#this fic is kind of chaos and kind of sweet and kind of sharp and idk i really love it

[theesteemedladydebourgh]

well, i started this for the great, wonderful @clare-with-no-i​’s birthday last year (and also as a combination of two prompt’s from @efkgirldetective​‘s summer of jily 2022!) and it is officially almost a year late...

let’s see if i can finish this extremely self-indulgent, illustrator-James, author-Lily who clings to self-control like a barnacle, high-powered best friends, co-worker duo buys a house in the countryside and then slowly implode from repressed feelings and heartbreak over the course of several years (also berry picking! and swimming in the ocean! and a cat named Eclair!) fic over the next week! (w caution set aside for unforeseen calamity ofc, but i’m optimistic)

little snippet below!

Spring

It’s an odd story, how Lily buys a house with her illustrator.

A hand brushes along the back of her head, warm and soft.

She jolts, then glances back. Feels the hand fall away.

James is standing there, chest still a bit sunburned from the beach. His fingers still hover slightly, before settling back at his side.

She stares up at him for a second, a silent question. Her instinct is to tense, to turn to stone, to demand recompense. She wouldn’t let just anyone touch her.

“Your clip was crooked,” he murmurs after a second.

Lily swallows. Sweat presses against the nape of her neck, but somehow not as warm as his touch was. She can still feel the salt and sand clinging to her toes, pressed against the warm stone of the garden path.

“I like it,” he adds, then shrugs. As if he’s guilty of something, but can’t be bothered to apologize for it.

Her eyes fall to his chest, stained pink.

“I don’t,” she remembers to say after far too long has passed. Her fingers curl around the armrest of the hot metal chair.

James tilts his head, then shrugs again. He steps backwards, towards the house. His shirt is untucked, sunburned chest slipping through like a violent sunset. “Then wear your hair down.”

Her laugh is crackly, dry, warm in her throat. The thought flashes through her head, lightning fast: So you can run your fingers through it?

It doesn’t make it past her lips.

[masonmtxo]

Feels like Summer

Words: 3k

Summary: what started out as a holiday fic turned into girlie getting broody

Notes: please leave feedback, it really means the world and is such a motivator 🩷

•••

You'd never felt more relaxed in your life, the sun beating down on your skin as you laid on the lounger beside the pool, the heat making you sleepy, despite the chaos taking place only a few feet away from you.

A stark contrast from your pure state of bliss, Mason could only describe the fun being had in the pool as absolute bedlam. There were excitable screams from children in all directions, a niece (though he wasn't sure which one) was clinging to his back as she squealed, before her grip loosened and a little pink swimming costume clad body dove onto the unicorn float beside him. Poppy's little face spun to meet him, a huge grin on her face as he playfully grabbed hold of the float she was now sat upon, dragging it through the water behind him as his heart soared at her gleeful screams.

Don't get him wrong, he loved playing football, but the extended period of time he got to spend with his family under the sun during his summer break was his definition of perfection. Nothing could beat the feeling of spending his days being the fun uncle, acting like a big kid with his nieces and nephew, competing with his brother to be their favourite. He was in his element, splashing around the pool and playing games until they were all exhausted, heading inside for a snack and a nap. And in Mason's case, a cuddle and some loving with you. Sometimes you'd get involved in the chaos, his nieces adored you and would beg and beg until you'd jump in with them, sometimes telling Mason it was "girls time" and he wasn't allowed to join in. But for the most part you stayed in the dry, letting Mason and Lewis act as kids entertainers and tire themselves out trying to compete with each other.

You watched from your place beside the pool, eyes covered by sunglasses, exchanging words with Debbie every now and then as she sat on the sun lounger beside you.

You're not sure why you chose to blurt it out so abruptly, but you couldn't help yourself, heart soaring as you watched him interacting with his niece, "he's going to be the best dad."

Debbie took a sharp intake of breath, whipping her head round to look at you and peering over the top of her sunglasses, "are you...?"

Her words drifted off as you quickly stopped her,

"oh no, no, no," you hurried out, not missing the disappointment that washed over her face, "I just can't help but get broody when I see him with kids."

You and Debbie had always been close, she had treated you like her own from the minute you had met and over the years you had formed a close bond. There was something about the way her kind eyes bored into you that always had you opening up to her, something that her son had inherited too.

"He's in his element when he's with them, isn't he?" She smiled softly, her heart clenching as she watched you watching him, overcome with gratitude that her baby had found someone who loved him as much as you did. "He's always been good with kids, even when he was young all the littlens seemed to be drawn to him."

You nodded, taking a sip of your drink before turning to face her, breaking your eyes away from Mason as he began tossing Summer up in the air, "He keeps dropping hints about having a baby. I caught him looking at baby United kits on his phone the other day so I know he's ready."

"So what's stopping you?"

"I dunno, I guess with the move up North and having to re-jig my whole life, I felt quite unsettled for a while and there was no way a baby in the equation would have been practical," you shrugged, unable to avert your gaze from him, not wanting to a miss a second of the sweet display.

Debbie hummed in agreement, sensing you still had more to say.

Sighing, you carried on, "part of me is selfishly happy he didn't play much this season, as bad as it sounds," you were embarrassed to admit it, feeling guilty about the way you felt, but it was the truth, "It meant I had him around a bit more when I was feeling down. Don't get me wrong I'd move anywhere with him if he needed me to, but I don't think I fully comprehended how big of a change it would be for me. I've only just started making friends that aren't other partners of the players, wnd even with them it took me an age before I didnt feel like the new girl."

"Oh sweetheart," she reached across the beds to take hold of your hand, squeezing it in hers, "you know you could have always called, I would have been there in a heartbeat to come and keep you company."

"Mase did keep saying in the beginning that you would be happy to come up and stay for a bit, but I just didn't want to be an inconvenience you know" you paused, taking comfort from her warm hand in yours as you finally opened up about a years worth of turmoil, "he was the one who was getting hammered publically, he was the one who had to start off again at a whole new club. I just wanted him to worry about himself for once, not me."

"He always worries about you, he called me a lot in the first few months as he had a feeling you weren't settled but you were refusing to admit it," Debbie's voice was soft, motherly in a way that made you feel comfortable enough to divulge all your inner thoughts and fears.

"Bless him," you smiled as you turned back to look at him, now teaching the girls how to do star floats on their backs, "I remember one time l'd had a really bad day, a group of the girls who l'd been getting friendly with had met up without me and I was so sensitive, cried about it when I saw them all together on instagram," you laughed, "and he was so sweet, kept asking if I wanted to move back home and he would see if he could commute from London because he could tell I was unhappy."

Debbie laughed, shaking her head with a smile as it was something he had also mentioned to her in one of his panics. She had shut him down instantly, telling him to not be so dramatic and it was just a big adjustment.

"I think he was worried I would break up with him," you spoke softly, admitting something that you hadn't actually vocalised before.

Remembering the way he was on egg shells with you for weeks, doing everything he could to try and make you feel like Manchester was home.

Debbie didn't respond, just gave your hand another squeeze in acknowledgment. She knew it was something he had agonised over, sometimes breaking down into tears as he poured his heart out to his mum over the phone, worried he was making you unhappy by forcing you to leave your life behind for him. Debbie had reassured him repeatedly it wouldn't happen, and she had been right. It was just a bump in the road, and with his recurring injuries and subsequent time off the tearful calls had become less frequent, the extra time you had been allowed to spend together helping you settle into a new normal.

By the time he had gone back to training full time, you'd found your rhythm, making friends through Anouska who had kindly taken you under her wing and introduced you to all the best coffee places and parks to walk Ace in, the puppy Mason had bought to make you feel safer and less lonely when he was away. It had taken time, but you finally saw Manchester as home, loving the city more than you thought you would.

You settled into a comfortable silence for a while before Debbie spoke up again, still holding your hand in hers, "You know when you two were house hunting after moving up there he asked Lewis to find options that were listed as family homes," she smirked, eyebrows raised suggestively as you turned to look at her.

"I knew you'd want to go back to the grandkids topic," you giggled, shaking your head at her lack of subtlety, another trait Mason had taken from her.

"Can you blame me? I'll never say no to more babies in the family," her smile was infectious, making you return her grin.

"We did discuss a bit when we were house hunting. I didn't want to buy something so big to be honest, purely because the amount of cleaning it would need," you groaned, being reminded that you worry had come to fruition, "but he made a good point and said it's going to be the house we have kids in, so may as well buy one that's ready for that step."

"And are you ready for that step?"

"Yeah," you nodded, feeling sure of yourself, "he's been ready for the past few years, it's been me that's always had my foot on the break. But for the last few months the feeling just hasn't gone away, I keep going over to Anouska's just to get my baby fix with Lumie," you laughed, "and every time Stacey hands Honey over for a cuddle I struggle to give her back."

"You better hurry up and tell Mason then," she teased.

"Tell me what?" You both turned to see the man of the hour pulling himself up out of the pool having caught onto the last few words of your conversation.

Releasing her grip on your hand, Debbie shuffled up from her seat, "I'll leave you two to talk."

Watching her go, you would help but roll your eyes affectionately at the little spring in her step as she rushed over to the other side of the pool where Tony was sitting with a beer, clearly excited to fill him in on the prospect that they may soon be getting another grandchild.

Mason was watching you, taking the opportunity to drink in your bikini clad body while you were focused elsewhere, admiring the curves of your body and the glow from the sun on your skin.

"Go on then," he broke the silence, "what have you got to tell me?" His head cocked in question.

"Come here?" You asked, opening your arms to invite him to lay with you, figuring there was no time like the present and if you didn't tell him he would spend the day pestering you until you inevitability broke down to pressure.

"I've just got out of the pool," he warned, glancing down to his wet torso when he noticed you were transfixed on his body, a slight pink dusting over your already flushed cheeks.

"Don't care, want a cuddle," you murmured, smiling as he carefully plopped on top of you, head resting on your chest as his left hand trailed up and down the side of your body. His wet body cooled you instantly from the layer of heat the sun had given you, goosebumps covering your skin from the combined sensations of the cold and his gentle touch.

You sat in silence for a while, gathering your thoughts while enjoying the feeling of having each other close, the last time you had an opportunity to spend time with him had been in bed that morning. You had awoken to day light flooding into the room having forgotten to close them the night before in your desperation to get each other into bed. Your neediness hadn't passed, knowing you had to make the most of your time together before spending the day surrounded by his family. He had fucked into you slowly from behind, whispering how much he loved you into your ear until you were both spent, followed by another quick fumble in the shower before getting ready to meet the others for breakfast.

The kids had stolen him after that, so you made sure to enjoy the moments you had with him during the day, even if they were few and far between sometimes.

“So, you gonna tell me what mum was talking about?” He broke the silence after a while, fingers tracing over your stomach and you couldn't help but smile at the irony.

"I want a baby.”

His head shot up from your chest instantly, wild eyes searching your expression, "Are you serious!?"

"Yeah,” you nodded slowly, “I've been thinking about it for a while, every time I see you with kids I feel like I’m going to explode. But that's only if you're ready too.”

He laughed, the grin on his face probably the biggest you'd ever seen, happiness radiating through his brown eyes, “You know I've always been ready to have kids with you.”

“I know,” you face was apologetic, reaching out to cup his cheek and trace a gentle path across his flushed cheek, “and i'm sorry for making you wait so long, I just felt like bringing a baby into the world when I was feeling a bit all over the place wasn't the best idea.”

“No I get that, it wasn't the right time last year,” he agreed solomley, though a smile was threatening to burst through, “I know we spoke about kids and how we wanted them soon when we moved into the house but I was always happy to wait until you were ready too.”

“I felt ready all along in terms of our relationship, like if it happened accidentally last year I never would've had doubts or felt rushed. I just didn't feel ready to start actively trying you know? Felt like we had a lot going on and the pressure would've got to me I think."

"We don't have to put any pressure on it, even if it takes time," he reassured, "the baby making is the fun bit anyway." His cheeky grin made you giggle, loving the way he always knew exactly what to say to relax you and make you laugh. "And if you have second thoughts and want to wait for a bit before we remove contraception that's fine. We can do everything at your pace.”

You shook your head softly, he was so unbelievably caring you felt your stomach clench with love, "no I don't need anymore time to think," eyes flitting away from him to admire a bird circling the sky above you,

"It's something i've been thinking about for months now. I thought I’d wait and see, to see if the feeling went away once summer started and you were home all the time and I wasn't so lonely. But if anything it has got worse, I've never been so broody in my life.”

"Yeah?" His voice was soft, his eyes a little bit watery as he struggled to contain the love he felt for you in that moment.

"Yeah," you confirmed, mirroring his expression.

He rested his head back on your chest, trying to steady his breathing as his heart hammered in his chest. You were finally saying everything he had been waiting to hear for the past year, excitement pulsing through his entire body at the prospect of getting to become a parent with you.

"I want two, maybe 3 kids I think,” you murmured.

"Oh at least 3 for sure, the more you let me have the better," he grinned teasingly, his chin resting on the valley between your chest so he could look up at you adoringly.

"You're gonna be the best daddy in the world," you hummed, stroking the back of his head through his wet locks.

"And you’ll be the best mum,” he whispered, pressing a series of kisses to your chest, trailing his lips up until he reached your neck, “wanna go practice making a baby?"

"Mason, I just spoke to your mum about wanting a child, I'm not disappearing off with you, she will know exactly what we're doing," you groaned, gently grasping his face and pushing him out from the crook of your neck in an attempt to stop him getting carried away.

Mason barked out a laugh, "Babe, mum knows if she wants another grandchild we're gonna have to be having lots of sex, probably even more than usual," he wiggled his eyebrows at you suggestively, trying to charm you into letting him have his way with you but you were holding firm.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean hiding away to have a shag while on a family holiday, when all your nieces and nephews are here as well."

"You let me fuck you last night," he grumbled, "and this morning."

"Yes, while everyone was in bed Mason," you chastised.

"Baby they aren't stupid, they know we don't go in our room at night and play scrabble til we fall asleep," his voice was teasing, letting you know he was only playing around with you.

"That's beside the point, Mase. If we disappear now you may as well stand up and make an announcement across the villa we're going for a quick fuck."

"I mean I wouldn't be opposed to doing that," he shrugged, playfully biting at the palm of your hand that was still cupped around his face, "at least we wouldn't be disturbed."

"You're an idiot," you couldn't help but laugh at him, flicking him on the shoulder in jest.

"But you love me and you wanna make loads of babies with me," his smirk was full of teasing, dipping his head to bite gently down on the swell of your breast knowing it would wind you up further.

"Mason, do you remember you said I could decide otherwise at any point?" You asked pointedly.

He nodded, his smile not dropping.

"Don't test me," you countered.

With another sharp laugh, he pulled you in for a kiss, cupping your face in his large hand, his lips sweet and soft against yours before pulling away, "fine, I'll wait until tonight then."

🩷✨☁️

Thank you for reading! Please leave some feedback if you can, it means a lot and motivates me to keep posting!

[dolcettamagica]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐒𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐥' 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫

miami rick x reader

✧ request: Could you please do a fic where Miami Rick is kissing Y/N’s cervix and when she tries to push him away he says “move your fucking hand” ? @lavender-bong-water hope you like it, pookie! �� tags: vaginal fingering, dirty talk, pet names, degradation, cervix kissing, choking, raw, cream pie, miami loves your thighs, f!reader, ofc again not beta read lol, miami being a cutie at the end, daddy kink ✧ wc: 3.1k

Miami Rick was not only a devilish troublemaker, he was a businessman. He owned multiple bars, clubs and hotels all around the galaxies, universes and realities. Even the citadel allowed him to open a club on its ground. What made it really special however was none other than you.

Back in his original universe he got to know you on miami beach, working at a bar and mixing drinks. Of course Miami was not only captivated by your figure in that snug tight bikini, the way your tits almost bounced out everytime you bent over the counter, you mixed some pretty good drinks as well. It didn’t take long for him to pursue you to work for him instead – he promised you a high pay and fun, something you would never encounter in your recent job. Curiosity bagged the cat and Miami took you to his club at the citadel.

Granted it was hard to get you some kind of working visa but thankfully the other Ricks were just as mesmerized by your body and the sweet alcoholics you ended up serving. Working there was, indeed, fun. You were a hit, Ricks loved seeing a pretty woman serve them and Miami loved making money.

And now, one year later, Miami sat at the bar of the club, toothpick between his teeth, as he stared at his pretty little barkeeper.

In the heart of the citadel's nightlife scene lies the most renowned club, pulsating with energy and allure. Amidst the thumping beats and swirling lights, there's a focal point of magnetism, embodied in the form of the barkeeper, a woman whose allure transcends mere beauty.

You moved behind the bar with an effortless grace, your every motion a symphony of confidence and allure. Your attire, a tantalizing blend of sophistication and allure, hugged your curves in all the right places, leaving just enough to the imagination to fuel the fantasies of the patrons who flock around you.

Ricks of all sorts of versions gravitate towards you like moths to a flame, their eyes fixated on her every move. Some attempt casual conversation, hoping to capture even a moment of your attention, while others simply gaze from afar, spellbound by your presence. But you navigated the attention with a practiced ease, acknowledging each admirer with a captivating smile that hints at untold secrets.

Behind your intoxicating facade lies a woman of depth and intelligence, your sharp wit matching your physical allure. You listened to the stories and desires of those who seek your company, offering a fleeting glimpse into your world with every exchange.

Yet, amidst the chaos of the club, you remained an enigma, your allure unattainable yet irresistible. For those who dare to dream, you embodied the epitome of desire, a siren luring them into a world of hedonistic pleasures.

Amidst the swirling haze of cigarette smoke and pulsating music, Miami lurked in the shadows, his eyes fixated on you with an intensity that borders on obsession. With a toothpick clutched between his teeth, he watched your every move, his mind consumed by a primal desire that refuses to be quelled.

As you moved behind the bar, effortlessly enchanting those around you with your beguiling charm, Miami imagined himself in your presence, his fantasies running wild with the prospect of possessing you at least for a night. In his mind's eye, Miami envisions you succumbing to his every whim, your skin pressed against his, your breath hot against his neck as he pounds into you.

You shared a moment that ignited a fire within you both, once, a few days ago. It was a hot, steamy kiss that seared your souls, leaving Miami breathless and wanting more.

Your lips met in a fervent embrace, a collision of passion and desire that sent shockwaves through your bodies. In that stolen moment, time stood still as you lost yourselves in the heat of your longing, your hands exploring each other with an urgency born of pent-up desire.

For him, that kiss was a revelation, awakening a primal hunger that consumed him from within. From that moment on, his fantasies grew darker and more intense, his thoughts consumed by the need to fuck you.

Miami yearned for rough, dirty sex, craving the taste of your skin, the sound of your moans filling the air like a symphony of desire. He wanted to take you with a raw, primal intensity.

As he continued to stare at you from across the room, his gaze burning with unbridled lust, Miami knew that he would do whatever it took to make his fantasies a reality.

With a self-assured stride, he approached the bar, his movements purposeful and confident. Closing the distance between you, Miami positioned himself right behind you, his chest pressing against your back in a deliberate display of closeness.

Leaning in, Miami offered his assistance with a playful grin, his voice dripping with charm.

"Looks like you could use a hand, sweetheart," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. His words carry a teasing undertone, an invitation for you to engage in a seductive dance.

As he reached past you to help with the tasks at hand, his touch was lingering and deliberate, sending a rush of sensation through you. Each brush of his fingers against yours ignites a spark of electricity, heightening the tension between you two.

He's acutely aware of the risks of giving in to temptation, but in this moment, the allure of you is too potent to resist. And so, Miami continued to flirt and tease, toeing the line between professionalism and desire, his every move a testament to the primal hunger that thrums beneath the surface. But does professionalism really mean anything to Miami? Fuck no.

As the music pulsed in the background, Miami pressed himself further against you, wrapping his arm around your waist with a possessive yet tantalizing grip. Drawing you closer, he felt the heat radiating.

With a low, seductive murmur, he leaned in, his lips brushing against your earlobe as he whispered sweet nothings that sent shivers down your spine.

“Come on, baby, let’s–let’s go to the other room.”

“You remember that kiss, right? Wanna k–kiss something else now.”

“Let daddy fuck you.”

His kisses and playful nibbles on your earlobe caused you to melt into his embrace, feeling his hard-on pressing against your ass.

Around you, the patrons of the club took notice of your intimate display. Some watched with interest, captivated by the raw sensuality that radiated from the pair. Others, feeling the urge to dance and seek their own adventures, left the bar to join the pulsating rhythm of the dance floor.

But for you, the world outside of your embrace faded into obscurity as you lost yourselves in each other.

“Promise to fuck me real good?”, what a teasing way you agreed.

Miami felt a rush of adrenaline curse through his veins. He knew you would say yes, he knew you were playing hard to get ever since he met you for the first time at the beach. Only a snicker fell from his lips as he grabbed you by your wrist and pulled you into a small room at the back of the bar. The other Ricks had to wait.

“Fucking finally”, he growled with a primal hunger in his eyes, he closed the distance between you, his footsteps purposeful and deliberate.

Before you could react, he had you pinned against the door, his body pressed firmly against yours once again, trapping you between him and the hard surface. Startled, you gasped, but Miami silenced you with a look that spoke volumes, a silent command for your obedience.

With a swift and commanding motion, he lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. There was a wildness in his eyes, a raw desire that sent a thrill coursing through you, mingled with a hint of danger that only served to heighten your senses.

“I’ve been thinking–thinking about this ever since we kissed, sweetheart.”

Without a word, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a possessive kiss that left you breathless and wanting more. Miami’s hands roamed over your body with a primal urgency, igniting a fire within you that blazed hotter with each passing moment. Suddenly he pushed his leg between yours, pressing against your most intimate part.

You could feel the strength in his touch, the controlled power of a man who knew exactly what he wanted and wasn't afraid to take it. Every caress, every brush of his lips against your skin, sent shivers of pleasure racing through you, driving you to the brink of madness.

And as you finally pulled apart, breathless and spent, Miami stared at your face with a smug grin gracing his lips. You looked so cute, he wanted to eat you. Blushed face, out of breath, eyes half closed, looking up to him oh so seductively. Did you even understand, had the slightest idea, how much you drive him crazy?

“Why are you so fucking cute and sexy at the same time?”

One hand reached down, his thumb tracing your lips before he slowly pushed it between your lips into your mouth. Slowly you wrapped your lips around his finger and let your tongue lick around it. Both of you gazed into each other's eyes, losing yourselves in each other. You could feel yourself getting wet while Miami’s cock was already hard, begging to be pulled out of his pants.

“Such a good, good girl for me, huh? What do you want, baby?”, he asked as he pulled his thumb out with a loud ‘pop’.

“P-please…please touch me.”

You didn’t need to say it twice. Instantly Miami reached down, thankful that you decided to wear a skirt to work – not only did he love the look, it made everything easier. This was going to be the best quickie of both of your lives and he was going to make sure of that. Did he bother to take your skirt off? No. It was surprising that he even had the patience to prep you instead of fucking you right there and then. 

“My lil’ barkeeper”, he cooed into your ear as he slid not one, but two fingers into your wet cunt. You whimpered and moaned, feeling his long fingers moving and curling inside you. Miami kissed you again, hot and messy, still towering over you and as soon as his lips left yours, he left kisses all over your neck, collarbone, cleavage. His free hand pulled your top up, exposing your tits which he quickly pulled out of your bra one after another.Miami continued to fuck his fingers inside you, squeezing your sensitive breast as he start to swirl his tongue against your nipple. 

"A-ah... R-Rick, daddy..."

The pet name made him suck harder, his body responding in ways you honestly always imagined about, although you never knew this would actually happen. You bite your lip, feeling your pussy tighten around his fingers. 

“You make me go fucking–fucking feral, baby.”

You whimper, feeling a pressure build up in you as he thrusted his fingers, continuing to suck your nipples and bite them ever so softly, moving his attention from tit to tit. He looked at you, fucking you with his fingers, stretching you out perfectly as you moan, your walls clenching around the intrusive fingers inside you.

"You're so cute like this, sweetheart. Moaning like a lil’ slut."

Without a warning his fingers left your leaking cunt and he took a step back. Your knees were weak, trembling even.

“Got on top of the table, baby, d-daddy’s gonna fuck you real good now.”

His wish (and also yours) was your command. You sat on the table in the middle of the room, anxiously waiting for Miami Rick, who followed you promptly. While you were getting ontop of the table, Miami unbuckled his pants and swiftly pulled his cock out. There was no time for all that taking clothes off. He needed you badly and he needed you now.

With purposeful strides, Miami crossed the room, his posture exuding confidence and authority. As he approached the table where you sat, his presence commanded attention, you couldn’t decide between staring at his face or his enormous cock. He took his place exactly between your legs.

“Good girl”, he grabbed his cock, slapping it against your still covered pussy. Miami couldn’t help snicker as he saw the wet spot on your thong, “Guess you liked it a lot. You’ll like this even more.”

His other hand pushed your thong to the side so that his tip could press against your entrance. Was he teasing you or himself?

“Fuck me already, please!”

“Needy lil’ whore.”

And with that he rammed himself into your soaking pussy, your walls tightening around him as he stretched you out. It hurt yet felt so fucking good. You screamed his name the same time he entered you and you felt yourself falling back against the table. Not a second passed before Miami started to thrust into you like a wild animal, succumbing to the intense hunger he felt the whole time.

“You like that? My cock buried deep inside your–your guts, huh? Fuck, you’re so…so fucking tight, baby.”

You were already a moaning mess even though you knew this was just the beginning.

“You think I didn’t see your short skirt and all the Ricks fucking staring at your de–delicious thighs, I wanted to destroy your pulsing cunt in the middle of that fucking bar right then and there.”

He pounded you even deeper and harder, hitting your g-spot every thrust. You felt your cunt clench on his cock.

“Wow it’s been five fucking minutes you fucking whore, already gone dumb on–on my cock now, such a slutty sight”, he growled as he continued to pound into you at an almost inhumane pace. His gold chain dangled in your face as bend over you to hit you even deeper and fuck, he really managed it. His cock was kissing your cervix, over and over again. It was too much, too good.

Whimpering you reached out, trying to push him away. If he didn’t stop you would cum too so–

“Move your fucking hand.”

His voice was just as rough as his thrusts. Your action riled him up even more. He wanted to ruin you, ruin that pretty cunt of yours, make you crazy over his cock. His hand wrapped around your throat, choking you out as his other hand pushed two fingers into your mouth.

“Fuck! You’re fucking squeezing me. You want me to treat you like this, don’t you? I can feel–feel your pussy vibrate around me.”

He was right. You loved it. You loved him fucking you as if you were his personal cocksleeve. Him choking you, calling you a slut, his balls slapping against you as he kisses your cervix – that’s why you denied him sex for so long, to make him lose his senses when he finally gets to. Now you were the one losing it though.

“Yes! Ah, yes! I-I love it, daddy!”

Every thrust of his hips drove his cock deep into your pussy, the spot inside of you that makes you shake and tremble deliciously grinded into. 

Your orgasm hit you, it’s sudden and so fucking good that you’re reduced to nothing but a whiny litany of Daddy Daddy Daddy and please please please.

Miami feels himself getting close, too. He gets sloppier but not less rough or deep as he continued to ram inside you. 

Rick’s hand that had previously been gripping her throat moved to on top of the table to steady himself while the other snaked around your front to rub harsh and fast circles over your already sensitive clit. His fingers were in perfect time with his strokes, your head falling to the side and your eyes rolling back at the stimulation.

“My slutty lil’ barkeeper”, Miami groaned while snapping his hips upwards, the tip of his cock never stopped kissing your sensitive cervix.

“You like being fucked like a whore, princess?” he asked, you were only able to give him an enthusiastic nod since words seemed to be completely out of the question at this point.

“Yeah, I know you do. You’re practically sucking–sucking me in…Fuck”

“D-daddy! I’m gonna cum—” your words were cut off by the moan tearing from your throat and Miami’s fingers moving faster on your clit. “Please, can I? Please, need it so bad!”

“Do it,” he ordered, dipping his head down to bite the junction of your neck and shoulder. “Fucking soak me, princess. Do it.”

The slight pain of his bite and the blinding pleasure of him fucking into you made you lose what little control you still had, and before you knew it, you were cumming violently around Miami. Your cunt squeezed and clenched around him. You felt a rush of fluid gush between your legs as Miami kept going, so close to his release that you could feel him shaking. One, two, three, four thrusts was all it took before he was following you into orgasmic ecstasy. 

He threw his head back, eyes clenched shut as the muscles of his torso tensed and slackened rapidly. You could feel his warm release fill you up and run down your leg as he thrusted a few more times on the comedown. You were still in a daze as he pulled out but a tiny whimper still left you at the sudden empty feeling. As if every nerve ending in your body was on fire, your mind focused on the sticky feeling of your mixed fluids between your thighs while Rick let you calm down on the table. Rick tugged his pants up and tucked his now soft cock away.

“That was amazing, baby”, he was still slightly out of breath yet he walked to where your head was lying and bent down, planting a soft kiss on your temple, “Take all the time you need to–to recover from that. Not too long though. Customers are waiting.”

“…are you going to leave me here alone?”

“I may be a Rick but I’m not that much of an asshole, baby.”

Your eyes followed him as grabbed a nearby chair and sat down. He knew his way around women and he knew how important aftercare was. Another kiss was left on your skin, this time your cheek.

“Don’t worry, princess, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Well, can you clean me up then please?”

“Nuh uh, baby, I want you working behind that bar with my cum running down your sexy thighs.”

[pricklepearbloom]

Hey I've love love loved your acotar fics and was wondering if you could do like a jealousy fic with az like he's being completely irrational about the amount of time your spending with one of his brothers but you only love him and he goes to elain for comfort but it ends in fluff after a big argument because as we know he struggles to regulate/show his emotions thanksss

-🥒

a/n: hey loveee I hope this is something along the lines of what you wanted! I've never done an ask before (omg first!!) If anyone else has any request, don't be afraid to slide into my inbox bb.

All I Want

Pairing: Azriel x OC (Ruby)

Warnings: just some good old-fashioned angst, not beta read

Word count: 3.5K

As the morning sunlight gently filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room, Ruby found herself in a cocoon of comfort, wrapped in the tender embrace of the love of her life, her sweet mate Azriel. The soft rhythm of his breathing and his heart synchronized with hers in a sweet lullaby. In the mornings, it felt like the world outside the haven of their bedroom seemed to pause before the chaos of the day began. Gods she loved weekends, nothing to do but relax and stay cozy Ruby mused as she cuddled in further into her mate’s strong chest.

He pulled her closer as he began to wake placing a soft kiss on her head, practically shoving his nose into her hair to drown in the scent of her shampoo. “Mmm what time is it?” Ruby lightly rasped out, voice rough from disuse. “Who cares, I intend to stay right here all day.” Azriel replied as he gave her a small squeeze, running a thumb lightly along the small of her back. Ruby smiled softly letting her brain imagine spending all day in bed.

Shoot. She couldn’t spend all day in bed. Ruby’s eyes shot open and she sat up at breakneck speed. Azriel scrunched his brows and followed her up to a sitting position. “Is everything alright? Hey, wait where are you going?” He calls as Ruby jumps out of bed throwing on her dressing robe running into the bathroom.

“I’m sorry! I totally forgot I promised Cassian that I would meet with him today.” Ruby said her voice muddled from speaking with her toothbrush in her mouth. Azriel felt his stomach drop a bit, he had been looking forward to spending time with her today. Rhys had been piling more and more work on his plate and he promised he wouldn’t intervene today. “But wai-“ he tried to get out “I’m sorry I’m running terribly late I can’t believe I forgot, he’s going to kill me.”

Azriel took a deep breath as he watched her run around their bedroom putting on undergarments then picking up and smelling and pair of pants, making a face and putting it back down before repeating the process until she had found one that suited whatever clearly questionable requirements she had for clean laundry.

“I’ll be back later okay?” Ruby glanced up from pulling her shoes on her feet and saw the slightly lost look on Azriel’s face as he was still sitting upright in bed, mouth slightly ajar. She felt a kernel of guilt tighten in her stomach. “I can cancel if you want. I’m sorry I forgot to mention it, Cassian asked me to help him pick out an anniversary present for Nesta and you know him, he’s useless at that kind of stuff.”

Her eyes softened and she crawled back on the bed placing a soft kiss on Azriel’s sharp jawline that seemed clenched before immediately relaxing after feeling her soft lips on his face. “But if you want, I can absolutely cancel, and we can stay in bed and spend the day together?” He shook his head lightly, “no, it’s fine. You should go. Someone needs to stop him from buying her an engraved horse saddle.” He sighed “I’ll just miss you; will you be back later? Maybe we can make hot cocoa and read together?”

A fond smile came to Ruby’s lips at the idea. “That sounds lovely darling. I think I should be back just after lunch; I’ll see if we can stop by the bakery to get some of those pastries that you love.” She scooted off of the bed before leaning back in for one last kiss. Azriel wanted to make it count, his hand gently caressed her jaw and neck, thumb swiping back and forth along her cheek as he firmly planted a deep kiss that sent Ruby reeling. Azriel’s kisses were always filled with passion and love, they were like a drug to her, she could never get enough. Azriel was the first to pull away, a small smirk on his face seeing her eyes still shut spinning from his kiss. Still got it, he thought to himself smugly. “I love you.” She said softly before practically prancing out of the room, taking Azriel’s heart with her.

That was only the beginning, it seemed. Azriel noticed that Ruby seemed to be spending a lot of time with Cassian. Rationally he knew that nothing would ever happen between them, but his feelings didn’t seem to care much for rationality when Ruby was concerned. His anxiety rose higher and higher as the weeks passed on, holding it all in until one day, after coming home from a long and hard mission, he came to his breaking point.

Muscles aching from a mission, Azriel landed on the balcony of the Townhouse to see Rhys. Meetings with Rhys could take either five minutes or an hour and he had a feeling that this particular meeting was going to be on the longer side. He mentally groaned, his entire body was practically screaming at him to return to his home and wrap his arms around his warm, soft, loving mate. Ignoring the buzz that’s ever present when he thinks about Ruby, he steps off of the balcony and opens the glass door and is met with a rush of warm air and the comforting scent of his home and- is… is that his mate?

His pupils immediately dilated, and his pace picked up tenfold. He swiftly moved through the house following her unmistakable scent, his ears perking up at the sound of her laughter. His ears picked up a low rumble that distinctly did not sound like his mate. His hackles immediately rose as he rounded the corner to see Ruby and Cassian sitting side by side on the couch. He was operating on fumes and all his mind saw at that moment was the love of his life with a man that was not him and all. he. saw. was. red.

“What is this.” His voice cut through the warm atmosphere like his truth teller on a mission. Ruby’s eyes snapped up to meet his and lit up with excitement “Az!” Jumping up off of the couch to greet him. She took in his tight expression and lowered her arms that were barely raised to embrace him.

“What’s wrong?” She said cautiously taking a step toward him “Oh, not much. Just came here to debrief before going home after a very long day to see my faithful, loving mate. Only come to find her here with my brother.” Ruby’s eyebrows scrunched shocked while Cassian’s rose to his forehead “Azriel. You’re out of line.” Cassian said slowly rising from his seat on the couch with a confused expression on his face.

Cassian’s defense only served to anger Azriel even more. Obviously if he was being defensive that meant that something was going on. Ruby had been spending an obscene amount of time with Cassian, something more had to be going on. “Am I? Please, Cassian, tell me why you’re spending your night with my mate when you have your own to attend to? Or is she not enough for you anymore that you had to take what was mine as well.” Azriel practically spat out, his shadows lashing out from his body reacting to his heightened emotions.

Cassian’s eyes darkened at the slight against Nesta. “Don’t speak a word about my mate. She is and will always be enough for me. What is going on with you? This isn’t like you at all.” And he was right, the emotions that were roiling through Azriel didn’t feel like him at all. Usually, he would be ecstatic to see his mate and his brother getting along so well. When they first met, Ruby had some issues with feeling welcome into the inner circle. They were a tight nit group, and she was easily overwhelmed by the depth that each of them knew each other, it often felt like she would never find her place beyond being Azriel’s mate.

“Cass do you mind giving us the room for a minute?” Ruby said gently, not letting her eyes leave Azriel’s. Once the war general gave a tense nod and slipped through the doorway to give the couple some privacy, Ruby took another step toward Azriel. “Az,” Ruby said hesitantly “I promise nothing was going on, Cassian and I were just catching up. Why don’t you take a seat, and we can talk about whatever’s going through your head?” A wave of embarrassment flooded through Azriel, but he shrugged it off, choosing to shut down instead. “Unfortunately, I need to meet with Rhys to debrief. I’ll meet you at home.” Ruby’s eyes sharpened at his harsh tone. “Fine. But don’t come back until you figured out what the hell is going on with you and you’re ready to talk.” Azriel didn’t bother to acknowledge her as he strode out of the room headed for Rhys’ office.

Following the fight, Ruby went home and sat and waited for Azriel to come back. She reflected on their little spat and agonized over every word. What could she had said differently? It pained her that her mate was hurting and that he wouldn’t let her help. When he comes home, she thought, we’ll sit here and talk about whatever is going on with him and then we’ll move forward from there. That’s all we can do.

But minutes turned to hours and Ruby still sat on the couch. A debrief had never gone on this long before and Ruby was sure that he was probably just taking some time to cool off. She didn’t move from her spot on the couch as the day turned to night and somewhere in the late hours of the night, she fell asleep on the couch, still waiting.

A door shutting woke Ruby from her slumber, her neck aching with the pain of being held in the wrong position for too long. Ruby reached up, trying to rub the ache away her eyes locking onto the dark figure standing in the archway that leads to their living area. “Hi.” Azriel said hoarsely “What time is it?” Ruby said her gaze peering out of the window seeing the light peek through the linen curtains they had picked out together “Did you just get home?” Azriel nodded unable to meet her eyes. “W-Where have you been? Why didn’t you come home last night? I waited up all night for you.” Ruby said standing from her place on the couch, leaving the imprint of her body on the couch from hours of use.

“I stayed with Elain for the night.” Ruby’s heart sunk through the floor. It was no secret that there was bad blood between the two. Azriel and Elain had an attachment of sorts until Ruby came into the picture and Elain made it very clear that she was not a fan of Ruby. She was constantly spouting vitriol about Ruby while she was still new to the inner circle, never in ear shot of Azriel of course. Eventually, Ruby made her discomfort known to Azriel and he had put distance between himself and Elain. His interest in her had been waning for some time and when Ruby came into his life, he didn’t give the Archeron sister another thought. His heart and mind set on the kind and strong female that the cauldron had blessed him with.

“Why?” Ruby’s rasped through a tight throat, thick with emotion. “Did you- Azriel did you cheat on me?” Her eyes welled up with tears as she stared at him incredulously, a sharp pain shot through her chest at the idea.

“No, no. I would never do that to you Ruby. I just...” he paused dropping his gaze to the floor. “I wanted you to feel how it felt when I saw you with Cassian.” Now that the words had left his mouth, he wished he could take them back. He wished he could shove them into a box and never let them see the light of day again because the look on Ruby’s face, it was enough to make him want to take truth teller and shove it into his gut until he bled out at her feet.

“You- you went to Elain’s to get back at me?” she said hoping that her ears had been lying to her and she didn’t hear that her mate had done something so… so spiteful. She had been trying to hold them back but once the first tear came it was like opening the floodgates. Azriel took a step forward reaching out to brush them away and to comfort her but she matched his step, taking one backward, flinching away from his hand. “I think I need some space.” She stepped past the couch that she had been sitting at all night waiting for him to come home so they could make up, but he was with her.

Azriel lightly grabbed her wrist as she passed him intending to head quickly toward the stairs that led to their bedroom. “Ruby, please. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Ruby jerked her arm out of his grasp spinning around on him. “Really? You weren’t thinking for the entire night? I find that incredibly hard to believe Azriel. Leave me alone.” She practically ran up the stairs and slammed the door shut, locking it swiftly. She practically collapses into sobs on their bed, her tears staining the pillows still made and fluffed from yesterday morning.

Azriel’s heart shattered into pieces as he tried the door handle, finding himself locked out of his bedroom, unable to console and comfort his mate who he betrayed. He felt like beyond an idiot. What was he thinking? Going to Elain of all people? After his meeting with Rhys, he felt his emotions pulling himself in a million directions. He ran into her in the kitchen, fully intending on going home to sort things out with his mate, she saw the look in his eyes and offered an ear and some tea. A dark part in Azriel thought well if his mate was going to talk to another male then he could talk to another female. A large part of his heart ached to be with Ruby, but mess of his feelings kept him seated. They sat there all night talking and the next thing he knew it was light outside marking the next day.

If he could turn back time, he would slit his own throat before sitting to tea with Elain. It would probably hurt less than he felt now, hearing his mate’s sobs through the locked door knowing there was nothing he could do to help. “Please, Ruby.” He croaked out after hours of sitting outside of the door. “I’m sorry. I… I was jealous and stupid, and I wanted to make you hurt like I was hurting. It’s felt like you’ve picked Cassian over me for weeks and I didn’t know how to talk to you about it. I’m so sorry my love, you deserve a better mate.” Her cries had softened to a sniffle and he heard a click of the door. It surprised Azriel who had been sitting on the ground, head hung low.

He shot up, the door opening to reveal Ruby with a red nose and puffy eyes, irritated from hours of crying. He didn’t think his heart could break any further, but he found himself wrong once again.

“I don’t deserve a better mate. I have the perfect mate, Azriel.” She said softly, his heart daring to lift an inch off of the ground of the pit that it found itself in at her words. “I deserved to be treated better though, yes.” He hung his head nodding solemnly. Ruby walked back to bed and crawled beneath the sheets. Azriel hesitated to get close to her, his eyes shone with tears unshed. The desperation to be close to her was palpable and Ruby granted him mercy lightly tapping on the bedspread next to her. He wasn’t going to question her as he kicked off his boots practically racing for the bed before she changed her mind. They lay side by side turned so they could see each other. Whenever they were in bed, they were always wrapped in each other’s arms so not being able to touch her was agony for Azriel.

“What happened Az? Why didn’t you talk to me about how you were feeling with me seeing Cassian?” She whispered, wrapping her arms around herself as a way to comfort herself from the conversation they were having. Azriel reached out to tuck a piece of hair that had fallen into her face before thinking better of it halfway and pulling it back away. Ruby gently grabbed his hand and led it back to her cheek. As upset as she was, she craved the comfort that only he could provide. He caressed the side of her face, his thumb gently stroking back and forth. She closed her eyes feeling the familiar sensation, relishing in the warmth and care he provided.

“I was embarrassed, I think. I know you would never cheat on me but whenever you left to see him it felt like you were choosing him over me. And then it felt like you were spending all of your time with him and I felt like I wasn’t enough for you. Like you had to seek happiness elsewhere with someone more worthy.” He whispered back the insecurities that had flooded his brain as of late. Ruby shook her head vehemently, “I’m sorry you were feeling like that Az, I had no idea. Why do you keep saying that you aren’t worthy? You are.” She pressed not breaking eye contact with him as if to hammer home her reassurance. He didn’t deserve his kind mate. He should be reassuring her and here he was blubbering about his insecurities. “I don’t know. You are this ball of light and bring so much warmth into my life and what do I bring you? Baggage and pain.” He held his breath as he dared to whisper his deepest thoughts. As if, if he spoke them too loudly, she would realize his words to be truth and would up and leave. But she didn’t. She just shook her head sadly.

“I wish you saw yourself the way I saw you. You are strong, you’re a loyal friend,” he flinched, he wasn’t being very loyal when he went to Elain, Ruby gave him a knowing look. “We’ll get there. You are the best person I know Az. I wish you gave yourself the benefit of the doubt.” Ruby gave a moment of pause watching Azriel shake his head in disagreement “Do you think that I am a good person?” He nodded, “of course. The absolute best.” “Then why would my mate be someone terrible? Wouldn’t it make sense for the one that my soul is bound to by the cauldron to be just as good?” Azriel pondered, he had never thought about it that way before.

Ruby nodded to herself before taking a deep breath “So. Tell me about Elain.” Azriel shut his eyes. “Gods I’m such an idiot. I’m so sorry my love. I promise that nothing happened, I was fired up after the meeting and she and I just talked. I acted despicably and if I could do it all over again, I would come straight home. Words-“ His voice cracked and he cleared his throat “words cannot express how awful I feel about it. If you want me to never speak to her again I will, just say the word. Please don’t leave me. Please. I’ll do anything.” He had never begged before, but he wasn’t above getting down on his knees for this female that ruled his world.

Ruby shook her head lightly “I’m not leaving you.” A weight lifted off of Azriel’s shoulders at her words and he began softly crying tears of relief. The rare sight of Azriel crying was too much for Ruby’s heart to handle and she wrapped her arms around her mate holding him tight. “What you did wasn’t okay. You lashed out to hurt me and I won’t just stand by and be your punching bag when you don’t know how to express your emotions.” Azriel nodded pressing his nose further into her hair taking a deep breath centering himself in her scent. She was here, she wasn’t leaving. “I’ll do better, I promise. I’ll communicate more when I’m feeling upset and we can work through it together.” Ruby nuzzled into his chest humming her approval. “And I’ll be more sensitive to making quality time with you a priority.” They stayed like that for an hour before Ruby broke the silence. “What if we took a little time off from the world? Spent some time just cooped up here, getting back into our groove and patching everything up?” Azriel let out a deep sigh a small fond smile finally taking to his face. “Yes, my love. That sounds wonderful.” They spent the rest of the day there, holding on to each other basking in the other’s warmth.

[poetryvampire]

Can I request headcanons for (poly but none of them are dating yet) Zevlor and Rolan reacting to gn human Tav confessing to both of them but they explained they would understand if they're rejected since they're the same kind who has discriminated them so much? With a happy ending please?

Sweet beautiful Anon! Again I thank you deeply for your patience and am sorry it took so long. I absolutely loved the idea though and turned it into a little fic. It is going to be two chapters and here is part one (second one should be ready later this week lol) Please enjoy the angst and yearning (✿◡‿◡) 💜💜💜

Falling into Place

Pt 1 (pt 2 is Here !🥰)

Reader x Rolan x Zevlor

Light suggestive imagery (the nsfw lives in pt two)

You hadn’t intended on being so bold when you planned to visit Ramazith’s tower, but something in the way the corners of Rolan’s mouth curled as he brushed off your words sent a rush of boldness through you. Even as you sat on the corner of his desk, obscuring part of the map that ran past the edge practically hitting the floor, the wizard kept a playful look in his eye that made your heart pound. 

“You know, if I wanted a horrid little creature to disturb my work and make a mess of my things I could have picked up an alley cat by now.”  He mused, still pretending to read the papers in his hands. 

 “You should! You’ve got the room now.” You smiled as Rolan rolled his eyes.“Will you at least consider it?” 

“Consider roaming around the countryside- for gods knows how long- looking for a troop of goblins?” He leaned back in his chair throwing the papers to the side. “I’m sorry, but it doesn’t sound terribly appealing.”

“Oh come on, won’t it be a nice change from locking yourself in here night and day?” You gesture around you at the chaos of books and scrolls that was his office.  

“ Well, hero,” Rolan scoffed. “I am perfectly comfortable in my tower and don’t require saving at the moment. You’ll be the first to know should that change.” He turned his attention back to the map in front of him. 

“Please.” You whine. “It’ll be fun! And they’ll just be a few of us. Wyll, Karlach, Zevlor-”  

“In that case I must go.” The tiefling wrinkles his nose, cutting you off. For a moment you second guessed how real his annoyance might be. “With all the praise you showered on him after your last little adventure I would have thought him capable of taking down the goblins all by himself.” 

 “My word, is the great master of Ramazith’s Tower jealous of a paladin?” you tease. 

“No.” Rolan snapped quickly. He stood, reaching across the sprawling paper to scribble some notes towards the top. “And could you get off my desk now?”  

 You didn’t move, rather regarded the wizard and the knit in his brow. It was no secret that he wasn’t the warmest man you’ve known and the signals of his true feelings were sometimes hard to read. Suddenly missing the mild affection he gave you from time to time, you leaned your head against his shoulder causing him to freeze completely. 

 “Obviously you don’t have to go.” You sighed. “But, I just thought it would be nice. I do like having you around. For some reason.” 

He snorted out a small laugh and you could have sworn he shifted closed to you. Even the slight contact brought a smile to your lips.

“Good. The feeling is… mutual.” He paused, his eyes darted about not knowing where to look.“ And I suppose that wizard of yours is still busy boring his students to death?”

 “He’s not my wizard. I haven’t got one, unless you’ve suddenly had a change of heart in the last two seconds.” You glance up at him coyly and could have sworn he took a sharp intake of breath.  

 “Well, it still sounds like a horrible time and I have no real interest in it. However, it would be irresponsible of me to let you lot go on your little adventure without the skills of a wizard. So- to save myself from losing sleep- yes I will-” 

 You let out a squeal and flung your arms around him causing his words to catch in his throat. Thanking him profusely and you let out a flood of words assuring him his worries were unfounded. Rolan kept still, hardly even breathing, in your embrace. Cautiously,  he slid his arms around you and lightly ran his hand up and down your back. 

 “Now, now, there’s no need for such thanks.” he let out a nervous laugh. “ Not yet anyway. I’m sure I’ll end up pulling you out of some mess before too long.” 

 The spring in your step as you walked home that evening quickly turned back into worry. It was true that Rolan tagging along would be helpful and- of course- you desperately wanted him around. As the tiefling had advanced in his magical mastery you had seen less and less of him. It made you question if he’d lost some of the little affection he may have held for you. Not that it mattered in the end. You very much doubted you’d have the chance to come clean about your feelings. 

 You had always taken your time with love affairs, trying to gauge the situation before laying your heart bare. You had a heart overflowing with a care that was more than happy to give to however many people you loved. Of course taking multiple partners wasn’t for everyone and as careful as you were to be honest with potential lovers you had been burned horribly in the past. Rejection was a fear you carried with you now more than ever. 

 There was no point in lying to yourself anymore. You had never been so in love with two people than you were at the moment. Perhaps serendipity, perhaps a curse, both Rolan and Zevlor had taken your heart utterly. The cleanup and rebuilding of the city would have been impossible without them. They had both spent countless hours at your side ready to aid you in any way you needed. As time pressed on your bonds had deepened and the idea of not having your favourite wizard and paladin in your life  broke your heart. 

 How could you tell either of them the truth when it may mean losing one of your closest friends? Would you have to choose one of them? And if your greatest hope was true and they shared your affection you couldn’t bring yourself to break one of their hearts.  

 Neither of them had ever indicated how they might feel about having partners. It had never come up in conversation and every time you considered breaching the subject you backed out at the last minute, too afraid of what they may say. As much as you had learned of tiefling culture, you hadn't found anything that may give you a hint. For now the only decision was to try and stay sane while your desire ate you alive.  

*** 

 At a glance the journey was off to an excellent start; the weather had been fair and after only a week of travel you had stumbled across a strong lead. The comfortable routine of traveling with your companions was a welcomed change. Rolan seemed in good spirits despite his playful jabs and endless complaints. It was mid way through the second week when everything went south. 

 The path chosen turned out to be far longer and harder to traverse than you hoped. One with twisting slopes and leaden with brambles and jagged, uneven rocks. After taking a deeply embarrassing tumble, Zevlor had taken to staying at side, ready to offer his hand or an arm to cling to for balance. More than once, perhaps subconsciously, you allowed the contact to pass the need for stability. For a moment you could revel in the dream of having such a kind and gentle man on your arm. Again, you hadn’t meant to over step. The two of you never shied away from physical contact- you’d had plenty of sparring sessions with the man- but there was still an unspoken tension no matter how comfortable you had become. Unlike with Rolan, it was easy to slip over the line- the one you had given yourself- with Zevlor and not even realize it had happened. In the end it always made you feel just as foolish as the night you had invited Rolan. .            

   To make matters worse the late summer weather had turned uncharacteristically cool and wet. Ending days chilled and soaked to the bone did nothing for morale. As much as you tried to stay optimistic after a few days of truely unpleasant conditions, something in Rolan’s demeanor shifted. His witty remarks turned to a cold silence. He did his duties thoroughly and without complaint all the while seeming a million yards away. You had become certain he was actively avoiding you. Time and again he would distance himself from you however possible. Even when you attempted to assist him he was determined to work alone. 

 While huddled around a fire for supper with your companions, you found yourself across from Rolan and couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes fell everywhere but forward. As if you weren’t even there. To your surprise Wyll, ever the charismatic one, was able to jump back into a conservation the two had started earlier. The wizard sounded weary but friendly nonetheless. Your gut might as well have sunken into the abyss as you mulled over the past few days. Rolan had become quiet but you had yet to seem in distance himself from Wyll or Karlach. Not as he had done with you and Zevlor. A cold fear ran through your bones at the thought of it being more than bad weather to sour his mood. 

 The prospects left you dizzy. You couldn’t completely mask the distress in your voice as you made an excuse to retire to your tent. Zevlor followed you, checking if you required any help or healing he could provide. As you reassured him your eyes drifted to the glint of gold shining past his shoulder. You have caught Rolan’s eyes fixed on the two of you before turning back to Wyll.  

         Most of the night was spent tossing and turning in your bedroll as you tried to quell the endless scenarios in your brain. Tried to swallow down all the tears you’d been holding back for far too long. It felt practically indulgent to imagine Rolan was actually jealous of Zevlor or that he did in fact harbor feelings for you. They both felt out of character for him, or was he just better at hiding it than you had been? Whatever the case, you had awoken early ready to throw yourself into anything that wasn’t thinking about what a fool you’ve been. 

 Zevlor, as usual, was the only one awake at such an hour. Not wanting to waste the time you had together you decided on a sparring session and settled in a clearing not too far from camp. As skilled a fighter as you were you didn't come close to his mastery of the sword and still had much to learn. As if sensing your need for a distraction Zevlor kept you on your toes, moving with all the grace and ferocity he displayed in a real battle. You were unsure if the stress of your worries had shaken your hand or if Zevlor had finally stopped going easy on you, either way he was subduing you with ease. Frustrations hot in your chest you were becoming more clumsy and frantic with every swing. In a misguided attempt to break the deadlock your shaking arms could barely hold, you tried hooking your foot around Zevlor’s ankle to throw off his balance. However it worked a bit too well, sending the two of you down hard, the tiefling crashing directly on top of you.

 You laughed with what little air wasn’t knocked out of your lungs. At the stupid idea, at the befuddled look on Zevlor’s face. You were certain he was about to scold you, but no sound passed his lips. Still breathing hard against you, he studied your face as if trying to solve a riddle. Helpless, you could only gaze up at him. He was a vision, with his hair loose and clinging to his sweat laden brow. A smile bloomed wide across your face. How long had you dreamed of feeling his weight on you? Of looking up into those flaming eyes? Instinctively your hands rose to his shoulders keeping him there. You could feel his breath on your face, the hammering of your heart flooding every vein. Your mind screamed to stop before you only made things worse but you both lingered like this for too long not to act.

 Zevlor's whole body tensed as you pressed your lips to his with an aggression he had not been prepared for. Soon he matched your passion and welcomed your curious tongue into his mouth. He moaned your name and you had to fight the urge to wrap your legs around him along with your arms. The worry and uncertainty fell to the back of your mind as your hands found their way across his chest. Dressed down in a tonic, you were able to delight in the pattern of ridges he bore. Your hands roamed everywhere as the paladin’s lips sought to devour you. He moved from mouth to jaw, to neck and back again, kissing and sucking every inch of skin he could find. Drunk on the taste of him, your fingers dipped past his shirt to caress the warm tight muscle of his stomach. Also lost in the sensation he rolled his hips against you causing you both to groan into each other's mouth. 

“Stop!” Zevlor tore himself away from you as if burned. Sitting up on his knees he bowed head, red faced and clearly frustrated. “Stop. Please, I don’t want to-to-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” 

“No, don’t worry.” you move to his side. “I should apologize. I was rash and I haven’t slept and I just-” 

“I didn’t want this to happen this way.” His soft eyes meet yours. 

You want to ask what he means yet it seems a better solution to leave and blame your actions on the lack of sleep. But the warmth radiating from his weathered face held you like a spell. 

 “I- the time never felt quite right. And you deserve nothing less than a proper courting, to be adorned with lovely things and beautiful words. However, you know-you must know-” the former commander cups your face with a shocking amount of gentleness for such rough hands. “That I adore you.” 

Zevlor’s searched your face. As hard as you tried to steal yourself you couldn’t push down the rush of joy; the pleading in your eyes that invited him into another kiss.

 This time his mouth moved slowly, tenderly; it held a sort of honesty that made you shiver. You tried not to get ahead of yourself but you swear you can feel his longing in every movement, as if he had been holding back just as you had. You could feel the  grin on those perfectly full lips when he pulled away. Everything you’re about to say leaves your mind as Zevlor's eyes darted suddenly to something behind you. A chill runs down your spine as you whip around to see Rolan standing in the tree line. His look of genuine shock melted into a disdainful grimace. 

“There’s breakfast ready. If you’re so inclined.” Rolan spat out before turning on his heel to hastily march back to camp. 

Panicked, you jumped to your feet. Calling after the wizard repeatedly only made him move quicker leaving you standing there face hot, pushing down the lump in your throat. You were rooted to the spot, breathing hard. Zevlor’s eyes were on you- you were sure of it- but you didn’t dare look at him. 

 “I don’t mean to pry,” the tiefling spoke softly. “Have I, perhaps, misjudged the situation?” 

 “No, Zevlor. I- Gods I'm mad for you. It’s just- I just-it’s hard to-” you fought to keep your voice steady.

 “It’s complicated.” His lips held a smile that could not mask the disappointment in his eyes. “I understand. I’ve had my fair share of complications when it comes to romance. And Rolan is a quite accomplished young man.”  

“I don’t know what I'm doing. I’m sorry.” you breathed. 

“You’ve done nothing wrong. I have heard it said that the course of true love never did run smooth. Should you need to talk or anything really, don’t hesitate to find me.” He affirmed and kissed your hand. 

 As the two of you made your way back, Zevlor chuckled to himself. 

 “I must say I am relieved to know that all my worries of you not having an interest in tieflings were unfounded.” He grinned.

 Despite your tempest of emotions you couldn’t help but laugh.        

[ms-nesbit]

Vienna (a jason todd x reader fic)

rating: 18+

warnings: SMUT, fluff, praise kink, slight hair pulling, a super sweet Jason Todd

summary: Y/n meets a stressed Jason Todd on a subway. Chaos ensues.

Read on ao3

notes: yall asked, and i delivered. you're welcome, nasties.

 

“Why him?”

The words left the stranger’s mouth as if they were a spirit leaving his body. Feet firm on the ground, and brows furrowed, his grip on the phone remained; the torrential rain bounced from his body, and he seemed almost unbothered by it all; instead, he was too lasered on the other end of the call, hanging on by every second of silence. “I’ll say it again: why him?”

The last word was sharp as it was thrown from his tongue, his voice dipping another octave. Y/n listened as closely as the subway allowed, its screeching brakes and busy-bodied occupants a poor distraction from the conversation a few feet from her. As y/n eavesdropped, she clutched onto the metal bar for balance, shifting her attention to her right to near herself toward the stranger’s phone. I shouldn’t do this. Ma told me not to be in people’s business like this. y/n thought to herself as she waited with the stranger for a response.

“I dunno, Red, he just told me he chose the flying Grayson, and didn’t give me any other info.” the other end stammered in a thick Brooklyn accent. Red? Flying Grayson?

“Shit.” the stranger spat before abruptly ending the call, shoving the crimson phone into a vacant pocket of his suit pants. He then looked behind him, locking eyes with a y/n, whose eyes balled into orbs at the sudden confrontation. “You lost?”

Y/n’s head shook profusely. “No, no, sorry. Just thought you looked familiar. And bold for, uh, wearing an entire suit on the Brown…in rush hour.” her head cocked, questioning her judgment.

“Yeah, that’s…” he looked down at his black tie attire. “Reasonable. Valid. And what, you’re here from the Gazette? Vogue?” he scanned y/n’s figure, causing heat to rise to y/n’s cheeks.

“Actually, I’m one of those influencers that hangs out in a crowded public place, pestering people about what they do for a living while ignoring what kind of disturbance I’m causing, so…” she drew her phone from her pocket, pointing it at the stranger. “what do you do for a living, and how much do you make in a year?”

her tone was sarcastic, albeit playful, and the stranger returned it back to her. “I’m an adopted son of a millionaire, and I make him disappointed, thanks.” he flashed a chipper smile, almost proud that he was a self-proclaimed failure. It confused y/n.

“Really? Is that why you’re on the Brown? Daddy wanna teach you a lesson?”

The taller figure rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Why is it that every time people know my dad’s rich, they have to address him as daddy? So chauvinistic.” he cocked a brow. “You really wanna know?” he awaited for y/n’s nod, before proceeding. “Okay, well: first of all, he doesn’t give me his money, and if he did, I would decline, because I’m not a goddamn charity case; two, my bike is in the shop, and I decided to take the humble route.” he lifted his arms as to showcase how ‘regular’ he was. “Anything else…?”

“Y/n.” she replied after a chuckle, amused by his teasing tone. “And to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?” her voice was elevated, mocking an air of sophistication.

He flickered his mint eyes at her. “If I tell you, will you be my chaperone to another exhilarating gala betiding us tonight?”

Bursting in laughter, y/n shook her head. “Well, how absolutely splendid! Of course I will accompany you in tonight’s delightful function in my luxurious off-brand loafers and mismatched, day-old pajamas!” Y/n’s hand waved against her body, pointing out her overly casual attire. But her cheshire smile faded after seeing the taller man’s expression unchanged. “Surely you’re joking.”

“I’m not,” the man offered an elbow for y/n to take as the subway stopped and weathered doors opened, “and don’t call me Shirley.”

—

Y/n’s fingers were detached from the rest of her nervous system, as if her unconscious desire overtook her limbs. How she went from taking the sub home all the way to being an underdressed date to the tall arm candy beside her is still a mystery, but one only occurring to a city-dweller.

Her fingertips knowingly brushed the man’s upper arm, examining his impressive muscle tone. The man caught on shortly before he hailed a cab, turning to y/n and muttering, “There’s not much there, if that’s what you’re wondering.” It caused y/n’s fingers to lock a safe clench on his arm, bracing for the incoming inappropriate joke.

But it never arrived. Instead, the tall man opened the rear passenger door for y/n, helping her seat herself in the worn cushion of the cab’s backseat before he slid in himself. “Wayne Manor, please.” he spoke matter-of-factly, eyes shifting to y/n waiting for a snarky response.

It seemed that this evening, they were both a pleasant surprise from the norm. “So your dad is a sponsor for the gala?”

The man sat back, flush against the seat. “If by sponsor you mean host, then yes, yes he is.” he relaxed his neck, resting it against the sturdy headrest, and exposing the skin to y/n.

Eyes refusing to stray from the tempting sight (and the tasteless thoughts that rushed to her), y/n responded, “That means…Wayne. You’re one of Bruce’s kids?” her head cocked to the side mindlessly. The man, whose eyes were on her, grinned at the habit.

“Not sure if he quite finished the paperwork, but yes, that does make me, at least unofficially, ‘Lil Wayne.” The smile that he wore was downright dangerous, and y/n crossed her legs to stifle whatever ache she had. “But yeah, I’m kid number two of three, if I’m right.”

Y/n recounted the headlines she scanned through the years, attempting to pin a name to the handsome man beside her; though, it was rather difficult, with his intense eyes peering at her, and his large hands resting (palms up) on his lap. She couldn’t deduct (not logically, undoubtedly), and admitted defeat by closing her mouth and looking out the smudged, unkept window.

Puzzled (and a bit taken aback) by y/n’s acknowledgement of defeat, the man kept the silence, no matter how unbearable it was to them both.

Until, of course, they arrived at the notorious winding road leading to the manor, when the man turned to y/n and nearly blurted, “It’s Jason, by the way.”

Y/n sighed in relief. “Jason, okay. Didn’t know if you were the acrobat or the weird, stoic, children-of-the-corn one.”

Jason chuckled. “Nope, neither. I’m the one in the hockey mask, remember?” He proceeded to mime a stabbing motion, cutting the remaining tension between the two in their transport. “Oh, sorry, you can let us out here. I doubt they’d let cabbies in.” He pulled out his wallet, sliding a wrinkled $100 to the driver through the plexiglass divider. “Just keep the change.”

He better not be trying to do this to impress me, y/n thought to herself as they left the cab, Jason again offering his elbow for y/n to take. “Are you sure they’re not gonna be, y’know, offended by this?” And by this, as y/n gestured, she meant her opaque mahogany leggings and oversized tee checkered with holes varying in size (but all from excessive wear and abuse over the years).

Jason scoffed and stopped in his tracks, using his thumb to lift y/n’s chin so they could lock eyes. “You look wonderful.” the sincerity in his tone cascaded to y/n’s chest; genuine men were scarce in Gotham, and so far, Jason hadn’t broken the grain of trust y/n placed in him. It was refreshing to say the least. “Besides, they’re too scared of me, so whatever they think in their pompous heads will remain there.” he assured, placing a hand over y/n’s on his arm. The pair locked eyes, this time in a wordless gaze long enough for y/n to identify the hues of stormy gray and downpour blue - they were a telling portrait far more consequential than her initial lame findings, the obvious envious green overtaking the landscape; he’s vindictive, and tired.

Jason knew of her findings, of course. His hair hadn’t been the only change since the Lazarus Pit; his stature shifted, elongating, and his eyes transformed from earthly green to a tropical storm. He allowed y/n to piece it together, if she wanted. And if she wanted, she knew where to find the root of Jason’s demise.

“Now, do you think you’re ready to join me, Dear?” he leaned down to whisper to the distracted y/n, who simply nodded in response. “If you feel uncomfortable, we can leave. You’d be doing me a favor.”

As they entered the manor among the crowd of well-dressed socialites, y/n’s body became overwhelmed with mixed signals: she wanted out, but was intrigued by the foreignness of the formality. Y/n attended school events and funerals throughout her life, but none were black-tie formal, nor was she underdressed in a mansion full of strangers with a handsome man attached to her hip.

Perhaps this was a blessing.

Y/n remained silent as she studied the cliques buzz and charm in a fatuous effort to obtain status. It hadn’t been long, though, as Jason guided her to one of the open spaces of the main congregating gallery. She looked up at him as he rummaged through the sea of deluded hedonists, observing his distaste and overall apathy toward the absolute palpable wealth in one space; his hair, thick and disheveled, was dark, except for the white bit symmetrically parted on his forehead. If it hadn’t been for his skin high in elasticity, and the unfathomable passion he used as a primary motivator (an unspoken symbol of youth), y/n would have believed that Jason was far more senior to her age than now surmised.

“Alfred,” Jason spoke with excitement, snapping y/n’s attention away from Jason’s physique and onto the gathering of bustling caterers, “how are you?”

An elder gentleman emerged from the crowd, wearing a long coat, black dress pants and tie, and a broad smile that accentuated his aged features. “Jason, my boy. How have you been?”

“Splendid.” Jason replied simply. “Is, uh, Bruce still…” he trailed off, nudging Alfred suggestively.

Alfred glared softly at Jason. “Upset? A bit, but you know how he is.” Jason nodded. “And who might this be?” his weary eyes lay on y/n, who grinned shyly.

“What do you-oh, yeah! Yeah, right, this is y/n. Y/n, this is my dad’s lifeline, Alfred.” Jason stumbled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm; the angle of his reach exposed barely enough of his waist, momentarily catching y/n’s attention before she hastily brought it back to Alfred.

“The official position is titled butler and personal assistant.” his eyebrow sharply rose in fierce discernment at Jason. “Pleasure is mine, y/n.” he bowed his head elegantly in respect.

“And it’s wonderful to meet you too, Alfred.” y/n replied, dropping her body into a modest curtsy. She felt Jason’s stare, to which she returned when she returned her original position from the curtsy.

Alfred tittered briefly. “Oh, don’t worry about that. Though that is very kind of you, indeed, Dear.” his assurance sat with y/n like a warm cup of tea, or a cool breeze. Is this why Jason seems a little mature? “Your attire certainly stands out from the crowd, and seems homely. Why not give y/n a tour of the manor, Jason? I’m sure she would enjoy the library like you had.” his words hinted as chaff, a teasing glimpse in his heavy eyes.

Pink peeked at Jason’s cheeks, flustered by the memories. “Used to be, yeah.” He grinned at y/n, face still timid. “You wanna check it out?”

Y/n nodded. “Absolutely.” her clutch on Jason’s suit fabric tightened, slightly pinching the skin of his elbow, as she failed to contain her elation. “I mean, is it okay? If you need help, I’m sure most of the people here think I’m below them anyway.”

Jason chortled before swiping a glass of sparkling wine from a server’s tray and gulping the drink, discreetly replacing it on the tray before the server would take notice. “And now I’m good. Let’s relive some interesting memories!” he balled his hands into fists mockingly.

As y/n and Jason turned to lead to the grand staircase near the foyer, Alfred leaned in and murmured, “She’s nice.”

“I know.” Jason returned, hiding his gleeful expression from y/n.

Y/n heard the comment, but pretended to have been preoccupied with her top, until Jason’s “Ready?”

And the pair successfully evaded the status-hungry socialites.

—

“And that’s where Bruce told me about the birds and the bees.” Jason snickered, pointing toward Bruce’s bedroom.

Y/n stifled her cackle. “No fucking way, are you serious?”

“Deadly. Plus I was 13 at that point, so…” his eyes darted to the other side of the room. “I pretty much knew it all. Didn’t know that girls could have orgasms, though.”

Y/n stopped and doubled over in laughter, startling Jason into catching her before she fell to the ground. “When did you find out?!”

Jason���s expression fell into an unreadable one, one arm reaching around her chest, with the brim of her shoulder blade just in his hand, and his other wrapped neatly around her waist, holding her hip to brace her.

They continued down the hall and stopped before a set of narrow double doors. “Here’s the library. You think you can contain yourself?”

Jason’s hand on y/n’s side caused it to burn under his touch, and her laughter died down to pecks of distant, breathless giggles. She turned up to face him, and was met with a semi-concerned face, his eyes barely curtained behind his salt strands of hair. “Yeah, I think I’ll manage.” she quipped, despite her volitant state.

As Jason pushed open the doors (which emitted a weak creak, expressing their distant dismay), he eyed y/n’s every reaction, grinning sweetly as her mouth parted and eyes widened, lip corners turning into an impish smile. “All this?”

“For six years, this was where I spent most of my free time.” Jason added, half in-awe of the books still neatly propped on the varnished wooden shelves. He wanted to add more, about how he escaped here when he refused to partake as Boy Wonder, or when he was coerced by Bruce into dropping his audition for a play; his grip on the fragile door handle tightened subconsciously, and his jaw flexed, gritting his teeth.

If it hadn’t been for y/n’s marvel visible in her glistening eyes, he would have snapped as he did when he awoke from his coma: a worn Alfred sitting beside him in the hospital room and admonishing Jason that Bruce spared Joker’s life. Rather, Jason lasered his attention on y/n’s wonder as she skimmed through each spine and title, lifting a lucky book from its shelf and holding the meat of the hardcover. She held it gingerly, tenderly, and Jason’s jaw unclenched with a hope that he could be touched that way too.

In a desperate effort to rescue himself, he listened to the voice in his kidney cautioning him away from his motorcycle that evening, and steering him to the Brown line where he encountered y/n. He hadn’t known what she would be to him - at the least, y/n accompanied him for the night; though he realized in the library, with the calling from his side, that he wasn’t the only lost one.

And as Jason leaned against a bookcase, shoulder pressed against the shelving with arms and feet crossed, he answered every question y/n presented, with the intention of relishing the joy sparked from visiting the hidden gem, as was the same joy ignited in Jason in years’ past.

“How did you find a way to leave this?” Y/n dropped, book in hand, as she skipped her way back to the tall man.

Jason shrugged, standing back on his feet and pocketing his hands. “I guess enough bad times followed me here, and one day, it wasn’t really the same.”

Despondency registered in y/n’s eyes, dimming the curious light in them. “Oh, I’m sorry.” she leveled the book in her hands enough for Jason to read the title.

“A Raisin In the Sun?” he read aloud, eyebrow cocked. “Never read that one.”

Y/n stuck out her bottom lip and shrugged, equally intrigued. “Didn’t know it came in hardcover till I saw this.” she opened up the cover, revealing a divet in the pages where a revolver hid. “The hell is Bruce doing with this?”

Jason’s eyes bulged in disbelief, a shit-eating grin splayed across his face. “Anti-gun, huh?” he carefully picked up the gun, holding it away from y/n in his hand. “What a goddamn hypocrite.” Before y/n began backing away from the tall man, Jason held up his free hand. “Alright, I’ll put it back. I get it: scary big guy with a gun. I got it.” his tone was dry yet assuming, and he replaced the revolver in its concealed spot.

Y/n smiled playfully, closing the cover and setting the book in its space on the bookshelf. “I wouldn’t say ‘knowingly’ scary as much as ‘might shoot himself in the foot’ scary.” She strolled back over to Jason, hand on her hip. “Didn’t wanna get any of your blood on my luxurious gown, y’know? It’s satin.” she twiddled her fingers at herself sarcastically. “But anyway, big guy, do you think you could show me where your favorites are?”

Biting his tongue at the lack of intimidation y/n felt by him, Jason nodded affirmatively. “How ‘bout this? If you find at least one of them, I’ll give you something.”

“And what is this ‘something’?” y/n signed airquotes.

“Depends. What would you like?” Jason stepped closer, shortening the space between them.

Y/n shrugged and contemplated for a moment. “What if we both look for a book? If I find one of your favorites first, I get to take you out on another date, and if you find my favorite first…”

“And if I find your favorite first, I can give you a kiss.” Jason beamed down at y/n, satisfied with his answer.

“How dreadful of you! Oh, the suffering.” y/n grandiloquently replied, exaggerating hand movements and a flabbergasted expression.

Jason rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll survive. Ready?”

Y/n closed the gap between them, propping herself up on her tippy toes to meet Jason’s eyes. “More than I’ll ever be.” she spoke fiercely, the intensity in her eyes tempting Jason to lean in and-

In a moment's time, y/n bounced away from Jason, scurrying to find a book she believed was Jason’s favorite. While she scrambled, Jason calmly searched through the bookshelves, occasionally looking back at y/n, who barely balanced herself on the ladder as she reached for a distant book on a high shelf.

During his period at Bruce’s, Jason hadn’t felt so inviting in his sanctuary. He often drifted in these books, growling at whomever attempted to crack open a title. Instead, he wanted y/n to find him within these covers, and almost wished that she could win.

So he found himself disheartened when he swiped a title from the shelf and handed it to an out-of-breath y/n, whose only response was a painful scorn. “You son of a bitch!” she spat. “How did you… what the fuck?”

Jason hadn’t even glanced at the title, only listened to the burning in his side ending his quest. “What, did I get it right?” he twisted his head to read the title. “Uhm…A Farewell To Arms?”

“Yeah.” y/n chewed on her top lip nervously, avoiding eye contact with Jason. “It helped me during some weird times. Cathartic more than anything.” she took the book from Jason, and exchanged it for one she held, before sitting down on a leather armchair with a flat thud. Holding her head in her hands, she shook her head and laughed. “Nobody really suspects that one. Dunno why, it just seems obvious to me.”

Jason found himself grinning at her, following her until he reached the adjacent leather seat, settling himself down in it with his knees on either side of the chair. He absentmindedly rested y/n’s choice of book on his thigh, not even glancing at it. “D’you think it’s obvious because you know yourself?”

Sitting back in the seat, y/n rested her hand on her palm. “I mean, yeah. But…I also liked it for the irony that it was. Hemingway was basically an emo-boy misogynist, y’know? And essentially projected whatever sad, twisted plotlines into his stories. It made me feel a bit better about myself, while also simultaneously making me feel awful.”

“I know that feeling.” Jason acknowledged. “It’s a paradox. So reading this book is like a form of self harm then?”

“Just as much as reading the DaVinci Code.” Jason snorted, caught offguard by the joke. His nose crinkled as he laughed, something that distracted y/n from her self-pity. “Have you looked at my primary contender for your favorite?”

He hadn’t. Reaching for the book, Jason’s fingers slipped into their habitual positions, holding the cover with great familiarity. Without glancing at the title, he knew. “Emma.” he said, maintaining a piercing stare with y/n.

It was a surprise she hadn’t broken the contact, but instead mirrored his stare. “Yep. Thought it was a joke, but…you seem like a feminist. A classic one, at that.”

“Classic one? What’s wrong with a modern one?” Jason took offense to the deduction, no matter the truth behind it.

“Nothing, I consider myself to be a modern feminist.” Y/n replied matter-of-factly, probing the source of Jason’s defensiveness. “Do you think there’s something wrong with classic feminism?”

Exhaling through his nose, Jason thought about his answer. Y/n studied the crease between his brows when he pondered, and the way he absentmindedly dragged his tongue along his bottom lip. If it wasn’t for the serious discussion, y/n would have already had his bottom lip between her teeth, running her hands up and down his chest through his suit.

“It’s racist. And mostly Christian-inspired.” Jason concluded. “To be frank, it-it’s really narrow-minded, and a dated model of how femininity should be defined.”

Dear god in heaven that’s hot. “I agree.” Y/n ignored the heat between her legs and the growing tension between them, attempting to remain composed. “Most of the pioneers of the first wave - white women - left out some of the unvoiced marginalized groups: women of color, trans women, and queer women.” Jason locked his fingers and placed it against his mouth, listening closely. “I heard that Jane Austen was rather avant garde for her time. A good read nonetheless.” When y/n finished her rambling, she noticed her behavior, and quickly apologized.

“It’s okay. You have some solid points I agree with. Can I be real with you for a sec?” he leaned in over the armrest of his chair toward y/n, who nodded silently in return. He looked down and away from y/n, the melancholy rain washing out the hopeful cattail brown in his eyes. “Before Bruce and Alfred, I… my dad wasn’t exactly father of the year. He did a lot wrong, and I was usually the one to help my ma before she died.” he swallowed the memories attempting to break the dam he built to conceal his painful past.

Extending her arm, y/n folded her hand over Jason’s. His skin was cold, coarse in texture, but so enticing - he was lonely. Y/n knew. “It’s okay. What happens in the library stays in the library.” she added, humor softening the sadness he felt.

What followed was a blur - whether it be the reverb of the quartet muffled through the thick flooring, or the fact that they were both as vulnerable as they ever would be. Jason’s lips were on y/n’s, their noses flattening upon contact as their attempts at safe contact were futile; he wanted to act on the envisaging from earlier, as did she.

Ultimately, y/n squeezed Jason’s hand in hers, overwhelmed by the softness of his lips against hers; the kiss was more devotion than concupiscence, which took them both by astonishment. Even when Jason’s tongue dragged heavily along y/n’s bottom lip, asking to deepen the kiss, it was out of impuissance, at the will of their passion’s mercy. Y/n’s other hand found itself in Jason’s hair, combing through it as they breathed in their act. When y/n accidentally tugged, though, Jason exhaled a soft moan into the kiss, and y/n, so frantic in wanting Jason to repeat that sound, tugged again, and trapped his lip between her teeth.

She pulled away to see Jason’s face, and was in awe of the destruction she had already caused: one hand, still in Jason’s hair, ruffled it amuck, and his pupils were blown wide in lust, a hunger undeniable by either of them; his chest rose and fell, catching his breath as he stared at her with intent. He wanted her, no matter the ease of invasion from any gala attendee.

Charm overtook y/n, hand moving from Jason’s hair to his tie. She pulled him by the tie as she stood, Jason close behind, his eyes leering as her hips swayed with each step she took. Then, stopping him before the loveseat, she pushed him down, straddling his lap once he adjusted himself. They gazed at each other, eyes exchanging unspoken notes of admiration before Jason couldn’t resist his urge to pull y/n into another kiss.

It didn’t satisfy y/n’s appetite, and it showed when she began grinding herself down against Jason, causing him to break the kiss and watch her hips move against his clothed erection. “Holy shit.” he breathed, loosening his tie and tossing it behind the loveseat. Y/n bit down on her lip hard enough to break skin, hushing herself from emitting even the tiniest of a noise. She focused herself on unbuttoning Jason’s clean shirt, invested in the skin underneath; when it lay exposed, she sprawled her fingers on it, exploring each inch she stared at earlier.

Jason, on the other hand, rested his hands on the small of y/n’s back, closing his eyes and soaking in the undivided attention. It wasn’t long since his last sexual encounter, but this was an action from yearning, an evening of exchanging flirtatious quips escalating to complete and utter vulnerability. His attention snapped back into reality once he heard a fumbling of his own belt buckle coming undone, and y/n repositioning herself on the ground between Jason’s legs, tugging his dress pants to his ankles.

“This okay?” She asked quietly, concerned at his perplexed reaction.

Jason shook his head feverishly, erection throbbing in his boxers. Y/n ran her hands from his legs up to his torso, softly digging her nails in his skin as she returned to his legs, hands hovering over the growing erection in his crimson boxer briefs. She leaned in and licked at the imprint of it, causing Jason to hiss between clenched teeth.

“May I?” she asked again, more impatient than before.

“God, please do.” Jason nearly begged, resulting in the heat in y/n’s core to grow. She rubbed her legs together as she drew back his boxers, Jason’s cock springing free from the constraint, and wrapped her fingers around his erection, eyes lasered on the man before her. “Oh, fuck.” he let out a long, low moan, feeling himself already near his release from the sight of y/n stroking his cock.

“Princess, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna come.” his confession sounded more like a plea, and as much as it was music to y/n’s ears, something she wanted to hear over and over, she pulled away, shimmying herself out of her top, then her leggings.

It was Jason’s turn to marvel at the beauty in front of him, and he gawked, thanking his sweet instinct for leading him to this moment. He sat up on the loveseat, interlocking his hands behind his head. Sharply inhaling through his nose, his eyes scanned y/n’s eyes, swollen lips, and down to her breasts, and high-waisted underwear, before returning his attention to her face.

“If I had known that a handsome man was going to be escorting me, I’d have donned a matching lingerie set from Fenty.” y/n excused.

Jason unfettered a groan from his throat. “Seriously not a problem with me.” his eyes remained on y/n’s with unwavering assurance, causing a blush to creep up on y/n.

Swiftly, y/n removed her underwear, leaving her bare before the tall man. Jason wrapped his fingers around his cock and began stroking his length in response, hips naturally meeting up in impatience. Y/n couldn’t help but stare at the sight that unfolded before her: Jason, brows furrowed and head slightly tilted back, slacking his jaw to allow the unholy noises to free themselves from his throat as he continued massaging his thick dick. Y/n noticed Jason’s eyes tunneled on her body, and began running a hand up and down her silhouette, taunting him as he barely contained himself.

“Fuck I want you, please.” Jason implored, desperation rich in his baritone.

Oppositely, y/n refused to oblige, instead egging him on by falling to her knees, opening her legs, and kneading her breasts vexingly. “Come for me, Babe.” she exhorted. “Unless you want to be inside me.”

The temptation in Jason soared, and something in him broke when y/n spoke tauntingly about being inside her. In seconds, y/n was lifted from the ground, safely placed on the loveseat, legs up. “Say it again and I’ll make it happen.” Jason grumbled with conviction, reaching over and removing a condom from the pocket from his pants lying on the ground.

Y/n braced herself on her elbows. “I want you deep inside me.” she smirked.

Jason lined himself up with y/n’s entrance, slowly sinking inside until he bottomed out. Y/n pursed her lips, focusing on adjusting to the size. She felt a fluttered kiss on her temple, then her forehead. When she turned, she noticed Jason’s head resting on her shoulder, his hair tickling her nose. She laughed, kissing his temple in return. “Are you okay?” he whispered, already out of breath.

“Think so.” y/n replied, rocking her hips to meet with his. Jason moved a hand to hold a fistful of y/n’s thigh, and placed another above her on the armrest of the loveseat, beginning at a painfully leisurely pace to allow y/n to accommodate. He bowed his head to trail kisses down to her chest, softly sucking on her sienna buds; y/n moaned and tugged Jason’s hair. “Please.” 

Nimbly, Jason picked up his pace, letting his head rest on y/n’s chest as he continued. He removed a hand from overhead to pop a thumb into his mouth, spitting on it, before slipping it between them, rubbing y/n’s aching clit. “Fuck, Jason.” she gasped, bucking her hips.

He continued this way, cock angled toward her cervix and thumb circling rhythmically on her clit, burying his face in y/n’s chest. “You feel so good, holy shit, y/n.” he strained. Jason clamped his teeth down on y/n’s shoulder, causing her to yelp and whimper in a mix of pain and pleasure. “You’re taking me so well, Princess, fuck.”

“Shit, I’m gonna come.” Y/n whined as her hips rose from the loveseat, only to be held down by Jason’s hand as he deliberately rubbed her clit. 

Jason picked up his pace, the sound of skin on skin slapping filling the empty library. He reclined his head, pressing his forehead against y/n’s as he locked eyes with her, swallowing their filth in a sloppy kiss. It was when Jason pulled away to let out a strangled, “Please come, y/n,” along with a thrust of his hips into her cervix, and the pressure of his thumb on her clit, that y/n was set over the edge, screwing her eyes shut as she sought ecstacy with a sob.

Jason followed shortly after, keeping his eyes peeled as he watched y/n come down from her high while chasing his own, thrusts sharp and deep. He sat up and tightened his grip on y/n’s thigh, bucking his hips once, twice, before crying out, “Fuck, y/n.” his mouth shaping into an ‘o’ and cock stilling inside her.

As he settled from his orgasm, he emitted faint whines, cursing under his breath as he struggled to remove his condom. “Shit, I forgot we’re in a library.” he muttered in realization, causing y/n to giggle. “Stay right here and I’ll clean you up.” he excused himself while he sprung out of the library, returning in a minute with a towel in hand. “Here, stay still. Are you okay?” Jason apprehensively questioned while blotting up y/n’s mess, peppering kisses along her thighs and stomach.

Y/n combed his hair while he did this, grinning and nodding shyly. “You do this for all your girls?”

Jason shot y/n an admonishing look. “I don’t do this much, Hun.” he finished cleaning up, adding quietly, “Not that I’d want to do this with anyone else, of course,” before he stood on his feet and dressed himself.

“Really? A good looking man like yourself doesn’t do this?” Y/n gave Jason a suspicious look.

Jason sighed. “No, I don’t. I don’t believe in doing that unless…”

“Unless…?” y/n poked.

“Unless I connect with the person.” Jason admitted, half-ashamed of himself. “And I think I can trust you.” Y/n sat up and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him on top of her in an embrace. She ran her fingers through his hair, breathing deeply in anticipation to comfort him.

And she did, even for a moment. Jason’s wall fell that evening, and it sparked a newfound love for the library in Wayne Manor.

[zablife]

A Walk in the Garden with Heaven Shelby

Requested by @raincoffeeandfandoms for my 2K celebration An Evening at Arrow House. Warning: This is a dark fic 💀

Author's Note: Read Part 1 with Arthur here. Heaven Shelby (Arthur's wife) is an OC belonging to @call-sign-shark.

As Arthur raised the axe high above his head, Mrs. Shelby closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable, the scream she wished to release caught in her throat. She could feel the warmth of his hatred and body heat radiating over her in equal measure when the sharp click of high heels could be heard approaching, halting his movements.

"Cheri, where are you?” a gentle voice floated through the darkness of the cellar. The soft lilt sounded like an angel's song to her ears. As though a trance had been broken, Arthur too heard the call of this heavenly voice and turned to see his wife running toward him. When she was upon him, her small hands clasped his face as she demanded, "What are you doing?”

"I...I'm not meself, Heaven. I need ya to save me," he begged. The tiny woman at his side nodded in understanding, prying the axe from his trembling hands and helped him to lower it. Mrs. Shelby slumped to the floor, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she watched the couple tenderly embracing before her.

"Thank you, thank you," she repeated to the woman who had saved her.

"Your hands have blood," Heaven noted, turning Arthur's palms over and studying them with concern, barely noticing her sister-in-law.

"My hands?" Arthur asked, looking down at them as though he didn't recognize them.

"Go and wash, then join your family," Heaven instructed and Arthur obeyed like a child who badly needed guidance, shuffling away in silence.

When he was out of sight, Mrs. Shelby looked to the silver haired woman with a mixture of awe and fear as she asked, "What made him do that?"

"Don't you know?" Heaven asked, tilting her head.

"No," she replied, unable to think of a reason why someone should wish her harm when she'd only wanted to gain their approval.

Heaven extended a hand to Mrs. Shelby, her face softening as she begged forgiveness. "He's a war veteran. He has flashbacks. Please don't judge too harshly."

Nodding vigorously she confided, "Tommy has nightmares…though he doesn't like to discuss it."

"Then you understand," Heaven said sympathetically.

"Yes, but I need a moment before I go back to the party," Mrs. Shelby admitted, running a hand through her hair. “I’m not feeling very well.”

"Let's take a walk in the garden. The fresh air will help your nerves," Heaven suggested, her plump lips curling into a reassuring smile.

—————————-

Soon Mrs. Shelby found herself in the cool evening air, feeling much improved. The full moon above them illuminated the gardens and highlighted the frosty beauty of Heaven's complexion in stunning detail. She could see why Arthur was so taken with his bride and she could only hope Tommy would still be as infatuated with her years into their marriage.

As the beating of her heart resumed a normal pace, she allowed her hand to reach for the velvety softness of the flower petals in the manicured beds, feeling a sense of calm descend after an evening of chaos. "Was it this unbearable when you arrived?" Mrs. Shelby asked quietly.

"Yes, at first...no one was kind to me except John," Heaven mused, as she quietly uncovered the gardener's box, her slim fingers ghosting over the tools. "But then it all changed," she said in a far off voice.

"When?" Tommy's bride asked as she stared out into the garden, desperate for a solution to her troubles.

"When I proved to them I wasn't weak," Heaven replied, an acidic burn to her sweetness as her hand grasped the pruning shears.

"How do I do that?" Mrs. Shelby asked, a hint of a laugh leaving her lips, as sad and broken as she felt in the moment.

Watching with curiosity, Heaven stalked toward the forlorn woman as silent as a creature of the night, concealing the glint of metal behind her back. Her sister-in-law didn't move as she approached, lulled by the warm breeze and an understanding ear. “You want to know how to make them respect you?” Heaven asked on a low breath.

“Please,” her sister-in-law breathed, eyes large and pleading as she turned to look at the only person to show her kindness all evening.

Heaven stood close enough for her lips to brush the other woman’s ear, sending a shiver down her spine. “You fight," she whispered as she plunged the scissors into her abdomen.

Gasping from shock and pain, Mrs. Shelby reeled, looking down to see a trickle of blood escape her body. Her mouth hung open as she stuttered, “Wh-why are you doing this to me?”

“Because you’ll tell Tommy about Arthur and I can’t have that,” Heaven said, twisting the handle sharply.

Mrs. Shelby's hand trembled as she reached out to steady herself, “Am I going to die?"

Heaven’s watchful gaze followed her, placing a delicate kiss to her cheek, the taste of a salty tear on her tongue as she replied sorrowfully, “That is your choice.” Then her eyes flashed with fire as she pulled the handle out with a jerk, poised to strike once more.

Mrs. Shelby staggered backward in agony, understanding the Shelbys perfectly in that moment. Kill or be killed and the thought terrified her, a jolt of adrenaline coursing through her veins despite the terrible pain in her side. She ran as quickly as she could through the maze of the tall hedgerows, praying she could find a way out.

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

Tag list:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@wandawiccan60

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@callsign-fangirl

@christinasyellowflowers

@notyour-valentine

@theshelbyclan

@areyenotfondofmelobster

@polishcrazyone

@elenavampire21

@little-diable

@lyarr24

@jomarch-wannabe

@the-fangirl-diaries

@kmc1989

@helen06dreamer

@dearshelby

@raincoffeeandfandoms

@runnning-outof-time

@pacifymebby

@babayaga67

@brummiereader

@peakyltd

@call-sign-shark

@the-makingsofgreatness

@shjjpm

@thomashelbyswife

[blackbloodteeth]

13th Sentence Game

@bcbdrums linked me this post (about sharing the 13th sentence from any WIP), and then ended up spurring me into sharing them from all my WIPs. I hope this chaos is what you wanted.

While this is mostly everything, I've skipped some WIPs for reasons such as maybe ending up as potential Resbangs™, but otherwise enjoy this absurdly long list I've put together over the course of like three hours.

You can play along and try to guess what each one's about, if you want hahaha

1, "2021 July 15"* You're sitting up, sweating like crazy, all you can focus on is taking in air.

*Technically my first fic, but it was scrapped. Never really posted it because it's too confusing and now outdated.

2. "2021 Sep 24"* As the previously stated unpredictable behaviour has led to only a small number of assessments on combat, the full extent of his abilities remain undocumented.

*Was originally for an event, but I've considering expanding upon it.

3. "(WIP) TBN" It was like the world here at DWMA was some kind of grand show, and he was just some background character.

4. Inner Strings They all called him the Soul Eater.

5. "be crime do gay" Just. Not like that.

6. Scythes don't make for practical weapons He had no idea if he was going to be able to make friends at all, let alone find a meister, someone willing to accept him for himself and actually be able to use him effectively.

7. "(simple au)" He had an odd combo of red eyes with white hair and tan skin, sharp teeth pulled into a defiant scowl, and a black jacket hunched over a frame that didn't look to understand posture for shit.

8. When Death City snows over "Come on, I doubt it'll actually snow; that shit never happens here."

9. I ain't Feline fine She gets him to stand in the center of the spell zone while instructing Maka to keep behind her, eagerly fixing her hat with her paws before starting.

10. Teeth So he'd take to his now familiar hideaway, a piano tucked away in a sparsely used room.

11. Happy Birthday, Soul Not even Maka.

12. "cursed hall" Given they've gotten to know each other to some degree before now, he was already pretty adjusted to seeing the two other members of this makeshift team: Soul and, well, Soul.

13. It's been a long night for my entire life There was always work to be done and he couldn't wait to get started.

14. One Word* Seeing all those intertwined neighbors, how easily they all sent signals together, that part of him craving to connect and belong made him feel hollow, made him wish he could have that just like everybody else.

*Let it be known that this is the notorious development hell WIP.

15. It was a dark and stormy night Of course with her literary weapon and the sudden jolt of her appearance, the figure seems to have been startled enough to give an auditory following to their jumping back, dull gleaming red blinking wildly back at her tense confusion while- Wait, Soul??

16. Ride by night only [6:19 PM] Kinda with him actually, why are you in a hurry then lol

17. The Very Hungry Soul “Well if the very hungry caterpillar would like to make sure we’re not late, he should hurry up and get dressed before I eat his breakfast for him before it gets cold.”

18. See you on the other side "Soul?"

19. The Dragon and The Moth He’s stopped entirely in his tracks when she abruptly goes in for a hug, snout nuzzling against his chest with a much softened sweetness.

20. Draconic Upon further noting its smooth surface he soon realized it wasn’t a star but in fact some sort of rock, blandly opaque like that of salt despite its odd moonlit shimmers, which even stranger still became steadily see-through in the absorbed heat of his fingertips.

21. "(wings made of arms)" Could it... really be......?

22. The Unknown Caller Caller unknown. But for him that was a lie.

23. The Exchange [8th] "Drink?"

24. Don't Escape Making his way around the back, his eyes glide along the sides until he reaches the pile of small logs, the ax resting up against them exactly as he’d left it.

25. The 42nd Story (Ch. 2)* The muffled talking of a woman, determined to be coming from a nearby room.

*As stated in The Ramble Room, this entire story was scrapped. While I didn't share the second and only other chapter despite it being finished, the first chapter was still shared.

26. "2023july11" He proceeds with actually cleaning himself up, a faint smile keeping him still awake and upright.

27. "(Aug31)" Her smile fades a little as she looks him over, a different sense of intrigue making her face bunch up funnily.

28. "hand pun" Her horrid fascination grew to the point of needing a new name for it (morbid curiosity, that's a classic) as the guy turns the hand around while it signs to him, eyes impossibly wide when she notices the similar skin tone under his hood and the missing space in his left jacket sleeve and the red of his eyes when he suddenly looks directly at her.

29. "WereWeek prompt 3" There's this girl – new student who moved in this year – who is so bossy.

30. "trees"* So much on his mind that he can't hold at bay and he can't even walk about it.

*Technically a small one-shot collection, but it's all going to be in the same fic.

31. "here and now"* His fingers stretch out from his palms in front of the glass, hurriedly ruffling through his hair, his tongue sticking out and then grinning ear-to-ear at her again with all the sunlight in the world.

*My current WIP! It's been slow-going, but I can't wait to see it through to the end haha

The rest are unsorted WIPs in my "drabble zone (2024)" doc:

32. 'Cause you are more than just a dream There's an odd look he pauses on her with after hopping off that she can really only describe as him expecting her to feel like he just sealed her in with a wild animal.

33. "blacksmith au" While his body shown well the signs of having dedicated much of his life to his craft, there was a strange affliction splitting much of it in twain, diagonally from hip to shoulder as if sliced by the very heavens itself in warning.

34. Devils don't go to Heaven (working title) “...Where is this?”

Anything else is so disorganized or only a small handful of sentences that I'm just gonna go ahead and stop it here haha

Thanks for tuning in, hope this was at least entertaining, or possibly even enlightening to the sheer amount of WIPs I've manged to collect over the past few years. I do want to go back to them eventually, but one step at a time, eh?

[magicshopaholic]

Getting Ahead (Jimin x OC)

Summary: You reflect on your past relationship with Jimin and wonder if history might be repeating itself.

Pairing: Jimin x OC

Genre: Exes; angst potential

Word count: 3.1 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: none

A/N: A little nervous about this one, not gonna lie. It was supposed to be another "story" story but ended up being a Sooah drabble instead. Features Chaeyoung in detail, and is set approximately four months after Never Have I.

Also, special shout-out to @oddinary4bts who read one fic a day and finished my entire masterlist in record time - plus reviews on each! This is the first fic she will read on release so, yay, Ella! Loved loved loved every single notification I got from you <3

Tagging: @bbl32@ quarter-life-crisis2 @meirkive @dreaming-with-happiness @confessionsofamarshlily @jiminjhang @faearchives @margopinkerton @purpleseoul7

Listen to: “breathe” by anna nalick

jimin masterlist | main masterlist

Sooah had grown up in a blur. Her parents’ passive aggressive marriage, the aunts and uncles who’d moved in and moved out, the friend groups that evolved faster than a virus. Even her job was a blur; each event, scrambling to be put up, pulled off with hard work, and onto the next. 

It was all a blur. Sooah was used to the blur. She was the only thing that stood steady within the blur, unmoving, watching the chaos of teenage angst in a state of borderline dissociation. 

That was until Park Jimin entered her life, however, and suddenly her axis stumbled. He was clearer than anything else ever had been; he was sweet, he was kind, he loved to dance. He was shy and introverted, but he made her world go round.

Sooah watched Jimin pluck up the courage to tell her how he felt for months, and she was enchanted. He was all brains and maths and it was very impressive, but every time their gazes met for more than a second or their fingers accidentally brushed, all that shaky confidence melted into a series of stutters and he’d look away.

Eventually, Sooah asked him out after one of their study sessions. Truth be told, she hadn’t needed his help after the previous semester ended but she’d kept the routine going anyway, enjoying this blushing boy’s company more than expected. His cheeks predictably went pink but he nodded and Sooah, unable to resist smiling, promised to meet him later that week.

She also made the first move and kissed him at the end of their date; it didn’t seem like Jimin was going to risk crossing a line he wasn’t sure of and Sooah personally liked the fact that he cared enough to overthink it. She wasn’t going to handhold him forever, though; she promised herself that the next move would be his, and she waited nearly three months before he asked her officially to be his girlfriend.

Or, he didn’t quite ask. His exact words were So… does this mean I’m your boyfriend? Or are you - are you my girlfriend?

Given that this question was asked while they fooled around by the bushes behind her parents’ house, it took Sooah a little by surprise. She sat up on her elbows, ignoring the grass in her hair, and squinted at him.

Are you asking me to be your girlfriend, Jimin?

No. I’m asking if - okay, yes. Yeah, I am. I guess.

You guess?

I am!

She giggled at his whiny exclamation, his eyes wide and dramatic, and kissed him in response. They progressed for the first time from the bushes to her parents’ couch that evening, feeling like they’d crossed the ultimate threshold,  until he had to leave for dance practice at Big Hit. 

—

It’s no longer a blur. Not the same kind, at least. Now, it’s like a ride at the amusement park, one of those dangerous ones that goes in all directions - except she’s been on it at least five hundred times.

It’s unbecoming of her, a professional with a job, to be peeking at her phone every few minutes while she’s at a client site. She walks alongside her manager, pinstriped trousers and sharp heels, hoping she looks chic enough to blend in with the people at this fashion label that’s hosting a luncheon with a group of buyers next month.

It’s all about faking it till she makes it. Fake the fun, make the friends. Fake the studious nature, make the parents happy. Fake the confidence - make the event a success.

Her manager nudges her subtly then, asking her if she’s taking notes.

Of course she is. This is her job, her priority. Not even an absentee boyfriend can distract her from it. Once she’s done for the day, however, the boyfriend takes centre stage in her mind again. 

Sooah wants to text him again, but at this point, it will come off as clingy. Or paranoid, depending on the wording. The last text she sent him was Can we talk before you go to bed? It’s borderline desperate, not to mention pointless, for she’s sure he doesn’t even have his phone. 

It’s probably with his manager, or his stylist. He won’t get it until after practice, after the stage rehearsal, after the fitting, after the backstage filming. After that, someone will have ordered a disproportionately small amount of food for the group; the boys will inhale it and pass out in the car on the way to their dorm. Alex will most likely not even look at his phone until tomorrow morning.

Unfortunately, she knows these things.

Her fingers itch with the desire to send another text, a passive aggressive one this time. Not because it’s his fault really, but because the niceties aren’t getting his attention.

After a moment, though, she shakes her head and tosses her phone into the laundry bin for good measure, hoping to get rid of any temptation. It’s too early in this relationship to show her true colours, and there’s no telling if Alex will be up for a fight.

Fake the peace, make the relationship.

—

The sun is bright - too bright. Even in the cold of December, it’s too bright.

The sun is too bright, the coffee is too hot, the dude at the next table is too loud, and Sooah is too annoyed. She hangs on to the annoyance, though, somewhat enjoying how it’s making her walk faster, how people seem to be stepping out of her way on the pavements - it’s strangely cathartic, despite how unfair it is.

She keeps it going all the way to Chaeyoung’s apartment, knowing she’s about an hour too early to pick her up for their lunch and movie date. But she doubts Chaeyoung would mind; in the few months that she’s known the younger girl, Sooah has picked up on her slight discomfort with her roommate, Sungmi - and her boyfriend, Ice. 

She also thinks she’s picked up on a mild loneliness of sorts - the same one Sooah remembers she’d felt when she’d finished college and started working in Seoul by herself. Having finished high school in Seoul, she’d already had friends to begin with. Chaeyoung didn’t say it to her in so many words, but her delight in realising she’d made a friend outside of work was both sweet and transparent.

It initially amused Sooah, but being Chaeyoung’s friend has felt like one of the easiest relationships of her life so far, despite the bar being laughably low.

This neighbourhood isn’t the safest one Sooah has been to, but with one hand on her purse and the other clutching her keys, she hurries into the small building and up the flight of stairs. Chaeyoung throws open the door just as Sooah is about to ring the doorbell, and there are two quick shrieks in succession.

“Holy crap,” pants Chaeyoung, opening the door further and stepping aside. “Unnie, I wasn’t expecting you till -” She breaks off and pats the pockets of her pajamas for her phone and checks the time. “- at least another hour.”

“Yeah, I know,” mutters Sooah, trudging inside and sighing, realising only now how pathetic it could seem that she ambushed Chaeyoung in her own house. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t sit in that stupid coffee shop anymore. At first it was just pitying looks and subtle questioning, but then -” She huffs and falls into a chair at the small dining table “- one of the baristas brought me a pity muffin. Just to make it absolutely clear that I’ve been stood up, in case anyone had any doubts.”

“Oh, wow.” Chaeyoung winces. It’s clear she hasn’t even started getting ready yet; her hair is still in a bun and she’s still wearing what she presumably wore to bed. “Alex didn’t make it?”

“No, and I don’t even know why I’m surprised.” She waves a hand. “Sorry, don’t let me keep you. Take your time getting ready. I’ll wait.” 

“Yeah…” Chaeyoung bites her lip slowly. “I was going to text you, unnie…”

“No. No, Chae!” Sooah whines, her shoulders falling. “Not you, too!”

“I’m sorry! I just got the call a little while ago,” she says quickly. “I have to go to the office for a lunch meeting.”

“That is just perfect,” mutters Sooah, putting a hand to her forehead. “Today’s just one of those days, I guess, where everyone seems to be cancelling on me.”

“I’m really sorry,” repeats Chaeyoung, taking a seat next to her. “It’s a client meeting. It was supposed to be on Monday but then they cancelled and said that they were only free today - plus, this is like my first big project ever and I’m supposed to cover the entire history of the brand from inception…”

Chaeyoung is rambling. Sooah instantly feels guilty for lumping her in the same category as her boyfriend, so she nods, waiting for her to finish.

“- not wanting to be fired.” Chaeyoung swallows, eyes wide with guilt.

Sooah nods again. “It’s fine. Really. It’s your work, you don’t have a choice,” she elaborates, giving her a small smile when she sighs in relief.

Chaeyoung is quiet for a minute. "I'm sorry your date sucked," she ventures uncertainly. “Would you like a beer?”

Sooah nods absently, her gaze deliberately fixed on the mismatched salt and pepper shakers on the dining table. "It can't suck if it didn't happen."

“I’m sorry I added to it.”

“Don’t be. At least you have a genuine reason.”

“Alex doesn’t?”

“I don’t know!” Sooah blurts out in frustration. “Because he never actually called me.”

"Maybe he got busy,” suggests Chaeyoung, returning from the kitchen with two bottles and an opener. “Like, putting-out-a-fire-at-work kind of busy. Or his car broke down. Or he got in an accident!" When Sooah looks up at her incredulously, she shrugs self-consciously. "I - it's not ideal, but at least it's viable."

"Forget it," sighs Sooah after a moment, accepting the beer even though it’s seven degrees outside. "This wouldn't be the first time I've been stood up at a coffee shop."

She can sense that Chaeyoung wants to ask but is struggling not to. It warms her heart without meaning to, and she clinks her bottle with hers.

“Am I making you late?”

“Not at all,” replies Chaeyoung at once. “I don’t have to leave for a couple of hours.”

“I just can’t believe I’m back here,” says Sooah in a low voice. “After all these years, I’m right back where I started. I’m - I’m basically dating my ex all over again.”

Chaeyoung frowns. “What - wait, do you mean Jimin?”

Sooah nods, cringing inwardly. It’s not a fun thing to admit. “How do I choose these guys? How do I always end up in one of these relationships where I’m literally the last priority? And it’s my fault,” she adds, without waiting for Chaeyoung to respond, “because I pick these guys.”

“These guys,” repeats Chaeyoung slowly, “like, idols? Do you - do you always date idols?”

“No,” she huffs, “I’ve dated other guys. But after Park Jimin, this is probably my longest relationship to date.” She replays that in her head and shudders. “It’s pathetic, I know.”

“No judgement.” Chaeyoung pauses. “So, wait - is that why you’re with Alex? Is that, like, your type?”

“No,” answers Sooah immediately. “Alex and Jimin are nothing alike. It’s just their jobs that are similar and… I’m not a teenager anymore. I don’t have the time to stay up at night and worry about why my boyfriend hasn’t called me.”

“How long has it -”

“Eleven days.”

Chaeyoung’s eyes widen. “Eleven -”

“Eleven days since we’ve spoken on the phone,” confirms Sooah. “It’s just been one-word texts and missed calls, mostly from me. But, yeah, eleven days since I’ve actually heard his voice. And, no,” she adds, holding up a hand, “hearing his songs at Starbucks doesn’t count.”

Chaeyoung nods thoughtfully. “You know, that may not be the worst thing in the world. I mean, Hoseok has started this new thing where he warns me of a different disaster every day,” she says, rolling her eyes. “He acts like he wants to know how my day is going but then latches onto something stupid and gives me a whole lecture on it. Yesterday, it was about boiling water. He told me the steam could soften the plaster on the ceiling and lead to seepage. The day before that, it was about the dangers of the subway.”

Sooah squints, sensing that Chaeyoung might be losing the plot. “I don’t think this is… quite like that,” she says delicately. “Alex is basically AWOL, and Hoseok is…”

“An interfering arse, I know. You’re right, it’s not the same thing.” Chaeyoung sits back in her chair. “My point is… wait, hang on - do you want me to make a point?”

“What?”

“You know… do you want to actually talk about this or just vent and have me listen? Because I can do both,” she says earnestly.

“Oh.” It’s quite insightful of her, given how young she is, and Sooah is suddenly glad she landed up here an hour early. “Yeah, no, I can talk about it. Not angry enough to vent yet,” she points out.

“Alright. My point was… what does all this have to do with Jimin?”

Literally everything. 

Sooah bites her lip, reliving it for the millionth time. “This is exactly how it started with him. Everything was going well, he was sweet, he had dreams and I - I liked being that person,” she confesses. “I liked being that person he shared his hopes and dreams with, who got to see him grow and become big.” She sighs. “Until he got too big.”

“And is Alex getting too big?”

“No. I mean, not yet. I mean -” Sooah shakes her head. “I’m not trying to sound evil. I want him to be big, I want him to get what he’s been working for because he deserves it, but… where does that leave me?” she asks in a small voice.

“What do you mean? You’re right here.” 

“No, but when those guys started touring and all after debut, everything changed. Jimin changed.” Sooah wrings her hands in her lap. “It was like… like I was his life before, when he was sweet and shy and wore glasses, and now he was in the after, with orange hair and that stupid smirk. And I didn’t fit into that.” And then he dropped me a goddamn text.

“Is Alex changing?”

“No. I don’t know. It’s too soon to tell,” she admits. “But how productive of a person would I be if I ignored the similarities and made the same mistakes all over again? I mean, shouldn’t people be learning from their past relationships? Isn’t that the whole point?”

Chaeyoung opens her mouth as if to say something, but then seems to think the better of it.

“What?”

“What what?”

“You were going to say something.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Chae.” Sooah gives her a look. “Come on, you’re the smart one, wise beyond your years and all. Tell me.”

Chaeyoung half-chuckles, bringing one leg up on the chair and resting her arm on her knee. “I… don’t think you’re going to like what I have to say, unnie.”

“Wh- sure I will. Or I wont, but I can take tough love.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. Out with it.”

Chaeyoung licks her lips and observes Sooah for a moment. “I think… you’re being a little unfair to Alex.”

Sooah says nothing, not liking where this is going.

“I think everything you’ve told me so far has been about Jimin and not Alex,” she continues. “And I get it, it can’t be easy not hearing from him for days and getting stood up and stuff, but… would you be this worried if you’d never dated Jimin?”

“I think I’d be more worried. At least now I know it’s not about me. This is all him.”

“But which him?” Chaeyoung asks patiently. “Are you just projecting all of your… I don’t know, baggage with Jimin onto Alex? Because then you’re not even giving him a fair shot.”

Sooah was right; she doesn’t like where this is headed at all. “Would that really be the worst thing? Knowing what I know and using it to make an informed decision?”

Chaeyoung bites her lip and tilts her head, and it takes Sooah a moment to realise she’s solved her own crisis. She hates where this has ended up.

“I hate you.”

“Look, maybe you’re right and Alex doesn’t have the capacity for a relationship right now. In that case, just break it off before it gets ugly. But if you’re wrong and you think Alex can still make it work…” She shrugs again. “You can’t date your boyfriend and your ex-boyfriend at the same time.”

Fake the clarity, make the choice.

Sooah stares at Chaeyoung. “How old are you again?”

“Twenty-two.” She grins. “I know, I sound like I’m… thirty or something.”

Sooah scoffs, taking a large sip of her beer. “You don’t sound thirty, believe me. You sound… like, sixty-five.”

“Sixty-five.”

“Yeah. It’s good. I think I could use more sixty-five year old friends.”

“I’d be the fittest sixty-five year old you will ever know,” promises Chaeyoung, flexing a thin, largely invisible bicep. “Plus, then I’d be retired and wouldn’t have to work on a Saturday.”

“I’ll remind you you said that when you text me every single detail of the meeting like you did last time,” promises Sooah, drinking the last of the beer and standing up. “That’s my cue to leave.”

“You don’t have to,” begins Chaeyoung, but she stands up as well. “If Alex doesn’t get back to you by tonight, do you want to hang out?”

“Oh, if Alex doesn’t get back to me by tonight,” says Sooah, gathering her bag and making her way to the door, “I will have definitely progressed to the venting stage.”

—

It’s still a blur. Experiences, missed calls, tearful fights, passive aggressive texts. They’re all there, swimming around in a sea of deteriorating relationships, while Sooah struggles to pinpoint a time and place to each of them. She can’t, though, not when it’s a blur and the only tangible thing she can feel is the dull throb in her chest that seems to have no distinct cause, only a constancy impossible to ignore.

Sooah stares at her phone, big and black on her bed. She won’t call Chaeyoung tonight, no matter what happens. It’s just not the night. She’s going to have to have a tough conversation with at least one important person in her life, and it all depends on whether her past with Jimin has damaged her to the point of second-guessing every relationship she ever has in her life.

She thinks of the word Chaeyoung used. Baggage. Implying that it’s not Jimin that’s the problem, but whatever she’s still carrying from their time together, including the sweet and shy smile, all the way up to the orange hair and dumbass smirk.

Face the past head-on, make the future a little clearer.

Sighing, she picks up the phone.

—

Thank you for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

[generalluxun]

Pack mentality!

Pack Mentality is the next fic in the Felis et Canus AU. Years have passed, and the fic begins as the Tsurugis return to Paris. It seems Tomoé isn't interested in Gabriel's excuses. She wants her wish, and is willing to go to lengths to get it. Among the chaos, the last secret, Cat Noir's identity, finally comes out, and all that that entails for our heroes.

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

The kiss was something rare for them: surprisingly gentle. Marinette’s senses expanded instead of being overwhelmed. Chloé’s perfume was as always a powerful background that framed everything about her. Her kiss was light, very nearly timid. Her lipstick held no flavor, and yet the dull matte of cosmetics was its own spice when laid over Chloé’s lips. Marinette’s heart raced into the gentleness. Her fingers gripped Chloé’s sleeve more tightly. A tilt of her head, their noses grazing.  Marinette’s eyes drifted closed as she renewed the kiss for a second round.

They drifted apart slowly. Marinette’s eyes opened to a gaze that was trying to hide and ask at the same time.  Chloé bit her bottom lip. She’s nervous. Marinette let go and drifted back further, giving Chloé space. “Mmm, going to tell me what’s on your mind? Not that this isn’t nice, but you forget, I know you.”

Marinette leaned back in to whisper against Chloé’s ear.

“Biblically.”

The sharp intake of breath, the lack of a comeback, Chloé really was beside herself over something.  As Marinette watched, those eyes widened, narrowed, then looked away. “It’s her. Not– I’m past calling her names. That was all a long time ago, but she is still…” Chloé swallowed. “I don’t know how to describe it, except, she has my mother’s eyes.”

Marinette slid her touch down from Chloé’s arm to her hand, squeezing. “Kagami can seem austere.” Marinette remembered their own first encounters with a fond smile. “Especially when you’re picking on her friends. She’s sweet though, and kind, and steadfast-”

“-and a Gold Medalist with a saber.” Chloé added.

Marinette couldn’t help but laugh. “And that too. Don’t worry, if anyone, Adrien should be worried. I doubt he’s kept in practice enough to be up to her standards.”

[pixsistixs]

It's been a long time since I've posted regularly to Tumblr, and even longer since I've been brave enough to post my fanfiction here. I posted the link a little while ago but I figured I'd post some snippets of my new chapters as I post them. Right now it's fairly far along so I'll try and post a chapter snippet every day until I catch up, then post when I upload a new chapter. :) Hope you enjoy.

Good and Kind Aren't Always the Same Thing

A Hazbin Hotel Fanfiction

~~~~~~~~

Summary:

Niffty has had her fill of Good Boys, so when she ends up in Hell and meets The Radio Demon she frequently has to remind herself that Good and Kind are not always the same thing.

~~~~

I found myself looking for something of more substance for Niffty as she is my favorite character in the show and couldn't find much so here it is. This will focus heavily on the beginning of her friendship with Alastor and how she becomes who she is. I have no idea where I'm going with this or how long it will be. I'm also fairly new to the Fandom so I may occasionally not get things right but I'm doing my best to do as much research as I can when writing these characters.

~~~~~~~~

TW: This Fic touches on some heavy themes, including DV. It may not always be easy to read and may also be very triggery. I will make sure to post trigger warnings at the beginning of any particularly bad chapters, but consider this a warning for the fic in general.

Chapter 1: The Radio Demon

Rarely is a soul's entrance into Hell a pleasant one. Sinners often meet their ends violently and are still experiencing it when they wake up in their new afterlife. Few embrace the change quickly, only the truly wicked do. Others struggle to cope with their end and their damnation. Many spend their first years in waves of insanity, reliving the trauma over and over again before settling into what would be their eternity. One never knows when or where these new souls will appear. This wasn't Heaven with its pearly gates and Saint Peter to greet them. This was Hell, it was filth and chaos. Most souls were introduced into this realm in a burst of hellfire and screams. It had been that way for Alastor and it had been vivid.

As he'd burst forth into Hell he'd felt the dogs ripping at his flesh, the sharp pain of the bullet through his forehead and the unbelievable agony of burning flesh as his human body morphed and changed into the form he was today. It was… unpleasant to say the least. Once it passed though, if one grounded themselves well, Hell had innumerable possibilities. He'd been fortunate that his arrival had happened in Cannibal Town and that Rosie, his dear sweet friend, had been the one to find him first. He hadn't known her then, but she was the best sort of soul to find a new sinner. Kind, gentle, and the patience of a Saint. She was a special one. Alastor felt a shift in his smile to something a bit more genuine as he pondered over it on his morning walk. He was on his way into a more questionable part of the Pride Circle than the safe haven that was Cannibal Town. He had business to attend to and the thought came to mind as he sidestepped a sinner who was just being birthed into the world. Alastor was not the kind of sinner one would hope to run into on your first day in hell. New souls were an easy meal to him some days and simply a nuisance on others. Fortunately for this fledgling, today was a good day for Alastor and a new soul in his path was simply a reminder of pleasant memories of the past. He hummed to himself some, feeling an added bounce to his step as he listened to the screams fade behind him. What lovely noises screams were, he loved them almost as much as a good Jazz record.

His shadow lingered behind him some, cracking a menacing smile at the new soul, and licking its lips with a grotesquely shaped tongue. He felt flashes of its feelings. Greedy hunger, a lustful want to feel flesh rip apart in its grip.

‘Come now, behave yourself.’ He thought to it, not glancing in its direction, ‘ We just ate, and besides we have bigger game ahead of us my friend.’

The shadow hesitated, looking back at the sinner with want and disappointment. It always had so much more of an appetite than he did, so much more need for violence.

‘I promise, you'll want to leave room for this one.’ He thought cheerfully, rounding a corner and grinning at an imp walking ahead of him. The imp spotted him and immediately crossed the street, eyes wide with terror as it picked up it’s pace considerably to put distance between them. ‘Overlord always is so much more satisfying.’

For the full fic please see the AO3 link. :)

[espilver-week]

Fanfics...

Last month we had 💜🤍Espilver Week 2023🤍💜, and we set up some polls to ask Espilver fans about their favorite everything for this ship ✨

"What tags do you like to see when looking for an Espilver/Silvespio fic?"

Over half of the votes went to fluff 💕 Many people seem to prefer something sweet and comforting for Silver and Espio. Mod as well, loves to read fluff as well! But since we are talking about fanfics, there are a few that I would like to share!

Us (by Midnight Mischief, 2014-2015; Words: 17,753; Rate T)

One of the earliest fics mod has read, and this is a re-imagined story for Rivals 2 with romance subtext. For people first starting to look into the two characters' chemistry, what's better than looking at something similar to the games? There are a bunch of interesting character dynamics between the cast, and events are mainly significant moments in both Silver's and Espio's story. People will need to know the Rivals 2 plotline to recognize certain setting re-use or changes in this fanfic.

No Evidence (by Cubicrot, 2018; Words: 23,519, Rate T)

This is a fic with plenty adventure and a bit of romance, with Espio and Silver first encountering each other in an alternate event which is irrelevant to Rivals 2. Silver was in desperate need of chaos drives, while Espio was on a case investigating a case of missing chaos drives. They ran into each other by chance, and went on their joint journey to achieve what they want. Despite not following the games 100%, it can still be counted as "canon deviation". Being one of the earlier fanfics you can find on the internet, mod absolutely enjoyed reading through it!

Time Together, How Sweet (by mousewritings, 2020; Words: 2,374. Rate G)

A silly story about Espio and Silver going to a store to buy presents for Charmy, but ended up getting kicked out of the store for certain reasons. A purely fluff fic, great for people that wants a quick but pleasant time to read an Espilver fanfic. Genuinely light hearted, this is one of the cute fics mod likes a lot. 💛

New Beginnings (by TrueBlueSonic, 2020-2022; Words: 195,768, Rate T)

Mod believes many people have already read this, in fact, with how there is over 13k hits on AO3, many might have taken a like to Espilver because of this fanfic! Congrats~! 🎉 This story is an aftermath of Rivals 2, "canon deviation" fanfic that involves Silver getting to experience life in the present time, choosing between going back to the future or staying in the present. Many fluffy moments and tear-jerking chapters, those who want a few novel-lengths of fanfic to immerse will have a good time reading this!

Sharp eyes would realize these fanfics here are from years ago! Mod wants to share them for newcomers, so everyone can experience how people perceive Espilver/Silvespio during earlier days when content for this ship were less frequent. Hope you enjoy reading them!

Many fanfics involve not only fluff, but with conflicts and heart-wrenching moments as well. Mod is glad to see people willing to try out all kinds of content despite our main preference!

I noticed many people tend to enjoy stories with Silver feeling conflicted about going back to the future or staying in the past. Indeed, fiddling with timelines are a huge topic that could go on forever, and the decision of staying became very important to Silver. Espio himself then became one of the biggest reasons Silver travels back in time, and even stay in the present forever in some stories.

Letting Silver enjoy life with Espio in the present is also one of the most popular scenarios. Some fanfics with more than a chapter or two would sure to have them hangout in a chill manner, maybe explore their feelings with each other in the meantime.

Besides the main focus on fluff or happy endings, quite a lot of fanfics also go with #slow burn, #friends to lovers, #established relationship, etc. For people that want something other than these settings, now it's the time for you to shine!

There are lots of content for Espilver/Silvespio on the internet, with all kinds of preference and ratings to take note of. Remember to keep an open-minded mentality and enjoy your time within the fandom!

[consistentsquash]

Day 24 - A Holiday Fic

Fest - @hprecfest

My fav Snarry holiday fics are written by two authors, Dementor Delta and @danpuff-ao3. Fluffy, sweet, wholesome, kinky, hot, brilliant characterizations, brilliant banter, brilliant everything <3

Danni's writing is super sharp and brilliant. Her range is insane! I love everything esp the darkfics but I have a real seasonal love for rereading her Christmas Snarry this time of the year <3

White Lies & Silver Bells by danpuff. Rated E. 2800 words.

Minerva is angry. Harry is smitten. Severus is afraid. Just another Christmas at Hogwarts!

Boxes & Baubles by danpuff. Rated T. 2800 words.

Christmas trees over the first four (and a half) decades of Severus’ life.

The Christmas Prince by danpuff. Rated T. 13800 words.

Harry and Snape are (kind of) set up on a blind date. Romance and chaos ensues.

Happy Christmas, Potters by danpuff. Rated T. 2700 words.

Harry, Severus, and their daughter visit friends and family on Christmas Day.

DementorDelta doesnt really need an introduction for Snarry folks <3 They have a lot of range in Snarry going from oldschool Snarry chanfic to postwar. A lot of my fav rereads are their seasonal ones. Esp the ones they cowrote with Cruisedirector. Kink central <3

No Room at the Inn by DementorDelta. Rated M. 6300 words.

Snape takes in a stray for the holidays. Again.

A Length of Silk by DementorDelta. Rated E. 3500 words.

Severus Snape gives Harry Potter a Christmas gift with unexpected results.

Christmas Present by cruisedirector, DementorDelta. Rated E. 22500 words.

Snape had hoped to be alone at Hogwarts for Christmas, but Potter had other ideas.

Nothing Says Christmas by DementorDelta. Rated M. 5400 words.

Christmas Story involving domestic bliss and disturbing confections.

Squeaky Clean by cruisedirector, DementorDelta. Rated E. 2700 words.

Snape wants a Christmas present. Harry gives it to him.

Unenchanted by cruisedirector, DementorDelta. Rated T. 7800 words.

For the holidays, Harry wants to try living without magic, though Snape thinks this is a terrible idea. Snape may have a point.

My other recs for this fest on Tumblr and also on AO3 collection

[t1gerlilly]

So I watched season one and season two back to back.

My general take on the writing was: meh. But that’s actually high praise from me, since I came to it as a Terry Pratchett fan who bought and loved the original book when it was first published.

I have so many friends who love Neil Gaman’s writing and have recommended it to me for decades. I’ve tried to read American Gods three times. The only thing I remember is the giant ball of yarn, which is the point I’ve given up every time. I did finish another of his books, but just…didn’t like it. Lovely descriptions, but just no characters I was interested in. I haven’t even managed to make it through the TV versions. I quit Sandman after twenty minutes, at the point that everyone that wasn’t an unpleasant white man was dead. I mean, honestly, I work in tech - if you swing a cat, you’ll hit a white guy who thinks he’s nearly supernatural . It’s too workaday to be entertaining.

So I’m pleased I managed to make it through Good Omens 2 with no complaints about the writing - though I dearly miss Terry’s trademark humor and whimsy.

The reason I’d call it ‘meh’ is probably the same reason I got through it at all. It seemed very much like standard ‘processing a breakup’ fic. The kind of thing you write and you think it’s about something else entirely and then in five years you come back to it and it was CLEARLY you working through your feelings about a breakup unconsciously. And there were real feelings there - which is why I stuck with it. Most of Neil’s writing is too cerebral for me - without the weight and heat of heart. But that’s also why it was just ‘meh’. It was the unexamined heart - a writer is never firing on all cylinders when their head and their heart are working at cross-purposes. It had that feel of stop and start, explosion and silence, that you feel when first learning to drive stick - the unpleasant impact of lack of control or finesse…everything is too raw.

It felt like someone writing about the death of an unconventional relationship. I didn’t mind the ending. There was truth and nuance there, however bitter. Though I’m sick to death of seeing queer love revealed and rejected in the same scene, in ambiguous terms that make it worthy only of hell and damnation, a violating sin revealed by necessity and pushed on an unwitting protagonist. That wasn’t necessary. It was wrong; a sadness.

I will say that it makes my enduring wish for Michael Sheen to record an audiobook of Dylan Thomas’s poetry rather intense. Because his performance was frankly mesmerizing. It was like live theater, when there are moments when you can feel the whole audience holding their breath. When it feels like the actor is holding the audience in their hands, because everyone is so focused and attuned to their voice, their expressions - to the moment. Just really, really amazing.

Einstein has a quote I love “You wouldn’t think it genius if you knew how much work went into it”. And I can’t help but wonder if he was perfectly cast for the role - charming, sweet-hearted chaos agent of a man that he is. Or if he simply is a master of his craft and just put in a tremendous amount of work. I tend to suspect a bit of both.

He just OWNED this role - gave it life and complexity.

David Tennant is a wonderful actor generally, but I’ve seen him do much better work. He seemed lost inside the role - disappearing into the costume and not quite hitting the emotional beats. Like a good singer on a bad night who’s just not quite hitting his notes the way he can. Still good, even amazing, but not the crowd stopper he can be. The one exception being his turn as Crowley as an angel at the beginning. That was just lovely.

Though if you were going to get lost inside a costume- WHAT a costume. Most of what I love about Crowley is his style. His ‘40s suits are sharp enough to cut.

So - nothing really to complain about - but I really hope they don’t leave it here, as it’s quite depressing if left as is.

[stetervault]

If you still do recs… can I ask for your fav under 10K fics? :)

Hmm I can rec some for you, although a lot of them are pretty old fics so you might've already read them. If not, enjoy; if you have, then be like me and go on a reread binge XD Some of these are dark or smutty (or both) so make sure to check the tags.

Edit: damn i rec'd too many fics

-0-

These Hands that Shape and Hold the World by Elpie (Horribibble)

Before he inked his first tattoo, Stiles Stilinski had filled a dozen sketchbooks. Before he knew what he wanted to do with his life, Stiles Stilinski had a kid to take care of. Before he threw in the towel completely, Stiles Stilinski met Peter Hale.

Life is made up almost exclusively of happy accidents. (And some really terrifying childhood memories.) But that's okay.

(Really they're all kind of morons, but the Buffy style asskicking doesn't hurt.)

-0-

Zodiac by Green

"You know, Taurus and Libra make a good match," Peter says with a sly smile.

Stiles looks away. "Yeah. I looked that up, too."

-0-

Sweet Talk of the Storm by cannibalinc

"Matching sweaters, Peter."

Peter wonders what he's ever done to attract such clichés.

-0-

None of These Things (Are Happening) by Horribibble

After years away, Stiles returns to Beacon Hills just in time to put Isaac's insides back where they belong.

It's cute how people think he's trustworthy.

-

Peter can smell the violence inside him, the urge to do something grand and possibly cataclysmic. It’s there—mixed with a balance and natural calm, but in the undercurrent, it’s there. He has seen things beyond the scope of Beacon Hills’ petty horror show. He has learned things.

-0-

Beware of Sharp Memories by WhereDestiniesMeet17 (orphan_account)

She smooths his hair back, nodding. "Not everyone remembers the things we do," she repeats.

-

Stiles is born able to remember all his past lives. After Claudia dies, he tries to forget all about his abilities. This makes things worse and better.

-0-

Whose Woods These Are by moonstalker24

Stiles chooses the house simply because it’s far enough out in the wilderness to be away. His… reticence for human contact on any given day coincides entirely with how much pain he’s in when he wakes up the morning. His patience is limited, and he has more bad days than good… So Stiles moves into an old house out in the woods like a creepy serial killer. Reminds himself that other people suck on a regular basis and just sort of gets on with it… It isn’t until after several sightings that Stiles realizes that the wolf is following him. If the wolf decides it wants to eat him, Stiles would be a pretty easy meal….

-0-

steel bars and blood-slick hands by Corpium

When Deaton whisks Peter's burnt, gasping body away to Eichen House, everyone else pays the price, Stiles most of all.

-0-

Chances by Corpium

Claudia is still alive (and sick) when Stiles and Scott search for a body in the woods.

-0-

A Bit Odd by orphan_account

Stiles decides his new neighbor is weird.

-0-

Please Hold While I Connect You by moonstalker24

Consumedly said: I just saw this post how someone dialed sex hotline instead of american airlines and .. you can do a steter version! Maybe Peter had to call somewhere for whatever reason and dialed the wrong number and started to talk to Stiles, but it turns out it’s Stiles’s first day at work and he’s awful.

Ace!fic. Romance that starts over a sex hotline shouldn't work should it? Wrong! Because Stiles and Peter have never conformed to anything. Also Erica is a meddling troll, but it gets them together so they forgive her.

-0-

The D.C. Backroom Deal by septima_sum

Stiles is a regular prostitute with moderate life goals – until his current client makes him an offer he can’t refuse.

-0-

Falling Upward by moonstalker24

There is nothing quite like flying. There is a calm and a peace found in the sky that cannot be found on earth. All the chaos of the world is below you and there is no sound save that which the propeller makes as the engine turns it. You are free and unfettered and the clouds are close enough to touch; all you need do is stretch out your hand to grasp them.

Stiles takes Peter flying after he gets out of Eichen House.

-0-

Eventually (I'll Crash Into You) by ToAStranger

Derek pushes Stiles away to keep him safe.

Stiles more than just leaves.

-0-

if you let my soul out (it’ll come right back to you) by ToAStranger

Stiles finally stops denying his husband's infidelity to himself.

-0-

Our Skin, Our Bones, Our Silent Poems by taylorpotato

Peter is a Deaf werewolf. Stiles is a CODA (Child of a Deaf Adult). They’re a kind of unlikely pair. But sometimes things you wouldn’t think of as a good combination, end up turning out to be the perfect combination, you know?

-0-

Waves that rolled you under by radishwine

AU in which Peter has the good sense to get the hell out of town after killing Laura. He drives up the Pacific coast to the old Hale cabin and stays for a while.

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Night-blooming Flowers by imriebelow

Peter always gets what he wants. Stiles learns to live with it.

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All Roads Lead to You by wynnebat

43 secondssays the counter on his wrist. Stiles takes a sharp left turn, skips his train, and holes up in a bathroom stall. He thinks of small things, of a spell his mother once taught him, of how insignificant he is on this great blue planet. When he looks at it next, it says 36 hours.

He can work with that.

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It Was A Dark And Stormy Night by Guede

This is a ghost story. It’s not straightforward.

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Cast in Stone by wynnebat

To think, people would kill for this.

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Up the Ante by DenaCeleste, Twisted_Mind

Stiles finds that he likes provoking Peter. So it becomes a game.

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The Unexpected Marriage of Peter Hale by moonstalker24

This is the story of how Peter gets married without technically dating anyone.

“You can bring your boyfriend with you,” Talia says. Peter stops giving Henry more bits of dried fruit to stare at his sister “Boyfriend?” “Of course!” Talia gestures at Stiles who looks around behind him with wide eyes. “I’m sure the whole family would be interested in meeting your young man.”

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Enemy Action by pprfaith

Once is chance, twice is coincidence and three times is far too many bodies on the ground.

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The Rest of Our Lives by mia6363

“I don’t know, as a kid I watched a lot of movies, you know? And at first I figured like… I’d be on some great adventure that would take me away from it all, you know? Like Indiana Jones comes around and is all, ‘Hey Stiles, buddy, come with me we’ve got to go save the world.’ Then… you and… everything happened… then I just… I figured I’d die before I was eighteen.”

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this is the wolf by pprfaith

In which Peter watches Stiles, at sixteen, five, seven, always.

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Some things are worth the wait by FeelingsDusk

The first time Peter meets the newly appointed Argent family head, he’s twelve and he shouldn’t even be there. He leaves the meeting chastised, punished for a month and nursing a crush the size of Mexico. It only goes downhill from there for a long time before it doesn't.

Kate and Chris don't know what to think about their new guardian, but the moment he burns Gerard’s cane to cinders, it's clear that things won’t ever be the same with Stiles Argent in their lives.

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Kitty Quintuplets by iCheat

Prompt: Imagine person A getting home really drunk one night and they tell person B that they're pregnant with kittens.

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Day of the Dandelion by moonstalker24

When Stiles is ten years old, she meets a certain wolf when she's playing in the woods. This changes everything. Fem!Stiles, Alt S1

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Deeper Than The Truth by Green

It would be much easier if the boy didn't know. If he couldn't look at him and read all his secrets at a glance. Peter can fool everyone, anyone, but not him.

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His Color by SushiOwl

“Darling, have you been carrying a throw-away comment I made in your mind for almost four months?”

Stiles’s face felt like it was one with fire now.

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The best helping hand is at the end of your own arm by FeelingsDusk

Stiles draws the line at being kidnapped and tortured by a geriatric fascist and having to sacrifice his poor Roscoe to save people that didn't appreciate it afterwards, thank you very much.

(Peter is smitten by his approach to self-sufficiency.)

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Caught and Collared by rightsidethru

Peter has always watched Stiles--and Stiles finally decides to do something about it.

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Oh Undine, Sing Your Love To Me by neglectedtuesday

Stiles belongs to the water. He lives in the cool embrace, amongst the algae and rocks. He has lived here all his life, it has been his sanctuary and his home. This pool deep in a forest, beneath a powerful if small waterfall. Stiles has never ventured beyond the shores of his pond, knows that the forest and what lies beyond holds no interest for him. It’s not a lack of curiosity, it’s a knowing within the marrow of his bones that he is not ready for that potential world.

Not yet.

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Water Come and Cleanse My Soul by Triangulum

"This is miserable," Stiles groans. He's lying on the ground, spread eagle like his body will leech off the heat that way. "I can smell myself, it's so gross."

"Believe me, we can smell you too," Derek says. Stiles flips him off.

"We can always save water and shower together," Peter says with a wink. Stiles flips him off with both hands.

Or

Stiles and Peter have shower sex. This was supposed to be light-hearted but got serious?

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Before you let go (and the light takes you in) by Issay

Stiles makes one last errand - goes to leave flowers on all the other graves. Fuck, so many graves. The grief is as endless and as inescapable as the sky.

He goes home and there is a thing wearing his father's face, waiting for him in the kitchen.

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these words bear my scars (paint your love on my skin) by WindyRein

One day butterflies and childish codes change to I'm sorry you're meant for a murderer and he won't realize for years how much that changed his life.

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Takes one to know one by Mysenia

Peter watches Stiles and comes to the conclusion that the Spark is taking care of the pack's loose ends in less than legal means.

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Into the Sea of Waking Dreams by Green

"Nothing is happening to me," Stiles says slowly.

"You've been acting weird," Derek says.

I'm being haunted by my dead mate, Stiles wants to say, but he swears he can hear Peter humming. If it's not real, he doesn't want to know.

(S2 AU in which Peter haunts Stiles instead of Lydia.)

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let the only sound (be the overflow) by Green

s1 AU Stiles is a water nymph.

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Creatures Like Us by Green

Creepy vampire turns Stiles. Stiles runs back to Beacon Hills and straight into Peter's arms.

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If I Never Knew You by Therapeutic_Steter

anonymous asked: Stiles leaves the pack and gets his own life under controll. Has only contact with his dad anymore. He is happy. One day he meets Peter Hale, he knew Derek back than, but doesn't connect the dots.

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Words Upon Skin by Therapeutic_Steter

Soulmate words were treasured. People spent their whole lives waiting for their treasured phrase, that magic moment.

Stiles had spent his whole life plagued by his words. He wondered just what he could do, to disappoint his soulmate so completely in their first meeting. He had approximately ninety nine self-confidence issues and they were all because of those damned words, printed in elegant script across his heart.

‘Words cannot describe how pathetic you look.’

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Razor Edge of Danger by Triangulum

It starts with Gerard. After the clusterfuck of Stiles crashing into the kanima with his jeep, Jackson's 'death' and werewolf resurrection, Lydia and Jackson go off together, Scott goes after Allison, and Derek, broken and hurt from yet another betrayal and use of his body against his will, takes Isaac and leaves, unable to look at any of them. That leaves Stiles standing next to his battered jeep, arms wrapped around his aching ribs. No one so much as looks his way. Except for Peter.

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Firstborn by Green

He couldn't save his mom, but he can save Peter Hale.

Ten year old Stiles isn't entirely human. And he eats people.

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the murderer (sitting next to you) by pprfaith

Body disposal is such a drag. Stiles hates it. Lucky for him, there's a solution for his ennui.

(Yeah, it's Peter.)

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Hostile Takeover by kiranightshade

Alternate season 4 where Peter gains a new roommate in Eichen...for about five minutes. Then all hell breaks loose.

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In Bloom by Green

He's a green spark. It's in his nature to nurture. And this… this nemeton, she needs him. He's never been so sure of anything in his life.

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Swing by ShippersList

Stiles wants to fly.

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Ready for Those Flashing Lights by rightsidethru

Being a college student is hard, especially when you have a more obscure major (if only because the price of your textbooks seem to be geared to how many times you can break down and sob hopelessly while in the campus bookstore).

So when Stiles is given the chance to make some quick money, well... he'd be an idiot not to take it, right?

All he has to do is stand there and look pretty and let the photographer do his job.

...oh, God. Stiles has made a Horrible Life Decision.

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Across Your Skin, My Love by lavenderlotion

Stiles knew he had a soulmate - had gotten his mark when he was fourteen like everyone else. He just - he just didn’t think he would meet the man for years to come. he knew the statics, knew that most people didn’t meet their bonded until their early-mid twenties.

So he was really not been expecting to his name on the arm of his hot new English teacher.

He had to admit it turned out pretty amazing, though.

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Let It Burn. Let It Go. by rightsidethru

A bad call from his Alpha lost Stiles his dad, and so he left. But when Melissa McCall is hurt and needs assistance of a magical nature, it's not Scott that is sent to ask Stiles for help.

Stiles has always had a hard time telling Peter "no."

(This time, his "yes" ends up being one of the best decisions in his life.)

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Boy Who Cried Wolf by neglectedtuesday

Peter is hungry. It’s a raw ache, the kind that drives Peter to hunt almost desperately. His paws pound against the earth, kicking up black dirt and fallen leaves as he runs. It’s early afternoon, sunlight streaming through the gaps in the canopy, dappling the ground. Peter can hear a herd of deer a few miles west, but deer are tricky. There are too many variables, too many antlers and hooves. He could probably pick off a few with a pack.

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Home by Ragga

Don't be like him, they would say, and then add, or else you get burned.

Unable to bear the whispers any longer, This One left. He forsook those who forsook him, left him bear his scars alone, the scars he bore for his herd. It was better to be alone, stay off the currents, than swim with those most undeserving of his loyalty. So mote it be.

That is, until he met That One.

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Everything You Deserve by Areiton

You think about it. More than you should, you think about it. About what would have happened, if you had bitten Stiles instead of Scott.

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Hold My Hand by Therapeutic_Steter

iidiiotiiciintelliigence asked: Sort of a spin off of the blind Stiles fic: "uh stiles, I'm over here. What's up with you lately? It's like you can't see or something." "... You do relive that I'm blind, don't you Scott?" In which the pack don't notice when stiles loses his sight for some reason (genetic or curse so it isn't obvious) and Peter was the only one to help him through it

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A Moment, Then Silence by Therapeutic_Steter

anonymous asked: Stiles takes care of a heavy injured Peter, who has permanent damage since then. The pack doesn't care, but Derek and Cora realise that he is family.

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Bang Bang (There Goes Your Heart) by rightsidethru

Stiles has always been pragmatic and paranoid to Scott's friendly openness, and--to his frustration--suspicions about the newest arrivals to Beacon Hills go ignored and overlooked.

That's fine, though.

He's always been a fan of the saying 'If you want something done right, do it yourself.'

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Going Through Hell (Your Heart in My Hands) by Ceris_Malfoy

There's a reason Stiles always knows things he really, really shouldn't. There's a reason why Peter respected his choice all those months ago. There's a part of Stiles he hides from everyone, even himself.

And then this Darach comes and steals the center of his world right out from under him, and nothing will ever be the same.

Especially not for Peter Hale.

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Be Still My Heart (I'm Only A Moment Away) by Ceris_Malfoy

She breaks all bounds that exist between strangers and leans her cheek against his burnt one, breathing steadily, heartbeat as rapid-fire as always. He wants to cry because it’s as close to the act of scenting as a human could get, and it both hurts and feels so damned good. He’s missed being scented, missed being able to scent back, and that makes him want to cry even more, because he can’t.

“If you were mine, I’d stay until the very bitter end,” she murmurs quietly, rapid-fire heartbeat never once giving off that betraying stutter that comes from lying, before pulling back and leaving.

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Give You My Life by wynnebat

Peter escapes from Eichen House just as Stiles is expanding his pack. It's a match made in hell, but it fits the people that Beacon Hills has made them into.

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The Deed is Done by RebaK1tten

Peter raises an eyebrow and says, “You talked about an agreement?”

“Yes. I thought we had an agreement, Peter. For us, waiting until I’m 21 and then we’d be together.”

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love and madness by sinequanon

Peter and Stiles haven’t seen each other in months when the alphas ask them to meet up to look over an abandoned house. Now, they’re going to be seeing a lot of each other for quite a while to come.

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Do. Or do not. There is no try. by FeelingsDusk

Prompted by @ssree: Deaton refuses to teach Stiles anything useful about magic, so Stiles does research om his own and stumbles on a forum/SoMe site for supernaturals. Maybe he finds friends and/or peole willing to teach him the basics. And then things go south in BH.

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A Gift From the Heart by Triangulum

Theo is a problem. His plans are sloppy and ineffective, despite the fact that he fooled True Alpha Scott McCall (not that spectacular of a feat, as far as Peter's concerned). His attempts of subterfuge are weak and unrefined, quite frankly an insult to bad guys everywhere. At the risk of sounding like a villain from a bad western, there's only enough room in Beacon Hills for one undead psychopath (reformed, in Peter's case at least), and Peter isn't going to give the mantle over to a lazy little upstart thing.

Also, he hurt Stiles and that, quite frankly, is unacceptable. It's the final nail in his coffin as far as Peter is concerned.

Or

Peter has a courting gift for Stiles.

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Craigslist Valentine by Triangulum

The Craigslist ad had been because Peter had been wonderfully, spectacularly drunk. Reservations for the Palm are hard to get, even for someone like Peter, and he's had his name down for eight months. He refuses to waste it. If he hadn't been trashed on expensive pinot noir, he would have considered maybe inviting his best friend, Chris, or taking out a niece or nephew. But no, he'd been three sheets to the wind and decided that he needed to share his Valentine's Day dinner reservations with a random stranger.

Or

Peter refuses to let good dinner reservations go to waste just because his (ex)girlfriend cheated on him. He drunkenly makes a Craigslist ad to find a date, and Stiles answers.

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Warriors by CinnamonLily

Peter is ten years old when humans discover Azure, a planet not unlike Earth. From there on, he wants to learn everything about their new neighbors and the planet itself. It takes him over twenty years to get to Azure, but when he does, it's so worth it. His anthropologist heart is happy, and a new acquaintance in the form of an Azurian called Stiles might just make the rest of him happy, too.

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Your Touch is My Choice by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)

The first time John does it, Stiles is two years old and about to run into the road.

“Mieczysław!” Heart pounding, John grabbed him by the back of his neck and got a hand around his tummy, snatching him back. “No, you have to stay away from the road,” he said firmly.

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nothing fake by nezstorm

"Yes,” Peter admits and rises from where he was perched on the staircase to face Stiles, “I’m personally offended that you didn’t get me to be your fake date."

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A Light at the (Near) End of the World by ladyoneill

The world he grew up in has ended in a supernatural war that devastated the human population. A survivor, Stiles lives a solitary, quiet life in Wales until there's a knock on his door.

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spark & burn by Areiton

Stiles is brilliant and beautiful and cruel and vicious and Peter thinks he wouldn’t love him, if he were anything else.

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Bottom of the Barrel by Bunnywest

Peter wonders what on earth his nephew’s brought him. He takes one look at Derek’s expression, and says “What’s wrong with him?” Derek huffs. “There’s nothing wrong, technically, he’s just not your usual type.” At Peter’s cool stare he continues, “He’s kinda….skinny. And pale. And annoying.” Peter’s eyes narrow, and Derek hastens to add, “There was literally nobody else! It’s pouring out there. He was the only one stupid or desperate enough to still be hustling in this weather.”

The one where Stiles isn't even Peter's type, until he really, really is.

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Nothing Improper by Bunnywest

“How long since someone touched you, sweet boy?” Peter asks, his voice barely a breath in Stiles’ ear. “Days? Weeks? Months?” Stiles nods imperceptibly at that last one. “After…after everything, after Allison,” is all Stiles manages to get out.

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soft touches by Areiton

Stiles watches, the way the betas avoid him, the way Derek never spars with him, the way he holds himself still and brittle, his gaze mocking, like he can convince them he doesn’t want what they won’t offer.

Stiles thinks they buy it because they don’t care enough to look deeper.

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Big Bad's Boy by Bunnywest

When Stiles' jeep breaks down outside a biker bar, he doesn't expect anything good to come of it, not with the week he's having. And not when the guy running it goes by the nickname Big Bad.

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You Look Familiar by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)

Stiles' familiar is a Chia Pet.

Don't be rude about it.

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Promisesby Green

Peter's courting gift is a second chance for Stiles's sick mother. It won't last forever, but it's precious time they wouldn't have otherwise.

Stiles is a just a kid, but he knows a good deal when he sees one.

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like waves against the rocks by Areiton

He finds the boy on the rocks.

It isn’t a mystery what the boy is, not naked and smelling of blood and salt and sea, not barely covered by a soaked pelt.

For a long moment, while the waves crashed against the rocks, and lap cold water over his ankles, Peter debates walking away.

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change by Areiton

Peter is lying on their bed, naked because he’s a shameless exhibitionist, when Stiles comes home.

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Baby Alpha by Areiton

The little boy flashes a blinding smile, and wiggles down, darting across the playground while Peter watches, bemused.

He comes back a few moments later, clutching a ragged clump of wildflowers, and shyly holds them out. “For you. ‘Cause they’re pretty.”

Peter hides his smile in the flowers that he takes carefully and his eyes are bright, taking in the baby Alpha’s delighted preening as he says, “Thank you, Alpha.”

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Who Says Revenge Is Best Served Cold? by Sundiver

Stiles wants revenge, and if he had to go through the entirety of the New York crime world to get it – so be it. Even if it costs him his life, he’s taking her out.

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Hey There Demons by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)

“Here alone?” Peter asked casually, as he indicated that he needed entrance for one and handed cash over.

“Yeah,” the man next to him said. “You too?”

“Not if you’ll go in with me."

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Werewolf Porn; Porn for Werewolves by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)

“I cannot believe you didn’t tell me your family owns a porn mag!” Stiles said indignantly.

“Oh, is that all this is about?” Cora rolled her eyes and went back to the TV.

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slow increments by Areiton

Peter is enigmatic, egotistical, sometimes barely sane. He's sharp and cutting and takes more time to care for the pack than anyone.

And sometimes, John catches him watching Stiles.

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My scent on you by lostwithoutmyanchor (mysourwolf)

Stiles stared at himself in the mirror. He looked obscene.

or

Stiles wears Peter's shirt.

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At Home in the Ash by thegirlwhoknits

"Don’t worry, I’m not here to hurt you. Whoever did this, they killed my only family, too.”

Climbing up onto the bed, she lays her head on his shoulder and moves his hand to rest over her heart. “You need a pack, right? Maybe…maybe I can be your pack, and you can be my family. I’ll help you get better, and then you can help me kill them.”

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e-Missary by DiscontentedWinter

Peter Hale has a tension headache building behind his eyes, a nephew who has picked the wrong time to have a crisis of conscience, and a bound and gagged college freshman in the trunk of his car as he speeds north along Highway 101. This is not how he intended his weekend to go, but Peter is nothing if not adaptable.

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Bottle by syriala

Peter slowly made his way closer to Stiles desk and he couldn’t even say why it caught his eye, but there was a glass bottle on the table, filled with paper snippets and Peter frowned at it. The bottle was pushed against some folders, almost hidden, closed with a cork, but it was almost full.

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Remember Darling, All the While by Sang_argente

It was fire, ice, electricity. It was the first kiss, the last kiss, and every kiss inbetween. It was lips parting, tongues sliding, hearts beating.

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The Terrible Things We Do (For Love) by rospeaks

Being a demon, he’s seen some of the pretty nasty things that humans are willing to do for love. Things that, were he still alive (and human), would make him hesitate to be in a relationship with anyone lest his partner start getting some funny ideas. That said—

"This seems a little desperate for a kid your age," he says to Stiles.

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If Tomorrow Never Comes by gryvon

Stiles should know better than to trust an offer that seems too good to be true, especially when it comes from Erica. He's supposed to be staying in Erica and Boyd's apartment, not this stupidly ridiculous Hale Pack mansion with Sentinel Prime Peter Hale, who Stiles has an enormous crush on.

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Don't touch me by lostwithoutmyanchor (mysourwolf)

Ever since Gerard, Stiles doesn't like to be touched. It takes him getting injured before anyone notices.

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how are your lungs? (are they in pain?) by OvalNephrite

The flowers don't hurt, exactly. Sure, he can feel vines curl in his lungs when Peter smiles and it's a pain to force the petals out of his throat, but it could be worse - Peter could know about his feelings. Frankly, Stiles would rather sink through the floor and dissolve, so he presses each new flower between the pages of his journal and smiles.

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Through Space and Time by MaroonDragon

When Stiles pulls the body of Peter Hale into his ship, he doesn't expect him to be alive. He also doesn't realise he might have gotten more than he bargained for.

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Where I Want to Be by Tahlruil

Peter wasn't exactly surprised when he 'woke up' in hell.

He'd known his wounds were fatal as soon as he'd gotten them. In truth he'd never expected to still be standing after his quest for revenge had been completed. What mattered was taking the Argent family down with him and making sure they died before he did. Peter had saved Kate and Gerard for last; they had looked into his eyes as they bled out. They had known that he was the instrument of their family's doom and he couldn't ask for more than that.

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Dance Under the Moonlight by Therapeutic_Steter

Anonymous asked: Fae!Stiles saving Peter from Pack's stupidity and washing his hands of them. Please?

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whisper by tricksterity

Stiles was tired.

He was done of people pushing him and his pack around. They’d already lost so much and he was damned if he’d let them lose anyone else, especially to this psychopath who had no reasons for what he did other than he liked it.

And that’s when the whispers in his mind grew louder.

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Pin Feathers and Primaries by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)

Peter’s wings remained sensitive after his resurrection.

They were perfect again; perfect white coverts with perfect black primaries. Perfectly glossy feathers, perfectly oiled and perfectly clean. No more twisted flesh. No more mangled plumage. No more broken blood feathers, jaggedly screaming for relief.

His wings were perfect.

The were perfect, and it chafed him that he had to remind himself of that now rather than simply know.

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You Are so Much Better Than I Ever Knew Before by lavenderlotion

“Oh sweetheart,” Kate cooed, voice sickly sweet and obviously fake. “You didn’t think you were dating...did you?”

Stiles just stood there, still in shock and only coherent enough to shrug his shoulders. “Oh sweetie, that is just too cute. No, Der-Bear here just needed something to keep his cock warm while I was away visiting family.”

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Viking Wolves do it Better by MaroonDragon

Stiles is the omega witch in the village he was born in. A gift that had been passed to him from his mother. A curse that left him an outcast amongst the people he helped heal. Until one day he no longer is. Kidnapped by the Viking Wolves of the North, he suddenly finds himself a human amongst wolves. There is one wolf in particular who is intent to woo him into staying. Stiles is really only indulging Peter until he can make his escape. There is nothing remotely interesting about the other man. Not a single thing.

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And Here We Go Again by Merwin_Me

Stiles doesn't agree with Peter's plan to go through the portal and escape the Wild Hunt alone. If they're going to escape, they're going to do it together.

Here goes nothing.

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Art Imitating Life by GracieBirdie

“If I’m invited to any more funerals, I’m going to be featured at the next one.” Stiles said in a monotone.

Lydia’s dead eyes were really the entire reason Stiles did what he did next.

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All That Time by red_crate

“I don’t need an escort,” Stiles complains. He clears his throat to displace the lump in it. “The house is big, but it’s not Buckingham palace.”

Peter slides his arm away, but not before tugging at the hair at the back of his head where it’s grown out since he buzzed it before seventh grade started a few months ago. “Who knows, you might have. Good thing you’ve got me to keep you on the path.”

He’s smirking, and Stiles snorts. “Not the good path.” Stiles waves his arms in a shooing motion. “Okay, I’m here. Safe and sound. Go away.”

“Good night, little lamb,” Peter sings softly as he turns to head back to the kitchen where he left his bag.

—***— In which Stiles grows up with the Hales and grows into himself.

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You're Mine, Valentine by orphan_account

In which Peter decides to court Stiles, and does so by leaving him hearts.

Bloody ones.

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Cause I Want You (all to myself) by LadySlytherin

Stiles has an odd habit of licking Peter, seemingly at random and without much thought. Peter takes a lot longer than he should to figure out why.

or

Six Times Stiles Stilinski Licked Peter Hale...and one time Peter licked Stiles instead.

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(Betray The) Moon As Acolyte by GracieBirdie

Stiles, a witch, saves the Hale pack from a devastating fire and only really wants one thing in return. Peter's willing to oblige.

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Stiles Stilinski: Wolf Whisperer (and Provider of Pop-Tarts) by ChuckleVoodoos

Stiles realizes that Peter might, in fact, be in need of a friend. And what better candidate than Stiles himself (accompanied, of course, by delicious pastry treats)?

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Spin, Sweet Clotho by ChuckleVoodoos

Oh, it’s a beautiful thing to watch, the way they dance around each other, spun in sugar and glittering glass. Like a fragile little fairytale, a tender rosebud just waiting to unfurl. It makes Peter sick.

Because love is a fairytale, and his dear darling nephew does not deserve a happy ending.

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Everyone is King When There's No One Left to Pawn by Bittah_Wizard

The AU where Stiles is an old trickster—just not the one you're thinking of.

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All The Things We'd Do by GracieBirdie

Stiles' time travel spell doesn't work out quite right but he figures he should make the best of it, starting with Laura Hale.

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Fear (Doesn't Mean I Can't Fight) by azerblazer

Peter is the damsel in distress, the Sheriff is the hostage, random unnamed hunters are the bad guys.

Stiles has a bat, a hoodie and a willingness to do anything to protect those he's loyal to.

Bring it on.

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Two Worlds Collided by Bittah_Wizard

It was always meant to be Stiles and Peter.

Always.

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Orbital Distance by neglectedtuesday

Artemis, the capital city of the Moon, where movies are born and stars are made. The crown jewel of American cinema and simultaneously Hollywood’s biggest rival. The money may be dollars, it may be counted as the 51st state but the studios run this city, making cinema and waging war. No real bloodshed but equally cutthroat in its own way. Peter has devoured article after article about the industry, from in-depth journalism to gossip rags, desperate for every detail, every scandal, every glorious moon moment.

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The Boy Sleuth by Shey

Stiles is eight when he discovers a box of his mom’s old Nancy Drew Mysteries in the back of the guest bedroom closet.

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Name by Corpium

When Stiles goes back in time to save Paige and stop Gerard, he doesn't expect Peter Hale.

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The Lady of Lightning by kiranightshade

This piece of pure trash was inspired by this quote by John F. Kennedy

"Those who foolishly sought power by riding the back of the tiger ended up inside"

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Temporary Claim by sunrise_and_death

Some, of course, are off limits. Queen Talia and her husband have their special favorites who join their marriage bed from time to time. Laura has several young strapping men that are hers and hers alone. Even Derek has a few favorites—the quiet ones, the sweet ones.

Peter? The Duke only has one.

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Royal A/B/O Au by charlottecjhlvr

When his father's Kingdom and the Hale Kingdom make a treaty, Stiles is the one who has to make it work.

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Steam Rises from the Body by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)

Peter and Stiles are surgeons in a Mobile Army Surgical Hospital near the front line of the Korean War.

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The Chasm and the Clash by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)

Stiles has dreams of the Alpha after he dies. It makes no sense. He didn't know Peter before... did he?

Did Peter know him?

And why does his head hurt so much?

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tattoo by nezstorm

It’s an aftereffect, the price they had to pay, were willing to pay to survive. The spell was their last resort, really, even if the chances of success were slim.

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peter's guide to becoming a priority (ft. a rock) by finnickyfox

It’s not that Stiles hasn’t noticed. He has. It’s just in the grand scheme of things Stiles can’t be bothered. He has two—maybe three—fucks to give about life and he’s not wasting one on Peter Hale running his hands over everything in Stiles’ apartment.

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Remedy by stories_in_howls

Eichen House is a dead end. Peter knows that as soon as they drag him into the cell. He spends six lonely months there, until Stiles suddenly appears, telling him: "I need you to kill someone."

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Mongolian Death Worm by iCheat

“Welcome back to Monster of the Week, I’m Stiles and this week we’re hunting for Peruvian Sandworms.”

Stiles runs a popular vlog where he documents the supernatural. People in the know appreciate the facts and unaware people just think he's got great editing skills.

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Everything's Okay (I'm here; I'll find you) by finnickyfox

Peter's minding his own business, trapped in murderous grief, when a voice kicks down the door into his head, declaring everything will be alright. But what the hell does this voice know?

Apparently, a lot.

One werewolf, one telepathic bond, two comas—a classic recipe for love.

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The Call of Morning And Wolves by finnickyfox

A story in which Stiles' mom is and isn't Persephone and Stiles is a wolf-keeper and more.

Of course, Peter is there to make the chaos more interesting.

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Knit Away by pprfaith

How Stiles saved the pack, one stitch at a time, without actually noticing.

[starforgedthor]

when you become untouchable {Vigilante / Adrian Chase} // eight

eight. i'm out of my head when you're not around.

Summary: preparing for the first mission means the rest of the team finally gets to weigh in on your three friends... And meets them. Harcourt is less than impressed.

Need to Know: She/Her pronouns. villain!meta-human!reader. self depricating reader. chaos. implied dehumanisation. canon typical violence. heavily implied smut. slowish burn.

A/N: no I haven't forgotten about this fic I've just been suffering from ✨depression✨ but also written on my phone, unedited as always, and I'm so excited to get into proper content for reader and Vij!!! Let me know if you like it!

[ masterpost ]

Taglist: @16boyfriends-and-me @a-girl-who-loves-disney @amysuemc @generalfoolish @idkanymoreaboutlife @home-of-disaster @2guysonascooter @demure-doll @grippleback-galaxy @demeterl @specificpuppy @gay-cold-brew @siberianallen @evvilspawn @bright-cherry-bombzz @simping-4-jason-todd @hazzarights @blackwatxr @plzu

Taglist is always open, feel free to message or comment to be added! xx

The only person on the team who seems to look kindly on your fast-formed friendship with Peacemaker is Adebayo; she presented a cheerful, if stark, contrast to the others on the team and you always found yourself enjoying her company, even if she seemed vaguely wary around you.

"I'm not going to applaud you for doubling your number of friends," Harcourt tells you humourlessly the day you're all setting off to murder Senator Goff.

"Don't be shitty," you reprimand her, "I tripled my friends, not doubled." Adebayo and Peacemaker are in and out of the conversation as they head back and forth to the van with supplies.

"Tripled?" Adebayo asked with amused curiosity, and you found yourself beaming at her.

"I'm friends with Peacemaker's friend," you declared.

"Really going for quantity over quality here," Emilia said dryly.

"You can't say I'm a bad judge of character when you're the blueprint, sweet cheeks," you tell her raising your voice to make sure the two who just left still heard, and are glad when you yourself can hear both Adebayo and Peacemaker's amused noises. Smile turning sharp and a little mean, you don't even bother to turn around to face her where you know she's standing, you lean back where you're sitting cross-legged on her desk until you're leaning against her.

When you angle your head back to give her your best trickster smile, she glares down at you and the top of your head pressing gently against her sternum. However you still know its for show; if she wanted to move, wanted to let you fall from the desk and flat on your back, she's more than capable of it, but she doesn't.

"I know you're saying that to spite me," Harcourt mutters, playing at being irrate, which just makes you smile wider.

"Its not the worst thing I've ever done," you remind her, tone so bright it's easy to forget you're comparing light teasing to literal murder. But it makes her smile, like you knew it would, and where she's looking down at you, there's so warm in her eyes that you know so few other people ever get to see.

"Cujo," she calls you the nickname with such quiet warmth in a moment the others can't hear. A longstanding, teasing fondness, she gives a faint scratch just behind your ear, and for all the nickname sounds demeaning coming from anyone else, she says it with an exasperated kind of love.

But it's gone as soon as it arrived.

And Chris is back for another bag.

Emilia double checks the equipment you had helped load into travel cases while Adebayo and Peacemaker fall into a discussion about Peacemaker's distaste for homonculi. You had zoned out and were focusing on the warm laughter and soft, worn hands of the kind old lady who had sewn your gloves, basking in the pleasant memory while you tried to pretend like you hadn't gotten a good look at the tiny ship Peacemaker had brought back from the Butterfly's apartment. Because knowing your luck, somehow Harcourt would figure out you'd first seen it while wrapped in Peacemaker's scratchy sheets with both him and Vigilante, distinctly post-coital, while Peacemaker himself was lighting a spliff. There was not a single thing about that moment that you wanted Emilia finding out about, so you played dumb and thankfully Chris took the hint.

The dark satchel that sat at your side was your thoroughly stocked, checked, and double checked bag of medical supplies, while you held a small stack of textbooks in your arms, swinging your legs while you sat at the far end of the quickly emptying equipment table.

Peacemaker is yelling something just as Emilia tells you it's finally go time, and just as you're breezing through the door, Economos shoulders past you radiating fury and muttering that you have shit taste in friends.

"Don't be rude, John," you say lightly, not even bothering for more than a second to take his bad mood seriously...

Just as Adebayo points out Vigilante hiding behind the trash can just a few feet away. She's asking about who he is, while you're beaming and waving.

"You know him?" Both Harcourt and Adebayo ask you at the same time, with unnervingly similar tones.

"Fuck," Peacemaker sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "that's Vigilante, he's tryna be helpful," he said, sounding a little fed up and helpless. After a beat, you turned to Harcourt and her disdainful expression.

"That's my other friend," you see fit to explain brightly.

"Jesus Fucking Christ," Harcourt groans.

"Yeah, but I'm Peacemaker's best friend," Vigilante offers.

"He's Peacemaker's best friend," you parrot, as if to reaffirm the statement.

"Get the fuck out of here!" Harcourt calls to Vigilante.

"What? I was just looking from behind a trash can, it's a normal thing to do!" Vigilante tries.

"The hell it is!" Harcourt argues back, before turning her disapproval on you, "absolutely fucking not; I'm drawing a line, Y/N, a line. Be friends with Peacemaker all you want, fine, your third friend can't be a trash-loitering guy in spandex."

"How would you know what's normal, you're not a psychiatrist," you found yourself scowling back at her, while Vigilante's voice began to overlap yours-

"Pretty sure you're not allowed to veto someone else's friends like that," he pointed out with a surprising note of irritation, continuing, as you yourself were, with no real regard or hesitation for the other, his words overlapping yours, "and seriously? Trash-loitering guy in spandex? It's mostly Kevlar, I'm like the safest friend she has here -" and your -

"What if his secret identity is a psychiatrist and he actually knows what's normal and what's not?" You posed to her, holding your own medical textbooks to your chest.

Emilia seems exhausted by you both, and takes a long moment to look between you, and Vigilante several feet away still by the trash can.

"If he's a psychiatrist, we're all screwed," she rolls her eyes, before looking to Vigilante, who seems to be two steps away from concededing and leaving, "get the fuck out of here," she orders, ignoring how you shake your head. Predictably, Vigilante doubles down instead of leaving, and you can't help but find the whole situation delightfully amusing.

Even when Peacemaker asks him to be cool, Vigilante is insistent.

"I just wanna make sure you're okay; I don't trust most of these people, and the one I do kind of trust is also literally the worst person I've ever met in my life who I don't think you should probably trust," its not intended as compliment, but you take it as such anyways, focused only on how he admitted he 'kind of' trusts you. It's more than you were expecting after hanging out a few times over the week... Honestly, you're so giddy from hearing that that you lose track of the conversation, at least until Vigilante is recommending that Peacemaker should befriend Adebayo to combat the rumours about him being racist, since it reflects badly on Vigilante, and all you can do is hang your head in exasperation. Vigilante's absolute lack of tact strikes again.

"Catch you guys later," Vigilante finishes candidly before taking off at a run. You wave after him, mostly because of the faces Chris and Emilia make in exasperation.

"Isn't that guy wanted on multiple counts of murder?" Economos finally joins them once more, spaceship in hand.

"That's Cujo's third friend," Harcourt offers flatly instead, her arms crossed. When you turn back, you see Economos giving you an evaluative look over.

"That checks out," he finally says with a firm nod, and heads into the van.

"You know what? I fully support you going after Vij, you guys deserve each other," Peacemaker says dryly as you tell him to shut the fuck up, the exact moment Adebayo asks what he means by that.

"Oh Y/N's totally got the hots for Vij," Peacemaker snorted like it was common knowledge.

"Please tell me he's kidding," Harcourt squeezed her eyes shut tightly, as if she's hoping that when she opens them this will all have been a bad dream.

"I like Vigilante as a person and I'm not used to my friends being openly enthusiastic about things," you stuck your nose into the air, tone pointed and you hear Harcourt's loud sigh, "I'm trying to figure out this new dynamic, Chris is just wilfully misinterpretating me because he's a jag."

"Whatever," Chris rolls his eyes, "neither of you know how to interact like a real human being half the time and you both probably think violence is a love language or some shit -"

"Are you jealous," you teased, much to Chris's spluttering, "don't worry, he's still your best friend." His spluttering grows louder and more indignant.

As you settle into your seat in the back of the van beside Adebayo, Murn, however takes the opportunity to look over you, expression hard.

"You're needed up front," he wastes no time giving orders, and your bright expression falters with confusion.

"Aren't we being briefed on the way-?"

"You'll download the mission from Harcourt-" Murn explains flatly, though he's interrupted by Peacemaker.

"Download?" Chris splutters with gleeful confusion, "dude, I bet she doesn't even know what that means!"

"I know what downloading means," you rolled your eyes, "I just don't get -" but Murn's holding a map out to you. Ah. You take the map with a far more sober nod, "I'll keep us on target."

"Why does she get to download while I sit through a whole briefing?" Peacemaker's voice has a touch of childish indignance to it, which only seems to irritate Murn further.

"Because you don't have the ability to download information directly into your brain via touch," Murn tells him sharply, "everyone in this team was selected for their individual skills and abilities, Smith, so her assignment is obviously different from yours, or would you like her to replace you as our hired gun?"

Chris's gaze flicks to yours for a long moment as his lips press into a thin, unhappy line, thoroughly put out by the threat. Mouth opening and closing wordlessly, you finally stand, map under one arm.

"Thank you," and though Murn graciously moves to let you pass, he also holds a hand up to grab your attention the minute you're on your feet. Everyone in the back of the truck is watching you both, waiting, captive in the silence. You don't step past him.

"You alright there, Mister Murn?" You asked, trying to keep your tone light. It's as if he forces his shoulders to relax.

"Yes, of course," comes out much more level than his previous words. The tension in the van eases. Economos starts the van. Then, finally, Murn reaches into one of the inner pockets of his jacket, pulling out a sealed plastic bag with a once-crumpled receipt inside, "Chaser, I will also need you to keep us all updated on the Senator's whereabouts; I was told this would be all you need."

"Like now?"

"You have two hands don't you?" He asked sharply, and you raised your free hand in apology, and to take the plastic bag wrapped receipt. As Murn takes your now empty seat, the van roars out of the parking lot with Economos behind the wheel, and you brush past Harcourt to sink into the passenger seat.

"Yikes," Economos mutters, quiet enough that only you can hear him, and in the front the two of you share a rare look of exasperated amusement.

"It's a big day for us all," you shrugged, already opening the sealed receipt. Economos is flicking through radio stations as Peacemaker has started a tirade of questions to the other three in the back.

"So what do you do with that?" Economos keeps glancing at the receipt you're holding out in front of you, and glancing back to the road, "and when are you gonna open that map? You're kind of my only GPS here." At that you heave a great sigh and tuck the receipt back into its plastic sleeve, and begin pulling off your gloves.

After confirming the destination, you let your eyes fall closed to focus on the map, still folded tightly in your lap. In your mind, however, it's sprawling and detailed, intimately familiar to you in a fraction of a second, route found as if it lights up on the map itself. Economos is the map's owner, and you smile faintly at how he'd mumbled complaints when Murn couldn't just 'buy it himself'.

Now came Part B of using your powers to navigate.

*Okay just a second -" you mumbled, eyes squeezed shut as if bracing. You gently rest your right elbow on the window where it has been rolled down, before reaching up to connect your fingertips gently to the metal of the van door above the open window -

the owner of the rental car was sitting some miles away eating yoghurt in his office and watching videos on his work computer, while all your senses felt like they were overwhelmed with the immediate sensations of the car as it drove, each minute movement in the engine, the gravel beneath the tires, the weight loaded in the back, the warmth of everyone in their seats, you can't see the road ahead but even with your eyes closed you can see out of each of the mirrors, can even see yourself grimacing at the edge of the passenger side mirror -

- every single road that's ever been driven in this van, every passenger, every moment and conversation, all the human moments and interactions hitting you while also giving you the mechanical sensations of the van itself, but even then the months it spent sitting on the showroom floor, the cold streamlined manufacturing process, the blistering, seeing heat as each individual part was forged from molten metal or other various components -

"Next left," tone sharp, you feel the uniquely intimate and altogether indescribable feeling as Economos' hands fidget on the wheel before he turns, and the rough sole of his sneaker as he eases back down on the breaks. But in your mind, one hand on the map and the other connected to the van, it's as if there's a GPS in your mind, knowing the exact distance you'd travelled, and how exactly it translates to the map in hand. Everything in your mind reeks of gasoline, you can feel it burning away, keeping you all going.

"You okay there?" It's Economos again. Eyes still closed, you can see at the edge of the drivers side mirror when he looks at you with concern. Vehicles were always overwhelming, though a very different kind of overwhelming to your textbooks; in a word, visceral. But thankfully, like the textbooks, you quickly get used to it.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you took a few deep, calming breaths, trying to fill your lungs with as much fresh oxygen as you could, despite gasoline, metal, and oil still permeating your senses. When he shouldn't asks if you should have your eyes open to be able to give directions, you assure him it's not necessary, "I know the exact distance and surgeon we've come from and exactly how far we need to go," after a beat, you can't help but give a humorous smile, "and it's disorientating."

"Disorientating?"

With the map still held with three fingers, you reached up to angle the rear vision mirror to more directly face him, giving you a better look at him for the moment.

"Hi John," you give a big, goofy grin but are still facing forward, your eyes closed. He squints at the mirror for a long moment, then turns to squint at you in the passenger seat - "careful, if the wind changes you'll be stuck squinting like that," you teased, much to his apparent shock. The moment you hear Harcourt snicker you angle the mirror to face her, only to see her looking right back at it over her shoulder.

"Can you get the receipt out of my pocket so I don't have to let go of the map?" At your request she nods, and you thank her brightly. Economos calls you unsettling, but you reposition the mirror so you can get the best vantage out the back anyways, and finally Harcourt presses the receipt into your hand by the map.

And immediately you know the receipt is months old, from a gas station, tossed aside and missed the bin and -

"Hey Murn?"

"Yes, Chaser? Have you got a read on the Senator's location," Murn enquires, tone as serious as ever.

"I mean I think so, I can extrapolate -"

"Extrapolate? What do you mean?" And he's coming up to the front of the van now, you can see him concern in the mirror.

"I can chase someone to the ends of the earth no issue, and I can tell you now, thanks to these," you shook the map and receipt that you had clutched in the one hand, "the exact location of the receipt owner to like, the foot, and how he's travelling in real time, so as long as Judo Master sticks close to the Senator then technically I can tell you where the Senator is."

"Judo Master?" Murn's brow furrows from what you can see through the mirror.

"Yeah, so for future reference, if you need me to track someone, you need to make sure it's something of theirs that I'm actually tracking," a long pause follows, Murn clearly taking his time mulling over this information, "third exit after the roundabout," you instructed Economos.

"You really were able to use that dirty, old receipt to track Judo Master?" Murn's tone is strange and unreadable, neither awed nor afeared, you're not sure what to take from it. So you nod. You inform him that Judo Master is currently travelling via plane, judging by his speed and altitude. Murn thinks for another long moment, then looks directly into the rearview mirror, nodding firmly.

"Good to know," and he retreats back to briefing Peacemaker. Something about the whole exchange felt like a test, though you don't quite know why.

For the time being, as the briefing finally got underway, you retreated into the van's history in your head, only speaking up to give Economos directions. At least once you'd gotten used to the memories you could pick and choose which ones to spend time and focus on; you had every song that had ever been played, whether it was the radio or CD or friends singing along at the top of their lungs down the highway, you at least had a range to choose from. Meanwhile you keep thinking you see a flash of a maroon Seabring in the distance behind the van -

"What 2000s pop song have you found this time?" Harcourt's wry amusement can be heard over the actual music saving the van from silence.

"This isn't -" Economos starts, but you interrupt him with a grin.

"It's a compilation disc, 2009, absolute jackpot," you kept bopping to the beat in the memory.

"Stone cold killer, ladies and gentlemen," Economos added sarcastically, which amused the rest of the crew as they saw you dancing quietly in your seat, eyes closed, one hand still clutching the map and receipt, the other drumming on the outside of the car with the window still down, "man if that dude by the trash really was the same dude wanted for murder, I can totally see why you became friends with him."

"Right?!" Peacemaker immediately insisted.

"Am I being insulted right now? Are you guys insulting me? Our Vij?" You frown a little, confused but still smiling. It takes Economos and Peacemaker a long few moments to realise that they don't really know either.

Just quietly, you choose to take it as a compliment.