler to pass the time. like watching the characters sit down to argue for 10 minutes, do other things for the plot for 2 minutes, then sit down again to argue for the next 20 minutes. lol.

[longagoitwastuesday]

Waiting for JJK leaks with my heart beating fast. As if I were caught up with the manga. As if I were invested in this at all!

[autism-corner]

guy is noticing his depression coming back, but will not do anything about it.

[teaboot]

On of the less intuitive things about love, I've found, of any kind, is the importance of needing things.

I didn't realize it until recently, but I've always seen love as something requiring sacrifice, selflessness, patience, and generosity- to ask for nothing is to be the best person I can be, small and quiet and never in the way, always happy and helpful, self-sufficient and present when desired.

It's only as an adult, now, that I'm beginning to see the selfishness of wanting nothing.

I cut my friend's hair in my kitchen the other day. They wanted a trim and I had the skills, so I offered, and was genuinely excited when they stopped hesitating over "bothering me" and took me up on it. It was a peaceful afternoon, and we had tea and chatted for an hour or more.

My brother and I shared popcorn at the movies a while ago. When I came time to pay, I pulled my card out like a wild western sheriff and slapped it on the machine before he could fight me for it first. The satisfaction was delightful.

Someone called me crying on the phone the other day. Kept apologizing for disturbing me at work, talking about how they were bothering me on my lunch break. I was telling the truth when I told them that really, I was flattered and honored and relieved, knowing that if they were hurting I would know, that I didn't have to worry in silence. It felt good to hear them slowly come down, and to know that they knew it would be better soon, and to hear them laugh wetly on the other end. We're getting together for a visit next week.

It's hard to need things, if you've trained yourself not to. It's hard to want things, when you don't know how to want anymore. Trusting people is difficult, and so is relying on them, but I don't know where I'd be without the people who rely on me.

I've heard a lot of people say, "Nobody will love you unless you love yourself". I've had a lot of thoughts about it. It's not right, but it's not wrong, either, I think.

"Nobody will love you unless you love yourself"... I've always taken that to mean, "You will not be lovable until you develop a positive view of yourself as a person".

Now, I think it's sort of inside-out.

"Nobody will love you unless you love yourself"... because nobody can show their love to you in a way that you can accept until you treat yourself kindly, and learn what you need, and what you want, and how to ask for it, and then give that vulnerability away.

Love, for me, is someone I ask for a ride to the airport. Whether they end up doing this or not is irrelevant.

It's not needy, or selfish, or taking up energy. It's giving the gift of being wanted, and needed, and thought of. It's giving someone the security of being part of someone's life.