#this is the best shit that's happened to me all year

[wileys-russo]

forget me not (2) II l.williamson

part one forget me not (2) II l.williamson

"mum i need to go."

"leah no-" but her mums words were cut off as the blonde clicked end call, fingers flying against her screen until she found your contact, call after call declined until it stopped ringing all together.

she then moved to texting, sending message after message until the 'do not disturb' notification popped up and her stomach heaved, you never put your phone on do not disturb.

her guilt peaked even higher noticing all of the messages above those she'd sent to you in a panic, clearly prior to your graduation and worrying about her whereabouts.

(8) iMessages from; lover girl 💐 hey baby i just arrived, you were dead to the world when i left (shock x) i'm kind of nervous! they just handed out our caps and gowns, its feeling really real now. what if i fall over when i'm walking up?? someone just put that thought in my head and now it won't go away 🥲🥲 i can't wait to just look out and see your pretty face, you can always ground me even without trying💘💘💘 *three missed calls* less just called me, she's leaving soon so i hope you're up and showering! i know you're not the best texter in the morning anyway grumpy 🫶🏻 we have to switch our phones off and leave them in our bags now babe but i'll see you in a little while. still so nervous ah! your support means everything, i love you leah 🩵

even though leah knew you were upset, the fact you hadn't made any attempts to call or message her after her no show only solidified it further for her, the blonde selfishly sort of wishing you had to ease her guilt even just a little.

"fuck!" the girl swore as she threw her phone on the passenger seat, burying her face in her hands with a deep and prolonged exhale. "okay think leah, think." she mumbled to herself, fists balling and rubbing against her eyes until she saw stars, head thumping back against the headrest.

grabbing her phone again she winced seeing the multitude of other missed calls, from alessia, your mum, your aunt, your best friend, all worrying that something had happened to her for her not to show up, the sweet messages from your mum checking in if she was okay hitting her in the stomach in a different sort of way.

"alessia!" she realized, quickly hitting call on the girls contact, feeling like an idiot for not even noticing her friends absence and putting two and two together, this was a brand new low.

"come on!" leah grunted, calling the younger girl easily six times and each one going right to voicemail, finger hovering over your mums contact before abandoning that idea with a shake of her head.

"shit." leah swore again checking your location and noticing you'd stopped sharing with her, biting down on her bottom lip as her knee bounced and her fingers drummed against the wheel wracking her brain for anything.

"fuck me leah where did she say the celebration was afterwards?" the footballer mumbled to herself, eyes squeezing close as she tried to think back, unable to even remember you mentioning your graduation in the last few days, another nail in the coffin of realizing she had been an awful girlfriend to put it lightly.

a sudden spark of hope she grabbed her phone again, clicking into instagram and huffing when both you and alessia hadn't posted anything, searching up several of your friends and families accounts finding the same wall of silence in her way.

growing even more desperate leah clicked into an app she checked maybe once a year, only keeping her facebook active for the sake of her childhood friends.

"thank you aunty gillian, thank you!" leah whispered as a quick scroll of her feed showed your godmother had posted some pictures from the graduation and the post ceremony celebrations, a quick zoom confirming the restaurants name on a menu on the table.

without another seconds hesitation she was putting the address into maps, car roaring to life as she peeled out of the colney carpark at top speed, flying across town and swearing loudly as she seemed to hit every red light in all of london.

"williamson." she barked to the valet as she screamed to a halt in front of the hotel where the restaurant was, throwing the keys at the young boy who didn't even have time to say a word before she was pushing through the double doors and bursting inside.

"m'am im really sorry you can't-" the hostess tried to stop leah as she barreled past, ignoring her completely and hurrying into the restaurant. it didn't take her long to find your closest friends and family on a big table in the corner, alessia spotting her before anyone else did and eyes widening.

though as leah came to a screaming halt in front of them, the table falling quiet as they took her in, still clad in an arsenal tracksuit with wet hair and frantic eyes looking as you would have said had you been present, a hot mess.

"no auntie ava its alright, i'll handle it." alessia murmured to your mum as leah shrank under the scrutiny and harsh glares from your friends and family, nobody impressed with her no show even if they didn't know the full story.

"you need to leave, right now." alessia warned, grabbing the blonde by her bicep and pulling her away from the table, around the corner and out of view. "less please i can-" leah started as the younger girl held up a hand.

"i don't care leah. i've just gotten her to calm down after she's just spent twenty minutes crying in the bathroom after her big day!" alessia warned, leah taken aback by the venom in her teammates tone, the girl normally so sweet butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

but there was one thing your cousin didn't mess about with, and that was family.

"she cried?" leah deflated, voice barely above as whisper as the taller girl nodded. "yes leah she cried several times, she's heartbroken that her girlfriend didn't show up for her graduation. but rather chose to go to the same training we have four or five times a week, she saw on instagram." alessia growled, poking accusingly at leahs shoulder.

"nope." alessia held up a hand again as leah opened her mouth to pour out another excuse or hurried apology.

"i told you leah, i don't care. she deserves to enjoy the rest of her day, you've ruined enough and done more damage than you can apologize for in the two minutes you've got to leave before i let my brothers escort you outside." alessia warned seriously, jaw clenched and still gripping harshly onto leahs arm.

"but less-" "leah, go."

but right as your girlfriend was ready to get on her knees and beg alessia to get her even one minute of your attention, you came stumbling around the corner in search of your cousin.

"baby-" leah started, falling quiet with a hiss as alessia sharply pinched her and moved to put her body in between the two of you like your own personal security guard.

"you have some nerve!" you laughed, leah frowning at the slur in your voice and the way alessia hurried to catch your swaying body, shooting the older blonde a filthy glare over her shoulder as she steadied you and mumbled something in your ear.

"no i know. i'm done crying over her!" you responded, leah swallowing hard as her knees buckled with how much anger was ablaze in your eyes as your gaze moved back toward her.

"you're a little late." you mocked with a pout, voice dripping with sarcasm as your eyes burned holes in your girlfriends head, trained on her like lasers.

"bubba please if you just-" "don't leah, don't call me that." all the anger seemed to deflate out of your voice at that, the obvious hurt and betrayal in it wrapping around leahs heart and squeezing tight like a fist.

"i don't want to hear the excuses, or the apologies, i don't even want to look at you leah. i have never been so let down or dissapointed, hurt, angry, sad." you listed off every emotion which was wracking your body, pausing for a moment and swaying a little leaning into alessia more.

"i have been there for you, for everything leah. i was there by your side every day when you did your acl, through the rehab and recovery good times and bad. i didn't leave when you yelled, when you snapped, when you hurled insults just for helping because i knew you were hurting and you weren't lashing out at me." you shook your head as leah felt sick to her stomach.

"i was there for you during the world cup. i stayed in england to be there for you, watching my own cousin playing the tournament and living out her dream through a phone screen, not daring to mention the games because i knew you were devastated to miss it." you paused to swallow the tears which brimmed at your eyes.

"i have put up with a lot of shit leah, dismissed a lot of things because i love you. but this...this isn't something i can sweep under the rug and excuse because you're hurting and i want to support you. today i needed you, i needed you to support me and you couldn't even do that." you whispered, wishing you had another drink in hand for a spike of liquid courage which was bleeding rapidly out of the open wounds your girlfriends actions slashed you with.

clearing your throat you continued, tilting your chin up a little higher. "less already took me past our place and i grabbed a bag of stuff, i'm moving in with her for awhile. i don't want to see you, hear from you, nothing, until i am ready leah. i never thought you of all people were capable of hurting me like this, now please go." with that you turned around, stumbling slightly but catching yourself with a sharp inhale and marching back off to the table.

"no. leah you heard her, you need to leave." alessia's hands pressed against her chest as she tried to follow after you.

"like i said, you can go on your own terms leah, or i'll get my brothers." your cousin warned seriously, leahs mouth opening and closing before she gave in with a nod, turning and walking away.

~

"its another one for you!" you looked away from the football match your cousin was currently forcing you to watch, alessia appearing seconds after the bell had rung with another bunch of flowers as you got up with a sigh.

"she's consistent, you've gotta give her that." alessia shook her head as you took the flowers from her, perching herself on the arm of the lounge as your eyes scanned over the card.

"we look like we own a florist shop." your cousin commented, eyes roaming over the countless bunches of flowers littering the living and dining rooms.

"i've texted her telling her to stop!" you shook your head placing down the bunch with a deep seeded sigh, dragging your hands down your face. "what are you thinking?" your cousin asked knowingly as you wandered back toward the lounge, collapsing into it as she spun around on the arm to face you.

"i don't know." you exhaled honestly, face buried in your hands as alessia kicked you gently, looking down with a raised eyebrow. "its been two weeks and i miss her." you admitted honestly, sitting up with a slight grunt.

"but i'm also still really hurt and upset and there isn't an excuse under the sun she could make that would help that go away." you added on, grabbing a throw cushion and pushing your face into it with a scream.

"would you consider hearing her out anyway?" alessia asked, playing devils advocate as you looked back up with another sigh. "yes? no? maybe?" you groaned, laying back down on the lounge in a world of indecision.

"sounds like you want to. but you're a little scared of what that might mean? just hear her out, it doesn't mean you have to go running right back into her arms but it'll mean you're not sitting here wondering what it is she has to say." your cousin read you like a book with a small smile. "i hate that you're always right." you shook your head as alessia chuckled.

"just looking out for my little piccoli ravioli!" your cousin cooed, a grunt leaving your body as she dove on top of you, pinching your cheeks and shaking your head side to side before rolling off of you.

"you know i can very easily smother you in your sleep russo."

none the less you took her advice, reaching out to your girlfriend? ex girlfriend? you weren't even sure what the two of you were at this point given you'd had practically no contact for the last fortnight.

which is how you found yourself a few days later taking a deep breath, hand on the door to the coffee shop you'd agreed to meet up with her at, steadying yourself with a nod before you pushed it open.

you spotted her right away, her eyes trained on the door and hand raising to wave you over the very moment you stepped inside. "i got your usual, sorry the ice melted a little...i was early." leah started with a slight blush as you sat down, pushing the iced latte across the table.

"thanks." you gave her a small smile, taking a sip as an awkward silence settled between you two. "should i start? is that okay?" leah blurted out suddenly, knee bouncing nervously as you nodded and she exhaled shakily.

"i'm not going to waste your time making excuses or apologizing over and over or grovelling." leah started as you quirked an eyebrow and sipped at your drink, curious where she was going with this.

"i'm just going to be honest instead, get right to the point. baby i was a selfish blind asshole, to say the least. i took you for granted. i did not support you even a tenth as much as you did for me. i don't deserve you, i don't deserve a second chance." leah paused, meeting your eyes for a moment as you nodded for her to continue.

"i forgot about your graduation, i didn't care enough to remember despite all the little hints you left me that you shouldn't have even needed to. theres no nice way to say it, theres no excuses for it, no lies. i didn't prioritize you, i didn't respect you or your achievements or put your needs above my own when thats all you've ever done for me." leah sighed, fiddling nervously with her hands in her lap.

"i was so blinded by the joy of being back on the pitch, kicking a ball, being with the girls again. all i was focused on was making the roster for camp, returning back to glory and my captaincy and playing full games for arsenal again." leah admitted, neck and ears flushing hot with embarrassment.

"but nothing, not football not arsenal, not anything, should ever take priority over me being a good supportive life partner and girlfriend. you were right you have put up with so much from me, done so much for me, pushed aside your feelings and your problems to put mine first, and i couldn't even do that for a day when you've done it since the moment we got together." leah continued, shaking her head disappointed with herself.

"love there isn't enough apologies in the world that i can ever say to make up for it. obviously i am incredibly sorry, but you deserve better than words you deserve evidence and action and commitment." you were taken by surprise as leah suddenly stood.

"if you will please please please just come with me for a quick drive i have something for you." she hesitated for a moment before offering you her hand, a confused and skeptical frown on your face as you sized her up.

"its not more flowers, is it?" that caused a small smile to make its way onto the blondes face as she shook her head.

"no, no more flowers."

~

"seriously? leah this is all very weird." you shook your head as she pulled up outside your shared home, a place you'd not stepped foot in for just as long as you hadn't seen your girlfriend for, holding out a blindfold.

"i know i know i know. and i'm sure you don't right now which is completely valid, but i need you to just trust me and put this on." leah bit her bottom lip sheepishly as you sighed, giving her a hard look before snatching it out of her hand.

"no! i've got it." you smacked away her hand which tried to help, tying it up yourself as your heart rate sped up the moment your world was plunged into darkness.

"can i grab your hands? please?" you heard the car door open and flinched a little, nodding slowly as you felt leahs warm hands interlock with your own, pulling you up to your feet as the car door closed behind you.

"step, step, rock, puddle, another step, three more steps, gate." leah announced each reason for moving you, your frown deepening as you realised she was leading you around the side and toward the backyard, ears straining and senses heightened trying to work out what was going on.

"leah!" you huffed as you tripped and almost fell, strong hands steadying you as the blonde winced. "sorry...one more step."

"okay, i'm taking the blindfold off now." leah sighed shakily, and you felt her hands trembling slightly as they fumbled around clumsily with the knot on the back of the blindfold.

but persisting she finally got it, wincing as it slipped away and the sunlight struck you in the face. but that was nothing compared to how high you jumped at the large yell which sounded next, your hand coming to cover your mouth.

"happy graduation!"

"what? this is..." you trailed off, all of your friends and family and colleagues gathered around the backyard, fairy lights strung up in trees and a long table splitting the yard in half decked out with flowers and food and candles.

you tensed as leah grabbed your hands again, moving to stand in front of you with a smile. "i know i ruined your special day by not showing up for you. but you deserve to have your achievements celebrated in a way even half as big and special as you are, and everyone who knows you and loves you agrees, and they're here to show that to you." leah explained softly, another cheer ringing out from the crowd in your backyard as you both looked across with a laugh.

"you organised this?" you asked as leah nodded, letting go of your hands. "i'm not asking you to move back in tonight and forgive me right away. but i hope this is a step in the right direction to me showing you that you mean more to me than anything in the world, and i was such a fucking idiot to take that for granted." leah promised sincerely as your features softened.

"thank you." you caught her off guard by pulling her into a hug, admittedly melting into her taller form as you held one another tightly, your guests all turning back into their own conversations as music started up and chatter floated through the air.

"you're very very welcome. now go and be celebrated!" the blonde pulled away and gently pushed you toward the crowd, smile on her face as you nodded, turning and stepping toward your parents first who cheered and handed you a flute of champagne.

"did you know about all of this?" you tugged your cousin aside around an hour later once you'd made your rounds greeting and chatting with everyone, the sun setting as leah was busy setting up the catering she'd organised for dinner, lia by her side helping out as a fair few of the arsenal girls hung about, good friends with you through both leah and alessia.

"who do you think helped her grovel for forgiveness with the whole family?" alessia smiled knowingly, sipping at her drink. "the whole family?" you asked, eyebrows shooting up in surprise as your cousin nodded.

"mhm, had me gather everyone at your mums place and she stood in front of them all delivering a speech about how much of an idiot she is and how much you mean to her, and how first and foremost she wanted to make up for ruining your day, even if it didn't mean you'd take her back." alessia explained as you glanced at leah over her shoulder, a small smile curling into your lips at the way she helped your nephew dish up his food, chattering away to him and pulling silly faces making him giggle.

"was it brutal?" you asked with a chuckle, alessia wincing. "horribly horribly awkward. nonna ripped into her, then your mum, then my mum, then your brother, then my brothers, then-" alessia recounted as you cut her off with a laugh.

"okay okay i get it, we have a very tight knit family who clearly have my back." you smiled with a shake of your head. "we do. but they all agreed to come, and that when she's not being an insensitive stupid idiot leah is crazy about you." alessia spoke a little more softly.

"go talk to her." your cousin kissed your cheek, slipping her drink into your hand and taking your empty one, pushing at your back encouragingly as you sighed and let your feet lead you over to her.

"hey, can we talk?" you asked, leah practically dropping the plate of food in her hand with a nod, hurrying after you as you made your way up the back steps and inside, wanting a little more privacy than your backyard full of friends and family provided.

"is this all okay? is it too much? did i do too much? less warned me not to go overboard and i know i said no more flowers but obviously theres flowers here and i got catering from your favorite restaurant and it took me days and days to get everyone to agree to come and then-" tired of her rambling you leaned in, pressing your lips against her own and effectively silencing her.

"i-okay." leah blinked in shock as you pulled away, a small smile of amusement on your face. "first of all, this is very very sweet leah, its perfect." you assured with a firm nod, leah visibly sagging in relief.

"second of all...i want to come home, tonight." you held up a hand as the blonde perked up and opened her mouth, snapping it right closed. "this doesn't fix everything leah, i'm still hurt and its going to take time for me to trust you properly again" you warned as the defender nodded eagerly.

"but we can't work on things unless we're together, and i have missed you." you admitted quietly, the words scary to confess but knowing you needed to be honest. "i've missed you so much, like...so so much." leah breathed out shakily making you smile.

"but promise me one thing?" your hands came to cup her face as she nodded.

"no more apology flowers leah for like...a long time." you grinned as leah let out a laugh of surprise, hands falling to your hips and drawing your body into hers, eyes searching you face as you nodded knowing what they were looking for, her lips sweetly pressing a few times against yours.

"i promise."

[brucewaynehater101]

I feel like this is how the conversation between a Time Travel’ed Jason and Tim would go:

Baby Jason: I can’t believe my future self shot at me!

Tim: Happens to the best of us.

This leads to Tim telling Baby Jason all about Gun Batman. By the end of the talk, Baby Jason idolizes Gun Batman (in a way that’s like: “I don’t approve of the actions, but the fact that he did them is rly cool) and resents his future self for not being as cool. Cue:

Baby Jason: Why couldn’t you be as cool as Gun Batman?? Whyd you choose to succeed Joker of all people?

Big Jason: wtf

Baby Jason: You can’t even pull being a villain off well! It’s been a year and you’re still a small fry of Gotham!

Red Hood!Jason getting bullied by Robin!Jason is the crack we all need in our lives.

Also, it would be hella funny if Robin!Jason at like 13 developed hero worship for 20 something Red Robin. Tim regals all the shit YJ did (which is news to RH), talks about his fights as RR, shows off cool moves with his bo staff, and teaches R how to manipulate Batman. The kid finds this to be so cool, much to RH's chagrin.

RH has moved to begrudgingly tolerating and occasionally caring for Tim at this point. Yet, he can't help but feel like this is a form of revenge for the TT attack. Seeing his younger self look at Tim as if he hung the stars in the sky? Embarrassing as hell.

The only past version of himself that would be worse would be his 17 (or 19 canon sucks at timelines) year old self in that Party City Robin costume as he monologs.

[ienjoywritingfilth]

The night of the Concert

K I’m new here but I hope you like this even though it’s just filthy and horny and I like it like that. Maybe you will too.

pairing: dbf!Joel x fem!reader

trope Best Friend's Dad! Joel Miller

summary: your bf breaks your heart and you turn to the only person you can. It happens to be Joel Miller, your best friend Sarah's dad.

warnings: age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), dubcon, oral, infidelity, p in v, absolutely filthy talk, daddy mentioned, other shit but I've forgotten.

word count: 4.3k

The day is warm and the fan spinning next to you isn't doing much to help. You and Sarah are seated on her couch, you cross legged with her foot in your lap as you paint her toenails a vivid green. 

"I think he's gonna ask me to be his girlfriend," you say with a giggle as Sarah's eyes widen. 

"Really? Holy shit that's huge," Sarah says, watching as you swipe the green Polish onto her remaining nails. "He hasn't been serious about anyone since Mariana."

Mariana is your boyfriend Jeremy's ex girlfriend. A beautiful woman with high ambitions. You can't stand her and go to great lengths to avoid her when you see her on campus. 

Sarah is your best friend of several years, ever since your first day at college when you'd both been lost on your way to Chemistry. She's the reason you're with Jeremy in the first place. She's seen you through final exams, bad frat parties and your first college boyfriend. 

"You two will have the cutest babies!" Sarah says dramatically as you wave her off. 

"Gross. I'm only twenty-two, dude."

Sarah shrugs. 

"At least when you have kids you'll have a better reason to call him daddy."

The two of you bust out into braying laughter, so loud and for so long that when her dad comes in from the backyard he's grinning at the two of you. 

"What're you two gigglin' about for so long over there?"

Sarah's dad Joel Miller is about the nicest man you've ever met. Respectful, loving, patient and funny. You love being over at their house because you love seeing such a healthy familial dynamic at work. It's no wonder Sarah is so happy all the time. You envy that. 

"Nothing dad!" Sarah says, still wiping the tears from her eyes as the two of you continue to giggle.

"Yeah, nothing," you add, holding a pillow to your face to hide the laughter. 

"Okay, well the burgers are on the grill, jokesters. Can you get your mom? Think she's upstairs in the office."

Sarah nods, pushing off the couch and heading upstairs. 

"You staying for dinner, darlin'?" Joel asks you politely from the kitchen. 

"If you and Mrs Miller don't mind," you nod, coming to walk into the kitchen. 

You don't want to go home tonight. Your parents work long hours and the house is often empty. You're often here at the Millers place, eating dinner, studying, just hanging out. They always treat you well and always invite you to stay for meals. 

"We never mind," Joel insists as he mixes up the salad. "We only mind when you call us Mister and Mrs Miller. Makes us feel old."

"You're not old," you insist with an eye roll as you absently play with one of the edges of the decorative napkins. 

"Tell that to my knees." 

You laugh at that, turning to see Sarah and her mom Angela entering. Angela wraps you in a side hug and asks about school as the four of you gather around the dinner table. 

"I'll be glad when exams are over," you say with a roll of your eyes. "They stress me out so bad." 

"You say that and you always get top marks," Sarah says as she adds the tomato to her bun. "I bet you got an A+ on your last exam." 

"Yeah," you nod shyly as you add ketchup to your plate.  

"Your parents must be mighty proud," Joel offers before a sip of beer. Angela nods in agreement. 

"Yeah, your daddy must be so proud of you," Sarah drawls as she plates her salad, winking at you. 

The Miller parents look confusedly to one another when you and Sarah can't stop giggling.

----------

Date night with Jeremy! Dress with the stripes or the jeans? Where is he taking you? Ice cream and walk on the beach.   Sundress with the polka dots!!!!!  You're a genius Sarah Miller. I owe you big time Just pay me back by making me maid of honor at your wedding What are you up to tonight?   I'm taking my mom to see the Bangles for her birthday.  Awwww. Have fun! 

You toss your phone onto your daisy-patterned coverlet and stretch. It's a beautiful Sunday afternoon and you're in the best mood. 

You take a shower, slipping into the sundress Sarah recommended. As you do your hair and makeup in front of your mirror you fantasize about what awaits you this evening with your boyfriend Jeremy. 

You've been seeing him for three months now and he's always a gentleman, always taking you for thoughtful dates. Sarah introduced you as they're both in the same Philosophy class. Sexually he's just a little too eager, too quick. There's a lot to be improved, but you're happy to keep learning together. He's so handsome and smart. You love how he looks in his glasses when he's pouring over a textbook. 

A few hours later you’re showered, smelling delicious and wearing your shortest dress. You spin in front of your mirror before affixing a delicate lace bow to the back of your hair. You feel beautiful and you sigh dreamily.

Your phone beeps and you glance down to see Jeremy’s sent you a message. You smile to yourself, swiping up and reading the text.

Hey I'm sorry I don't think this is gonna work out. My ex and I have been messaging the last little bit and we're gonna give it another shot. I just wanted to be up front with you. 

You read the text over and over several times. It takes you that long to understand what’s happening. When you do you call Sarah, but it goes straight to voicemail. Over and over. You’re panicked, tears sliding down your face. You need to see her. You need comfort.

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

You arrive at the Miller home shortly after eight, pounding on the door as you sob. You’re surprised when Joel answers the door in jeans and a t-shirt, looking like he’s just woke up from a nap with bleary eyes and his hair mussed.

“Fuck, I’m sorry to wake you up Mr. Miller,” you sniff, wiping at your wet eyes. “Is Sarah here? It’s important?”

“Are you okay?”

He must see the frantic way you’re looking around or the tears that stain your cheeks.

“Jeremy broke up with me,” you tell him without hesitation.

"I'm so sorry," Joel grimaces, rubbing at the back of his neck and the clear display of discomfort. "Fuck I wish Sarah was here for you, or even Angela. But they’re at that concert tonight."

That's right, the Bangles. 

"Fuck I'm so sorry I forgot," you say shaking your head. "I'll leave-"

"Hold on now, I'm not sure it's a great idea for you to be driving right now," Joel insists. "Why don't you come in for a glass a water and a chance to calm down a bit?"

Under normal circumstances, you would be embarrassed at taking up his time. But considering how emotionally wrung out you are right now, you simply nod and follow after him like a sad puppy. 

He sits you on the couch and joins you moments later, passing you a glass of water. You drink it shakily as Joel smooths hair hair, watching you all the while.

“I feel so embarrassed,” you tell him once the glass is drained. “Acting crazy.”

“I know what heartbreak feels like,” Joel confesses. “It can make you crazy.”

You smile shallowly and nod at him before looking at your lap. “I’m a fucking idiot for thinking he was into me.”

"That's nonsense," Joel insists, taking your chin in between his thumb and index finger. 

"It's true," you say with your voice wobbling. "I thought he loved me," 

You whimper, tears falling down your cheeks. You're surprised when Joel pulls you into his sturdy arms. 

"Aw honey," Joel says holding you and rocking you gently.

One large hand goes to cradle the back of your skull, the other around your waist. You dissolve into tears as you say the last word and Joel holds you tighter. You bring your arms up around his neck, holding him as you cry, feeling safe and protected in his muscled grip. 

"It's gonna be okay." 

"Why do people always say that? It's not going to be okay!"

You pull away from Joel sharply, burying your face in your hands. You feel as Joel's body comes to shuffle next to yours, the cushions dipping as he moves until you're thighs touch. 

"Honey---"

"Nothing is going to be okay again," you whimper, turning to face your friend’s father. Joel looks so anguished for you, his hand coming to cup your cheek gently. 

"I know it seems like that now but I promise you there's lots of men out there."

"None like Jeremy." Your face crumbles. "None that will love me like him."

Now it's you who throws yourself into Joel's arms, burying your face in his shoulder as you cry. He rocks you slowly, petting your hair as you tears soak his flannel. 

"He ain't the only guy in the world." 

"He was special. He thought I was beautiful."

"You are," Joel insists at your jaw, still rocking you gently. "You're so fucking beautiful and don't you forget it." 

His words rumble through his chest and you can't help but feel your body soften at them. You didn't realize how much you needed to hear them until right this moment. 

"Thank you Joel," you sniffle, kissing his cheek gently without thinking. 

You feel him stiffen a moment, registering what's just happened. But he doesn't pull away. He keeps holding you, arms tight. 

And the sting of Jeremy's rejection seems to dim. With Joel's arms wrapped around you it's almost like he's shielding you from all that. It makes you feel grateful, and it's not long before you’re overtaken with emotion. 

"Thank you for everything," you breathe against his jaw. "You're so understanding."

"Not a problem," Joel says in a thick voice. 

And suddenly something in the air changes as Joel loosens you in his grip. A quiet hum, a vibration, starting between the two of you. Your hand is on his hip now, mouth tilting towards his face. You see his dark eyes dart from your eyes to your mouth and back again. 

"You're always so kind to me," you whisper, not breaking his gaze. Joel's breathing deepens and you feel all resolve leave you. 

Your mouth goes to his, tentative and gentle and you attempt to kiss him. He immediately pulls back from you, eyes wide. 

"Hey whoa," he says, pushing you gently back by the shoulder. "What're you doin'?"

You don't answer. Instead your hands trail down his stomach, tripping over his belt and coming to slide over the growing bulge between his legs. 

"Something that we both want, I think." 

He hisses at the contact, trying to jerk out of your touch. 

"I don't," Joel says quickly. But he doesn't pull your hand off of where they rest over his jeans. 

You don't know if it's the rejection from Jeremy or because you're doing something so wrong, but you can't stop wanting to touch Joel. There's something intense about this grown man getting red in the face, his breathing quickening as he allows you hand to gently massage him through his pants. 

"You deserve to feel good, Joel," you whisper as your hand goes to his zipper. "Let me make you feel good."

Joel makes a murmur of protest as he watches your fingers dragging the zipper down. He seems shocked, as if his body won't obey his brain. He makes a noise of protest when you slide your hand underneath his boxers, feeling his cock twitch. 

Joel flinches when your fingertips slip under the band of his boxers and graze his bare cock. He knows it's wrong when you wrap those same fingers around his shaft, but he's so fucking hard. He can't remember the last time he was this hard.

"You gotta---" he starts, but the rest of his sentence becomes a tight hiss as you you take him out of his pants. You marvel at the size of him, your fingers unable to meet at the base when you pull him free of his boxers.

"So big."

Joel watches you gaze at his cock, muffling a groan as you tilt forward and let a bead of if saliva drop from your mouth onto the head of his twitching cock. When you give a short stroke down, coating him in your saliva he feels he has to say something. 

"I'm married," he says weakly.

"Shhh," you murmur against his bearded cheek. "Let me do this for you."

You make a whimpering groan at the sight of him, thick and the weeping. 

"Honey, I---" He's leaning back into the couch almost like he's trying to stop what's happening. 

"Shhhh," you soothe against his jaw once more. "Just enjoy it."

Your hand begins to stroke up his shaft, using his copious pre-cum to glide. He growls lowly, hips sliding back and forth. 

"Such a big cock," you murmur, watching your hand slide up his girthy length. Joel makes a strangled noise before breathing deeply. His gaze is locked on your hand watching it delicately slide along his straining cock.

Use your mouth. Use your fucking mouth. 

He hates that this thought comes to him as he watches his daughters college friend jerk him off. Hates that this will be played on loop in his mind for years to come. Hates that his marriage of twenty three years is about to be flushed away for twenty minutes of pleasure. 

But he doesn't hate it enough to stop. 

"This...Mmmm... Shouldn't be doing this," Joel groans. You squeeze the tip and his head falls back against the sofa. "Fuck, you gotta stop-"

But even as he says this, Joel's hips are jutting forward, urging your palm to slide over his length over and over. 

"You're such a good man, Joel. You deserve this," you murmur against his ear, tongue coming to gently trace the lobe. "You deserve to feel good." 

Joel watches your thumb circle the rosy head of his cock and he shudders. Pre-cum starts at the tip, beading there enticingly. 

"You deserve to come," your warm breath fans against his neck. "Don't you?"

His head jerks back against the couch, eyes slamming shut as his cock twitches in your hand. You can see him relenting, his body twitching. 

"I shouldn't be doing this," Joel pants, thrusting his cock between your fingers. 

"You should.” Your mouth begins sponging kisses to the underside of his jaw. "Keep going. Lemme make you come." 

Your wrist snaps as you jerk him off faster, the wet sounds of his flesh turning you on even more. You wonder if he'll fuck you if you try to mount him. 

"This is so fuckin' wrong," Joel pants, his hips thrusting harshly against your palm. He's grunting, his hips off the couch as he fucks into your hands. 

He's just saying words, no thought behind them. It's wrong but he doesn't fucking care. All he cares about is the steadily building orgasm that you're bringing forth with every twist of your wrist. 

Your eyes are fixed on his face, watching as Joel's mouth goes slack and his eyes crack open, trained on your hand around his cock. 

"Want more, Joel?" You purr against his jaw. "My mouth?" 

Joel breathes shallowly, eyes going from his cock to your mouth over and over. 

Your hand slides quicker and Joel gives a strangled groan when your head lowers. You tilt your face, meeting his gaze as your tongue comes out to lick the head of his cock long and slow. Joel nearly jumps out of his skin. 

"Fuck," Joel grunts, his cock twitching. He breathes shakily before his eyes seem to darken. "Do it again."

You flick your tongue against the mushroom head before suckling gently at the tip. Joel's eyes roll back as you do this, tasting the sweet tang of his precum.  

You pull off, lower lip grazing the head of his bobbing length. You watch as he grits his teeth and his eyes find yours. 

"You wanna fuck my mouth, Joel?"

It's like he remembers who you are and what this is because you see regret cross his features. 

"N-no," Joel grits out with a wild flail of his head. "Gone far enough. This is---"

He's denying it, trying so hard to move back from you but you know he's close, the head of his cock is mauve and it twitches in your grip.  

"Would feel so good," you croon, tongue starting to circle the bulbous head once more. Joel is groaning, his hands in tight fists at his side. "I know you wanna fuck my mouth."

Joel is trying so hard not to give in. He tries to remind himself that you're his daughter’s friend, that he's happily married, that he isn't this kind of guy. But you’re so fucking sexy right now, desperate for his cock in a way his wife hasn't been for years. 

You swallow the first inch of him and he groans low and loud, his hips twitching. You pull him out slowly before you glance up at him, the throbbing head of his cock slick against your wet lower lip. 

"When's the last time you fucked someone's mouth, Joel?" You tease, and he sees the mirth in your eyes when he all but whimpers in reply. 

Joel's head is thrown back, a ragged sigh escaping him. He shouldn't want this, he shouldn't let you keep going.  

But then you take the length of him in your mouth, almost gagging at the thickness of him, and all coherent thought leaves him. 

You bob up and down on his length, eyes closing in bliss. Joel is carding his hands through your hair as you suck him off. 

"Fuck, take it deeper," he rumbles, and you feel his large palm on the back of your head, pushing. "Swallow it." 

"Yeash shur," you manage through a mouthful of cock.  

Joel can't hold back, he starts to thrust up into your throat, grunting as he fucks it. You hold onto his thighs, eyes watering as the bulbous head slips further and further. 

When you sputter you feel Joel come back to himself, gripping you by the back of your heck and pulling you off of him. You whine in protest as you sit back up, the sight of Joel's hard cock, still glossy with your saliva between you. 

“You need to stop.”

Joel watches transfixed as go to a stand beside the couch between his parted legs. He makes a sound almost pained as he watches you slide your fingers under your dress, tugging down and stepping out of your lace panties.

He just stays rigid when you crawl into his lap. You slide your wet slit along his cock, feeling as sharp huffs of air escape him. You feel heavy with power, your mouth going to his ear. 

"When's the last time you fucked college pussy, Joel?"

You smile when you hear the strangled sound escape him. You can see he's soaked with pre-cum, a shiny sticky collection wetting the coarse hairs at the base of his shaft. His eyes are stuck on the seam of your pussy teasing the head of his cock.

"It's okay to like it," you promise him. "It's okay to want this."

"I wanna put it in," Joel grunts. 

Your mouth is at his ear, warm and husky.

“Put it in.”

Joel groans and you feel his thick fingers start to squeeze your hips. He's not inside you yet, but he's so thick and warm against your pussy lips. He’s hypnotized, urging your pussy down, desperate to feed his cock into you.

“I need it," he whispers in a daze.

"You can have it," you encourage, breathlessly as you watch him grip his cock and guide it to your waiting hole.

"This is so fucking bad," Joel groans, half aroused, half disgusted with himself as he begins to feed his cock into your twitching pussy.  

You grin, fingers digging into his shoulders when the bulbous head breeches your entrance.

“Tell me to stop,” he almost begs but you shake your head.

“You deserve this,” you say. “Deserve to fuck my tight pussy.”

You’re married. You have a kid. This is fucking wrong.

All those worries are gone the second the head of his cock feels the velvet clench of your cunt. He can’t look away from where you’re both connected. Without warning he sheaths himself deeply, watching your brows crumple as you take him to the hilt. Joel watches your pussy swallowing his cock, knowing how fucking wrong it is and hating how he has no intention of stopping.

"I fuckin’ deserve this," he pants out, watching your tits bounce as you slide along his length. You ride him well, experienced, full of energy. He can’t remember the last time Angela rode him like this, like his cock was everything.

“Yes you fucking do,” you groan out, bouncing in his lap. He grips you tightly, fucking into you like you’re a human flesh-light.

He does deserve this. He works hard, he’s a good father, a loving husband. He’s never done anything like this before. Would never dream of fucking a girl who’s been over at his house for months, who’s never appealed to him like this until this very moment. A girl who’s tits jump with every thrust of his cock, whose wet mouth forms a lurid ‘O’ when he hits a particularly good spot. He deserves to have you ride him here in his house, a desperate, needy fuck.

Joel feels everything in him tightening as he watches you peel the dress off your body, tossing it over your shoulder and he sees you’ve forgone a bra this evening, letting the rhythmic slap of his cock up into you make them jiggle enticingly. You sit there naked, riding his cock with no shame or hesitation.

“You feel so good,” you tell him through a groan, your eyes falling shut.

He feels his balls contract when you start to cup your breasts, pinching the nipples as your head falls back. Joel can’t help but dart forward, latching onto your breast and laving at the taut nipple. You moan as he continues to fuck you, pausing when he grips your wrist.

“Make yourself cum,” He orders, forcing your hand between your legs. “Soak me.”

You nod doing as he says, rubbing your swollen clit for barely any time at all before you shuddering.

“Gonna cum,” you moan, head tilting back once more.

Your hands fly behind you, gripping onto his knees. Joel can see everything, see’s how your clit rubs against his shaft and your thighs shake.

"Fuckin' do it sweetheart," he croaks. "Fuckin' soak my cock."

He holds your hips again, entranced at how you slide up and down him, your arousal seeping down into the curled hairs at the base of his cock as you cum. He watches all of this in amazement, his breathing shallow and rapid.

You pull yourself back, your pussy fucking drenched as you slowly continue to pump yourself up and down on him. He’s still so hard, aching and desperate for release. He casts a feral smile at you.

“Keep fuckin’ yourself on it,” he tells you.

 You nod and he watches your plump mouth curl into a smile.

"You wanna fuck me full of your cum, daddy?"  

Without warning Joel suddenly goes rigid.

You think he's going to come but instead he's red-faced and gripping your waist. He pulls you off of him, his cock still hard and throbbing, slick from your earlier release. He shakes his head, panting.

"Fuck. No. We gotta stop."

"But---"

"This ain't right," Joel insists, tucking himself still hard back into his jeans with shaking fingers as you arch up. 

"But I want to."

"And if you keep going I'm not gonna be able to stop you," Joel lets out a shaky laugh, unsmiling as he tilts down to grab your dress. He passes it to you politely averting his eyes; as if this belated gesture means anything after all he’s done and seen. You frown.  

"Joel."

"I'm married and you're Sarah's friend. If that wasn't enough, I'm also two decades older than you."

"I like older men," you insist, trying to swing your thigh over his. Joel stops you, hand pressing you back gently. 

"You're too young to know what you want," Joel says sharply. 

"That's not true."

Joel surveys your face for a moment, concern softening the edges of his expression. 

"You just got dumped by the boy you love. You’re not thinking properly."

"No," you shake your head. "That's not it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," you say, hands reaching for his zipper again. "I just want this."

Joel shakes his head gently, fingers gripping your wrist and pulling you off of him firmly. 

"Honey you gotta stop," he says, taking your hand and placing it back in your lap. "This ain't you." 

You don't like how Joel is looking at you, like he's peeling your skin from your body, peering in to see what he shouldn't. 

"I could make you feel so good," you promise him, hand coming to palm him through his jeans once more. "Our little secret."

You see his resolve waver before his hand grabs your wrist, pulling you off of him.  He's looking at you with concern, with compassion. With pity. It makes the sting of his rejection more potent. You pull on your dress now, feeling the first pangs of humiliation starting.

"You need to go, honey. Right now." 

Now that the moment is sobering you feel a flash of panic.

"Are you gonna tell Sarah?"

"No." Joel shakes his head. "I'm not gonna tell anyone. But I think maybe you shouldn't come around here for the next little bit." 

"I understand," you say staggering to a stand. He walks you to the door in awkward silence. He opens the door and then he finally speaks.

"You are a beautiful, smart woman. Don't let one idiot make you forget." 

You eyes grow misty and you give a shallow nod before turning. 

"Thank you, Joel."

[moosesarecute]

You’re bleeding

15 years old

You had been out flying, feeling the air in your hair. It was finally nice weather in Windhaven and you didn’t waste one second. You woke up, ate breakfast with your family, hurried to do your lessons and then immediately went flying.

You took your usual route. Above the trees, towards north, then towards west, before you went south-east and towards your home. You had been flying for an hour, but you were still quite far away from home, when you suddenly felt intense pain in your lower stomach.

You became dizzy and lost control. You hadn’t even realized you were falling before you hit the top of the highest tree.

You fell in between all the branches, but luckily managed to take some control back before you hit the ground. That was before you felt another pain in your stomach and you fell the last meters to the ground.

It took some time for you to get back on your feet. You had small cuts on your arm and face, but luckily your wings seemed unharmed. Most of all you felt embarrassed.

You knew that if some of the Illyrian boys saw you lose control in such a manner, they would never let you forget it. You already had a hard time making friends in Windhaven, you didn’t want to make it worse for yourself.

You curled together on the ground as another cramp spread through your body. Within seconds you also started to smell the blood.

You had started your first cycle. And you were alone, in the middle of the illyrian woods.

You realized to had to hurry home so that no one would find and hurt you.

With one foot in front of the other you started to walk home. You had to stop every other minute when the pain became too unbearable, but you tried your best to move as swiftly as possible.

You felt like you had walked forever. Your back was killing you, your legs hurt and your stomach felt like it was going to fall apart.

But none of that mattered, because you were home.

With three slow steps you walked up the stairs to your home. You carefully opened the door and walked in.

All you needed now was a bath and your mother’s comforting embrace. Then all would be better. At least that’s what you told yourself.

However as you walked into the living room, you were not met by your mother, but rather your brother’s best friend. Unfortunately for you, it was not the friend you looked upon as another brother, of course not, that would have been too big of a favor from the cauldron. It was of course the friend you had a massive crush on, Azriel.

“This can’t be happening,” you muttered to yourself and made your way towards the stairs.

“What do you mean?” Azriel asked you and you felt your face turn red.

“Nothing,” you answered quickly and tried to get up the stairs.

Note the word “tried”.

You took two steps and a new cramp, worse than any of the previous ones, spread from your stomach to your back and legs, making you fall down the stairs.

“Shit,” you heard Azriel say and you soon felt his arms helping you stand. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

You looked into his worried eyes and deep down you knew that he only wanted to help you, but you felt more embarrassed than you ever had before.

In only one day you had managed to crash into a tree and fall down the stairs. Everyone must think you’re a fool.

“Are you in there?” Azriel carefully waved a hand in front of your face.

“I’m fine,” you answered with an awkward laugh. “You clumsy me.” You did a hand movement to emphasize your clumsiness. “This moment is going to hunt me for the rest of my life.” you thought.

The way Azriel was looking at you made you understand that he didn’t believe you at all.

That’s when you started to realize how awful you surely looked. You looked down on your arms and some of the deepest cuts were still healing. And even though you felt like you were drenched in blood, you wore dark pants, so you couldn’t see the blood. However that didn’t mean you couldn’t smell it.

“You’re bleeding,” Azriel stated.

You’re sure your cheeks were as red as the blood between your legs when you turned around, out of Azriel’s helping arms, and carefully made your way into the bathroom.

You had just laid down into bed after a long and warm bath when you heard a knock on your door.

Knowing that it was Azriel, since you hadn’t heard anyone else come home, you chose to not answer.

“Rhys is on his way home. He tried to contact your mother, but she is in an important meeting in Velaris with your father. It will be a few hours before she comes home.” He took a break. “I’m leaving some stuff here if you need anything. Or you can just ask if you want something else.”

You heard him set something down and then he walked back down the stairs.

It took you over a minute to even get out of bed. You felt dizzier and more exhausted than earlier and the pain was now constant.

Carefully, you opened the door. You didn’t want him to know home helpless you were and you thought that if he didn’t hear you, he would never know.

What you saw almost made you cry.

On a big plate you had two different types of chocolate, a pain tonic, your current book, a bowl of your mother’s soup and a cup of your favorite tea. In the middle of the plate was a note where it stood in beautiful handwriting “you need to eat something before you can take the pain tonic, if you want it of course”.

Beside the plate stood a few different period products.

You took everything into your room and suddenly the pain felt more bearable.

You woke up to the sound of your bedroom door closing. You had eaten the soup and taken the tonic and not even minutes after the tonic started to work, you had fallen asleep.

“Mind if I join you?” Your brother asked you.

You only nodded.

Your brother laid down beside you and held his arms around you in a careful embrace.

“How are you feeling?”

“Everything hurts,” you said with a whimper. “And I’m so cold.”

He tightened his embrace a little, but lifted one of his hands and held it to your forehead.

“Seems like you’re running a little hot as well.”

“I feel awful,” was all you managed to respond.

“I know, little one, I know.”

Your brother kept you company and soon both of you had fallen asleep.

Hours later, your mother came home.

“Where’s Rhysand and Y/N?” She asked Cassian and Azriel who currently were the only two in the living room.

“Up in her room I think,” Cassian said.

Your mother walked up the stairs and slowly opened the door to your bedroom.

She had to hold back tears as she saw her son and daughter sleeping, knowing that they would always take care of each other, even if she wasn’t there.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

430 years old

“What’s going on with y/n?” Azriel asked as soon as Rhys answered his mental calls.

He was out on a small mission and his mate had silenced the bond. You didn’t even answer when he tugged.

“She didn’t show up to our meeting,” Rhys said. “I haven’t been able to go check on her yet.”

“I’m coming home,” Azriel told his brother and put up his mental shields.

When you didn’t open the door when he knocked, Rhys became even more worried.

He slowly opened the door to your cottage and walked in. Everything seemed to be in order, so he calmed down a little.

“Y/N? Are you here?”

You didn’t answer.

Rhys made his way up the stairs and found the door to you and Azriel’s bedroom. He knocked on the door.

“Come in,” you answered.

When he heard the tone of your voice, Rhys immediately knew something was wrong.

He opened the door and immediately smelled the smell of blood.

“I’m sorry I missed the meeting, Rhysie. I didn’t realize I fell asleep again,” you explained to your brother.

“Can I get you anything?” Rhys asked with a worried look.

“I’m fine, I just need some more sleep.”

“Okay…but call for me if you need anything. Or want anything. I’ll get it for you.”

Rhys left the room and immediately reached out to your mate.

“She started her cycle,” he said. “I asked her if she needed anything, but she said no. What can I get her?”

Azriel cursed to himself. His mate’s cycles were never regular. This one came only 5 months after the last one. He hated that he wasn’t there for her.

Azriel told Rhys what he usually does when you are on your cycle.

“I’m on it,” Rhys answered and began looking around.

You woke to your bedroom door closing once more. Slowly, you sat up and saw your brother standing with a tray of two types of chocolate, a pain tonic, a new book, some soup and a cup of tea.

“You have to eat before you can take the tonic,” your brother said. “It should give some pain relief and lower your fever, according to Madja.”

He sat the tray down on your lap and you immediately started to eat the soup. You needed the pain tonic as fast as possible.

“Thanks, Rhysie,” you said in between spoonfuls.

Your brother stayed as long as he could, before he had to go back to being High Lord.

Azriel entered your bedroom and sat down on your bed. He had flown the fasted he could to get home to you.

He started to move some of your hair away from your face as a way to carefully wake you up.

“Hi,” he said as soon you opened your eyes. “Mind if I join you?”

You nodded and he soon laid down next to you. You moved closer to him and he embraced you with both his arms and wings.

“You took the tonic?” He asked and you again only nodded as an answer. “Not feeling any better I guess?”

“Everything hurts,” you told him and you felt his embrace tightened a little. His hand moved to your lower stomach and the other one started to brush through your hair.

Your mate’s small actions made you feel a little better and sleep found you easier than before.

You found comfort in knowing that you always had someone to take care of you.

[lcriedlastnight]

Can you write a scenario with Oscar and reader where one of them confesses their feelings while being drunk? Maybe you can also add the next day when their both sober

i love these types of fics! tyvm anon. you are the best ever!

tw: fem!reader, alcohol, bad writing?, lmk if you want me to add anything.

w/c: 2k

george has been saying that you have been dancing around your feelings for years. was he right? yes. but that doesn't matter because who in their right mind confesses their love to their friends, friend? because that is really what you and oscar were to each other. friends of friends and you were happy with it staying like that. you would take that over no oscar any day.

george said that he only wanted to help so he sent you oscar's number. you had never, ever used it and you never intended to. george said it was the best way to 'shoot you shot'. you thought he was getting too old for all of this, especially because he was already in a long-term relationship.

george had invited you out with him and his girlfriend, carmen, for a few drinks one weekend when there was no race on. you had agreed because you loved them both and it never felt like you were third wheeling when you were with them. because it’s george, you had all ended up at a club.

you really didn't know how you ended up this drunk. you weren't 'this is so near alcohol poisoning' drunk, you were more 'slurring your words and making decisions you will regret in the morning' drunk. you and carmen danced together on the dance floor while carmen had forced george to get the next round of drinks, even though he had bought the previous round too. "he's the rich f1 driver, not us!" she had shouted in your ear over the music, making you giggle.

as george finds you both with your next round of drinks you decide to sit down for a little while. you sip your drink as you scroll through your phone. this innocent action somehow sparks an evil idea in george's mind.

"you should text oscar!" george shouts, like you wanted everyone in the club to know about your crush. you roll your eyes at his words and look to carmen for support.

she shrugs. "i mean if it goes wrong you can blame it on the drinks and forget it even happened." her words did make sense in your brain. they both look at you in anticipation, george looking like he's going to shit himself with how excited he is.

"okay calm down george. what should i even say?" you ask, your brain too drunk to think of a question. you get opposite answers from them both. carmen says to just tell him you fancy him while george said to build up to it. you go with carmen's idea just to piss george off.

'hey oscar,' you start, telling him who you are in because he probably didn't have your number or have it saved. 'just wwnatef to let you know tjay i like touor whatver' is what you end up sending. you definitely should have gotten one of them to check it before you did, but too late now. you slam your phone down and pick up your drink, throwing it down your throat. you then make george buy you another one because you were going to loose your friendship (if you could even call it that) with oscar.

you give george your phone when you and carmen decide to drag him onto the dance floor because he has pockets. your phone vibrates like someone's calling you in george's pocket three times before he realises that it is because someone is calling you.

"someone is ringing your phone in my pocket!" george shouts, handing you your phone. you roll your eyes at his wording. you point to the doors to tell them where you were going as you answer the call without looking at the caller id.

"hello?" you voice into the phone, wading through the crowd on the dance floor on stumbly feet. "fucking hell, watch where you're going you arsehole!" you shout to the man who barged into you. you hear mumbling from the other end of the phone but it's too loud to hear who they are or what they're saying.

"hold on, i'm trying to get out of this stupid club. stupid fucking idiot george's fault." you blame george even though it is not george’s fault, you like blaming him.

you finally make it outside. you lean against the wall of the club and speak into the phone again. "hi i can hear now."

nothing prepared you for hearing oscar piastri's voice down the phone. if you were sober right now, you would be stumbling over your words so hard right now.

"hi osc! what's up?" you ask down the phone, giving him a nickname in your drunk state.

"are you okay? you texted me that you liked me? i didn't even know you had my number." oscar is concerned on the other end of the phone, for some reason. in your state you are confused as to why.

"i am, yeah. are you? why did you call?" you ask him, voice slurring around your words a little.

the line is quiet as you sway on your feet a little. "i was worried. i'm alright now though, love." oscar replies down the line.

it's your turn to quiet now. "did you get my text, when i said i liked you? carmen told me to do it. george said to ease you into but i did what carmen said to piss off george." you giggle drunkenly down the phone to him. you were going to be embarrassed in the morning, oscar was almost sure of it.

"i did get your text, yeah. i was a little confused though but i understand now. are you with george and carmen now?" oscar's voice is significantly calmer and softer than before, not that you notice.

"not right now. they're inside. i came outside because it was too loud to hear. and this man just walked right into me! i shouted at him, osc don't worry." you ramble as the wind picks up a little. you hear another familiar voice in the mix of oscar's.

"oh wait, sorry for interupting but george is here!" you tell oscar.

"this is where you went! we've been looking for you." george admits as he comes closer, forgetting you were on the phone.

"i literally pointed to the door to tell you where i was going." you tell him, like he was stupid.

george laughs, clearly a lot less drunk than you were. "no you didn't you pointed to the bar." your smug expression falls.

"oh" you reply, oscar letting out a little laugh from the other end of the phone. it reminds you that he's there. "george, oscar called me! he said he got my text." you tell the brit next to you giddily.

"that's amazing but you should maybe say bye to oscar so we can go inside and book a taxi to get us home." george speaks to you like a father talking to his teenage daughter. you whine in response.

"can't i just wait out here and stay on the phone with him?" you beg, not wanting to hang up even though you weren't really letting oscar get a word in edgeways. george shakes his head while oscar stays quiet. "it's too cold, say bye to oscar." he says taking your phone off of you.

"bye, oscar. love you." you mumble out to him sadly. he can't help but laugh at your sad voice.

"night, sweet girl. stay warm f'me yeah?" oscar replies, voice sweet like honey. it has you smiling like a kid in a sweet shop. george rolls his eyes. you giggle as george forces you into the arms of carmen, who you didn't even notice was standing there. you almost fall into her arms as george talks to oscar.

"sweet girl, huh?" george takes the chance to tease oscar about his affection for you. oscar grumbles out a "shut up."

"when are you going to tell her? she's told you." george asks, never missing a chance to get involved in someone else's drama. especially relationship drama. oscar sighs at his words, thinking them over.

"i'll go see her tomorrow, i'm sure she'll need a hand getting over her hangover." oscar comments, his mind stuck on your well being tonight.

george says his goodbye's then hands you back your phone as you all head inside and wait for the taxi.

that's the last thing you remember from last night and if you were being honest.. you wished you stopped remembering earlier in the night because why on earth did you tell oscar multiple times that you liked him. and then there was the end of the phone call when you told him you loved him. you did not know that you loved him. not until last night apparently.

you are currently laying in your bed, guessing that george and carmen had helped you into bed last night. you are still wearing your dress from last night and your curtains are still open, which was what woke you up this morning. you can never usually sleep long when you have been drinking but it was worse time with light beaming in through the window, your own personal alarm.

you sit up on your bed, your dress wasn't the only thing from last night you still had on, your face smudged with remnants of your once perfect makeup and your hair.. well it looked like you had been dragged through a hedge backwards, to put it lightly.

you aren't expecting a knock at your door so when you hear the chap! chap! chap!, you groan and pull yourself out the bed and to the door. the last person you expect to be standing at the other side is oscar piastri so when you see him standing there, flowers in one hand a plastic bag in the other and that stupid, pretty smile on his face you do the only thing you can do. you slam the door in his face.

you rush around in circles panicking. how could he be here after last night? and right when you woke up looking like you were just resurrected from the dead last night? god no. this was not happening.

"sweetheart?" oh this was so not happening. this has to be a dream. this is no universe where oscar sees you like this after you've already embarrassed yourself in front of him and still comes to see you with flowers, and fucking petnames?! no way.

"can y'let me in? you must be feeling horrid right now, 'just wanna make you feel better. please?" oscar begs through the door. why was he begging to see you like this?

"can you come back later? i don't look good right now." you ask oscar, your voice hoarse from not using it all morning.

"i have painkillers and that flavoured water you like. george told you liked it after drinking too much." oscar tells you, he has gone all shy now, nervous you won't let him.

there is a sound that sounds like feet shuffling then the locks click in the door, opening it. you hide behind it, only showing half your face. oscar smiles. "hey." he smiles.

"hi. you can come in but you need to sit on the couch while i sort myself out. promise you won't look." you ask him, quiet, like you are embarrassed.

oscar swears he won't look, his eyes closed as you guide him through to your couch, your soft hand in his giving him goosebumps.

once oscar is sat on the couch he only waits five minutes before you are returning with a clean face, brushed and tied back hair and an oversized t-shirt on. his hand with the flowers extends out to you, reminding you of them, a small smile on his face.

you smile back "thank you. that's very nice of you." you tell him, searching for a vase. you give up and end up putting them inside a a glass drinking cup filled with water.

"it's to tell you that i also like you." oscar utters, almost to himself. your smile becomes wider.

"really?" you ask.

oscar only nods.

oscar stays for the rest of the day helping you nurse your hangover. he even nips out to the shops to get you more of that flavoured water you like.

[star--nymph]

I think people forget with Cullen, and characters like Cullen, that indoctrination is a thing. We're lucky to live in an age where we have a surplus of access to resources that allow us to think critically on the structures around us, to the point where we overlook that most people won't and haven't. Cullen was raised in a backwater village where the main educators and leaders were Templars. He was likely taught scripture by Chantry Sisters, he possibly learned to read and write through them. From the day he was born, he was being taught to love and obey the Chantry with out question--and the Chantry teaches that Templars are a force of good.

So I ask you, how the hell was Cullen, at eight or thirteen years old, going to learn about the crimes of Templars? How was he going to unlearn propaganda that was fed him to him every day by people he respected and possibly loved? How was he supposed to be aware that this idolized image of Templars being the saviors of the people and even mages was a lie?

And then he gets shipped off, happily, to be trained a Templar. Again, he's put into this position where he's fed nothing but propaganda. He doesn't get a real taste of the Order being corrupted until he's out in Kinloch and he's not sure what the hell to do because what he's seeing isn't jiving with what he's been taught for nearly two decades. So yeah, he tries to justify it, he tries to have his cake and eat it too by reasoning that mages should be treated like people but also the Order wouldn't lie to him, so they must be right to act like this. The Maker always had a plan, right?

If Cullen had been lucky, maybe he could have realized earlier on that the Order was abusing mages, that he had been tricked, he could have gotten out and unlearned the bigotry that was planted inside him.

But then BAM! the Broken Circle happened and I don't see how no one gets how perfect this is for the Order? They now have a templar that is so traumatized by mages, he will literally do and say anything to justify their abuses because now? Now he's afraid.

And remember, after Origins, Cullen becomes so erratic, he has to be sent off to a Chantry to 'even him out'--where he was more than likely manipulated even further by the Chantry to be this blood thirsty agent for them. When he's shipped to Kirkwall, they could have not delivered to Meredith a better second in command.

So yeah, is it really surprising that he says shit like 'mages aren't people like you and me' when we meet him in Kirkwall? Man is sleep depraved by the looks of him, swallowing all Meredith's frenzied rhetoric on blood mages, he's seeing for himself the damage these mages are doing, he's isolated from his family, he has no actual friends, and he's living with C-PTSD among other issues. Even under the best of conditions, none of what he says or does in DA2 is surprising when you put it all together.

And yet, the man still had enough of that idealistic child left in him to realize see that Meredith was going off the deep end and that he should be protecting the mages. That's text. That's in World of Thedas. The reason why Cullen is able to turn on Meredith in the end is because he was able to see, even clouded by his fear and hatred, that what she was doing was wrong.

And all this isn't to excuse Cullen's wrongs. It's weird how every time someone brings up Cullen's history, it's assumed that it's just a justification for his actions. It's not, it's an an explanation. Cullen was a victim of the Order that became an abuser, a tool, and he is responsible for his actions.

But the thing is, by DAI, Cullen is well aware of his sins and he actively works to better himself by leaving the Order and getting off lyrium (which for most people is a death sentence). People can argue all day about whether or not Cullen's arc in DAI redeems him or was satisfying, or if he did enough to 'prove' that he was sorry or--good god--does he deserve redemption in the first place (which is such a Catholic way of looking at shit by the way; no one 'deserves' redemption; you do it to be better or you fucking don't) but the fact is that Cullen says that he wants to be better, that he sees the Order as--at the very least--flawed.

That, yes, he's still unlearning all the bigotry he held as a younger man and he's ashamed that he was like that to begin with.

You can hate him all you like, and whatever, but Cullen's story--intentionally or not--is about a man born into an oppressive society, raised to uphold its beliefs, used and abused by it, and then awakening to those lies and trying to free himself from those beliefs so he could be a better person.

And sometimes I genuinely wonder if the reason so many people hate Cullen is because they themselves might have dealt with something similar in our own oppressive society where they also had to unlearn harmful bigotry and maybe, just maybe, he hits too close to home.

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

Pity Party | p. 2

Carmy Berzatto x gn!reader

Masterlist Part One

Summary: Carmy takes you home, but you find yourself not ready to go yet

Word Count: ~3k

Warnings: Swearing, kissing, some mushiness, fluff, possibly incorrect info about cars

A/n: hi. I’m sorry for taking a million years on this. and I’m sorry it’s not longer. Thank you to anyone that read the first part and shared their interest <3 and thank you for reading this one. You all are the best

“Holy shit,” you said, food still in your mouth and hand wrapped around the taco. Your wide eyes glanced up to Carmy’s.

“Right?” He swallowed down his bite before grinning, his head bobbing up and down in an approving nod.

You’d replaced the claustrophobic party with a small taqueria that, despite the occasional yelling between the front person and cooks, was much more peaceful. It had too few people in it for how good the food tasted, but you wouldn’t complain about the lack of noise or drunken singing.

“All the dishes were created by Rosa. She owned this food truck back when I was a kid — way before she could open up this place. If you come back–”

“When I come back,” you corrected.

“When you come back,” he said with a grin, “Their shredded beef is top shit. She spends hours getting it just right. Or the nachos. Even their fucking nachos are insane.”

You laughed, suddenly wishing you’d ordered nachos — maybe if you had more time here. As you ate, you listened to Carmy continue telling you about the restaurant and Rosa and how the tastes come together just right. You didn’t think you’d ever thought that hard about food before, but you just listened to him explain.

Well, mostly. Sometimes you watched his eyes light up as he spoke. Or you focused on the smooth way his mouth formed around the words.

“Sorry, this can get annoying,” he said after a minute of explaining the flavor profile of the tres leches cake a past restaurant he’d worked at had, and how it was a twist on Rosa’s tres leches cake he’d had as a kid.

But you shook your head, your expression dropping into a frown at his sudden cynicism. “No, no. Keep going,” you offered, hoping your tone sounded as sincere as you felt. “It’s fascinating stuff. Does Rosa know that she inspired you?”

You kept asking him questions. Most of it was to feed your interest, but part of it was to hear him keep talking.

Taking a sip of water, you washed down the different flavors of the taco. “Thank you again for taking me here. You’re a two-time lifesaver now,” you said with a tired but grateful laugh. Your eyes glanced down to your phone, seeing that Richie gave a thumbs up to your message saying you got a ride home from Carmy.

“Course. And thanks again for paying,” he said with an almost incredulous laugh. “Though I still can’t believe you paid the guy before I could see what you were doing.”

You nodded, happily chewing. It was the least you could do since he saved your night from complete disaster. “You can grab food the next time you drive me home from a party while I’m covered in beer.”

“Christ, I hope that doesn’t happen again for your sake.” He wiped his hands on a napkin, balling it up onto his plate. He gestured a finger toward you, saying, “The guy that spilled on you sounded like a total douche.”

A smile broke out across your face as you swallowed down a bite. “He was. He had the ugliest polo and cargo short combo I’ve ever seen doing the grossest hip thrusts I’ve ever seen with a full cup. And that wasn’t even the worst part!” You couldn’t contain the giggles popping up through your words now. “I looked back at him while walking away — from the most half-assed apology I’d ever heard — and saw his toe shoes… The fucker was wearing toe shoes!”

Carmy almost spit out his water, choking on it as you spoke. When he finally recovered, he shook his head, saying, “Nah, you’re fucking with me. There’s no way.” His grin went wide as he laughed harder.

“No, I’m 100% serious. I nearly ran into someone cause I couldn’t take my eyes off of them — like a goddamn trainwreck or something.”

You relished in the sound of his laughter, letting it replace the image of that guy’s horrible footwear.

“Christ, that’s horrible.”

“You’re telling me,” you muttered, finishing up your food. Standing, you held out a hand for his plate. You threw away the trash, stacking the plates in a dish bin with the remnants of laughter stuck to you. By the time you came back to the table, Carmy was standing and putting his jacket back on.

He stared at you for a second, and you couldn’t read the look in his eyes. You smiled nonetheless. He just said, “Ready?”

“Yes,” you breathed out. It didn’t feel as cold walking to the van this time with a full stomach and being next to Carmy. The tender fuzziness wrapped throughout your body didn’t wane until after a few miles of driving. On a side road meant to take you to the freeway back into the city, the car began to lurch. Your gaze slid over to Carmy as the van gradually slowed.

You found his expression sinking into a frown as he pulled off onto the shoulder. The skin of his knuckle stretched taut, his hands gripping the wheel tight. Parked, he shut the car off and tried turning it back on. Your stomach sank when a click-click-click sound hit your ears.

His fingers firmly wrapped around the car keys stuck into the ignition. He tried turning them again, which only produced that clicking sound once more. One final try, a hail mary as you held your breath, as he tried again. But you let out a half sigh when the engine kept turning over.

He slumped back into his seat, his hand dropping from the keys to lie beside his leg. “Fuck…” he breathed out, wiping the other hand across his forehead and along his hairline.

You opened your mouth, hoping to say something helpful, but nothing worked its way past the worry lining your throat. So you pressed your lips back together. You just nodded when he told you, “Let me see if I can look under the hood,” and made his way to the front of the van. Your eyes flitted between looking at the way his face wrinkled as he felt for the hood release and your fingers picking at your nails.

Flickers of the flashlight from Carmy’s phone passed from either side of the popped hood. A few minutes later, your eyebrows rose expectantly at him as soon as he came back. “What’s the prognosis?” you asked.

He sighed while closing the door, glancing to you. “It’s been a while since I’ve worked on cars, but there’s definitely a leak. With how hot it felt under there, I’d guess it’s the coolant.”

You breathed out, your eyebrows sinking into a disappointed frown. “So a tow truck it is.”

“Yeah…” he said, “I’m sorry, let me- I’ll order you a ride.” His words sounded defeated as he fished out his phone from his jean pocket.

“Oh, you don’t…” The words slipped past your lips before you could register what you were saying — before you could recognize the sharp feelings in your chest that sparked the words. Carmy turned to look at you, his attention fixed on the end of your sentence. Beneath his stare, you found it hard to think much beyond how much you weren’t ready for the night to end.

Clearing your throat, you slowly said, “You don’t have to do that. I could, um, wait with you.” With your heart beating against your ribs, you added, “I mean, if you wouldn’t mind me sticking around.”

His finger paused, hovering over his phone screen. After a beat, the corner of his mouth lifted into a hesitant smile. “Uh, no. ‘f course not,” he said. “But it could be awhile before a truck gets here.”

Smiling, you shrugged. “Okay.”

And you watched him nod as a bigger smile spread across his face, like sunshine sneaking through the crack of a door. Your gaze flitted around the van’s interior and the dark side of the road while he called the towing company. But your attention was back on him when he hung up.

A small sigh accompanied his words. “They said it could be an hour. Maybe more.”

“Okay, well,” you started but paused, feeling warm all over. You hadn’t quite thought this far ahead. And now, in the soft silence of the van, his attention sat entirely on you. Quickly, you glanced into the back of the van, eyeing all of the boxes that sat there. With a slight grin, you continued, “Well now that we have some time to kill, I have to ask what’s all back here.”

Carmy shifted, looking to the back as well. “God, sorry about the mess. Most of it’s just supplies for The Beef… And Richie’s stupid fucking shirts for the restaurant.”

Your eyebrows raised. “Well shirts aren’t so bad. They can be good advertising for–”

“They say ‘The Original Berf.’”

“Oh.” You let out a small laugh, which grew with each breath because of course they said that. The way Carmy shook his head only furthered your giggling. Eventually, once your laughter died down, you eyed the back again. “How many shirts are in there?”

He looked back again, reaching a hand back to flip up the top of a box behind your seat. “Uh, maybe 20? Why?”

Pursing your lips, you asked, “Do you think there’s a shirt my size in there?” And at Carmy’s laugh, your mouth pulled into a smile.

“Let me see…”

He stretched toward the back, his hand gripping the side of your seat. With his body just a few inches away, waves of warmth rolled off of him. Your eyes couldn’t help trailing the curls of his hair or the dips and wrinkles of his sweater around his body.

When the rustling stopped, and your gaze elsewhere, he finally pulled back with a dark navy shirt in his hands. “Here you go.”

Giving a quiet, “Thank you,” you unfolded the shirt and held it up. It looked to be about your size, so you began unbuckling your seatbelt. “Um, could you– I mean, do you mind?” you asked, holding the shirt close to you, unsure of how to ask him to give you privacy in the car.

Thankfully, he got the message and turned the other way. “Yeah, yeah. Just, uh, let me know if it doesn’t fit.”

Hesitantly, your fingers wrapped around the hem of your shirt. You briefly relished in the feeling of finally taking off your beer-stained shirt, enjoying the air from the car’s vents against your skin. You pulled down the new shirt and said, “Okay, you’re good to look.”

You shifted it this way and that until it felt right. As you looked down and read that it did indeed read “The Original Berf,” another laugh slipped from your mouth.

You looked at Carmy as he said, “Richie calls it a collector’s item.”

“Of course he does,” you muttered with a grin. The feeling of a dry, smell-free shirt had you thanking him again. “This might bring you up to saving me three times tonight.” You turned to look at him, the left side of your body resting against the back of your seat. Your head tilted, leaning into the headrest.

“Well, you’re spending tonight waiting for a tow truck with me, so I’d say we’re about even.”

You let out a quiet hum, pursing your lips. “If we’re even… then could I ask you a favor?”

He was now turned toward you, his head tilted the same way. His hands sat in his lap, his fingers fidgeting every couple of seconds. Yet his expression looked almost calm as he said, “Yeah, anything.”

–

So there you both were, lying on the hood of his van looking up at the stars. With a sturdy enough box to use as a step and a thermal blanket beneath your bodies, you and Carmy set up a place to stargaze side by side. The night air and moonlight kissed your skin as you raised a hand, pointing out another constellation.

The occasional car passed by. A soft siren echoed in the distance. But sitting far enough away from the city, you could hear as the frogs and crickets sang their songs in the grasses nearby. You couldn’t help but think they sounded nice beneath the rumble of Carmy’s voice as he spoke.

“My family didn’t take road trips or anything like that, but uh, my brother took me west one night — when we were young. Honestly, I think he was just pissed at our family and wanted to get out,” he explained with his hands clasped together over his stomach. His chest rose and fell while his gaze stayed fixed on the Hercules constellation above. “But he drove the two of us out of the city and woke me up after. And it was just some field. I was so mad that he dragged me all the way out to a cornfield in the middle of the night.” He shook his head and let out a soft laugh, one filled with a sort of fondness, as if the memory played before his eyes.

“He told me to shut the fuck up and look at the stars. So we sat there on the hood of our mom’s piece of shit car, and he told me about the constellations.” He paused, a soft smile playing on his lips. “But he didn’t know shit about constellations. He made it all up. I started to catch on when he pointed out the little dipper for the third time.”

A smile of your own spread across your face. You turned your head to look at him better, to watch the creases wrinkle around his eyes. “That sounds really nice,” you whispered. “To get out and escape once and awhile.”

“Yeah. It is…” Like now. The words seemed to dance between the two of you.

“Can you point out the little dipper to me?” you asked. “We wouldn’t want all his hard work teaching to go to waste.”

With a laugh, Carmy nodded and looked back to the sky. His hand raised, pointing to stars off to the right. “You see those four stars there that make a rectangle? That’s the cup. And those three,” he said, tracing his finger up in a curve, “make the handle.”

You nodded along. “I’m surprised you didn’t do much stargazing in your fabulous Copenhagen days,” you teased.

A groan left his mouth. “Cooking in Copenhagen leaves you no time for stargazing.”

“Sounds like cooking in Chicago leaves you without any time, either,” you whispered, watching as his hand dropped back down, his eyes locking onto yours.

He didn’t say anything at first, and an icy uncertainty began to creep up your spine. He turned his body onto his side to face it. “It leaves time for some things,” he said, melting away the worry and replacing it with burning hope. You turned toward him, too.

“Like what?” you breathed out, letting your fingers inch closer to his in the space between you. With him so close, you became acutely aware of everything around you. The bumps of the hood beneath you, the crinkle of the blanket with each movement, the intensity in the way he listened to your every word.

His gaze skipped around your face as he said, “Like a first date.”

You raised your eyebrows, turning your nose at him. “We just had our first date. Doesn’t a private dinner and stargazing sound romantic to you?” you asked. But you could only tease for so long, could only keep the sincerity at arm’s length until you were weak to it.

“Let me take you out for real,” he answered, grinning at you. His eyes continued to glance down to your lips. You felt your heartbeat in your ears. You barely ignore the uneasy excitement building in your chest. “Let me kiss you.”

Brief moments passed like hours before you nodded, before his hand brushed along your jaw and cupped your face. In an instant, your eyes shut as his mouth pressed to yours — like they were made to fit together. Your body molded to his, your muscles melting at his touch. Your fingers gripped his shirt, then his hair when it wasn’t enough. An almost desperate groan came from the back of his throat when you broke away to breathe.

He kept kissing you, only letting you get small gasps of air here and there. And the comforting feel of him nearly felt more important than breathing anyway. It left you in a dizzying addiction to his touch.

His nose nudged against yours with each kiss, his hold on you solid and unmoving. You didn’t know how much time had passed there in his embrace before lights hit your eyelids. Slowly, the sound of a car approaching reached your ears, making you pull away from Carmy.

A truck came closer as you sat up, your body already missing the warmth of Carmy. The lights on top of the truck told you it was here to tow the van. Looking back at Carmy, you watched as he adjusted his shirt and hair before hopping off the hood. You took his hand to get down yourself, smiling as he squeezed your hand.

He left your side to speak with the tow truck driver, but his eyes never left you for long. The butterflies in your stomach never left either, not with the soft way he looked at you.

The journey home passed in a blur, the tired goodbye and quick kiss as you parted ways. Not even Richie, who arrived home next door at the same time as you and immediately noticed your changed shirt, could dull the smile on your face. Though when he asked how your night with Carmy was and obnoxiously wiggled his eyebrows, he came close.

You merely muttered, “Shut up,” before closing your door on him. And finally back in your apartment, you could shower and change — relishing in the clean and dry feeling. Even the sharpness of the vinegar you poured into a bowl was a relief. Diluting it with water per Carmy’s instructions, you mixed it together before dipping your shirt in.

And you thought of him the entire time, unable to keep a smile off your face as you washed off your shirt to find it stain-free

[winterrrnight]

heyy, so, it’s pride day so i was thinking a if u could do a drew/rafe imagine where the female reader is bi so he supports his girl when ppl talk shit about her

ohhh I love this so much!! I decided to go with my man drew 🤭 unfortunately this isn’t coming out on pride day, but I did manage to squeeze it in before pride month ends :) thank you so so much for your request anon, I would love to hear your views on it!! <3

here to stay

PAIRING: drew starkey x fem!bisexual!reader

SUMMARY: you experience inner turmoil when pictures of your ex-girlfriend and you resurface the internet, but it seems like you forgot Drew will always defend you no matter what.

WARNINGS: homophobia; hate comments on reader on social media and in public; one mentiom of y/n; usage of nicknames like baby and bubs; soft and sweetheart Drew; kinda toxic fandom 🫢

EDITH SPEAKS: before I got this request, I read a random charles leclerc smau that was on my dash which goes along similar lines of this request, so I have taken inspiration from that fic for this request! the credit goes to @lewisvinga and their fic ‘the only thing that matters’.

if you liked reading this, please reblog and share any feedback you may have 💐 i hope everyone had a beautiful pride month, you all are absolutely lovely 💗

AND AND AND I am dedicating this fic to the beautiful beautiful @runningfrom2am who is literally my bestest friend on this planet <3 today marks one whole year to our friendship, and words fall short to explain how much I love and appreciate her 🫶🏼🥹 I love you so so much raye, thank you for sticking with me always 💗

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You usually never do this.

‘This’ involves scrolling through social media and reaching the bottom of a pit dug so deep you’ve lost the measurement of its depth.

Some pictures of you and your ex-girlfriend from over four years ago from your college days resurfaced. You don’t know how that happened, considering how you and your ex-girlfriend always only had private socials back then, and you weren’t known for being associated with any sort of celebrity at all.

Unlike now, when you are known as Outer Banks actor Drew Starkey’s girlfriend. Drew Starkey: one of the emerging faces in Hollywood. He seems to be gaining more and more traction each day, especially leading up to the release of his movie ‘Queer’.

With his ever increasing fame, you are also becoming more and more well known. You and Drew don’t have a secret relationship, but it’s quite private. Firstly Drew isn’t active on his socials, and secondly, you’re only seen when you are Drew’s plus one for the different events he’s invited to.

Due to such scarce presence on social media and in real life, each time you and him are spotted, even a single photo tends to go extremely viral in Drew’s fandom. Headlines like‘Rare: Drew Starkey seen with his girlfriend on the streets of Paris’, ‘Drew and his girlfriend seen getting cozy in a snug Parisian café’ etc. get extremely common, and informal captions like ‘oh my godddddd drew and his girlfriend! so cute’, ‘drew and y/n spotted drew and y/n spotted drew and y/n spotted’ are also just as common.

As much as you adore Drew and his dedication to his art, you still aren’t used to the microscopic attention you get each time you and him are seen together. You feel like you’re being judged by every single eye, and they aren’t essentially thinking the best things regarding you.

Even though what you mostly see are sweet comments complimenting you and Drew, a hate comment or two does sneak its way in among the positive ones, which doesn’t essentially surprise you because you know fandoms tend to get possessive over their idols; and Drew’s fandom isn’t any different. You’ve learnt to accept it and ignore it, even though sometimes it does nag you in the back of your mind, Drew always helps you feel better and helps to get your mind off them until you practically forget you ever even read them.

But this time, this time, you fear the situation is a little out of hand.

With the photos resurfacing and the source being entirely anonymous, you aren’t seeing the best comments under the pictures. Some fans have dug so far in your life to figure out you’ve only dated girls before Drew, creating the assumption you’re actually a lesbian. Some claim you’re with Drew for his money, because your dating history is only girls, and it’s “weird” now that you’re with a man. Some claim you as a toxic partner, and say you have Drew completely fooled. You even saw a few ‘savedrew’ hashtags in the comments, but thank goodness it didn’t end up becoming an active trend.

Due to the privacy of your relationship, you never came out publicly that you’re bisexual, but your friends and family, and Drew, are fully aware about your sexuality because you are completely out to them. Drew has always appreciated you the same, before he knew you were bisexual and after he knew you were bisexual. His love for you was never impacted by your coming out, and he knows it never will.

You shut your phone and keep it aside, taking a deep, shaky breath as you look up at the ceiling of your shared hotel room with Drew. You can feel a few tears stinging the corners of your eyes, and you let your eyelids fall shut, the small tears silently starting to roll down your cheeks.

Your blurry vision trains over to the closed bathroom door from where you can hear the shower running, knowing Drew is getting ready for your night out with him. You both are in Italy as a simple vacation before Drew has to go back to LA and begin working on some upcoming projects, and it’s your first night in the country, for which you’ve decided to have authentic Italian gelato as an after dinner treat.

You can practically hear the comments you have read in your head, all of them getting progressively worse. You know you aren’t using Drew for his money, and Drew knows that too, yet the comments and watching an entire fandom side against you was starting to get to you.

Your thoughts are cut through smoothly when you hear Drew stepping out of the washroom after his shower, a towel tied neatly around his waist.

“You ready?” He asks you sweetly as he gets some clothes to wear.

You nod at him and watch him finish getting ready for your little night out as you sit there, pushing the ugly comments as far as you can in your head.

Drew gets ready in a few minutes and you both leave your hotel, walking out on the cobblestoned streets of the beautiful city, letting the streetlights and lamp posts enlighten your path for you.

You both walk in silence with your hand perfectly intertwined with his, your gaze fixed down at your shoes and the way they clack against the cobblestones. Drew notices you being quieter than usual, and he feels tempted to ask you what’s on your mind, because the last thing he ever wants to see is you feeling sad or bothered by something in any sort of way.

But before Drew can even think of acting on his thoughts, you both are forced to turn your heads around when you hear shouts of Drew’s names being called. Your eyes fall on a group of youngsters, and the moment they grab Drew’s attention, they yell out more sounds of excitement, ushering over to him.

He laughs affectionately when he’s surrounded by the small group of the fans, causing you to be pushed just a little to the side; something you’ve gotten the hang of because you know the fans are essentially here to see him, and not you. So you decide to take a couple steps back and watch Drew interact patiently with everyone, letting them take pictures and videos with him as he talks and signs their shirts, books etc. for them.

You can see a young girl and a boy from the group constantly giving you a side eye as you decide to distract yourself with your phone after you take a picture or two of Drew meeting the group. You can’t lie, the side eyes seem quite judge-y to you and you feel yourself fidgeting under their gaze.

But it gets worse when they speak within themselves but it’s loud enough that you catch it, and Drew catches it.

“She’s still with him?” The girl says to the boy who just rolls his eyes.

“Drew clearly didn’t catch the message,” the boy mumbles, and your eyes dart over to Drew who was signing a girl’s cap but stopped at the words. You catch the look in his eyes; it’s the look of protectiveness, possessiveness and anger all mixing in one – a very dangerous combination to be seen in Drew’s usually warm blue eyes.

“What did you say?” Comes his voice. It’s low, monotone, and carries a very heavy drift of coldness. The sudden deep words cause everyone to fall silent, especially the boy and the girl, who’s eyes widen when they realize Drew has his gaze zeroed on them.

“N-nothing…” the boy stammers, and you can see both the girl and boy have their pulse quickening more and more with each passing second.

You can see how scared they are starting to get, and you quickly rush over to Drew’s side, your fingers curling around his bicep in that all too familiar way; the way you use when Drew gets slightly more angry than he should and is on the verge of blowing up.

This touch of yours always causes him to start to calm down, but this time, he isn’t even close to relaxing. You can see his muscles are tensing even more as he glares at the boy and the girl.

“Drew please–” you begin to speak slowly, your fingertips starting to dig into his bicep but he ignores you.

“No, I want to hear them repeat what they said.” He mutters through gritted teeth, his attention fixed on the boy and the girl. “What did you say about my girl? ‘Why is she still with me?’ Why wouldn’t she still be with me huh?”

The girl and the boy fall completely silent, and so does the entire group. They get completely nervous under Drew’s cold gaze, all of them looking any other way but at Drew or you.

“Now I don’t know what that was about,” he begins, “but I better not hear more of that bullshit alright?” His words come out disdainful, his entire body stiff as you feel his bicep tighten under your grip.

With one scoff he takes your hand which is around his bicep in his own hand and pulls you away from the group. “Come on let’s go baby,” he says, not looking even once at the group as he leads you away from them.

Once you both are out of their earshot, he turns around in a small alleyway and stops you both right there.

“Don’t listen to them bubs, please don’t,” He mumbles softly, his hand coming up to your cheek to gently caress your skin. “You know it’s all just bullshit, their jealousy is bullshit,”

You let out a soft sigh as you feel his fingers softly trail over your cheek. This is what he always tells you when you encounter the common hate you tend to get for being with him, but this time, you know it was for an entirely different reason.

“This was different Drew,” you mutter, your gaze fixed down at your shoes, your fingers fiddling with each other.

Drew’s eyebrows furrow at your words. “Different? Different how?”

You take a deep breath and exhale it out from your nose as you train your gaze up to meet his. “My old pictures with my ex-girlfriend from college resurfaced on the internet, along with my past dating history,” you whisper, “and everyone’s been saying I’m taking advantage of your money and I have you fooled because I’ve only dated girls before you, and they think I’m a lesbian,”

Drew’s eyes widen at these words escaping your lips, his fingers caressing your cheek stopping its motion. “Jesus,” he mutters, and you can see flecks of anger and rage beginning to appear in his eyes.

A small silence falls over you both as you both look in different directions, your gaze back at your shoes and his flitting around your surroundings of the alleyway, as if in deep thought.

“I’ll talk about it,” he says suddenly, causing you to look up in his eyes with a hint of confusion in your eyes. “I’ll address this on social media, I’ll say I’ve always known you’re bisexual, and that you’ve always been out, and I’ve never doubted that. This can’t go on, the last thing I want is people being homophobic to you just because you’ve only dated girls before I came in your life. You don’t deserve that baby, and I’ll fix this matter right up okay?”

You look at him with your eyes starting to widen, a thin layer of glass forming over them.

“Unless–” he says again, “you don’t want to come out to the general public?”

“No no,” you shake your head at his words, “I’m okay with that, more than okay with that,” you mumble.

Drew sighs softly as he nods, his hands trailing down your arms and finding your hips, which he gently squeezes before pulling you in a warm embrace.

“I’m so sorry you had to hear that baby,” he whispers. “I’m so so sorry. I’ll fix this first thing tomorrow you hear me? There is no way in heck I’m letting you hear more on this,”

You bury your face in his chest and close your eyes shut, a few tears making their way down your eyes and pressing against his shirt as they do so. He squeezes you closer to him when he feels your tears against his shirt, one hand coming up to slip into your hair and gently scratch your scalp.

“Thank you, Drew,” you mumble against his shirt, your voice coming out muffled.

“Don’t thank me bubs this is the least I can do,” he says softly. He gently pulls your head back from his chest, holding your face in his hands as he looks in your eyes.

“The next time you see something on social media you tell me straight away okay? Don’t hide anything from me, I’ll find a way to fix it each time,” he whispers, his thumbs caressing your cheeks to wipe the tears.

You nod as you look back in his eyes, a look of earnest gratitude shining through them.

He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, letting his lips linger against your skin for a moment before looking back in your eyes. He pulls from the embrace and takes your hand, intertwining his with it firmly.

“Now come on, I believe I still have to buy you some gelato,” he says softly with a warm smile, tugging gently on your hand.

You sniff as you nod, letting him lead you out of the silent alleyway.

The post debuts on Drew’s Instagram the very next morning, a long caption along with a carousel of your favorite pictures with him throughout the years of your dating journey. The comments fill up with supporters, everyone showering you with love and loads even congratulating you for coming out to the general public. The comments and appreciation makes you smile warmly, making you realize no matter what happens, Drew will always be by your side, because he’s here to stay.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am, @saccharinesammie, @maybankslover, @totalswag, @madelynie, @chenslucy /

@ietss, @elle-mp3, @viawritesstuff, @wallsdreams, @mistress-amidala, @sadfury, @sage-burrow /

@jamesbuckybarneswify, @xxxlaura, @callsignwidow, @starkowswife, @drewstarkeyswifehoe, @jjchaer /

@f4ll-for-you, @wearemadeofstardust0, @drewsmusee, @rafegirly, @addriaenne /

@leighbronk, @rafesdrew, @bejeweledreverie, @raf3sgff, @aerangi, @drewstarkey1bae /

@moneymaybank, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @noahkahansorangejuice, @rafesgiirl, @theoraekenslover /

@fals3-g0d, @personalfavsthatarerandom, @b1mb0slvt, @babypoguelife, @ilyrafe, @oxpogues4lifexo /

@fionaswifeyy /

[wickjump]

Not exactly hurt comfort but I am enjoying the idea that every time Cross reveals something about his past/childhood it slowly but surely makes the team angry. Like he happens to share a "funny story" or mention how he was treated and one by one the gang is horrified to the point where if xgaster actually showed up in the same au as them they would all be gunning for him immediately.

Also the stars showing up during this fight and like Dream: Nightmare stop this!! What are you doing to- Nightmare: (goops over and whispers something in Dream's ear) Dream: WHAT?? No fuck that (starts aiming his arrows at xgaster)

IVE SPOKEN ABOUT THIS SO MANY TIMES WITH FRIENDS/MUTUALS I AGREE SO MYCH HE HAS SO MANY TRAUMATIZING CHILDHOOD STORIES HE INTERNALLY NORMALIZED GOD. HE DOESNT REALIZE HOW BAD IT WAS AND THE REACTIONS HE GETS ARE UNNERVING. THANK YOU FOR THIS AND OTHER CROSS RELATED ASKS YOURE SO GOOD WITH THEM THEYRE MY FAVORITE

ok ya this is just plain whump warning for lotsa child abuse including physical. like beating the shit out of an 8 year old physical. also I’m so tired right now

chances are that’s not even the worst of it because you know his seven year old ass was told ‘don’t tell anyone about me beating you to near death’ and he still sticks to that. but he speaks about abuse he doesn’t even grasp counts as abuse.

withholding food. sleeping in the yard. eating food on the floor while the others sat at the dinner table as punishment (or to eat out of a dog bowl on the ground i had to do that once lol). as a kid still scared of the dark he was locked in dark rooms until he got over his fear (he’s still scared to this day but he won’t seek help because he doesn’t want to be punished again). cross touched something he wasn’t supposed to? put your hand on the burning hot stove for however many seconds that item was worth in G (maybe divided by 5/10), or until he cried.

cruel and unusual punishments were xgaster’s forte but he tells them like funny stories to the horror of literally everyone around him.

cross is not coping well with figuring out that no that’s not normal and no that’s fucked up. most of his scars are probably from xgaster (excluding the red one on his face obv). and when he delves into the traditional abuse it gets worse somehow?? anyway xgaster is on THE multiversal hitlist. star sanses and bad sanses all want his head on a wall. even ink because ink didn’t know about the abuse because xgaster never told him for obvious reasons and it’s not like cross was willing to share.

i think that once he starts talking about the abuse he can’t stop (same) and he’s just. slowly crying and eventually hyperventilating and oh he’s been holding onto that for SO long. and then he hates that he told people because he wasn’t supposed to and is scared that they’ll see him less or punish him for some reason or hate him now, but he isn’t expecting to be comforted after? wtf? he doesn’t grasp that saying ‘yeah i got in trouble at school so my dad beat me until i lost two of my baby teeth and got a temporary crack in my skull’ normally results in being hugged or something. like dude you were 8 wtf. and he’s so scared but he just wants to feel safe AUGH HE MAKES MY HEART HURT. like dude, he almost beat papyrus at a time he was so young he had to use a step-stool to reach the sink to brush his teeth :( dude…

anyway ya cross is me fr (the burning hand stove happened once/twice to me actually idk i was like 5 lol. my grandfather is not the best man) and he deserves to go through hell on earth and be tortured in his childhood i think. oh and experience comfort or whatever after idk. kross maybe because their dynamic is ‘my childhood was ruined’ x ‘my adulthood was ruined’ and i think that’s sweet. or mtt + cross poly with nightmare as the outlier wondering why they’re so affectionate all of a sudden (he’s aroace…)

BUT THATS SELF INDULGENT LMAO what really matters is how much we torture the poor lad that is cross 🥰

also make him trans because abuse isn’t enough he needs extreme dysphoria all of the time. xgaster isn’t transphobic btw this is independent from everything else

[morganski-19]

The One With the Morning After

continuation of this post

Eddie wakes up with Steve’s half on top of him. The realization of what happened last night hitting him all at once. Fear setting into his face as Steve starts to stir. Nestling his face into Eddie’s neck. Eddie looks at Steve, not knowing what to do. Where this is going to go from here.

He’s not stupid. He knows that this isn’t something he can give up that easy. Knowing that Steve thinks of him the same way. Enough to abandon their friends and go hook up in a storage closet. But would it be enough to have something more. To finally cross that line.

Was Eddie ready for that? For the possibility of getting hurt again? He’s not sure.

Steve’s eyes finally blink open. Body stiffening when he realizes where he is, before relaxing into Eddie again. “Hey,” he mutters, voice full of sleep.

“Hey.”

“How’d you sleep?”

It’s the best sleep Eddie’s had in a while. He forgot how nice it was to fall asleep next to somebody. To wake up tangled together full of warmth and affection.

“Pretty good, you?” His heart is beating so fast he’s afraid Steve might feel it.

Steve props himself up on his arm, looking down at Eddie. “Good.”

He kisses Eddie in a way he can’t help but sink into. “So you don’t regret it?”

“No, I don’t. Do you?” Steve looks nervous, like he’s ready to get rejected.

Thing is, he sort of is. Eddie isn’t ready to give him the relationship Steve wants or deserves. But he didn’t regret it. Not one bit. Steve’s too important to regret it.

“It’s not that I don’t regret it,” Eddie starts. Getting cut off when Steve huffs and rolls onto his back.

“Just that you can’t do anything serious. It was a one time thing, I get it.”

“Well,” Eddie holds out. “I didn’t say that.”

Steve turns his head. “What?”

“Something casual, you know.” Eddie sits up and turns to face Steve, able to express with his arms. “We see each other, but casually. Nothing serious, no labels. No strings attached. Just like we were doing before, but with other benefits.”

“Benefits?” Steve asks arrogantly, propping himself up on his elbows. “So formal.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “A million people use that term. What would you rather me use? Hooking up? Doing the deed? Tumble in the hay?”

Steve hooks a finger on Eddie’s shirt, pulling him into another kiss. “You are such a smart ass.”

“And you are very enticing.”

“Enticing, wow. Pulling out the whole dictionary for me, Munson?”

“Shut up.”

Eddie leans in to kiss him again before Steve pulls away when his phone dings. Typing something out before putting space between him and Eddie.

“Robin’s going to be having an extended breakfast with her new friend. You know what that means?”

“We can revisit what happened in that storage closet but in much more comfortable circumstances.” Eddie leans towards Steve, getting in his space again.

Steve rolls his eyes, pushing Eddie away. “No, we have to comfort Nancy. Who’s probably more hungover than she should be and in mourning of a relationship that should have started five years ago.”

“Shit, you’re right. You think she’s up?”

“Don’t know, let’s go find out.”

They get out of bed, Eddie going to knock on Nancy’s door. A small reply letting him know that it’s ok to come in. He waves Steve to follow him.

Nancy’s laying in her bed, scrolling old pictures on her phone. Eventually landing on a picture of Nancy and Robin right after they graduated college. Looking happy and close. Like someone could mistake them for a couple, which a few did. Nancy always swooping in first to correct them. Missing the discouraged look Robin gave every time.

“Am I a complete idiot,” she whispers when they enter, awkwardly standing in front of her.

“No,” Eddie assures. Crouching down to look at her. “And this is coming from a certified idiot.”

Nancy huffs. “You are a certified idiot.”

“Not certified but also an idiot,” Steve adds. “I don’t think you’re one. I think you’re just a person who’s afraid to get hurt again.”

“That’s not why I’m an idiot.” Nancy flips her phone around, showing them the picture. “This Nancy was too stupid to see that Robin liked her back. This Nancy was too stupid to do anything about it. What would be happening today if this Nancy did something.”

Steve takes the phone out of her hand. “And this Nancy didn’t even know she liked girls yet. Or that she liked Robin. You can’t be upset at yourself for not realizing that about yourself.”

“But I am though.” Nancy sits up. “It was so obvious, and I would have been so much happier knowing that. I would be so much happier knowing that somewhere along the line, it was me sharing a bed with Robin right now. Not some random girl she picked up at my award ceremony after party.”

“What happened to that girl who said she’d rather be friends with her forever than lose her to some shitty breakup?” Eddie asks, bumping her arm in a failed attempt to cheer her up.

“Yeah well, past me is a whole load of bullshit.” She drops her hands into her knees and picks at her nail polish. Starting to chip it. “I don’t even care at this point that we might have not made it. I just want her to know that I loved her too.”

Steve stands up. “Alright, time for breakfast, come on.”

“No, I think I’m going to more moping if that’s ok.” Nancy falls back into her pillow, trying to grab her phone again.

Eddie swipes it off the table. “Nope.”

“Come on,” Steve grabs both her wrists and pulls her into a sitting position. “You’ll never feel better if you leave this bed. I’m here, so Eddie won’t burn down the kitchen. And I think there might still be some of those brownies I made in my apartment. If Robin hasn’t figured out where I hid them.”

“Ok.” Nancy gets out of bed. She grabs some comfy clothes and heads to the bathroom to shower.

Steve starts to look around the cabinets for some ingredients. Frying up some bacon and eggs. Eddie helps make the toast with the promise to not burn them. Eye rolling at the assumption but turning the setting way too high and burning the first piece anyway.

Nancy comes out when everything’s done. Sitting at the table in silence while they eat. Steve slips out of the apartment when he’s done to go find those brownies.

“Oh,” he says when Robin and her friend are eating at the kitchen counter. “Thought you guys were having an extended breakfast.”

“I turned out to be way too hungry for that, so we’re eating instead. What are you looking for?”

“Brownies I made last week.”

Robin makes an apologetic face. “I ate the last one yesterday.”

“You bitch.”

She throws her hands up in defense. “Hey, they were very good. And your hiding places are shit.”

“They were very good,” the woman next to her says. Making an equally apologetic face.

“Oh, sorry. I’m Steve, Robin’s roommate.”

“Pheobe.” She reaches out her hand to shake his. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too. I’ll just go grab a change of clothes and leave you guys alone.”

Steve returns to Nancy’s apartment empty handed. Looking apologetic for multiple reasons. “I’ll make new ones.”

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low,

@thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady,

@apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic,

@fearieshadow, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging,

@potato-of-the-lord, @autumncrocusandladybug, @estrellami-1, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @gregre369

@my2amgaythoughts, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @emmabubbles, @eriquin, @grtwdsmwhr

[stealingyourbones]

Question! I have been getting into DC comics cuz of dpxdc, and I saw your tags on frank Miller on a recent post. One of my irl friends told me to read the dark knight returns and while it was occasionally hard to follow I assumed that was a result of when it was written rather than who wrote it? But I did overall enjoy it.

I guess what I'm asking is why you say frank Miller is a bad writer when it seems like the dark knight returns was so acclaimed?

(I saw the nazi thing too but that's something I can google so while it's news to me it's not my main question)

ok so. A lot of this is my personal opinion and I'm not too equipped to say shit about this because I'm not very political but I'm going to give it my best shot. Put under a cut so folks who don't want to hear about comic ranting can simply scroll past

I’m just gonna write a quick thing for the Nazi stuff, He isn't exactly a Nazi but boy oh boY does he set off many warning flags. Frank Miller is also the writer of the comic 300, if that sounds familiar that's because the movie you're probably thinking of is indeed based off these comics. The Spartan's ideology helped create the baselines of Fascism. Fascism is a pretty leading cause of commentary in Frank Millers work. In Batman: The Dark Knight he is a fascist. In Hard Boiled there's swastikas in the background every so often. (I even went back to reread it just to make sure and yep. they definitely were there) In 300 there's a shitton of Fascism... I could go on but still. His comics are incredibly gorey, have a discussion about a world gone wrong that can only be changed using force and weaponry (the whole Dark Knight "I am a surgeon" monologue for example), and the fact that he has Fascism as the main point of nearly all of the comics he's written... it doesn't sit right with me and it's a consistent pattern.

Now, onto the bad writing. I must firstly preface that these are my own opinions and that I didn't grow up reading Frank Miller's work. I think he was a good writer but isn't one anymore. His writing did incredible things for DC and you can see his influence in Batman even today. Works I've read and enjoyed of his are: Daredevil, Batman Year One, and Dark Knight. Nowadays you'll see many folks like myself talk about how Frank Miller has fallen off the deep end. A vast majority of Frank Miller's comics have reoccurring themes: politics, fascism, extreme violence, and so so much weaponry. Politics is in every comic book. There is no unpolitical comic, there ARE comics that are batshit wild with their politics and that's what I'm talking about. I'll get back to this later. He wrote many good comics, ones that first come to mind are Daredevil , Wolverine, Batman: Dark Knight, Batman: Year One, Sin City, Ronin, and 300. All of these comics are still credited by folks as amazing comics and hell, I recommend folks to read them go and check them out. Then 9/11 happened. That along with rampant alcoholism. Those reoccurring themes I mentioned? They become exponentially more blatant in his works. Especially on the political angle. You can see the difference between his works from pre and post 9/11. If you read Dark Knight and Dark Knight 2 back to back. It's night and day. He even made a comic during the post 9/11 panic called Holy Terror. The comic's title was originally pitched as Holy Terror, Batman! with the Gotham hero himself as the main character but it swiftly denied by DC, denied being published by DC, and changed to what it is now. The basic plot of this comic: A Vigilante named The Fixer fights Al-Qaeda after attacking Empire City. He doesn't even mention the word Al-Qaeda until 80 pages into a 150 page comic. The comic is some INCREDIBLY blatant post 9/11 propaganda that's ridiculously Islamophobic and anti-muslim. That isn't even my opinion, Frank Miller has said that's what this comic was. It is scattered with a ridiculous amount of hate speech written by a hate fueled man in 2007. Now onto comics that you'd more likely read. All Star Batman and Robin (2005). Oh boy. Let's compare shall we? Batman Dark Knight Returns (1986)

All Star Batman & Robin, The Boy Wonder #1 (2005)

mind you this is as Dick is being driven to GCPD for questioning RIGHT AFTER HIS PARENTS DIED. He gets kidnapped by Bruce out of the police car. Not calmed in his arms after the murder and brought to the manor. Kidnapped. All Star Batman & Robin, The Boy Wonder #2 (2005)

( a brief intermission of this sickass pose of a shirtless Alfred Pennyworth comforting Vicky Vale)

now back to the kidnapping:

[Skipping Bruce getting chased by the GCPD, Jumping the Batmobile ONTOP of a GCPD car, and laughing and talking to his car all the while Dick is absolutely terrified. They then use boosters that propel the Batmobile into the sky.]

Smashcut to #4 where they actually enter the Batcave.

I don't even think I need to explain myself. This is Spider-Man: One More Day levels of mischaracterization. Like seriously. Bruce kidnapping Dick after his parents were killed? Calling him a retard and hitting him during the aftermath (we can go on about how in 2005, the r slur was used commonly but this was just out of pocket), Leaving him in the cold batcave and told to eat rats? Frank Miller used to write some incredible works. Nowadays his writing is as decent as Rob Liefeld's art.

[stevenwitha-vee]

Bloodhound.

pt. 1 of ?

[ read on ao3 ]

summary:

Cooper Howard is not a gracious, kind, nor giving man. When you wake bound and bleeding--seemingly left for dead after having previously traversed the Wasteland for months with him--you're reminded of this.

word count : 2.7k

tags: the ghoul x you, the ghoul x oc

warnings: violence, swearing, (will add more as the story progresses)

notes:

Say hello to my first fic attempt in...two years? Oh boy. All comments and feedback very much appreciated and feel free to hit me up in my messages and start a convo!

Narration and form may not be entirely polished so please pardon my dust.

xx korine <3

“You are not seriously going to fucking leave me here?!”

The warehouse you’re slumped over and hog-tied on the floor of groans and echoes around your shattering scream. Dust smears across your clothes; caked thick across the concrete floor as you squirm. The taste of metal and rust in the air causes your stomach to turn, bile bittering your tongue.

You came to consciousness like this. Tattered rope and torn clothing binding your ankles beneath you. Arms pulled so tight at the back you feared for the ligaments about your shoulders. Not that he’d cared to check for comfort. It was for the best, at least that’s what he’s decidedly convinced himself about now. Cooper Howard: wayward Ghoul and the Wasteland’s infamous Bogeymen was a dirty, dastardly, trifling man. He did things simply because he could. Didn’t matter the reason or rhyme, so long as the tune rang the same and the caps continued flowing. Who could blame him? World continued spinning regardless, and hungry a man as he was—fella’ had to eat.

“Mother fucker!” Blood trickles down your temple to bloom across your lips as you spit your words—venomous and vehement—in his direction. You kick and fight against your restraints, wrists red and angry to match their maker. Now that warrants a chuckle from your partner.

Partner? Captor?

Friend.

At least that’s what memories bound 'round the countless campfires and shared meals had lent their assumptions to at one point. Your mind reels over the titles and labels, if any, that you had once held Cooper to.

Oh you were fucked.

As if it even mattered anymore. He’d drugged you, some sleeping agent based on the sick in your stomach and thick weight of your limbs lingering. Whatever agreement you two had had as of yesterday seems to have gone up in flames.

“Nothin’ personal, darlin’.” The Ghoul's calm and cool facade only further enrages you. He eyes you with an eerie ease. That curious perk in his brow and tilt in his jaw ever-present.

You were going to rip out his throat with your bare fucking teeth. Tear what amalgamation of leathery ruin was left over that thick skull of his off and to shreds with your own two hands. Whatever nerve endings were left un singed by that almighty fucking bomb in his body were yours. You were going to dissect them inch by inch until all he could feel was you stripping him of the last thing humanity had granted him—pain.

Your chest heaved, blood in your veins threatening to set you alight thanks to all the adrenaline. Fuck the dehydration and starvation: come night the Radroaches would be having a feast. Not to mention the bloody fucking pack of fiends that’d been on your tails for the past week straight. You eye the bloodied tourniquet you’d bandaged so carefully the night before still dangling from the Ghoul's left leg. The grotesque blade that had torn into his already mottled and marred flesh had cut a mortal wound that would have felled any smooth skin. It had been taking longer to heal than usual. A sure sign Cooper’d been running low on his usual stock of vials. Shit, things like this had happened before and you’d both dealt with it. Got him back in his right mind and hit the road like nothing had happened. He hadn’t sold you then, hadn’t abandoned you then—but now?

What the hell changed?

Cooper turns away for a second; whipping the tattered fray of his trench coat aside and tucking something into his back pocket. You seize your seconds and shoot both heels out toward his injured leg sideways with all the might you can muster. It works. The ghoul is brought to his one good knee in a second before you. Not that you’ve any weapon or hands to follow through with anyway. It’d simply been in vain but even that you would take over letting him just walk away. From you. From this. Us. You feel his calloused fingers wrap themselves around your chin. He jerks your face within an inch of his. The growl in his chest barely escapes his lips as his other hand clutches the wound you’ve undoubtedly re-opened. You sneer through his hold on you. His breath is hot and vile. Comforting. Familiar.

How could he? No—how fucking dare he?! You grind out what moisture you have left on your tongue and spit it directly in his face. Saliva and blood freckle his marred cheeks. He shoves you aside. Like nothing. Like dirt.

Wasteland fucking scum.

Not that you weren’t. Cooper knew you were no angel, no savior, and sure as hell no saint. You’d more blood on your hands than any of the usual ruckus he’d found himself shacking up with or against. It could be said that was the reason he’d kept you around, but you knew better. Didn’t you?

Cooper could have partnered with any low-life Wastelander. Ones far bigger and far more dangerous than your likes. But it was you he stuck with. You who’d taken countless blades, bullets, stimpaks and Rad-X…all for him. The fucking horror that he was, you fucking took it all. Asked for nothing in return. Nothing more than a fucking voice in the void, not even a comforting one. Snide comments, limitless ridicule. Taken it all like tonic and swallowed it up like a naive child. You’d just not wanted to traverse the wastelands alone. Was that so much to ask? Apparently so.

Your stomach shifts violently; retch burning its way past your lips as you vomit beside yourself. Cursing yourself for your weakness you wrestle your restraints to kneel before him.

“Should’ve killed me when I was under, Cooper.” It takes all of your composure to stifle the sob in your throat and shove out a feigned a chuckle in its place. “I promise you…” Your eyes begin to burn, blurred. “I promise I’m going to make you wish you had.”

There’s a stiffness in his body language you chalk up to his wound. A hardened hesitation. You eye the loaded holster on his hip, wishing for once he’d just man up and use it. The ghoul straightens above you. The wide brim of his hat casts most of his face in a shadow. Hollowed eyes devoid of even the sentiment of emotion. Bastard. Behemoth.

Your binds smart and ache at your spine and your fingers flex instinctively. Even if you’d the luck about you to manage the gun away from him in his injured state, what would you do with it then?

'You’re a shit shot and you know it.' Cooper's words echo in the confines of your thoughts. They were warmer last they’d been spoken. A ghost of his touch fluttered at the memory. An uncharacteristically shaky hand. A rough touch pressed over yours as he guided you. Fingers finding yours like a self-conscious schoolboy. Like he was afraid if he moved too quickly you’d startle, leaving him standing alone in the fallout. You could have called it endearing once upon a time. Now? His comment just felt like a blade salted and shoved through an already gaping wound.

The ghoul catches your eyes lingering on his holstered belt. “Want me to put you onto somethin’?” He’s mocking you. You can hear it despite the salacious tone. He's eating this up. You steel your expression. Tears still paint your cheeks but you refuse to acknowledge their presence.

“Enlighten me,” You straighten yourself in slight, scooting closer. “I’ll even say please .” Your voice mock-softens. You pout, attempting to look as lost and vulnerable as possible. “Please, mister.” Your ignorant expression fades away. The smile teetering on your lips borders on manic. You could almost feel the pincers piercing your skin when the roaches descended upon you. Taste your own viscera bubbling up into your throat. Work out the curses you know would be solely meant for the man before you in your head. Even in death, you wouldn’t be able to escape him. Even in death, you would still be left wanting—him. How fucking pathetic. How fitting. So this was the Wasteland’s fate for you. Who were you to deny it?

It all happens in a blur then. You close your eyes, feeling the sweet scrape of a metal barrel press a bruising kiss at your already battered temple. Cooper's lips are gnarled, curled into a snarl as he descends upon you. A fistful of your shirt finds itself between his fingers. Always a temper, that one. It almost matched your own. You suppose that’s why you loved to play his game. Cooper’s nostril twitches as your eyes flutter open. You gaze up at him, knees ghosting the ground beneath you. The way he held you felt disgraceful. Divine.

“If I was a better man I’d paint this here pavement with those pretty little brains a’ yers.”

A scoff leaves your lips. Between the both of you, there was no good: only the bad and ugly. You’d committed no virtues in your twenty-odd some years on the surface and neither had Cooper in all of his. He drops you, pressing the barrel against your cheekbone and following the curvature of your cheek to your jaw. His eyes linger for a moment on your lips and you lick the blood drying itself there.

“Fiends’ll finish what I cant. Give me all the time I need to heal and with them on my trail—I can’t. Sorry sweetie, seems you’re the canon fodder today.” His voice echoed out across the warehouse, unrelenting and cold. The chill of his words drowned out the heat of the scorching sun.

What the fuck. What the actual FUCK.

Eyes wild, you buck—pushing the gun away with the thick of your skull. The ghoul relented then, reupholstering his weapon. In a second he’s stepping away from you. His blood-stained and grime-covered coat descends into the dark hallway across the warehouse. Walking away. Away. From you. Leaving you.

You scream and kick and writhe. Your voice blows out the entirety of the building you’re in until the walls and earth are shaking as above and so below. Everything about you had imploded. Every belief you’d been gifted and so naively accepted. Set aflame and blazing so bright you hadn’t realized such a thing could consume. Hatred. You felt your skin shed in your bindings. Heart a roaring scorch from deep within your chest. Much like you imagine the Ghouls may have at some point. You were birthing yourself anew. Alone. Bearing the weight of this world by yourself once more. You were better off alone. It was Cooper who’d had the dastardly deed of convincing you otherwise. Dangling a kinder fate before you only to rip it from you once the fruits of his labor had set their seeds deep in your psyche.

—

After you’d had your tantrum you settled in the dust and dinge of the cold cement floor. Your heavy breaths softened, silence becoming you. The sounds of the building had settled. When you were confident no lingering eyes or ears were upon you you whipped the heel of your boot back towards your bound wrists. Spindly fingers worked their way between the rubber and sole. Jackpot. The hilt of a pairing blade—one you’d more commonly used on your dinner—slid against your touch. Cooper was something of an expert with knots, but even these were shoddy and rushed enough that your rusted blade was up and through in a matter of minutes. You could blame it on your newfound vigor as well. Adrenaline seethed in your veins. You could taste your indignation over the copper of your blood and it only spurned you further. Quicker. Slice, cut, tear. Harder. Faster. There.

“Fucking—” You tear the fabric around your ankles free next, almost slicing yourself in the process. A slew of expletives falls from your lips as you stretch the cramps from your body. A few items from your camp still lay a few feet from you. You gather what you bother to into your bedroll, slinging it over your back. At least he’d the decency not to steal from a prospected corpse. The thought makes you snort.

Focus.

The daylight peaking in from the second-story windows was high on the horizon but fading ever so slightly. Daylight was on his side and he’d have at least an hour's lead by now. You were used to navigating the waste in the dark on your own but you wouldn’t prefer it, especially defenseless. Save an almost salvageable pairing knife. Great.

You eyed the dark hallway the Ghoul had exited through. Amongst the littered trash and mounds of dust covering the floor, you noticed the faintest trail of crimson splatter. Barely recognizable amongst the ruin to the naked eye. Almost black in its dried form until you mottle it with your touch. It splits and spreads. Fresh enough to tell its color apart from the surroundings. Not yours either. A surge of sadistic excitement fills your lungs and you find yourself moving. The blood continued to fall in steady, dropping off here and there where you’re sure Cooper had adjusted his stint. Poor boy really was wounded, wasn’t he? Your nostrils flared at the thought and you pushed it aside. No bother. The more wounded an animal was the more desperate its attempts to run. You crawled up through the broken concrete crevices that ran along the side of the building. Sand and grit slow your ascent, but not by much. Not nearly enough to throw you off his trail.

Cooper hadn’t kept you around for kicks. Hadn’t even kept you around because you could shoot after he’d taught you. You were still shit, after all. Cooper had come across you in an exchange. A dead end on a bounty even the best couldn’t manage to crack. And he would know.

You paused. His trail rounded the far back corner of the warehouse, turning on a whim and abandoning the lower ground for higher. Heading…east? You checked your markers, double-checked, triple-checked. Either he was just a fucking idiot or was blood loss even a thing for ghouls? Nearest settlement was west and the fiends would be steering far and wide from the larger ones. It’d be suicide to pivot back the way they’d come.

Come on, Cooper. You’re making it easy.

Low on vials and bordering insanity in some podunk rinky-dink saloon back room you’d convinced him or he’d convinced you, once upon a time. It didn’t matter (probably) that you were basically being bartered to him for your services. It was the man in the cheesy cowboy hat or being sold for parts. Pissed off the wrong bunch and with no allegiances on the surface to put faith in you…well, didn’t really matter now, did it?

Your jaw pulsed under a constant grind, realizing you’d be abandoning safety if you continued on after him. You had to trust yourself—but it’d been so long. An eternity with how the Wastelands days came and went. You cursed the Ghoul for cradling you in the farce of safety over these past few months. Always having someone at your back, your side. An extra pair of eyes and weaponry…it’d been a luxury you couldn’t afford. It was all just borrowed time. You just had to remember who you were. Before Cooper. Before The big bad Ghoul swept you up in fantasies and make-believe and made you forget how horrendous this world could and would be. With or without him. Tension crept between your shoulder blades as you continued to climb. You rolled it away with ease now. Fingers clawed themselves into the mounds of sand and you wiped the salt and sting from your head wound. You would force yourself. Shove the reality down your throat like a loaded barrel just to remember. Remember that between the big cities and the wilds on either side, you were known to all lowlife and company as a ‘Bloodhound’. No one could outrun you. No one could outtrack you. Cooper Howard should have known that. --

[ray935sworld]

The right kind of comfort

This story is based on a very funny post by @yeastinfectionvale that I took a little to serious. I may have misunderstood the assignement and my brain came up with this story so... I hope you enjoy it anyway!

And shout-out to @hotmessmaxpress for explaining to me how to do the under the cut post. Thanks again.

Summary: Bez crashed in Assen and gets his d sucked by Valentino Rossi. But is that really what he needs or who he needs? (Hint Bez x Marc at the end) 3.4k words

Don't like it, don't read it. Continues under the cut and on AO3.

Story includes a negative self-view while dealing with insecurites. Please don't read if this may trigger you

A DNF. Another fucking DNF after Le mans. He had one podium back in Jerez and beside that had to be grateful to even have made it to P6. He had to get used to P14, P11 and P13. And he was regular outscored by his teammate. The year before Bez already had 2 wins before Assen and had lead the championship for 2 races. Now he was lucky to get points. He was fighting against Raul Fernandez in the championship standings for P11, with just 6 points separating them. If he had known that when he was 3rd last year, he probably would have laughed in disbelief.

What had happened? What had happened to him? Why had his performance suddenly drop drastically when he was still working hard? He was still trying his best. Now it was his cursed reality. He was doing everything. He put in the work to figure out what his problem was but it ended up being worthless. Whenever he thought he had made progress, he got in the race and messed up. Every time.

With more self-doubt than ever, he headed back to the garage. Technically his bike was still running and he wasn’t hurt – beside his pride. But he knew if he continue, he would just damage the bike further and he didn’t had to put his mechanics through the troubles. So he went back, keeping his head low. He tried not to face them.

His mind was screaming at him. They were disappointed in him. They had to. He kept messing up their hard work. He didn’t deserve being part of the team or even being in MotoGP. He should just go back home and beg his father to give him a job in his shop. He could hide in shame in the back and work on some cars, never to be seen again. Maybe that wasn’t the worst idea after all. No more cameras, nasty comments and he wouldn’t disappoint everyone the way he does now.

He felt random hands on his shoulders, trying to encourage him. Fake. Someone told him it was okay. It wasn’t. They said that he was just struggling. He’d soon make his comeback and show them what he is really able to do. Lies. They didn’t actually believe he could do it. They didn’t thought he was a good rider. They didn’t believe in him. They just had to say it. After all, his action determined how their work was depicted. So if they fucked him up further, they would hurt their own career. Right? So they needed him to perform. And every basic psychology said that talking shit about someone who trust you was the worst thing to do.

He sat down for a moment. He pretended to listen to his mechanic, just nodding along but in reality, he was trying to down the voices in his head. Valentino Rossi – a god a motorcycle racing – had thought he was good enough to be trained by him. Maybe he was wrong. He had gave him a place in his team. Twice. For 5 years he was in one of his teams. And now he was messing up his last year with them. How he managed to secure that god damn Aprilia contract was still a mystery to him. He didn’t actually deserve it. He would disappoint them too. They wouldn’t renew his contract, maybe even replace him during the season and he wouldn’t find another bike cause no one was as stupid to give him a chance. Not when so many talents were currently competing and already knowing on the door from Moto2 and Moto3. HE wanted to cry at the thought of having to give his dream up that early. After only a few seasons in MotoGP, he’d be forced out. He wanted to cry. He felt tears in his eyes and just as he was about to wipe them away he heard his head mechanic say “I think you should get changed and take a break. We will have a debrief later and talk about how to improve. Alright, Marco?”

He nodded. He wasn’t of any use anyway. He couldn’t even handle a debrief right now. How was he supposed to handle a bike?

He somehow ended up in his motorhome. He didn’t really remember the way there, just that he had hurried and did everything not to be seen. Luckily most people where watching the race so he could easily slip away.

He opened the door and the first thing he felt was the way his heart broke. He felt it deep in his chest. His tears started flowing and he pressed his back to the door. A sob left his lungs. He was crying and he wished he wouldn’t know whose hand it was when someone lifted his chin. But he knew.

He didn’t had to know to recognize how the skin felt on his. He looked up. He didn’t want to. “That was a stupid one” his mentor whispered. He almost cried harder but instead forced a laugh. “At least I’m young enough to actually compete” he shot back.

He couldn’t pinpoint the moment when he had started to cover up being hurt by attacking back. Maybe he had just started to copy his behaviour on track to off track. He really just wanted to break down and cry but right now, with Vale’s hand on his cheek, there was no way out. He could push him back and ran of course. Vale certainly wouldn’t stop him. But why would he? Wasn’t that man in front of him his gay awakening, the one he had jerked off when he was a teenager. Wasn’t he everything he wanted in moments like this?

It’s not like he had lost his looks since Bez was 17. He was still hot. Probably even hotter. And an orgasm was a good way to get ride of his thoughts.

“At least I was actually able to compete” The words felt like a knife was pushed in an already open wound. So Vale truly didn’t believe he was able to compete at the top? He swallowed when he felt his until then closed legs been pushed apart.

He smiled while sitting down almost pressed against his crotch. His grin wasn’t the one that Marco was used to. It wasn’t the kind Vale smile he usually had when the academy was together at the ranch. It was the one that made him feel like he was nothing more than prey for a wild animal. Like there was no purpose for him other to get fucked right there and then, on the floor of his motorhome.

As if he had read his thought, Rossi put his hands on him. His finger tips started to touch the neck of his suit. He was playing with it. “But what you are currently doing… It’s just sad to watch” He felt tears return to his eyes and his mind racing. All the thoughts he had tried to get ride of were suddenly back again. They were stronger. “Pathetic… Fighting for… What was it? P14? P15?” His hand were on his suit. He felt them burning through the white leather. His left hand was holding his hip in place. His right hand was on his zipper. He opened it painfully slow.

Bez let out a whine. He didn’t enjoy this kind of intro. Of course he liked foreplay, but not in sticky cloth, when his body was full of sweat and he felt like he was starting to cry if he didn’t got distracted. And he needed hands on his naked body not on the fucking zipper. “One or two points while Digga is on the podium keeping Marquez behind him. And you fail to stick to those few spare points.” “I’m sorry” he forced himself to say. He looked up again. He stared at him, refusing to break the eye contact first. “I made a mistake, okay?! I’m sorry” he defended himself. His mind didn't got quieter. It got louder with each of his words.

Skilled fingers found their way under his leathers. “I know” he said, there was no love in his voice. No kindness. No comfort, not real one. “And I know you wanna do better” “I… I do” That’s how it regularly went. “It’s just frustrating and I feel so-“

Vale’s fingers felt burning hot on his already warm skin. He pushed the material away from his shoulder and his lips silenced him. Kissing Valentino had long lost the feeling of unfamiliarity and strangeness. Back in 2022, it was an unusual, somehow excited feeling to be noticed like that by someone like him. Now that the hero bliss had worn off a little more – after seeing him naked and getting fucked by him regularly. The need to get ride of his thought was more dominant now. And there was no better way than this… Right? So why push him away? He smiled.

Instead he closed his eyes. He knew it wasn’t what he really needed but it was close enough. So he finally shut his mind up when he felt Vale’s hand in his hair. It glided over a pat of his forehand and buried itself in his curls. He felt his nails tear in his scalp. He moaned in the kiss at the sensation. Vale grabbed a big hand of curls at the back of his head and used it to pull his head back. At the same time his other hand added pressure to his still clothed dick.

Their lips parted with a needy sound. Bez heard an unplaceable sound leave his lips when he obligated Vale’s gesture and let his head fall back. He felt the wall of his motorhome against his head and it reminded him that they were still on the floor. Not that he cared. Not when he felt Vale kissing his throat. Once. Twice. Three times. Then the other side. One. Two… Three. Then he moved to his chest. For a moment he kissed his ribcage. He barely felt it. It was just a short, light kiss on his skin.

“Va-Vale-“ he didn’t even know himself what he was about to ask. “Mmmh?” “Please” he whined in a high voice. He felt needy. An embarrassing red colour painted his cheeks. “Awe” Vale mocked him. His chin hit the abs of the younger one as he looked up. He had put his head on his stomach to smile at him. “Don’t worry” His smile was not as cold as before. Instead there was a fire. Like he was playing a game and knew he was winning. “I got you, Marco. Don’t I? You’ll be a very, very good boy for me and let me take care of you so you can perform again”

He spoke his name so softly that Bez felt a sense of pride rise. He quickly nodded. Yes. Yes, he wanted that. He needed to be taken care of so he could perform again. Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe the thing between them wasn’t as cold as he thought. Maybe there was passion and this whole foreplay was just how Vale was. Maybe he liked it. Bez could deal with it. No problem.

Vale’s hands had by now left his hair and were wandering over his body. He caressed his skin like it was treasure. “Oh Marco, you’re still so beautiful” he whispered.

He quickly grabbed his hips, like he was afraid he would run away or leave as if this was now an option. Bez felt the heat between his legs grow. Blood was rushing south way faster now that the older man’s hands were close to the remaining leathers. He felt himself getting hard. It was uncomfortable against his clothes and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. Not that he really needed to. After all this was exactly why they were there.

“I want you” The retired rider whispered as he pushed the material away from his hips. His naked ass hit the cold floor. For a second if was uncomfortable but Bez made a sound of agreement and quickly kicked everything away from them. Vale could have said anything. With his hands basically on his now exposed cock, he would agree to everything. It felt good to be desired even though it's just in a weird way that he didn't even truly understand. But he didn’t care. He came back, every time and accepted greedily whatever he was willing to give him. He took anything. He wouldn't deny the pleasure his mentor brought him for anything.

He wanted to feel his hands on him, like he did right now. He needed to feel him grabbing his thighs. It was close to being violent. He pushed in the skin and buried his fingers in there for a moment. Marco moaned. He knew his skin was probably turning red, stained with the pressure. Pain and pleasure mixed and his neglected cock stood up for attention. There was a little bit of pre-cum leaking to prove his excitement.

He was no longer thinking. Desire took over and his hands grabbed Valentino. He felt his neck and pulled him closer. He hungryly kissed him. He wanted to feel his lips on his. He wanted to feel his body against his. He wanted to feel his skin on his and pretend just for a moment that this was real. That they were real. That there was hope. That those two had future together even though he wasn't even really sure if he wanted said future not that this was a concern for him at the moment. After all, all he wanted right now was there. He wanted a release. And the one willing to give him the release he needed was his hero Valentino Rossi. He was in front of him willing to fuck him stupid.

He felt his hand wandering down between his legs. Just for a moment he was carefully stroking his thighs. His mind was finally quiet. He could finally breathe. He could just enjoy the moment and that was all he wanted. He kissed his mentor and kissed him again while feeling the vibration leaving the older Italians chest. „How eager" he replied while starting to touch the tip of his cock.

Bez response followed with a needy whine that accidentally escaped his throat. He took it as an encouragement and rubbed the tip of his cock before suddenly leaning down. The rider felt his breath stop for a moment. He started at the dark hair that was now only a breath away. He could feel the breath of the older against the skin of his V-line. It somehow burned against his already hot skin.

There was no more hesitation. He put his hand on his head and tried pushing him towards his leaking dick. The next thing he knew he felt warm lips on the tip of his dick. Before he could even realise what was going on his whole cock was surrounded by heat and wetness. He almost screamed from the pleasure.

His lover sat a fast and unbroken speed. Clearly not his first time. Bez knew that. But now with his hand burried in Vale's hair, all he could do was moan his lovers name. He tried to control his breathing. He couldn't decide if having his eyes wide open or closed tight enough to see stars was the better option. His gronas formed words. "Vale! Va-Va-Fuck!"

He sucked him off and when he felt a familiar heat pool in his lower abdoman he let go of his head. Instead his hands now formed a fist and he pushed it against the ground. „I'm… I'm gonna… I'm gonna come! Fuck! Vale-!"

Then the sudden release hit him. The tension left his shoulders as he came. He didn't had the strength to continue to push himself against the wall so he didn't. He let go and breath. He was breathing heavily. He was trying to control it when he felt Vale's mouth leave his skin. He looked up. His eyes were tired but he could clearly see the smirk in the older man's face.

He had swallowed and was now getting ride of the last drops that were still in the corner of his mouth. „Better?" he asked and kneeled next to Bez. For a moment he hesitated but than quickly nodded. „Yes, thank you Vale." „Always" he whispered and kissed him. This time it was a soft one. Almost careful as if he wanted to apologize for being to rough earlier.

„Okay, the race should almost be over. I'll be heading back now and you should finally take a shower" he announced and stood up. Bez stared at him in disbelief. He had gotten used to the sudden end of their sessions. That didn't mean he liked it. “See you later, okay?”

Bez knew he couldn't expect anything different. It wasn't part of their arrangement. So he faked a smile. “Yeah, see- see you”

Vale didn't even looked back as he closed the door. The silent 'click' confirmed that he was now gone. He had left. Bez stared at the door. He imagined Vale was still standing there.“I just… I need someone and I don't want to be alone right now”

He buried his head against his knees. Emotions he couldn't place overcame him as he was cursing himself again.

That night he went out. Not with the academy or his team. They asked him to join but he politely declined. He wasn't in the mood, at least not for the popular, loud, straight club, they always went for. He now went to a different kind of club. More private. Less known. It was a messy one actually. The kind no one told you about. He preferred those one. Especially cause this one, was known to be a gay club.

So he sat down at the bar. He burried his head in one of the biggest hoddies he owned and looked around. He watched a young woman flirt with a slightly older one. Both laughing and sharing glances. They looked so in love. They looked happy and Bez wanted excatly that. He was on his 3rd drink when a voice behind him suddenly addressed him. For a moment he was annoyed. He had no interest in talking to a fan. He wanted to bury his Frust in alcohol.

“Sorry about your DNF. You really deserve better”

Confused he turned around. He knew this voice a little to well. He was meet with a shy smile. He smiled back. Maybe it was a reflex, the crippling loyalty or the alcohol. Probably a combination of all three. But he smiled back, a kind, real one.

“Sorry about your penalty. P10 after a fight like that was undeserved" he said and watched Marc Marquez smile.

[monstersandmaw]

I can't believe this story is 14.5k words long. These monthly stories are only supposed to be about 2-3k words long, but hey.

_

It's still June, just... I'm so sorry this didn't appear sooner, but it's a whopping 14.5k words long, so hopefully that makes up for it!

Content: at the end of their first year at the Royal Academy for the Magical Arts, the young, entitled son of the wealthiest family on the continent is partnered for an assignment with a diligent reader from a very humble background, and makes a very poor choice. Years later, after finishing their masters, the reader finds themself having to work with him again, only to find he's not quite as they remember this time around. Also featuring a naga bestie, adoptive dads, a badass dwarven professor, and a chunky cameo from the orc mage, Orrakh from a short story on Tumblr.

(Light spoilers) content warning: reader is drugged to render them unconscious, but nothing untoward happens while they're out, and it's facilitated by their friend. Nsfw: reader gives a blowjob in a sort of semi-public place, and receives oral in return back in private.

Wordcount: 14,565

Extract:

Ambient magicka crackled and coalesced around you, becoming little flashes of light in the air as you strode down the navy blue corridor of the astronomy wing where you’d met your friend. “I worked my ass off for that placement, Alana, and I am not going to let some gilded turd buy his way in beside me and turn it into a farce!”

The naga’s thick, serpentine tail carved a wide swathe through the other student mages as she struggled to keep up with you, until she finally grabbed at the sleeve of your dark robe and yanked you around to face her.

“Take a breath, honey,” she said, pushing her circular, gold-rimmed glasses back up her nose and blinking moss-green eyes at you from her pretty, round face with all its myriad freckles. “From what you’ve told me, Rune is a first class shit, but you’re going to have to work with him.”

“He’s not just a shit, Alana,” you fired back through gritted teeth, aware that you were drawing a bit of an audience beneath the painted vaults of the long corridor. “He’s a rich shit who thinks he can throw money at people and just walk out with whatever he wants! That isn’t going to cut it with Magister Delfan.” The dwarven professor was notoriously impatient when it came to time-wasters, but if you got on her good side, people said she was an absolute blast.

You glowered at your best friend and tried to force down a tide of emotions and memories.

“Delfan wants actual talent,” you went on in a slightly more measured voice, “And I know from experience that Rune is a lazy, good-for-nothing arsehole. I worked with him before in first year? And what the fuck is he doing on a summer placement with Delfan when he’s not even studying her subject?” you added as the realisation hit you.

Rune, rather ironically, had only studied basic runecraft with you in your first year, but had switched subjects in his second. You hadn’t kept track of what he’d been doing in the interim years, but you knew it wasn’t Delfan’s specialism of foci and auxiliary artefacts, and their use in magical rituals.

You let out a tight, wheezing huff of breath and blinked away memories of your humiliating two week project ‘with’ him. It had cost you your friendship with your then-best friend too, and that had hurt almost more than what Rune himself had done.

“If I want the Board to consider appointing me for a research fellowship, I need to finish this placement with Delfan’s endorsement. If Rune fucks this up for me because he’s bored and wants to play the academic for a while, I’m going to ring his scaly neck and turn him into a fucking golden handbag, do you understand me? I don’t care who his father is, I swear to all the gods I’ll do it.”

Alana’s expressive face suddenly struggled to keep back her rush of amusement at the image. You saw the sparkle in her eyes and rolled your own in response, but a little of your anger drained away.

“I’m sorry,” Alana snickered, “But at least you’d get a luxury handbag out of it?”

You caught her laughter and your frustration disintegrated around you like a shattered potion flask.

Still giggling, Alana put her hand on your shoulder and squeezed it as she met your gaze. “You’ll be fine. Delfan is a hard-ass and she’ll recognise your commitment, even if Milordy Goldypants puts in zero effort, alright?”

You snorted a laugh, hefted your leather satchel back onto your shoulder. You’d never told anyone else what Rune had done, apart from your parents and Alana, and the idea of having to work with him again made your stomach roil. The magic that had started to crystallise around you dissipated, but your memories of the dragonborn from your first year lingered all the same, and they were not pleasant ones.

When you’d been partnered with Rune before — when Magister Orrakh had called your name right after Rune’s — your heart had dropped to your boots and he’d flashed you a sharp-toothed grin across the small lecture hall. Sometimes Magister Orrakh taught in that larger hall, when he needed more space to show the full intricacy of a runic circuit and the way magicka flowed around the lines of chalk from rune to rune, but when he taught his theory classes, he preferred to use his small classroom. Unfortunately, that day’s class had been a practical session, and the tiered seating which gave the students at the back a better view of the experiment on the stone altar at the front of the room also gave you a good view of Rune lording it over you from the higher seating.

The dragonborn had been lounging near the back of the tiered seating on the end of the row, with his serrated tail dangling nonchalantly into the gangway that ran between the two halves of the auditorium. He was strikingly handsome, of course, with eyes the colour of back-lit amber flecked with pyrite, and his scales were a warm, honeyed yellow that gleamed almost opalescent in the sunlight streaming in through the clear, arched windows set high in the wall.

His tunic was a deep, pure black, but it had been embroidered with the most minute, fairy-wrought detailing that dizzied the eye if you looked too long at it, and he had whisper-thin, gold chains dripping from ornately engraved bands around his twin, ridged horns. The larger horn sat stacked atop the smaller, nestled close together at the root, and both followed the line of his skull back over his head to end in elegant, polished, gently-rounded points. He was so obnoxiously wealthy that even the delicate, gossamer chains were adorned with tiny flashing diamonds which sent minuscule rainbows dancing around the walls wherever he went.

You'd had nothing to do with him so far in your first year at the academy, having come from entirely different backgrounds.

There was no way the scion of the wealthiest family in the entire kingdom — richer even than the royal family, if rumours were to be believed — would look twice at the adopted child of a fisherman and a rat catcher from the dockland slums of the city. You’d fought for everything you’d ever got out of life, finally earning yourself a scholarship to the prestigious Royal Academy for the Study of Magical Arts. He’d probably got his father to buy his place, since he’d shown no real demonstrative abilities with magic.

Everything had been going so well for you until that fateful final presentation of the year when you’d been paired with Rune.

Read the whole 14.5k word story, with all its angst and feels and 'enemies to lovers' / redemption arc goodness right now on Patreon! Plus last month's story which was a whopping 13k words long!! (as well as all the other Patreon exclusive content, and don't forget there are also free stories up on Patreon as well!

[lazyjellyfishcreation]

My thoughts on witcher!jaskier

So, so. I have been looking at a lot of witcher!jaskier shit lately, and eventhough bear!jaskier strikes a cord in my heart, to me, jask will always be a cat. So, with Jaskier being a cat, he would know Aiden, that would be logical. My question: what would their relationship be? my headcanon, Jaskier is Aidens teacher! Hear me out. Julek (jaskier's first actual name) was a promising young witcher of about 50 years old when it happend. He doesn't go to the caravan often because he doesn't like his siblings all that much, but he occasionally does to gamble and drink without having to worry about prejudice. He gambles his fun money away and gets drunk as a skunk in the process. He then remembers just how much he doesn't like being at the caravan and in his drunken mind decides to leave the caravan then and there to continue on the path. On his way out he stumbles into the wrong cart and finds Aiden. Aiden came out wrong. When he went trough the grasses (i hc that eventhough the cats do take in witchers from other schools that came out wrong, they also made their own, and aiden was one of the later.) Usually, a cat comming out with weird mutations isn't a problem, that's the cats school's specialty. But Aiden was a step too far. Aiden was deaf after the grasses. And the mages wanted to know why, so they strapped him to a table, to dissect him later. that's where Julek finds him. at 12 years old, scared, feverish from the grasses, alone, unable to hear, and not knowing what is going got happen to him. Julek, drunk as he is, decides that this is the perfect opportunity to make a shit decision and just. Takes. The kid. Julek just steals this child, and when he sobers up he realizes that that was a shit desicion but can't go back now, not when the kid looks up at him with scared sad eyes and go god he is gonna get so attached to this kid. So, Julek raises Aiden to the best of his abilties. He feeds him, trains him, teaches him the speech of hands (sighn language). Aiden is a smart boy, and phenomenal with trowing knives, he truly has impeccable aim. He's large too. Whatever took his hearing made him grow fast as fuck. Eventually, just when Aiden is getting used to not hearing, after a year or so, fate is cruel to him once again and takes his silent safety. Getting his hearing back is excutiating. Everything is loud, and sounds are so sharp now and it is overwhelming and aiden just want's it to be quit again but it is never quiet and and and. He's not having a good time. It takes him well over a month for him to adjusted to sounds. But now his hearing is better then any witcher's. It's overwhelming and it hurts but at least he can hear the monsters coming now.

All the while they are getting chased. Rememeber: Julek took a kit that wasn't his, not only that, Aiden was supposed to be a sience experiment and the cat mages want him back. so, 3 years after aiden getting stolen they make the desicion to go back to the caravan and claim aiden as julek's kit, to keep them from being hunted.

only problem: only grandmasters can assighn a witcher a kit to go on the path with, and the current grandmaster won't do it, because the mages want to keep him. so, Julek does the sane thing and chalenges the granmaster. If he wins and kills the grandmaster, then he becomes the grandmaster and can claim Aiden. if not, well... he wont be around to witness what they would do to his kit (son) nobody expects this 50 something year old witcher to beat the grandmaster with a century of experience under his belt. Julek is good, but he's (relatively) young. They are all wrong. Julek wins. Aiden is his. He claims his kid, steps down from the grandmaster position and fucks right off. I have so much more for this au but it's late so i might write that later if you want.

[katyawriteswhump]

the freak in the penthouse, part 3.2

E-rated (for sexual content), accidental millionaire eddie/sex-worker steve.

On tumblr: Part one Part two Part three.one

On AO3

3.2 Who’d wanna hire an asthmatic call-boy?

“You broke your no-music rule,” Steve murmured into Eddie’s ear, arms looping up around Eddie’s neck as they swayed to the unfamiliar rock song.

“My penthouse, my rules.”

“Anything you say, bat-boy.”

“Say what?”

“The tats.” Steve nibbled Eddie’s collarbone. Steve never knew he’d gotten a thing for tattoos, let alone nasty-ass demons and skulls and bats and shit. Last night, however, they’d totally bewitched him, and now… “Fucking delicious, Eddie. I wanna lick every inch of your skin. What d’ya say to that, Sweety-kins?”

"You're goooood, Stevie. I almost believe ya."

Steve peeped up. Eddie poked his tongue out, kinda silly. Joke was, though, Steve genuinely craved it. Jesus, he’d not wanted to actually be with anybody in so damn long. Still, he couldn’t blot out something Robin said earlier, "It’s just another form of Stockholm syndrome, Steve. He's paying you for sex. Don’t go down that spiral."

His tongue scraped up Eddie’s throat, chafed along the line of Eddie’s jaw, finding those lips, plundering that mouth. His fingers glided into Eddie’s hair, twisting, tangling and clinging, while Eddie kissed enthusiastically back.

You know what, Robin—I’ll spiral if I gotta, because he’s still the best thing that’s happened to me in years. Who cares about being thrown away with the trash tomorrow, when you’re already three-fifty in profit, and Christ knows… heck, YOU know… I need the money.

They wound up naked in the foamy plunge pool. Steve sprawled on top of Eddie, taking Eddie’s face in his hands as he basically sucked it off. When they broke for air, Steve mumbled, “You lied, man. It’s not big enough to swim in.”

“Seen bigger, huh?” panted Eddie.

Well, duh! I used to have my own swimming pool ten times this size.

He wedged his hand between Eddie's thighs. “Depends what we’re talking about.”

“Bet you say that to all the dames.”

“Nah. Just you.”

They kissed again, splashed about and grappled, till Eddie landed on top, pinning Steve beneath him.  Eddie was insane levels of adorable with his hair flattened like a wet pup, rendering those kind chocolate eyes stupid-huge. He’d gotten soap suds everywhere, including on the tip of his nose, from where Steve—awkwardly gyrating his dick against Eddie’s from beneath—began licking it off.

Bad move.

The shitty suds caught in his throat, and he started to cough. Uuuuuurgh! Why today? WHY NOW? Whose dumbass idea was the hot-tub?

Oh yeah. Mine. 

He squirmed out from under Eddie and turned away to gather himself, leaning on the side of the pool.

Eddie’s gentle hand on his shoulder startled him: “Hey, take it easy. You okay?” 

“Yeah… Jesus, I’m fine. Fucking stupid bubbles.” He swallowed hard, blinked to clear the moisture from his eyes. “Where were we?”

Eddie leaned back, his arms spread along the back of the tub, his legs floating and his hips elevated. His dick bobbed needily on the bubbly surface of the tub, and the hopeful smile on his face said it all. 

He wanted Steve to blow him.

Which wasn’t a problem. Christ, choking on soap suds shouldn’t trigger an attack or anything. On the other hand, it had unsettled Steve. And ordering his prevention meds wasn’t the same as taking them.

Screw it, though. He’d muscle through. He usually did.

He glided between Eddie’s legs, knees on the bottom of the tub, water lapping his chin as he nuzzled into the hair above Eddie’s dick. He focussed on Eddie’s little grunts, the way he jerked his hips up, his dick beating ripples across the surface. Steve slid his lips over Eddie’s cockhead, and Eddie instantly pressed toward Steve’s throat. Steve’s lower lip was already on the water line, the water splashing into his face, stinging his eyes.

You can do this.

He swallowed Eddie’s shaft deep, which went badly, as it somehow forced more suds up his nose.

Crap! No, you moron. You really can’t fucking do this.

He slid his lips free, gasped, coughed then goddamn wheezed. What’s wrong with you tonight? You total, pathetic loser!

“Steve?” Eddie’s formerly blissed-out eyes stretched wide. “You okay? You need some water?”

“No. M’fine.” Eddie was coming at him, tentatively reaching for him. Steve gathered the strength to shove him back, thudded his own chest, then slid his hand to his ass. He’d prepped before coming in, in case Eddie hadn’t been in the mood for slow and sweet tonight. Plus, he was wet and soapy.

This was still gonna hurt, mind. But if he couldn’t give a blowjob without flaking out and freaking like a pussy, he’d not got much choice.

Eddie still looked worried. “You sure you’re fine?”

“Never better,” purred Steve.  “Look, sorry about that. Gonna treat you so good, Eddie Munson, your cock’s gonna wanna pay rent on my ass by the year.”

“Huh?”

THAT WAS THE SHITTEST LINE IN THE HISTORY OF EVER!

“Just relax, Eddie-babes. Gonna ride you to fucking heaven and back.”  

Steve rolled the condom onto Eddie’s erection himself this time. He awkwardly straddled Eddie’s lap, lined himself up, gritted his teeth. With his top-draw ‘I-love-how-you-hurt-me’ cry, he impaled himself to the hilt on Eddie’s cock and started riding him like a cowgirl. 

Yeah, it hurt. Always did, taking somebody so quick, so deep, with gravity definitely not his friend. He grinded away at Eddie, already feeling that dull gnawing ache in his back that wouldn’t fade for hours, and—

“Steve? You… uh… uh… fuck, yeah… You s-sure you’re okay?”

“Fine!”

Eddie looked slightly anxious, which was totally not what Steve was going for. Then he realized why.

Eddie was staring at Steve’s dick. 

Steve’s totally soft dick.

A strange embarrassment shot through Steve, even as he kept riding Eddie, arms aching as he levered himself up and down. His hard labor was paying off, though. Eddie’s eyes rolled upward:

“Stevie, uh… uh… Yes… Oh my God… yessss… b-but… Hey, let me, okay?”

Steve’s arms almost buckled in bewilderment. Most Johns hadn’t given a damn if Steve came or not. Most hadn’t even given a damn if he was literally choking on their cock, unless teeth became an issue.

Eddie, however, grasped Steve’s dick and began to frisk it: “Jesus… Eddie… Yes… Wow.”

Eddie proved pretty skilled in the hand-job department, emphasising the upstroke—always the best part for Steve—pausing only to chafe his thumb across Steve’s super-sensitive slit. Eddie’s awesomeness soon outweighed Steve’s discomfort, coaxing him into full-on erection, until…

“Oh shiiiiiit, yes, Eddieeeeee!”

“Come for me, Sweetheart… Jesus, you’re too good. Too good for meeeee…. Fuuuuuuck!”

Steve’s frantic gaze locked tight on Eddie’s and he streaked messily across Eddie’s tattooed chest. Almost simultaneously, Eddie peaked too, buried deep up Steve’s ass. After that, Steve’s arms really did give way. He slid off Eddie and flopped forward, totally dizzied. It was hard enough coping with a strenuous cowgirl session coupled with the challenges of a pool. Dealing with the aftermath of his own orgasm on top of that?

Too damn much. Too damn good.

He snuggled bonelessly, his head in the crook of Eddie’s neck. Cool water lapped his chest. God, how had Eddie managed to transform a scary nightmare of a session into something Steve actually enjoyed?

I guess they all have their weird kinks. He’ll turn out like half the others and want to slap you around tomorrow.

It was hard to believe, though, especially as Eddie whispered: “You did so good, Stevie. You’re sooooo good to me.”

“You really are a freak, you know that?” said Steve.

...

On tumblr: Part one Part two Part three.one

On AO3 All my ST stuff on AO3

Likes reblogs and comments much appreciated and will feed the bunnies🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕