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perlelune · 6 months

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Training Wheels | Coriolanus Snow | v.

Your mother's macabre work never appealed to you as you always preferred the comfort of your books, but when her apprentice takes a special interest in you, your safe, quiet world is flipped upside down.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Gaul!Reader, Shy Reader, Manipulation, Parental Neglect, Drinking, Peer Pressure, Hazing, University set, Loss of Virginity, Dumbification, Insecurities, Abusive Relationship, Degradation, Suicide Attempt

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

You flinch as you enter Livia Cardew’s house, the attention drifting towards you causing your stomach to knot.

You suck in a lungful of bravery.

What a strange sight you must make, strolling in with Clemensia Dovecote and Coriolanus Snow of all people, her arm twined with yours while his hand rests on the small of your back. Your heart pounds in your chest, the urge to retreat and run outside radiating from every cell in your body.

You don’t belong here.

They will laugh at you.

Silly girl playing dress-up.

Tendrils of doubt creep alongside the walls of your fretful brain. You feel assessed, and perhaps found to be lacking, with every step you take.

“Don’t look down, angel.”

A sharp exhale flies from your lips as your chin is tilted upwards. You drown in the ocean beneath Coriolanus’ furrowed brow. His intense focus tugs you back to the present.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“It’ll be fine. You look stunning,” Clemmie assures, bumping your shoulder with hers.

You give a shaky nod. It’s true. After all, Clemmie put so much effort into your appearance. You should at least hold your head high and act normal.

Livia comes up to you. The dim candlelight reflects in her bouncy golden curls. Her bright red lips stretch in a wide smile as she gauges you.

“You guys came together?”

Despite her perky inflection, you don’t miss the slight narrowing of her eyes, or how they track the position of Coriolanus’ hand on your back.

“I drove them,” Coriolanus informs.

“Oh,” she says, nodding. She opens her arms. “You guys should get a drink, make yourselves comfortable.”

“I actually don’t…”

Clemmie flashes you a reassuring smile.

“It’s fine. We’ll get you something else.”

They both bring you to a table where an intense game of cards is in progress. You hear Festus curse and bang his fists over the table after seemingly getting a bad hand. The others around him laugh, one of them reshuffling the cards.

Some faces you recognize from the University and others you don’t. You feel their intrigued gazes when Coriolanus pulls a chair for you. As you take a seat, he and Clemmie do the same. Your eyes roam over the table. Piles of chips, row of cards and red dices. Clemensia mentioned games. You supposed she meant card games. And from the looks of it, money appears to be on the line. You suppose when they are not betting on the lives of children, these are the kind of things Capitol kids are up to.

With money and time to spare, it makes sense you suppose. Your head has always been buried so far in your books, you have never stopped to wonder what the future leaders of Panem are up to.

A sliver of fascination flutters through you as you soak in the scene at the table.

“Snow. Clemmie. Took you long enough,” Ivy says.

“You cannot rush perfection,” Clemmie replies, flicking her glossy raven locks above her shoulder.

Ivy rolls her eyes while Coriolanus grabs a set of cards from the draw pile. He frowns at them, a look of displeasure spreading on his face. A King, a queen and two aces. You don’t know how this particular game is played but you gather from his expression that he must hold a bad hand.

Dices are thrown. Despite not understanding the rules, you try to follow along. When someone offers you a set of cards, you politely decline.

The dark-haired stranger cocks his head as he scrutinizes you.

“So, you’re her daughter, right?”

Confused, you cast him a puzzled look.

“Gaul,” he specifies.

You shrink. Wherever you are, you cannot escape the overwhelming reach of your mother’s shadow. Twisting your fingers in your lap, you give a mumbled reply.

“Yeah, she’s my mother.”

He shifts in his chair, letting out a quiet whistle.

“Wow. She always gave me the heebie-jeebies.”

Clemmie groans before scolding him.

“Well, she’s nothing like her mother so shut up and play, Octavius.”

Another girl sitting across from him pipes up.

“All those snakes in the arena, just crawling around and climbing over that girl.” She shudders. “I still get nightmares about it.”

The boy turns to Coriolanus.

“What happened to her anyway, that songbird of yours?”A smirk blooms on Octavius’ lips, his eyes locking with the blond’s. “She was yours, wasn’t she, Snow?”

An eerie quiet falls over the table. Even the soft piano notes playing in the background dwindle as every eye travels to Coriolanus. You shift in your chair, curiosity driving your gaze towards him as well.

A tight-lipped smile decorates his handsome features, his icy blue eyes zeroing on Octavius.

Your blood chills as his cool baritone rises.

“It’s your turn to play,” Coriolanus says, completely ignoring the question.

You swallow the lump in your throat. Everyone knows Lucy Gray Baird, the beautiful, sharp-tongued tribute who belonged to Coriolanus Snow, is a subject that should never be brought up in his presence. No one exactly knows what happened between the two. Perhaps they reunited during his time in District 12. Perhaps they did not. Coriolanus wouldn’t speak of it. And the rare times you witnessed him being asked about it, there was a coldness in his blue eyes that unsettled you. Like now.

Whatever happened between him and the singing girl would remain a mystery. The only certainty is that he came back to the Capitol changed, with an aura around him that made everyone wary.

You can only assume he and that Lucy girl did not last. So the subject must still be a sore spot.

Octavius flinches under the blond’s stare, showing his cards for the entire table to see.

The blond’s brow arches. Scoffing, he displays his own hand.

Octavius curses under his breath as laughs erupt. He begrudgingly slides his entire stack of chips towards Coriolanus.

Victory glints in the blond’s cobalt orbs.

“Perhaps you should focus on your game,” he says. “Instead of blathering about ghosts and district rats.”

Slack-jawed, you stare at Coriolanus. His expression before had you believe he drew a terrible set of cards. Obviously it wasn't the case. He somehow fooled you and everyone else at the table.

The game continues. More chips are exchanged. Coriolanus’ pile keeps getting higher. It’s clear he’s an expert at the game. Everyone at the table tries to read him but his collected demeanor concedes very little.

“You must be my good luck charm, angel,” he says, sending you a smile that has your stomach fluttering.

Luck…as you note the staggering amounts of chips he’s collected thus far, you wonder if that’s what this is. If there isn’t more to it. Coriolanus seems terrifyingly adept at luring his opponents with a false sense of comfort. He’ll make a bad hand look like a good one, and a good hand look like a bad one. Set a trap and watch as others confidently walk into it.

Growing overwhelmed, you rise from your chair. The clamor of your heart fills your ears, the weight of others’ attention making your head spin.

Coriolanus’ head slants.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

The words leave your mouth in a breathless heap. “I just need a minute.”

“Is everything alright?” Clemmie inquires, concern scrunching her pretty features.

You shift and scratch your arm.

“I’m just gonna get a drink.”

“I could get you one,” he suggests.

“No, you guys stay and play,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m fine on my own.”

You ignore the way his eyes linger as you walk away, that itchy prickle over your nape that ripples down to your spine.

Swallowing thickly, you shuffle across Livia’s living room. An Avox maid offers you a glass on the way but you turn her down.

You ask for an alcohol-free drink and the maid tosses you an apologetic look. Your shoulders slump.

You peer around and find a spot at the bottom of the stairs. You sit, relieved to finally have a moment of peace. Being around so many people at once is still a novelty. You lean against the wooden railings. Was coming here a mistake? You can’t help but wonder. You noted someone pulling a bottle of morphling earlier and Ivy swallowing a handful of pills. At this point, everyone has imbibed, indulged, or both.

The thrall of oblivion is often strong in the Capitol. Too many things need forgetting. Too many sins. Too many horrors.

In that moment, as laughter from the living room rings inside your ears, you feel acutely out of place.

“Sorry. I only have posca, wine or whiskey.”

You lift your head. Your eyes widen when you realize Livia Cardew’s standing in front of you. “Well. I swiped that last one from my dad’s stash,” she adds with a small giggle.

You shrug. “It’s fine.”

You’ve probably overstayed your welcome anyway. This isn’t your crowd. But Clemmie insisted and you had no idea how to refuse. How do you even refuse something you have painfully yearned for all these years?

Livia scrutinizes you for what seems an eternity before speaking again.

“He’ll throw you away once he’s done with you, you know?”

You blink, dismayed by her abrupt statement. “I’m sorry?”

She lets out a weary sigh, a look grazing sympathy flickering on her face. It vanishes quickly. Her mouth tightens.

“Snow,” she groans, frustration evident in her tone. “He doesn't care about anyone or anything but himself.” Your brows knit. “I’m just trying to warn you.” She chews on her bottom lip, seeming to hesitate before bending closer to whisper, “Just…watch out, okay?”

Stumped by her sudden display of concern, no word leaves your tongue. You fold your arms, shifting on the stairs. Can you even trust any word coming from Livia’s mouth? Without Clemmie’s interjection, you’re fairly sure you wouldn't have been allowed into her home. Ever since she met you, she’s considered you with such blatant disdain. As if you were a stain that won’t let itself be erased.

You struggle picturing her delivering helpful advice.

“Liv, I hope you’re not giving her a hard time again.”

You let your body sag, grateful for Clemmie’s impromptu appearance. You get to your feet. Livia whirls towards the brunette, feigning innocence. “I’m being a gracious host,” she chimes.

Clemmie’s gaze narrows.

All smiles again, she turns to you as Livia stomps away.

“Don’t worry about her.”

You nibble your bottom lip.

“Maybe it’s best if I head out.”

She frowns. “But you just got here.”

“I suppose…” Your mind scrambles for an excuse. You blurt out the first thing that springs inside your head. “I need to go feed Walter anyway.”

Curiosity fills her onyx stare.

“Walter? Who’s Walter?”

“My cat.”

Silence stretches for a long minute before she bursts out in uncontrollable laughter.

Hand draping over her mouth, the brunette says, “Is that your excuse? You need to go feed your cat?”

Heat rushes to your face. Said aloud, you concede it sounds silly. Akin to a lame, hasty excuse. While there are bits of truth in your response, you can’t deny you’re craving for a way out.

Clemmie cradles your face.

“The first time is always a bit awkward. You’ve got no idea what you’re doing, what is even going on…” She beams at you. “But you can’t back out. Not when you’re already here.”

You mull it over.

After all, wasn’t it what you wished for? Being seen, included. For years, longing twisted inside your chest while you watched your classmates form bonds and forge lifelong friendships. Meanwhile, you withered in a corner, making yourself smaller and smaller everyday. Clemmie has been nothing but kind. And Coriolanus…while his presence plucks at your nerves, you have to admit he’s been a gentleman so far. Offering to drive you home, carrying your books, and berating every guy who said something mean to you or brushed you off. No one’s ever stood up for you like that before.

Maybe you ought to try harder to fit in, be normal.

Giving a slow nod, you surrender.

“Alright. I guess I can stay a little longer.”

“You know what you need?” Her eyes twinkle. “Liquid courage.” She grabs two glasses of wine from the Avox maid’s tray. “Let’s just drink. To your first party. One of many, I hope.”

She tries to place one in your hand but you resist.

“Clemmie, I told you I don’t-”

“I know. I know…but don’t you want to mark the occasion?” She tilts her head sideways, sympathy etched on her pretty face. “Come on, do you want to be that girl who finishes Uni and hasn’t tried anything new? The girl who’s never taken a chance?” She holds your gaze, pressing the drink between your fingers. “Sad, alone, not a single experience to reminisce…Is this really what you want?”

“No, it’s not. You’re right,” you mutter, your fingers tightening around the glass.

“You came here to be someone else. So be someone else.”

Her words embolden you to take a large swig of the drink. When there’s still some of it left, she encourages you to finish it. Then, she nudges you to have another glass, sliding a tiny yellow pill inside your other hand.

You scowl down at your palm.

“What’s this?”

“Morphling extract. It’ll help you relax.”

You look at Clemmie. Excitement sways in her eyes.

You toss your head back and gulp down the pill. She congratulates you. It catches in your throat and you wash it down with more alcohol.

The effect is near instantaneous.

Your muscles uncoil, your fear melting away. Soft, fluffy clouds replace the foggy cluster of your thoughts. A pleasant buzz spreads through your veins.

“Come on, let’s join the others,” she says, seizing your hand and tugging you along.

You end up on the sofa, wedged between her and Coriolanus.

He drinks you in, a subtle smile blooming on his lips.

“You seem happy.”

“I am happy.”

Your sharp, immediate answer broadens his smile.

“What are you guys doing?” Clemmie asks.

Livia sighs. “It’s a stupid game we haven’t played since the Academy.”

“Hey, it’s not stupid. I like it,” Ivy protests. She grabs a bottle of posca and begins to pour some in everyone’s glass. “You take a drink when there’s something you haven’t done. Simple right?”

The game is indeed easy. It also makes you want to crawl inside a hole and never come out as the night gets further along. A myriad of questions is flung at the group. Each of them grows the well of embarrassment pitting in your stomach.

You’re forced to take a drink when Ivy asks who’s had sex, who has done it with more than one person, who has kissed a boy or girl.

Many times, you are the only one grabbing your glass, exposing your lack of experience to the entire group. You hear a stifled laugh somewhere besides you. Your face ignites.

You bolt upwards, shooting the group an apologetic look.

“I’m gonna get some air,” you say.

You stumble away. However after just a few wobbly steps toward the exit, you keel over and almost collide with the marbled tiles.

A pair of strong arms slither around your waist, preventing your collapse.

“Are you alright, angel?” Coriolanus whispers against your temple.

You raise shaky fingers to your face, or what you think is your face. Your fingertips are like cotton, nothing beneath them feeling as it should.

Your brows crumple.

“I can’t feel my legs. I-I can’t feel my face.” Your mind swirls as you look up. The room bends off its axis around you. Panic rushes through you. “I have to go home.”

“I’ll take you then,” he says.

You shake your head. Even that tiny motion makes you want to puke.

You swallow the surge of bile in your throat.

“No. You should return to the party. I couldn’t, I can’t…”

Coriolanus’ brows furrow.

“I’m not letting you go home by yourself at this hour and in this state,” he says, practically carrying you out of Livia’s house as you slump against him.

“What about Clemmie?”

He smiles at you as you hobble alongside him.

“She can find her own way home.”

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #tbosas fanfiction #dark!coriolanus snow x reader

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fredwkong · 1 year

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1000: Banana

As the clock strikes midnight, Eric grabs the banana card, letting the other two cards drop. As they fall, they dissolve into dust, creating a small pile of ashes on the floor. Meanwhile, the banana card starts to glow in Eric’s hand. It becomes searing hot, and Eric shields his eyes, cursing. Then, in a flash, it too vanishes.

Blinking his eyes against the afterimages, Eric looks around his room. The box of cards has sealed itself once more. Nothing else seems out of the ordinary, though Eric finds himself feeling a bit warm. He rubs his fingers where they were scorched by the card. They’re still tingling.

Eric drifts through his nighttime routine, washing his face and brushing his teeth in a daze. Could it all have been a trick? No, it’s far too convincing. Eric looks at his pale, scared face in the cracked mirror. “Magic is real,” he tells himself, his voice shaking.

Getting into bed, Eric is sure he’ll be tossing and turning all night, but sudden exhaustion takes him, and he drifts off without any trouble at all.

The next morning, Eric wakes up feeling horny. It’s not such an unusual feeling for him, as a normal 18-year-old boy, but Eric finds himself palming himself through his loose boxers with unusual intensity. His dick seems especially needy for attention.

Needy. The word bounces around in Eric’s head as he strokes himself to full hardness. Yeah, he’s got a needy cock. It’s not just that he has a normal libido, his cock has needs. It needs his hand on it. It needs to thrust, rut, and cum. Eric rolls over onto his belly and starts thrusting into his hand. In seconds, he cums with a groan, leaving a few drops of pearly semen on his sheets. He’s always had pretty light loads.

It’s a pretty uneventful Sunday. It’s warm, so Eric reasons he may as well not get dressed. He sits around in his dorm, playing some video games. He needs to go grocery shopping, but he figures that he can just go tomorrow. After last night, he needs a break.

Throughout the day, Eric feels a slowly growing awareness of his dick. Usually, it’s not much of a problem for him. He’s never been the kind of guy who has to masturbate more than a few times a week. He’s never even managed to get close enough to someone to know if he’s more of a top or a bottom. Sex has simply not been much of a concern when he isn’t even out to anyone.

But suddenly, his dick is grabbing his attention. It just seems to… rub against him, somehow. The fabric of his boxers is stimulating it. How strange.

At the next save point, Eric sticks his hand into his undies. He probably just has to adjust himself. As soon as he touches himself, he groans, loud. His cock feels so good. But he really wants to beat this next boss. He tucks his hardening cock down into the leg of his boxers and withdraws his hand with one last lingering touch of the head. As he does, he feels a slick wetness on his fingers. Did he cum again? No, the liquid is clear.

On impulse, Eric sniffs his hand. The smell is rich, tangy, a little bit bitter. Back in his sex ed, he remembers reading about precum. He’s never produced enough to notice before.

Except for his strangely insistent dick, Eric’s evening goes pretty normally. He finishes up his game and gets ready for bed. As he lies down, he can’t resist fishing his cock out. He rolls over onto his belly and thrusts into his hand once again. There’s a strange smoothness to the motion of his hand up and down his length now, like he has some extra skin. Eric’s about to pull himself up and look when his orgasm suddenly hits him. Without even getting up to wipe off his sheets, Eric falls asleep on top of the dribble of slick cum.

Monday morning is much the same as Sunday. Eric cums into his hand, rutting against his sheets. This time, he puts a pillow down under him. Somehow, this needy cock of his isn’t satisfied. It wants something more. He can’t ignore it as he showers and gets dressed. Even tucked into his jeans as he walks around the grocery store, Eric can’t stop paying attention to his cock. Every time he passes a man, it jumps, sometimes making him moan quietly.

On Tuesday, Eric has a summer class. His cock is so insistent in the morning that he cums twice before walking out the door, each less satisfying than the last. His whole class, Eric rocks forward and back, feeling the occasional drip of precum leak into his boxers as he stimulates himself with his skinny thighs. By the end of class, he’s absorbed nothing, but his boxers have absorbed so much they feel slick as he walks.

Eric resists jerking off as soon as he’s back in his room. He knows it won’t be satisfying anyway. He rips off his jeans and boxers. “What do you want?” he asks his dick.

The head is slick and shiny with precum. It seems to be gathering up under the flap of skin that’s loosened from just below the frenulum. Do guys just grow back their foreskins? As his cock bounces in time with his thundering heart, Eric looks down and suddenly has the mental image of his needy cock jackhammering a thick ass, or facefucking some guy’s throat.

Even as he imagines it, Eric feels the orgasm building. Just the thought of its needs being met has his cock about to blow. “N-no,” Eric gasps, attempting to dispel the images, but then his mind fills with the image of having one boy sucking his cockhead while another mouths at his balls. With an uncontrollable moan, Eric shoots a jet of cum out onto the floor, his knees buckling as his cock continues to unload.

On Wednesday morning, Eric wakes up with a tacky pool of mixed precum and cum on his slender belly, dripping onto the sheets on either side. He must have cum at least twice in his sleep, but his cock is still hard, the foreskin pulled back from the shiny purple head, a steady stream of precum leaking down his shaft.

Eric stares down at his cock, then looks towards the box of cards, still sitting innocently on his desk. “I can’t do this,” he tells the box flatly. “I can’t fucking do this. What am I supposed to do? Get a personality transplant?”

His fingers, where he touched the banana card, tingle for an instant.

As he wipes up the gooey puddle from his belly and groin, Eric has a sudden thought. What would be so bad about just… enjoying this? Most guys would be happy to suddenly have a leaky uncut cock with a need to fuck. He should just enjoy it while it lasts.

“Fucking weird,” he mutters to himself, rolling his eyes and pulling on a pair of boxers.

It’s a few days early, but Eric’s soaked through all his underwear and has to do laundry. He sits in the laundry room, resolved to go through the lecture he couldn't pay attention to yesterday. As the boxers tumble in the sudsy water, the precum stains refuse to come out, sinking deeper into the fabric. By the end of the spin cycle, Eric’s clothes have begun to transform, the colours lightening and legs shortening on all of his baggy, body-hiding clothes.

Distracted by his lecture and the growing sensation of his cock swinging around in his boxers half-hard, Eric doesn’t notice as he transfers the load over to the dryer. As the clothes tumble, the changes become more apparent. The baked-in precum lets off a funky stench, making Eric’s head spin as all of his boxers transform into briefs, his pants into shorts. The sleeves slice neatly off all his T-shirts and vanish.

“Are these my clothes?” Eric mutters to himself as he unloads the dryer. He gives one of the briefs a sniff, filling his nose with the scent of his own pre. “Damn, yeah,” he chuckles, pulling out the rest. He can’t help but think that he should be kinda disgusted by that, right? But no, it’s actually pretty hot that his pre and cum are so powerful they can’t be washed out.

The rest of the day is similarly weird. Eric keeps having these weird thoughts, like he has two personalities in him. One is painfully shy and closeted, while the other is confident and a bit cocky. With every dribble of precum from his thick uncut cock, Eric can feel the shy personality being subsumed into this more confident man.

The next morning, Eric’s woken up by his last orgasm of the night, pumping several shots of cum right up onto his neck. God, he needs to figure out how to satiate this needy cock of his. Before he’s gotten out of bed, he’s already unloaded again, thrusting down into the towel he needs to keep on his bed all the time.

Instead of paying attention to his Thursday lecture, Eric downloads Grindr and uploads a selfie of his torso in bed this morning, covered in a layer of pearlescent cum. “Big shooter, in need of hole,” he writes as his bio. He doesn’t have any shame left, he needs to unload inside of a man. He can’t help but think that the cards heard his plea yesterday, and tore down some of his inhibitions.

Even so, that evening Eric finds himself unable to message back to any of the guys who message him. Every new hole pic or open mouth he receives makes him shrink deeper into his old shyness, even as his cock pisses precum at the sight of all these ready holes. Shuddering through his nth orgasm, he finally falls asleep.

By Friday morning, Eric is basically caught in a continuous, low-grade orgasm. His whole mind is suffused by need, and he snatches up his phone and messages the nearest person with “bottom” in their profile, probably someone in his dorm. “U up?”

The other guy responds immediately. “Damn, can I suck u?”

Eric groans as the thought sends a jet of cum out of his cock. He sends the guy his room number and opens his door at the knock a few minutes later.

The guy is cute, a little taller than Eric, tan with a cute little belly. “Holy shit,” he says, gaping at Eric’s continual leaking and the puddles of cum all over the floor.

“Get in here,” Eric growls, dragging the guy inside to slam the door shut. He shoves the guy down to his knees and rams his cock into his mouth.

It’s like a circuit closes. For the first time in two days, Eric can think as spurts of cum drain down the guy’s throat. He cums for what feels like minutes, until finally the need subsides and he pulls out, his cock softening at last.

The guy wipes at a trail of cum that leaked out of his mouth and licks it up. “So, hi, I’m Blair,” he says.

Suddenly, Eric is laughing. He can’t seem to stop. He drops to his knees in front of Blair and grins helplessly at him while continuing to laugh.

“Uh…”

“Sorry,” Eric says finally, getting himself back under control. “That was… That was my first time.”

“Damn.” Blair looks down at Eric’s soft cock, a bead of pre already forming at the tip of the foreskin. “Can I get be your second time too? Like, after lunchtime, maybe, because I think you filled me right up."

The two boys laugh together. “Uh, maybe. My cock is like, needy—“

Blair is cute and funny, and Eric finds him easy to talk to, even if their introduction was Eric unloading five men’s worth of cum into Blair’s belly. Eric finds himself feeling confident, even a little sexy, as they spend the day together. When they walk together to the dining hall for dinner, Eric finds his cock filled with a new need, and he lowers his shorts for a moment. A cock like his deserves to be seen, to show off the pre stain on his briefs.

Saturday, Eric feels almost normal. Blair gives him a real blowjob in the morning, though Eric ends up facefucking him a bit. His cock just needs to thrust. Then they play video games together between Blair draining Eric's balls until Blair heads back to his own room near midnight.

As he closes the door behind Blair, Eric remembers what happened last Saturday. He turns back to his desk to see the box of cards sitting open. Well, having a hyperactive dick hasn’t been so bad, now that he’s figured it out. He just has to solve whatever new problem these cards are gonna throw at him.

Eric draws his cards

On the first card is a drawing of a dog. It's one of the stereotypically aggressive breeds, a pit bull, standing in a defensive posture with its teeth bared. The wolf-like attitude and masculine lines of its body makes Eric think of cocky, 'manly' guys who always jump to their own defense and snap at anyone who looks at them funny.

On the second card, the art shows a cat. The cat is sitting with its back to the viewer, looking over one shoulder as if Eric isn't worth its time. Just like those independent, self-assured guys who float above everything in their lives, Eric realises. The cat looks like it marches to its own beat and doesn't bother with other people.

On the third card, there's a large, square-headed animal surrounded by smaller versions of itself. It's a capybara, Eric remembers. It looks so relaxed, chilling with its friends. Somehow, the art gives off a happy, carefree vibe. Sure, the capybara doesn't look like it spends much time thinking, but it clearly has a lot of friends and just chills all day.

Or vote here on strawpoll: https://strawpoll.com/e7ZJG4Nzdy3

See Eric's whole journey with the 1000 cards here.

Did your pick not win the vote? Send me an ask telling me what card Eric should have picked to see what could have happened.

#male transformation #mental change #1000 follower party #leaky tf #broification #gradual change #uncut tf #all fwkong

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kittykat-25 · 7 months

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One Of The Guys: Part 2

Pairings: Hongjoong x f! Reader , ??? X f!Reader

Genre: Idol Au, Friends to lovers, Angst

Warnings!: anxious habits mentioned, pet names: Doll, Bubs

Summary: You tried really hard not to be a cliché, falling love with your best friend. How unoriginal. But when your best friend is Kim Hongjoong what are you supposed to do?

Now Playing: One Of The Guys -Jessia

Part 1 Part 3

You were walking along the streets with Wooyoung and Changbin, listening to them bicker about whose choreography was harder for their next comebacks. “Minho is killing me, I sweat more there than at the gym.” Wooyoung laughed, “you just want a chance to mention how much you go to the gym in front of Y/n.” You laughed,”no need to mention it Bin, it’s pretty obvious you work out.” You motioned to his shirt that was straining over his biceps. “Yah stop flirting. You’re going to make me lose my lunch.” Wooyoung said while fake gagging.

As they walked into the gaming café you trailed behind taking in all the things happening. “Y/n are you going to play?” Changbin asked, looking for places to sit. Wooyoung looked at you with pleading eyes, “Not today I’ll just watch. Harass Wooyoung.” You said sticking your tongue out at your friend. Changbin found two chairs and rolled a third over for you. The boys start playing and you are content watching, learning about the game until boredom strikes. You wander over to the food counter with Wooyoung’s card and get a snack and coffees for the three of you. As you make your way back to your friends you feel your phone in your pocket buzzing. Looking down at your watch you see Hongjoongs name flashing.

Warmth fills your chest and you hurry to set things down to grab the phone. “Hey Joongie, what’s up?” You say gather the coffees back up. “Trying to figure out this tempo. Hwa said to call you, I was getting worked up apparently.” He says dryly into the phone. You set the snacks and coffees down with the guys, “well Joong you need to take breaks. Just relax and go on a walk. See some nature. It’ll be good for you.” Wooyoung rolls his eyes, “fat chance of that happening. He only sees the sky when he goes from the car into the front door.” You smack the back of his head and Hongjoong scoffs “tell Wooyoung he can sleep outside tonight. And to stop stealing you when I’m in crisis.” You feel your face heat up, “you aren’t in crisis Joong. Just take a break and eat.” “Yah you neglected her and my bank account suffers for it.” Wooyoung called into the phone. “Woah you offered lunch in return for not letting Bin bully you.” You say back at the boy in front of you. Changbin hearing this broke out in laughter. “Alright this was unhelpful.” Hongjoong says into the phone. “Awh Joongie, I’m sorry.” You half whine into the phone. “It’s alright Doll, Woo take care of our girl.” He adds softly before hanging up.

“Your face is so red right now bubs- owh! What was that for?” Wooyoung screech’s as Changbin smack the back of his head. “Leave her alone Woo.” You smile at Changbin and sit back down, “I hate when he calls me doll, the one name should not give me as much hope as it does. It’s ridiculous.” You bury your face in your hands. “It’s fine. We’re moving on, Woo are you winning?” You said quickly to change the subject. Hoping the iced coffee cools your heated face down, and your heart returns to a normal pace soon.

You spend the rest of the time pressing random buttons on Woos keyboard until his character dies, watching his patience grown thinner and thinner. He had just pushed your chair away, sending you flying down the walkway when Changbins phone lit up. “Hyung!” He called happily into the phone, Bang Chans face filled up the screen, “having fun Bin?” He asked, his eyes light up seeing his friend so relaxed. “Yah if these two would let me focus.” He picked up his phone and angled it towards Wooyoung. “Hi Chan Hyung!” Wooyoung called while laughing at you.

You hadn’t realized Changbin was on the phone yet “Jung Wooyoung you menace. I almost took out a kid!” You said as you playfully shoved him. “You made me die!” He retaliated, “it’s not my fault you naturally suck at this game.” You said. You heard Binnie laughing and turned toward him, not expecting to find Chan watching this unfold as well. “Hyung this is Y/n!” You gave a little wave and sat back down in your chair, “nice to meet you!” You called over to him. Changbin propped his phone up between the two computers which put you dead center. “You’re Hongjoong’s friend right?” You went to answer when Woo beat you to it. “Supposedly his “best friend” but I’m pretty sure that’s me.” You rolled your eyes, “you’re more of this annoying little brother I was handed one day and can’t return.” Wooyoung gasped at you, opening his mouth to respond when Chan cut him off, “I understand that completely, you’re bold for spending time with the two of them together.” Changbin lost in the game never heard the loving dig his leader made at him.

You stayed on FaceTime with Chan until Changbin lost his game and declared Chan was bad luck. As you gathered your things to leave, you texted Hongjoong asking to go for a walk, hoping to get him out of the studio for a few hours. His reply came shortly after, “Joong wants to grab dinner with us all. Yunho is requesting Bbq.” You tell Wooyoung as you make your way to his dorm. “As long as Joong is paying I’m down.” You walked back to the dorm and found the rest of Ateez waiting for you. “I feel like this meal is a trick.” Jongho said as you drove to the restaurant. “Why would you think that bear?” You asked, he glared at you, hating the nickname you gave him years ago. “Hongjoong Hyung just came out and asked all of us to dinner. Seems suspicious.” He said cutting his eyes to Joong who was sitting next to him, typing away on his phone.

You’re seated at dinner chatting with Mingi when Wooyoung kicks you under the table. You turn to glare at him but he hands you in his phone before you can start to yell. His text threads with Changbin are pulled up. “Look.” Woo says pointing to the last text received. “Channie Hyung asked for y/n number. Is she alright with me giving it?” You looked up at Wooyoung then your eyes automatically go to your friend at the end of the table engrossed with Yeosang about the comeback. “He can have it.” You said tearing your eyes away from Hongjoong. “Oooo look at y/n go!!” Mingi says quietly. Not alerting the whole table of your newly acquired friend.

Everyone is talking and relaxing when Hongjoong and Seonghwa stand up, you eyes travel up your friends body taking in his power stance and find him already staring at you, a smug smirk on his face. He raises an eyebrow but controls it into the neutral face of the captain as everyone focuses on him. “Jongho might have been right about this dinner. Not a trick per se just a treat on me.” Everyone glanced around, “in exchange for what?” Yunho asked. Seonghwa looked at the leader then back at the rest of the group, “we got the comeback schedule, we start in two weeks with teasers.” Wooyoung glared at Joong, “and?” Hongjoong locked eyes with you then mumbled something under his breath. Seonghwa elbowed him and Hongjoong looked at his group, “we promoted for 5 weeks, daily variety shows, music bank, fan meets. All the usual stuff.” He took a breath, “then we leave for Japan for 2 weeks. Doing fan meets there and some different variety shows.” Everyone was silent, Mingi the first to speak up “so basically we have two weeks to prepare for 2 months of non-stop?” Hongjoong nodded, “ I tried to get a break for us between Japan but CEO wasn’t having it.” He sat down, hands in his hair. “I’m sorry.” “Hyung, you did what you could. But honestly this isn’t any different than any other comeback, we all know how hectic it can be.” San commented.

You sat there with your hands in your lap, picking at the skin of your thumb. “Y/n, you’re unusually quiet.” Seonghwa said. You knew he needed you to breathe some hope into them. Lighten the mood in a way. Mingi’s hands came down on yours, pulled your nails away from your bleeding thumb. You swallowed, trying to get the lump in your throat down. “You guys have done world tours, and came home to do a comeback then back on tour. I understand Joong and Hwa maybe getting too old for this but the rest of you need to buck up.” You said, smirking at the two oldest boys. “I know I’ll enjoy the peace and quiet while you’re gone.” You added. Wooyoung rolled his eyes, “please you’ll be calling everyday bored out of your mind.” You all laughed and the tension lifted as they started talking about teasers and new dance challenges to try. You could feel eyes on you, looking towards the end of the table you met Hongjoong’s eyes and smiled. “Thank you” he mouthed, you dipped your head in response and turned your attention back to Mingi and Yunho. Not noticing the way the captains eyes stayed trained on you.

You had just thrown your keys into the bowl by your door when your phone went off. You looked down to find a text from an unsaved number. “Hey Y/n, it’s Chan. I enjoyed meeting you today.” You smiled as you read it, texting back. You continued to text Chan through the night, talking about music and mutual friends you had. Laughing more texting him than you had In a while. As you climbed into bed. You sent one last text before putting your phone down, “this has been fun, continue this conversation tomorrow?” His response was immediate, “over dinner?” You felt your face burn up. Thinking of a response you received another text. “Sorry if I misread this…”

You didn’t even finish reading the text before hitting the call button. “Hello!” Chan greeted, “I would love to get dinner with you!” You said quickly. You took a breath, “sorry I basically just yelled that at you.” You said nervously trying to hold in your laughter. Chan was quiet for a moment, he clicked back on and you realized he had muted himself. “Were you laughing at me Bang Chan!” You half yelled into the phone. “I’m sorry you just sounded so nervous. It was cute really.” He responded hearing the joy in his voice. You ran a hand down your face, “my gosh I’m not going to be able to face you tomorrow!” You sighed. Chan laughed more, “dinner tomorrow, want me to pick you up?” You smiled, “yeah I’ll text you my address.” Chan yawned into the phone, “alright it’s a date.” You smiled, “it’s a date then.” You hung up and settled in bed, a smile on your face and thoughts about tomorrow on your mind.

Taglist🥰 if you want to be included in the taglist message me!

@vampzity @sanslovesblog @sundaybossanova @skzline @edenesth @owmoiralover @scarfac3

#ateez #friends to lovers #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #choi san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #bang chan #changbin

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papercorgiworld · 7 months

Text

You are the prize

Sebastian Sallow

Imelda uses you to convince Sebastian to put in some extra effort for the upcoming quidditch games, but there may be a little misunderstanding about what exactly Imelda promised.

Warning: a little bit of smut, but nothing too bad

I found this. I wrote it months ago, but never posted it. Kinda wanted to post it a few weeks ago, but never did, but since this nice anon asked for more Hogwarts Legacy fics I thought that throwing this online was the least I could do. I find that it's written differently from how I write today, but that can just be my imagination. Also I have no clue how the HL fandom is doing, but Happy readings!

Anne was back. Ominis and Sebastian were as close as ever. All was well. Except for Imelda! Slytherin had had a bad quidditch year. If Slytherin wanted to have a chance of winning the house cup they needed to win the last three games or it would be the greatest Slytherin loss in Hogwarts history.

Sebastian had rejoined the team after Anne came back to Hogwarts, but he still wasn’t on top of his game. Imelda was convinced that if Sebastian focussed more, he could be the game changer. Which is why she was about to make him a deal that he could not refuse. Sebastian and Ominis were on their way to potions when Imelda grabbed Sebastian’s cloak bringing both boys to a stop.

“We have to win the last three games.” Imelda started and Sebastian rolled his eyes. Every training she had made him question why he started playing again. Imelda ignored the eye roll and continued. “Which means that you can’t be messing around anymore during training. And, more importantly, that ‘you’ need to bring in the victories.” Sebastian raised his eyebrows. “I believe you to be the only one that can somewhat keep up with me...” Sebastian was somewhat charmed by the compliment. “If only you put in some effort.” Sebastian rolled his eyes once more. Unbelievable, this woman.

“I’ve been doing my best, Imelda. This just isn’t our year. Two good players can’t win a game.” Sebastian argued annoyed. Imelda huffed. “I’m a ‘great’ player, thank you very much. And! I believe that two players can win a game if motivated.” Sebastian sighed and was about to simply turn on his heels. “I’m going to make you an offer.” Sebastian’s curiosity was stronger than his urge to leave. “I know you have a crush on y/n.” Sebastian’s eyes shot up to Imelda. How did she find out? “How about I arrange something?” Imelda continued and raised an eyebrow.

“So… if we win the next game you’ll arrange something?” Sebastian asked curiously. “If we win the next ‘three’ games, I’ll arrange something.” Imelda corrected. “Three?” Sebastian laughed, but Imelda kept her serious face up. “We win three games and you get something good.” Sebastian crossed his arms. “Good as in *makes kissy face*?” Now Imelda rolled her eyes. “Yes. A little make out session for you… but only if we win all three games.”

Sebastian was definitely interested. “And you can arrange that?” Sebastian questioned. “Yes.” Imelda said and she offered her hand. Sebastian thought about it for a moment, but he couldn’t resist and shook Imelda’s hand. Imelda nodded and left. “Did Imelda just sell off her own friend to win a quidditch game?” Ominis spoke up after witnessing everything in silence. “Three games.” Sebastian corrected with a playful smile on his face.

Imelda was already working on part two of her plan: convincing you. Normally she would believe it impossible to arrange someone for Sebastian, but she knew that you had a crush on him. So she wasn’t really using you, she was helping you. Merlin would be so proud of my scheme, she thought to herself as she walked up to you. “Ready for a game of chess?” Imelda asked you.

Imelda had lost two times in a row. To your surprise she wanted to play a third game. “Third time’s a charm right.” Imelda laughed. You simply smiled, she was acting a bit off today. “How about I throw in my famed potions flash cards.” Your eyes widened. Those could really save your grade. Too good to be true. “What’s the catch?” You asked a bit worried. “If you lose, you might need to kiss a guy.” “What?!” You yelped. You eyed her for an explanation. “In three weeks I might need you to kiss a guy. That is if you lose. If you win you get my potions flash cards.” You pursed your lips as you thought about it. You really needed those cards. “Who’s the guy?” You asked as you considered your options. “Why? Is there someone you would like to kiss?” Imelda asked with a raised eyebrow. “No. Just curious.” You tried to play it cool.

As planned Imelda won and the three weeks passed quickly.

Before the final game started Imelda came up to you in full quidditch gear. “About that game of chess we played three weeks ago…If Slytherin wins, go straight to the Slytherin common room.” Imelda gave you a devilish smile and walked away. You were left somewhat stressed out. Imelda walked towards the Slytherin team and went to stand next to Sebastian. “We win and you get your kiss from y/n.” Imelda said while focussed on the quidditch pitch in front of her. “Making-out session, you mean.” Sebastian corrected. Imelda frowned, did she really promise him that? Well, too late to change terms now. “Yeah, whatever.” She nonchalantly answered.

*** After the game ***

Imelda had pointed Sebastian towards their common room and as excited as Sebastian was to claim his well earned prize, when he stood in front of the door his courage and confidence was nowhere to be found.

His heartbeat was racing as he went down the stairs. You stood there nervously fumbling with the fabric of your tie. You looked up at Sebastian and your face heated up. “W-why are you here?” You stuttered. “I’m here to collect my prize.” Sebastian said suggestively with a smug smile on his face. With fake confidence he walked over to you. “Prize?” You questioned, finally putting together the pieces of Imelda’s scheme.

You snapped out of your thoughts and noticed that Sebastian stood only centimeters/inches away from you. With a gentle finger he lifted your chin up and leaned in. You kissed back softly. You parted after a moment, too quickly for Sebastian’s liking. “So, that’s that.” You said and smiled awkwardly as you took a step back. “Auch.” Sebastian said quietly. “What?” You immediately asked. “Am I such a bad kisser?” You shook your head. “No, not at all.” Sebastian smiled and again closed the space between you two.

“Good, because I was promised a make out session.” He said right before leaning in to kiss you once more. This time you parted your lips slightly and Sebastian was eager to accept the invitation. One hand slipped to your lower back pressing your body against his, while his other hand held your head gently.

As Sebastian parted, he saw hesitation and doubt in your eyes. “I don’t know what Imelda told you, but if you don’t want to do this then you don’t have to.” He stayed close to you but his eyes were sincerely looking for your approval. “Imelda said just a kiss.” You spoke softly. Sebastian’s heart dropped and his eyes showed clear disappointment. “Then let’s leave it at that.” He said as he took a step back and smiled sheepishly.

“It’s not that I don’t want to… uh, kiss and stuff.” You confessed. “I’m - I’m just a bit insecure, I guess.” Sebastian laughed, not the reaction you were hoping for. He cupped your cheek. “There is no reason for you to be insecure. You are a sweet and intelligent witch, and you’re so beautiful.” While he said that last bit he shamelessly traced your figure. “So, do you want to continue?” He asked with a smile tugging his lips. You pulled him closer using his quidditch cloak and kissed him. Your fingers messing up his already messy hair even more.

When you parted for air, Sebastian saw an opportunity to lift you up and place you on a nearby table. He found his way between your legs and pushed himself as close to you as possible. Passionate kisses turned into sloppy ones as you both became more desperate for each other. His lips left yours only to leave more sloppy kisses on your jaw and down to your neck. As he pushed himself even closer you could feel just how hard he was through his pants. You enjoyed the feeling and you spread your legs slightly wider. Your fingers clinging to the fabric of his sweater, while your other hand continues to further mess up his hair. A soft moan escapes your lips, making him kiss you more aggressively than before and presses his forehead against yours. “Y/n, you’re quite the prize.” He says in a husky voice and one of his hands cups your breast. Even though you’re still fully clothed the feeling of his hand and the soft squeeze drives you mad with desire.

“Sebastian, we should go somewhere more private before-” You didn’t need to finish that sentence. Sebastian was more than ready to take you to this room and get rid of every piece of clothing. So he picks you up and you wrap your legs around his waist.

However, as Sebastian is about to lead you to his room. The common room door opens and you hear Imelda. “Are you two going to join the Slytherin victory party in the Great Hall?” She eyes the both of you as your guilty faces betray what you were up to. “Sebastian, I see you have collected your prize. So, now both of you come with me. I don’t want to be a godmother in nine months.” She raised an eyebrow and pointed to the exit.

There was no arguing with Imelda so defeated, Sebastian and you head up the Slytherin stairs with Imelda behind you. Along the way to the party Sebastian grabs a hold of your hand and gives you a sweet peck on the lips. Imelda groans and looks at you. “Enough smooching! He helped win three games, not the quidditch world cup.” You smile at Sebastian like a love struck idiot and smirks, holding you close. I won something way better than the Quidditch World Cup.

#slytherin #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow imagine #papercorgiworldwritings #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow oneshot #sebastian sallow x reader

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roomsofangel · 5 months

Text

TO SEE YOU ALIVE. .

written by roomsofangel

**THIS IS ONLY A PREVIEW AND A REPOST OF A FIC I PLANNED IN THE PAST TO SEE IF ANYONE WOULD BE INTERESTED IN IT — THIS IS NOT AN OFFICIAL MASTERLIST/CHAPTER**

WRITING BELOW .ᐟ

“do you want to play a game, y/n?” his voice, hypnotic, the touch he brought left mini needles to your skin that grew goosebumps, spine shuddering while your gazes held each other in a deep fight and desire for the upper hand, dominance being something both of you craved. seonghwa licked his lips, “i know you like them,” he cooed, his index and middle finger slowly—agonizingly gliding up your arm

sucking in a breath, you scoffed, “what kind of game is it this time, seonghwa?” your eyes half lidded with seduction, listening to his heartbeat pump with yearning for your taste, “i hope you brought a new deck of cards,” you dared

with his warm breath on your lips, you felt the room begun to spin, dizzy, your tongue peeked out of your lips while he watched you in amusement, hands now on your waist with his fingernails creating crescents on the bare skin, “you like hide and seek, correct?” his hand snuck down before grabbing the chains that held you in place, making you hiss in the sudden sharpness

“who doesn’t like to play with their food?” you said through clenched teeth, head thrown back to the stoned wall, “makes it worth the hunt, right, hwa?” doe eyes looking back at him which only resulted in him yanking the chains again

chuckling, “how funny you say that,” he whispered into your ear before you felt the heaviness dissipate, hands instantly going to your wrists to rub them and your ankles before realizing just what you were doing, looking back up at him with widened eyes

“you undid the chains,” you whimpered

“now run, my vampire,” he pulled you up and shoved you into the door frame, you attempting to grab onto his shirt to flip your bodies and roles in this game he started, “you have a decade until i come seek you,”

“and if you don’t find me, my siren?” you shoved him away and he stumbled, smiling that you got the last shove — you made your way further to get ready to leave, “what happens then?”

seonghwa’s eyes flickered — the brown turning an ice blue before they had went back to the usual shade, any sane person would lose their mind wondering what they had saw while this was your normal, “oh, i’ll find you, y/n,” he teased

“i never lost a game.”

amused, you turned your back towards him, “then let’s play, seonghwa — because if i win, i’ll have your head on my bedroom wall as a souvenir.”

laughing, “not if i have your heart on a platter,” his voice making you scoff

immortality was a tricky thing but you and seonghwa managed to make things interesting every now and then,

and that decade later has come, you sitting in a coffee shop with your laptop in front of you and headphones in your ears while you finished writing an email to mingi, a friend of a friend you managed to make while blending in

your phone flashed with a text from another friend of yours — yeosang, ‘do you want to get dinner tonight?’

but before you could answer, two large familiar hands gripped your shoulders from behind, the reflection on your screen made your stomach drop,

“strike one.”

#ateez fic #ateez fanfic #park seonghwa fic #park seonghwa fanfic #park seonghwa au #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez writing #ateez au #ateez ff #park seonghwa writing #park seonghwa angst #park seonghwa imagines #park seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa

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anathemafiction · 1 year

Text

Jealousy — Part 2

Music plays in the air, and voices mingle with the big firepit burning in the center. The scent of cooking meat brings water to your mouth, and the light buzz of alcohol makes your head sway pleasantly. There's a warmth in your stomach, a silly smile on your lips, and you cannot, for the life of you, keep up with his fingers.

"There!" you yell and point at the back of one of the cards. "That's the one, I'm sure of it."

Vali, the rogue, smirks. "Are you sure?" he asks, his long blond hair catching the glow of the flames. He keeps it tied loosely to the back of his head. "I can do it again."

You narrow your eyes playfully at him. "I'm sure," you say, putting as much confidence in the tone as you can. You hit your palm on the table. "It's that one!"

Vali tuts. "I like my coin, but not like this. This is turning pitiful, you've already lost three silver." He lifts his eyebrows, giving you a charming smile to take the offense from the words. This is all for fun, of course. "Watch it one more time and then make your choice."

You laugh because you feel like it. "I know you're trying to get me to pick another because that's the right one.”

"That's a lie."

You laugh again. It feels so good to simply let go. "I've made my choice."

Vali sighs. "I really—"

"Just show the fuckin' card." His voice cuts through the air like a knife. It's flat, despite the heat of the words, and when you look at Rafael, he's glaring at Vali. Not that you're surprised, he has been scowling and frowning and glowering ever since your new friend approached your table. "Before I get a damn headache."

Vali, as the easy-going person he is, takes it in stride. He smiles at Rafael, who only scowls harder. "Very well, but I was just trying to protect your friend's interests."

Rafael scoffs. "Ya watchin' over someone's interests, alright."

"Raf!" you hiss, taken aback by his blatant hostility. You don't understand why he's behaving this way. He was in relatively high spirits when you came to the lodge, but now, he's ruing the game.

You wonder why he even bothers to sit here any longer, it's clear he's not having any sort of fun, but Rafael seems determined to not leave your table. He's just... this gloomy, sullen presence trying to bring the mood down. Well, you won't let him. "Just stop that."

Rafael's brown eyes shift to you.

(...)

"A name?" you repeat.

The woman nods. "Yeah. Look, it won't hurt, uh? What's the worst that could happen?"

And maybe it's because you're so frustrated, but you decide to give it a try. "Fine," you say, turning to face the horse again. She's a beautiful animal. Tall, strong legs, a long mane, and two eyes that shine with intelligence. "... Flora."

It's a goddess name, one of the forbidden ones. But the woman doesn't have to know that. No one does.

The woman puts her hands on her waist. "Go on, then. Call her."

She seems to be used to giving orders, and while the fact would normally annoy you, you can't help but... find it charming. She doesn't do it to be superior, you can tell. This is just a part of her personality. So, you do as she says. "Hey, Flora," you call. "Do you like that? Do you like the name, Flora?"

Flora shuffles her hooves, but after a beat, she neighs softly.

"Heh, I reckon she does," the woman says. She glances at you, then, and gives you a wide smile. "I'm Josie, by the way. Saw you struggling a bit. You don't mind me helping, do ya? Got nothing else to do, really."

She extends a hand.

You see a flash of movement from the corner of your eye. Turning your chin to the side, you cross eyes with Neia. The yellow burns brighter than the midday sun, piercing straight into you. She's leaning on her chair with her elbows on her knees, and her head pushed forward. Her jaw clenches tight, and she seems to dwarf the room as, even seated, Neia grows with each second.

You can tell she's displeased, but you turn your head away to smile at Josie. "I don't mind at all," you say and clasp her hand.

With Josie's help, it doesn't take long for Flora to calm down. You manage to step close to her, and then, following Josie's pointed instructions, Flora lets you strap the saddle to her back. "Ah!" you cry in triumph when you secure the last bolt. You shake Josie by the shoulders. "I did it!"

Josie laughs with gusto. "You sure did, lass. Now, go on, mount her." She takes your arm and spins you around, grabbing both sides of your waist.

You see another flash of movement from your periphery, but you don't care right now. Right now, you're high in the sky. Flora pounds her hooves anxiously, probably because of all the excitement, so you forcefully calm yourself down. Josie is a reassurance at your back as carefully, gradually, oh-so-slowly, you reach for the reins...

Neigh!!

Flora throws her head back, and Josie's hands tear from your waist. You spin around but are made speechless when you come face to face with Neia.

"Fuck out of here." Neia grabs Josie by the shoulder and roughly pushes her away from you. Josie stumbles, falling face-first on the sand. She springs up, and rounds back, her face contorted in anger, hands bawling, ready to—

She freezes.

Neia looms before her. The tall specter has her chin down, her lip twisted in a snarl and her broad shoulders cast a shadow over Josie.

Josie slowly closes her mouth. "I was just helping."

"Sure, you were," Neia growls, and jerks her chin to the exit. "I won't tell you to fuck off three times."

Josie looks at you and falters...

(...)

Someone told him, long before, that if you have nothing positive to say, then perhaps you should say nothing at all.

Lance likes that rule. He likes not saying anything at all, for it's rare for those who talk to listen, and Lance enjoys listening. There's no better grave than the one you dig for yourself, so why should he ever stop anyone from talking their way into their own hole?

Lance prefers to listen, but as of now, he's finding it hard to stay quiet.

There are very few positive things to say. The man's grip is wrong, his rhythm inconsistent, most of his notes are off-key, and Lance would bet his golden tooth that he hasn't bothered to tune his viola in at least a fortnight. The song filling the unfortunate walls of the common room is one full of mistakes and blunders, but worst yet, they are not missteps made out of boldness and passion. They are not creative, they are simply... terribly executed. An amateur, that man is, and yet, he introduced himself as an expert minstrel.

Lance's lips press on each other as another note makes him cringe. If one cannot find a single positive, one should remain silent. And he would. He will. Lance simply wonders why everyone else seems to miss the fact that the man on stage is a horrid player.

The tavern isn't full, but a good number of patrons pepper the tables. The big hearth burns, its crackling flames drowned by the shrill melody, and the barkeep is a voluptuous woman with red hair, a brown dress, and a cleavage that attracts the eyes. Not your eyes, however. Your eyes, to Lance's complete puzzlement, are set on the would-be-bard playing on top of a makeshift stage. Your table is the closest to it, and you sit with your chair dragged to the side so that you can fully face the stage.

You rest your chin on your palm, your lips are stuck in a smile that's so light, it radiates peace and softens your gaze, and your foot sways with the rhythm of the song.

The terrible, awful, song. And yet... you are enjoying it. They all seem to be. A man in the corner has his eyes closed and a blissful look on his face, while another group sways their heads as they speak with each other. For the old gods' sake, there are even a few coins on the hat placed at the man's feet and not just copper ones. Are they all deaf? He wouldn't care, really, Lance does not care...

But as the amateur— Lance refuses to think him a bard — makes a flourish, spinning on stage while the music gets to its grand terrible crescendo, your smile widens, and you clap your hands when, dramatically, the man stops, and bows.

"Thank you!" he shouts, and perhaps Lance is biased, but even his voice sounds wrong. He puts a hand to his chest while the other holds his viola high, waving it at the crowd. "Thank you so very much."

You clap a few more times, laughing with the others. Lance picks up his drink and drowns whatever it's inside, hoping to erase the sudden bitterness at the back of his tongue. His grey eyes are glued to you. It is over now, so, as painful as that was, he will finally have a respite. Perhaps Lance will venture to sit at your table, he'll only wait for—

The fake minstrel steps out of the stage, but instead of moving toward the bar, as he should, the man approaches your table. Lance puts the glass down as, immediately, he strains his earring, leaning forward on his chair.

But he shouldn't have bothered, for the man's baritone voice rings obnoxiously loud. "Good evening," he says, and then he bows. He keeps eye contact with you the whole time with a curling smile on his lips. "My name is Lucien, the Gifted, and I have to commend you."

That you didn't laugh at the pathetic name is bad enough. "Commend me?" you say instead. "What for? I should be the one commending you, Lucien, the Gifted."

Lucien shakes his head and reaches forward... to take hold of your hand. "No," he stage whispers. "You deserve all the credit. For all the years I've performed, never have I had a better audience."

You laugh, but it's not mocking. It is... amused. This cannot be. Surely, you have better taste. "I see you possess a silver tongue," you say coyly.

Lucien bends down and kisses your knuckles. "And you have immeasurably charm. I could write a song about you. I will!"

You laugh again.

Lance prefers to stay silent. He likes to observe. But he's pulled out of his chair by a force he cannot explain, and he's striding towards your table with a purpose he seldom felt before.

(...)

The Pirate King. He's slouched against the wall, one elbow propped casually on top of a shelf, hips cocked, and fingers idly playing with one of his axes. His severed thumb sweeps across the handle, shaped like a golden naked woman, and his canines flash from amidst the shadows. He's smirking, you can tell.

But you know from experience that usually signals danger.

If you could, you'd frown at him, but you can't, so you try to push the Pirate out of your mind and focus on George again. You're so close. "What haven't I heard?" you say in a light, breathy tone. You force another sultry smile and put your hand next to George's meaty one. He looks down and brushes your little finger, and it takes almost all of your willpower not to recoil. "But mostly, I've heard of your talent for acquisition. I was told you have interesting items. Items that..."

This is it. You pause and lick your lips, watching as George tracks the movement. You then go all in as you lightly drag your nails across his wrist. "You don't keep in the upper parts of the store, where the sun might reach, and wrong eyes might see them."

The Pirate's silhouette looms in the corner. You can feel his heat from the distance, his piercing gaze. You push him away again.

"If you'd be so kind as to show me your other merchandise," you whisper, leaning until you're practically lying on the counter. George's eyes go right where you want them to: the mounds of your cleavage. "I would be eternally grateful."

George seems stuck leering at your chest. Disgust once again curls in your stomach, but you wait in silence as he slowly lifts his fungi eyes again. His gums are red and bloodied as he licks his fat lips. "Gratitude is fine," George says, turning his enlarged fingers so he can latch onto your wrist. "But I want a little appreciation before."

He tugs on you, and you curse in your head. Lord's bloodied, fungi-invested fingernails!

"Pay me first, pretty thing, and then I might have something I can show you," he says, tugging you again, and you know then that it's all over.

From his corner, the Pirate moves. He swaggers closer, steps loose and unhurried with his axe hanging from one hand. He's smirking still. Smirking wide.

His eyes, however, are no longer on you.

"You damned fool, I tried to do this the easy way," you say to George with a disappointed sigh. You snatch your hand from his, shaking it as if to erase his touch.

George's eyes narrow. "What do ya—"

Crack!

The wood splinters open when a heavy axe cuts through it.

(...)

The entire pieces are available on Patreon!

Crossing the Line —The Pirate King & Neia

Upstaging — Lance & Rafael

#Most of these don't start at the beginning #Neia #Lance #Rafael #The Pirate King #Patreon #The Golden Rose

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scavengerssuccotash · 8 months

Text

Would being married to me be that bad?

“You decent?” Clint calls.

“Yeah.” She calls back, leaning closer to the mirror and finishes applying her lipstick. The color suits her complexion beautifully, a bold red to contrast the sleek black of her dress.

Clint whistles as he opens the door and strolls in, looking every letter of the words filthy rich. He’s dressed to the nines, ironed white shirt and black Giorgio Armani suit that stretches beautifully over his broad shoulders.

“Clean up well babe. Limo will be here in thirty.” Clint says, flashing her a wink in the mirror as she applies her mascara.

“You have an allowance on that pet name Barton, don’t over do it.” Natasha replies, a little annoyed. Clint’s been calling her little pet names ever since Maria Hill slapped a mission brief in front of them and retroactively congratulated them on their impromptu marriage in the Bahamas. Natasha normally doesn’t mind, she’s long since made peace with Sweetheart, but there’s only so much of Clint’s unashamed flirting that she can take.

Clint saunters his way to her and twists to lean against the bathroom counter. He hands her the mascara she was intending to use, before plucking the velvet box from the counter.

“Honey cakes?” He counters as he fiddles with the box. An odd look settles over his face as he twists it around in his hands, looking like a kid, trying to work out a Rubik’s cube.

“No.”

“Sugar tits?” Clint’s jokes before giving her a saucy wink.

Natasha pauses mid application, her gaze slides from the mirror to his with deliberate slowness. A warning.

“Certainly not. Where’s your creativity, honey?”

“Right here, darlin’.” He drawls intentionally slipping into a thicker midwestern twang as bumps her shoulder. He meets her brief smile with one of his own before flicking the box open and whistles, impressed. “What did you have to do to get finances to sign off on this fucking behemoth.”

Natasha caps the mascara and rights herself. The ring is nestled in a pillow of creamy satin and glitters in the fluorescent light overhead effortlessly.

“What is that, five-six carrots?”

Natasha tuts moving to grab the box, but Clint twists away, the corner of his mouth tilting upwards in bemused smile.

“Three, and an implied blow job.” Natasha answers dryly.

Clint hums amused before he plucks the ring from its satin bed and tosses the box onto the counter by his hip.

“Explains the hotel and the Am-Ex cards.” He mutters as he holds the ring up to the light. It looks comically small pinched between his fingers.

“You ever play married before?”

Natasha stiffens and makes another grab for the ring but Clint just lifts it higher, effortlessly skirting her attempt. “No,” she scoffs, crossing her arms. “Just a mistress.”

“Always a mistress but never a bride? That’s a rom com waiting to happen.” He teases.

Natasha reaches for the ring again, only to be dismayed when he stretches on his toes, the source of her frustration remaining out of her reach. She’s wearing heels, but Clint uses his handful of inches well. He’s teasing, she realizes, like a child at recess. Natasha huffs, resettling back on her heels. They really didn’t have time for such childish games tonight, there was an arms deal to stop.

Her eyebrow lifts. “Going to pull my pigtails next, Barton?”

Clint’s mouth drops open intending to counter with a raunchy quip when Natasha’s expression stops him.

“Sorry—“ he mumbles, scratching self-consciously at his chin. Natasha holds out her hand expectantly. Instead of dropping the ring into her hand like she expects, Clint instead takes her hand. She pulls back once she realizes what he’s intending to do. Clint tugs her hand back with a soft tut. A soft unfamiliar expression flickers across his face.

“Come on, humor me.” He says, shooting for nonchalance but there’s a softness to his tone that betrays him. “Probably going to be the only time I slip a ring on a woman’s finger.”

Natasha sighs, relenting.

The ring glides on perfectly, the action quick and efficient. There’s no fuss, no awkward electrifying thrill. It’s just a ring, and her hand in his. That alone however feels so right that she barely notices the extra weight on her finger.

Clint drops the briefest of kisses to the back of her knuckles and squeezes her hand.

“Ready to play rich assholes and save the day Mrs. Simmons?”

Natasha gives herself a once over in the mirror, checking for any indiscrepancies in her visual appearance that could blow their cover. She finds none. Satisfied she turns her critical eye towards her partner.

The suit Clint wears is perfectly tailored to fit his stocky frame. Natasha makes a mentally note to send an appreciative email to SHIELD’s disguise department for taking her last suggestion to heart. (The last suit they sent Clint was at least two sizes to large. The shade too strong for his tanned complexion and fair hair.) Clint’s hair is perfectly in place and he had shaved. His aftershave subtle enough to not be off putting but strong enough when in close proximity to make her inhale deeply.

Her partner certainly knows how to clean up well, despite his grumbling about need to wear a monkey suit for this mission.

There is something missing though.

“Honey?”

Clint’s head snaps up from where he was straightening his watch. “Yeah?”

Natasha grips his chin with her thumb and forefinger and tilts his face to the side. Clint stills, gaze unwaveringly intense as she leans forward and presses her lips to the corner of his mouth. She pulls back and uses her thumb to smudge the lipstick stain left behind.

“Now, you look like a married man.”

#here have a snippet #might repurpose this for Sightline #i just love them so much #clint barton #hawkeye #clintasha #natasha romanoff #black widow #marvel #personal #fandom #fanfic #fake married #undercover as a married couple

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crisalidaseason · 2 months

Text

Sixth entry: don’t mix work and friendship

I suggest you don’t befriend your assignment more than strictly necessary. It makes your job a little too difficult. If you start to care about them it complicates things for you, your boss and your ward. Though I won’t judge if you’re not able to separate work and friendship, it’s not like I was able to do it.

Another card flipped, another lost round. Liam did not know why he kept playing games when Xaden had an uncanny ability to predict most of his moves. Liam huffed at the loss of yet another round, drawing a card from the pile.

“Tell me about the sparring sessions” Xaden’s voice was relaxed.

“What do you want to know?” Liam shrugged as he finally won the next round.

His brother remained silent for a few seconds, though not paying much attention to the game. The line between his forehead was a permanent feature for the last month.

“I heard from Imogen you’ve been sparring with Sorrengail”

“You could have asked ‘Hey, how is sparring with Sorrengail going?’ “ Liam smirked “You know, like a normal person”

Xaden lowered his deck of cards in annoyance, narrowing his dark eyes on Liam.

“You’re spending too much time around Violence”

There it was. The nickname. Fuck, Xaden was so into Violet that it was honestly distressing. At that point Liam was about to join forces with Garrick and lock them in a room - though he feared it would not work considering Xaden’s pathological denial and Violet’s headache-inducing stubbornness.

“I’m just following orders” Liam raised his hands in surrender.

Xaden’s next combination of cards were displayed more aggressively than normal. Ops, the conversation was hitting a nerve

“Well” he began “for your information, brother, things are rough but she is getting better. I don’t spar with her as much, Rhiannion is the one who trains her the most”

“Do you think she’ll be able to handle challenges?”

Liam frowned. From what he heard from her squad, she was able to win all of her matches so far, with a few injuries. Where Violet lacked brute strength she countered with agility, speed and pattern analysis.

“You think she can’t?” Liam asked.

“I didn’t say that” his brother muttered “I worry about Barlowe”

“She might not even be matched with him-”

“She will” Xaden interrupted “this place is fucking sick, at some point they’re going to throw that motherfucker at her”

Liam went silent, their game long ignored by both players. He understood the worry, if Violet and Barlowe were matched…the fucker would go for the kill.

“She is fast with the knives” Liam began.

“But she does not go for killing blows” Xaden said between gritted teeth “she didn’t at fucking threshing”

Liam’s was confused for a few moments. He did see her wrapped arms, but had thought it was simply Tairn marking her, not Barlowe.

“He went for her at threshing?”

Xaden nodded, shaking his head as if the memory aggravated him.

“Motherfucker tried to kill Andarna with other two cowards, Sorrengail tried to stop them by herself”

He was not surprised by her act of defense for Andarna. Liam had learned Violet had a stubborn and strong sense of justice.

“Three against one, people really like ganging up on her” Liam grimaced, Violet had more enemies going for her neck than him…and he was a marked one!

“She handled it well considering her injuries, but it was fucking reckless and she had the nerve to knock out Seinfert with the wrong end of the dagger” Xaden’s voice was definitely aggravated.

Liam shivers remembering what her mercy cost. Sometimes he saw the flashes of Oren’s face above him with a sword in hand.

“The point is, she never went for killing blows, not even to defend herself! Same thing when they fucking jumped her last month. Sorrengail never goes for the kill”

If Barlowe got her on the mat, would she kill him? Liam was afraid to think she wouldn’t, or at least would hesitate enough to be in actual danger.

“Fuck” was all Liam could say.

As noble as it was to keep your hands clean, that was impossible in the riders quadrant. And with the bond tying Xaden and Violet…she would have to give in at some point.

“What are we going to do?” Liam said after a while “we can’t interfere with challenges”

Xaden remained silent for a few minutes, eyes distant. He sighed deeply, the tiredness painting every inch of his frame. Even with Violet’s safety being delegated to Liam, his brother was still shouldering the issue.

“I don’t know, Liam, but I won’t let them kill her”

Liam simply agreed. He had a strong feeling Xaden was not worried about his own life - he hadn’t for a while. There was something too personal with how he killed Seifert, how he asked about Violet when Liam had to report, the way he stared at her whenever she entered a room. His brother had an unmistakable interest in her - one Liam would consider far from a simple sexual attraction, but would not dare name it. All he could do was give advice and hope his brother understood that he could not ignore her forever.

“You have to talk to her” Liam blurted “ally yourself to Violet, discuss things together. You don’t need to be friends but you need to talk. Build trust!”

Xaden denied vehemently, closing his eyes, but Liam did not care. Xaden could protest all he wanted.

“She cannot have a bodyguard forever, Xaden! Don’t get me wrong, I would protect Violet like any other friend of mine, but she needs to grow on her own too. You taught me, she could use your teachings too”

“You are just as capable as I am”

“But it’s you she needs to trust! It’s your life tied to hers!” Liam insisted “Violet doesn’t know you and if both of you want to survive out of this quadrant then you have to trust one another. You can’t trust someone you never speak with”

Xaden stood up abruptly, cards all silling on his bed sheets. He went straight to the window, back facing Liam and he almost regretted bringing the topic again, knowing his brother’s aversion to acknowledging Violet’s existence - while simultaneously watching her like a hawk. Liam could not care less about his brother’s denial, he focused on the future and the future needed Xaden and Violet to work together. He dared to say the revolution’s success was tied to them trusting one another.

“Liam, I don’t want to fight over this again-”

“Okay, so we don’t fight. Let’s talk! What are you so afraid of? You had no issues talking to her before all of this”

“You better return to your room” was all Xaden replied firmly, shutting himself for any form of communication.

Liam sighed in frustration, throwing his deck of hard on the bedsheet and going for the door. One more time Liam would not succeed in convincing his brother.

“If you don’t make a decision now, life is going to make it for you…and you might not like it” was the last thing Liam said on his way out.

Xaden did not speak to him for a few days after the argument, but Liam was already used to his brother’s behavior. Liam knew his words were true and would not apologize for wanting the best for the people he cared for

“You seem upset today” Violet commented on their way to the archives.

He tried to shake the argument off of his face that morning, but it was difficult considering the topic of the conversation was the girl beside him. He considered telling it was nothing serious, but he was honestly in need of some advice, and that particular Sorrengail seemed to be good at it.

“Nothing serious” Liam shrugged, eyes focused on his wooden sculpture “sometimes Xaden and I don’t see eye to eye”

“I know the feeling” she smiled at him “I think the more we care about someone more complicated things get”

He nodded, smiling with no real happiness behind it.

“Had a lot of fights with your siblings?” he asked, but soon wanted to bite his own tongue “shit…sorry”

He might know Brennan Sorrengail was alive, but she was still a mourning sister.

“It’s okay. I like talking about him” she said, putting a comforting hand on his forearm “and yes, we did fight a lot, mostly because I was a little stubborn as a kid”

A little? He knew her for a month and most of Violet’s personality was composed of unsettling analysis, stubbornness, kindness and unusual humor.

“Violet Sorrengail did not like taking orders, I imagine” he teased her.

She chuckled lightly, eyes distant as if remembering a sweet memory.

“We usually fought whenever I sneaked out and ended up hurting myself” she shrugged “I’d always do it again, even if they got pissed”

He could picture her younger self being a menace, her two-tone hair morphing into a light blonde as Sloane’s own shenanigans played behind his eyes. Fuck, he missed his sister.

“Must be interesting being your sibling. Never a dull day in the Sorrengail household”

Her laughter lightened up his mood severely.

“What about you and your sister?” she asked “tell me something she did that drove you mad”

Liam scoffed, the memory fresh in his mind.

“Sloane has a sharp tongue, pretty much like you” he said raising his fingers as he listed his sister’s behaviors “has no sense of authority, like you do, and does not back down, like someone I know! I was often scolded because of her behavior”

“I like her” Violet declared.

“Of course you do” he rolled his eyes “I bet the two of you would get along well”

She grimaced a little.

“I don’t think so” she said “the last name is kind of a mood killer”

“Hey!” he playfully hit her in the arms “I like you, don’t I?”

“You don’t count. You’re nice to everyone, Liam!” she countered “but I also don’t expect any of you to like me, it’s not fair”

Their conversation was cut short once they arrived at the archive’s door and then began their book exchanges with Jesinia. He thought about Violet’s words while stacking the tomes neatly into the cart. He knew many marked ones did not like her solely because of a last name, but he really hoped Sloane would not be one of them. He wondered if he should write about Violet to his sister, warm her up before she entered the quadrant. Yeah, that was a solid idea!

“Thank you, Jesinia” Violet signed once they finished the exchange.

They left the archives without hurry, stretching the peaceful moment until the inevitable hectic day started.

“You’re a good person, Violet” he blurted a few minutes into their walk.

She looked at him with a slight frown between her eyebrows.

“Uh…thank you?”

“I mean it” he affirms “I’m sure Sloane will like you once she gets to know you like I did”

“You’ve known me for a bit more than a month” she laughs “what if I am a lying spy?”

Liam tried his best not to laugh at her, Violet might not have the strongest punch, but she knew exactly where to hit and hurt like shit.

“I think one month was enough for my verdict” he said “besides, you’re kind of an open book, Violet. You could not lie for the life of you! I highly doubt you’re a spy.”

She rolled her eyes at him, their stroll finally reaching the end as they entered the academic wing.

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#the empyrean #fourth wing #liam mairri #violet sorrengail #xaden riorson #Liam's survival guide to being a shadow

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jakeyt · 1 year

Text

Covet: Chapter 6 (Sneak Peek)

Here's a little snippet from Chapter 6...

“Fiction or non?”

You were splayed out on your bedroom floor, with Theo across from you. As he’d pored over his textbook, he kept coming up with questions to ask you.

Sure, it might be cute and endearing in a normal circumstance. But right now, you wanted to focus on studying for a couple of upcoming tests, as summer semesters were the worst at moving so damn quickly.

There were more important matters at hand than nonsensical small talk.

Deciding to humor him (and hopefully get back to the task at hand), you responded. “Hmm. . .,” you sat up from where you’d been laying on your stomach to read about Geoffrey Chaucer. “They both have special things about them—both stretch our minds to understand more about other worlds and our own,” you paused, giving it a second to ponder. “Are we talking writing-wise or reading-wise?”

He chuckled, and winked at you. “It doesn’t have to be something you think so deeply about,” he closed his textbook. What was he doing? You still had to make flash cards! “Pretend we’re playing a game and it’s rapid fire questions.”

You didn’t want to be playing a game. You wanted to be sinking your teeth into the intricacies of this author in order to ace your test.

You shook your head, your eyes stuck on his closed book. “Fuck,” you scratched your eyebrow. Your mind flicked to music: fun to write and read about. You were actually currently reading a book about John Lennon. You had many books on your TBR list about famous musicians. A most intriguing subject, in your opinion. “Non-fiction.”

His face scrunched up. “Nah,” he disagreed. “Fiction.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” his stare was blank in response. “Don’t really have to think too hard about it.”

You tried not to roll your eyes at him. In your opinion, thinking hard about what you were writing or reading was what made it most desirable. It made you venture into undiscovered realms of your mind.

When you went to lean back over your book, the movement made you realize just how badly your bladder was begging to be released.

Stupidly, you thought of the ridiculous work schedule on the fridge.

Why the hell couldn’t you just let yourself go to the damn bathroom without thinking about Jake? You knew it was fucking ludicrous. You just didn’t want to see him. When you pulled up the picture of the fridge on your phone, you saw you were in the clear. He should still be at band rehearsal.

You tapped your open book, giving Theo a sign that he needed to open his back up. “I’m going to the bathroom real quick,” you stood up, the wave of having to pee rushing through you tenfold at the motion. He still hadn’t gotten the hint to open up his textbook. Ugh. “I’ll be back soon and then we will make our cards for the test.”

And as you exited the room, you saw him finally get back to business and open his book back up. After you’d safely closed the door to your room, you rolled your eyes at his lack of care at getting shit done.

-🌼🌼🌼-

You dried your hands on the towel next to the sink, and took a look at yourself in the mirror.

He sort of annoyed you, but Theo was still cute, and he’d made you happy in high school. You weren’t totally opposed to the idea of kissing him (or maybe more) by the end of the night.

It seemed to you to be another good plan to get your mind off of Jake.

And Theo seemed interested enough. Considering he’d been more interested in learning about you, rather than the material for class all night (irritating, but whatever).

Deciding you looked good enough, you opened the door to go back. And as you went to walk out, you stopped at a chest in your way. You got dizzy at the smell—smelled so fucking good—

You looked up.

Jake.

Your eyebrows pinched together, not happy at all that you’d crossed paths. Fucking hell. Why wasn’t he. . .?

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like thi—.”

You held a hand up to silence him, crossing your arms. “Why aren’t you at band practice?”

Why the fuck was he cracking jokes? You were not in the mood.

“Ended early,” his face hardened when he shrugged, stating it plainly.

“Why didn’t you just stay with the guys?” You asked, secretly glad he didn’t. For whatever reason. “You could have hung out with them instead of coming back here.”

“Oh,” he stuck his chin out at the word and leaned a shoulder against the door-hinge. He raised a brow and crossed his arms to mirror you. “I see.”

You definitely didn’t glance at how his bicep flexed as his fingers wrapped around it. And you didn’t take time to appreciate his beautiful hair. . . had it started getting slightly longer?

You shook your head, retraining your eyes.

“Tell me, Jake, what do you see?” You snapped, flicking your eyes up to his.

He scoffed, rolled his eyes. “Saw that guy lying on your bedroom floor, waiting for you. He was even sweet enough to wave at me when he saw me pass your room,” he sarcastically remarked, waving his hand to mimic.

“We’re just studying,” you hushed back, feeling the (unnecessary) need to reassure him.

He scoffed. “You think that’s all it is to him?”

You narrowed your eyes and pursed your lips before you pulled him by his T-shirt into the bathroom. You weren’t going to discuss this in a place Theo could possibly hear.

“I know that’s all it is,” you released his shirt like you were repulsed by the touch, when in reality you wanted nothing more than to pull it completely off of him. Damn him.

“I don’t. Just think it’s funny how you’re so naive to believe he doesn’t want more.”

“He doesn’t.”

“Do you?”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t. I just think it’s funny that you might want me out just so you can fuck that guy in your bedroom,” he nodded his head in the direction of your room.

Oh. He was taking it there. Okay.

“Yeah? And if I wanted to?” You jutted your chin out the slightest bit, bringing your arms closer, to press against your chest. “How is it any of your damn business?”

He stepped once towards you, eyeing your chest, the tops of your breasts revealed, pushed up to the top of your tank. Your skin flushed, heart racing.

His voice lowered. “It became my business the night you spread your legs for me at Baby’s,” one more step towards you, his eyes locking with yours. Fuck. “When I had you moaning my name while my mouth played between your pretty legs,” another step. “I think you gave yourself away that night. I don’t buy this little act.”

Oh.

Fuck. . . If your heart wasn’t racing.

You blinked, shaking your head. You tried to stand firm. “Wh-what act?” Dammit. Why were you stuttering?

Stand your ground, y/n, you thought, motivating yourself to stay strong.

But as he took one more step in, your body was effectively once again trapped between his body and a sink. Thankfully, he hadn’t pressed himself up to your front, so you weren’t distracted by that.

You tried to hold your own.

But shit. . .he was so close. Your skin flared with heat, your heart still beating erratically in your chest.

As you were making direct eye contact with the chest of his white t-shirt, you craned your neck to see his face fully.

“What act, Jacob?”

He shook his head. A little smirk played at his mouth. He brought his hand up to hold your cheek. Your skin was on fire for him and his touch.

You couldn’t help it when you leaned into his hand, letting your cheek press into his calloused flesh.

He licked his lips. “You tell me,” he whispered lowly, nodding his head once at you.

And you couldn’t help it, his deep brown eyes pulled you in. He was begging to be touched. You had to feel him.

Leaning in, you held his cheek just as he held yours. He then took the chance, and captured your lips with his.

Ah. His lips. So soft.

Your vision was hazy, eyes still open, you saw how his eyebrows dipped in with a moan. You matched the sound, closing your eyes, and slipped your tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his.

You heard him shut the door with the hand that wasn’t holding your face.

He then moved that hand from your face, reaching both hands under your ass, giving it a firm squeeze before he lifted you the short distance to sit on the bathroom countertop.

You bit his bottom lip, getting another small moan from him. He did the same to you and then soothed the spot with his tongue. You sighed into his mouth.

Reaching both hands up, you sunk them into his dark, brunette locks. He matched every movement of your lips with his own, and then licked one wet stripe on the roof of your mouth.

You were able to gasp for air when he moved his mouth from yours to give the softest, small kisses to your neck. Though it didn’t last long before he turned his pecks into wet, open-mouthed kisses. The slightest stubble of hair on his lip skimmed against your sensitive skin. He worked from under your jaw, all the way up, to the tender spot behind your ear.

Shivering with a sigh, you gripped his hair tighter, pulling him in as close as he could be to you, on the counter. You felt his hardening length against your center when you did so, making you immediately grind into him.

And when he did the same to the other side of your neck, this time, he nipped at the skin behind your ear. You bucked your hips into his. He released a groan that echoed through the small bathroom, making you want to melt into it.

“More,” you breathed, clutching him closer, making sure the front of you stayed connected to him. Feeling his hard length through the material of his jeans was almost too much, but you craved it. You needed it.

More.

But, the next moment, you heard a little cough from your bedroom, right next door.

It snapped you from your daze. You were suddenly hyper aware that it was not just you two in the apartment. You had to stop.

You pushed him back, jumping off the counter. When you looked in the mirror to check your face and neck, your lips were swollen and your cheeks were flushed. Your neck was still pink from where he’d been. You checked where he’d bit behind your ear, and seeing the redness back there made you want to hop right back onto that counter. Let him have his way with you— right there. Theo be fucking damned.

But you knew better.

Tucking some hair behind your ear, you tried to make yourself look slightly presentable.

From behind you, he was brushing a hand through his hair, when he went to smooth a hand over his cheeks, his jaw stretching with the motion. He was contemplative.

His eyebrows drew together, curious. You couldn’t tell if he was upset. He mostly looked . . .confused.

He removed his hand from his face when his eyes found yours in the mirror, open and wondering. He looked desperate to understand.

“What do you want, y/n?”

You didn’t know what in the hell to tell him.

You wanted Jake. And you wanted him bad. But somehow saying it out loud seemed too difficult at the moment.

And how could you say that to him when he’d so recently, blatantly told you that you were a mistake?

“I don’t know, Jake,” you whispered back, still looking at your blushing cheeks, messy hair, and freshly kissed lips. You’d need a minute to let your skin return to its normal shade before going back to your room.

You turned to face him.

When you saw him, looking so beautiful, so lost. . . You thought of how lost you’d felt for the past couple weeks. His words were once again flashing back through your head.

“It was a fucking mistake and you need to leave me alone.”

It still hurt as you could see him so clearly in the doorway of his bedroom, angry and insistent that you do what he said and leave him alone.

But tonight? Crowding you in here to make out on the bathroom counter? Did he truly want that? For you to leave him alone?

“What do you want?” You leveled him with a stare, your tone sharp, but keeping your voice low since Theo was one room over. You pointed a finger in his chest. “You say you want me to leave you alone, but then you trap me in here like this?”

He shook his head, a dimple showing again with a sarcastic grin. After tucking a lock of hair behind his ear, he put the same hand in his pocket.

“Oh, there is no way you are going to turn this around on me,” he matched your quiet tone, understanding. “And trap you? Okay, Little Miss ‘Fuck Me, Jake,’” he used air quotes to remind you of your words from the night at Baby’s.

Fuck.

Of course he remembered you’d said that. Why wouldn’t he?

You decided to ignore it, focusing back on him.

“You’re the one who said it was a mistake! That I needed to leave you alone,” you protested, anger flaring in your chest.

He covered his eyes with a hand, the veins in the hand catching your eye. You’d never noticed how masculine his hands were. And damn if he didn’t know how to use them . . . Even in this moment, debating with him, you wanted them touching every part of you. You wanted his skilled fingers, flexing inside of you.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” His eyes were sad when he moved his hand, when you saw the brown irises again. But there was a fire behind them still. “Dammit, y/n. Why do you insist on assuming the worst about me all the fucking time? I’m not the one who can’t make up my mind about what I want,” he leaned back against the wall behind him, crossing his arms. “One minute you’re kissing me. You’re with me, naked and ready as I’m pressing into you,” his voice was being raspy, along with the picture he was drawing. . . It made your cheeks pink. You could still feel what he felt like, pressing against you, throbbing. . .so close to being inside of you. He went on, “And the next moment you’re shoving me away from you, making sure to tell me that Josh doesn’t need to know what we’re doing.”

Of course some of this had to do with Josh. You’d had the smallest inkling, based on how weird he’d acted when you set the rules.

Stupid.

“I knew you were making it all weird with Josh. . . is this all about Josh?! You know that he and I—.”

“No! It’s about you and how you make it impossible for us to—.”

“You told me to go away!”

“And you told me to stop,” he said back, his smoky voice still hushed. “More than once.”

Your chest heaved, knowing he was right, but you were so lost on how to explain it all. “There were reasons every time.”

“Reasons,” he scoffed. “So are you going to keep having these reasons? Keep stopping it? Why do you keep letting it happen if all you’re going to do is make us stop?”

“Last time you stopped us, Jake!” You defended, focusing on keeping your voice low. “Not me. You walked away and called it a mistake.”

He covered his face with both hands, growling. You shushed him.

He took his hands away to show his jaw set, clenching with frustration. “You were drunk, y/n!” He begged you to understand, “I wasn’t going to do anything with you without you being in full and total control of yourself.”

You were sure your expression showed it all clicking. You blinked at him. It all made so much sense now.

And what he’d done? His true intentions? Fuck. Sexy as hell.

Maybe you really did need to stop assuming the worst. You just couldn’t help it. It was a trauma response. Jumping to conclusions, thinking that people didn’t want you. . .

Your mom didn’t want you, so you were always convinced other people wouldn’t either.

Especially men who were as beautiful as Jake Kiszka.

Damn. Now it really was all on you. How did you even begin to lay it all out?

You looked him dead in the face, completely unsure of how to articulate the mess in your head.

“I don’t know,” you covered your face with both hands, mimicking him and frustratedly groaning into your palms. When you removed them from your face, you tucked them into your front pockets. You decided to assure him of one thing. For whatever reason, you wanted—needed him to know this. “I do want you. I want what we almost had in the bathroom at Baby’s,” You stepped towards him, wanting to be close to him again. You placed a delicate hand on his chest. He looked down at you, as you looked up into his eyes, reaching to hold your hand on his chest. Your skin tingled at his touch. “I need to feel you, to be with you. . . it just never seems like the right time. There’s always something.”

You didn’t know why you’d suddenly felt the urge to be vulnerable with him. He kept your hand on his chest, holding you, his eyes meeting yours in understanding.

And you knew then that it was just him. Jake Kiszka, in and of himself, made you feel this strange sense of safety, comfortability.

And it was different from the kind his twin had offered you as your friend for so many years.

With Jake, you weren’t just friends. You weren’t even really friends. . .it was something else—an intense, unavoidable attraction. The safe feeling came combined with this desire to be with him.

He felt like a resting ground.

It was weird.

But you liked it.

He smoothed a thumb over your hand on his chest. You held his deep gaze, getting lost in it.

And out of nowhere, he leaned down, kissing your lips with his. Just for a moment.

You felt it all the way down to your toes. The feeling of him so close, with one simple kiss from his soft lips, it felt perfectly intimate.

He released his hold on your hand, wrapping his hand around your waist instead, eyes connected with yours. It was as though he just wanted to touch you, have his hands on you.

It was what you wanted, too. Just the feeling of his hand, as it moved down to just over your hip, his thumb on the skin underneath the hem of your gray tank top. . .it felt right.

He penetrated the thickness in the air with his low, gravelly tone. His eyes were vulnerable as he asked, “Do you want that? To find the right time?”

You reached a hand up, holding his handsome face. You smoothed a thumb over his skin, tracing a freckle on his cheek. “I do. I promise I do,” you blinked up at him, needing his answer to that question. “And do you? Wanna find the right time?”

This was so much, butterflies flew rampant in your tummy.

The grin he gave you was loose, his eyes relieved and open. “I really do.”

It felt so amazing to hear it straight from his lips. He really wanted it too.

You’d overthink all of this later.

He leaned down to kiss you again. You reciprocated, for just a moment, letting your lips move with his.

Then you pulled back, your hand falling from his face.

You nodded at the door. “I gotta get back to studying.”

His hand that was holding your hip squeezed slightly, your skin heating at it. You caught his eye, the intense feeling setting in your beating heart.

“Is that all you’re doing?” His eyes were dark and questioning, making your head spin. “Studying?”

You winked at him, still holding onto your teasing from earlier. “It’s whatever I want it to be.”

His eyes seemed to darken more, pulling you in so your chest touched his. So warm. “I really don’t want to hear another guy fucking you through these walls.”

You pressed closer to him, your body thrumming with fire. “Funny coming from the guy who told me I could just wear earplugs when he brought women over,” then you pulled back, his hand fell. His eyebrow lifted, a tiny smirk lifted his lips. You continued, “Why don’t you go ahead and get a pair of your own, hm?”

You patted his cheek, reluctantly parting from him. Before leaving the bathroom, you chanced one more glance at your appearance. Not quite as flushed as before, though your cheeks were still blushing. You’d find a way to pass it off. Whatever. You’d been gone too long.

You were about to open the bathroom door when, from behind, his voice stopped you. You felt a spark as his hand delicately touched yours.

“Hey.”

You swiveled on your heel, raised your brows in question. “Yeah?”

“Do you think you could come to our gig this weekend? It’s a bigger one.”

Did you work this weekend? You couldn’t remember.

All you knew was that, suddenly, you really wanted to be at their show.

“I’m not sure . . . Depends on work.”

“I would love—,” he put a fist in front of his mouth and cleared his throat. “The guys and I would love it if you could be there,” he shook his head, seeming to come to terms with an inner battle. “For me, I would just love to look out and see your beautiful face in the crowd.”

Your mind was fuzzy. All of this felt so unreal, yet so real all at once. He really wanted you there? And had he just called you beautiful?

“I’ll try my best,” you slapped on a small grin, trying to play hard to get, masking your inner shock. You wanted to keep him on his toes, like he’d kept you for the past weeks.

He scrunched his brows in and messed with his bottom lip. “Yeah,” he nodded, clearing his throat. “Yeah, totally get it. Just text me and let me know.”

Anytime he messed with his mouth, it was a distraction. You had to keep yourself from watching too close. It really didn’t help that you knew the feeling of those full, pink lips. . .

And as you walked the short distance to your bedroom, you realized something else.

Had he just asked you to text him?

What was all of this? This new territory you had just discovered?

---

Thoughts? What are you looking forward to most from this chapter?

Let me know <3 I'm so, so sorry this update is taking so long...I promise it will be worth it! (if you know what i mean......)

#covet #sneak peek

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slenderofthejoker · 21 days

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Fun facts with mod!

(Some will just be reiterating already mentioned things and some will be new, this is just a fun excuse to ramble)

They/them will be used for clarity

WILDCARD

-Wc is mentally in their early 40's and physical age is unknown (Just 'old' (Younger then Pink and likely older then Dahlia, they just have weird aging) despite how they act they are older then they seem.

How Wc acts is partially an act and not completely authentic.

Wc is 9ft tall without heels (9'6" with their usual heeled boots or other heeled footwear. They like wearing heels, especially the stompy platform kind that makes them weigh a ton to make stepping on people hurt more.)

-Wc knows how to use technology and (used to) have a phone and uses things like reminders and sticky notes and color coordinated flash cards to help them keep on task and remember things that they would forget others.

-They have reminders in place to take their meds and HEAVILY relied on the internet and their note systems to do things like cook and care for the other suits growing up. (Without those reminders to keep them on track they are….chaos in the kitchen and need very specific and direct instructions (Wildcard was asked to wash the veggies and was going to wash them with soap until it was clarified to NOT)

-Wildcard was forced to be masc growing up and transitioned to become trans masc early into life and continued their transition even after being free of their parents.

Wildcard is comfortable with their transition and has taken it to be something that is their choice instead and is now a trans masc pangender bundle of chaos who's learning to be truly happy in their own skin.

-Wildcard is Aroace (Indifferent possibly cupio romantic and apothisexual) and cupio/grayplatonic (Generally open to friendship and allyship but doesn't experience platonic attraction very often, its very hit or miss) and demi-queerplatonic

-Wildcard's teeth are like a sharks, constantly growing more and more in rows to replace them and keep them constantly sharp (Wildcard will eat them like hard candy or in teeth soup to regain the lost calcium) They will also offer to make teeth soup those close to them (…..generally this is declined, the other suits and their platonic partner all refuse to eat it. It's basically just a normal stew but with the addition of teeth)

-Wc collects cards, dice and other related thing and knows many tricks with them. They can play most cards games and can make card towers (when they have the patience they will zone out for hours making one then forget about it and leave them in inconvenient places) they can also perform a few magic tricks with cards and coins as well as slight of hand to pickpocket.

-Wc has literal folders on each of their siblings and all their siblings crimes and whatnot, has no intention of revealing this to others but will use it to make PowerPoints to lecture them on occasion (…they are very long and very detailed (if a bit all chaotic) powerpoints and you can not escape till its over)

-Wildcard requires enrichment in the form of chew toys (or people when they allow it (most don't because their teeth are deadly sharp and they will forget their own strength when zoned out) bone crushing hugs and affection (Wildcard is sensory seeking) playing cards can be used as an intimidation tactic and a way to keep their hands busy, running around, parkour and laser pointers are also helpful (warning do not use laser pointer anywhere enclosed or by other people, Wc WILL go through walls and people to get the laser.)

-Caffeine knocks wildcard out, give them a cup of anything caffeinated and expected them conked out somewhere like an oversized cat in half an hour. (Most of the time it will be odd and outright uncomfortable looking places or on an unlucky person that has become a bed/living plush to wildcards death grip (warning accidental asphyxiation may occur))

-Mod does not know HOW Wildcard managed to make friends, but they did…somehow (also they made friends (outside Splendorpoet) before Pink did which is even stranger/funnier)

-Wildcard will eat just about anything (or anyone….unless they are a close friend/sibling/partner or considered off limits for being close to one of the previous mentioned)

-Wildcard often paints his nails and is working on getting a full sleeve of tattoos of those important to them (….Hearts, Splenderpoet and Antonia's have yet to be added) Wildcard has debated getting piercings but never chosen to get any. They have also started to wear makeup more casually now.

-Wildcard will mope and become very depressed on occasion when they think they're really upset any of their siblings (or Pink) or when they learn something they deem 'horrific)

-is equal parts ridiculously smart and observant and oblivious dumbass

-Doesn't celebrate their own birthday so known of the suits actually know WHEN Wildcard's birthday is.

-Loves raven and used to have a pet one when they were a child. Also loves cats, but cats generally HATE Wc. They will claw and scratch and hiss and generally attack Wildcard (Wildcard will gladly accept having their face clawed to death as they coo at how cute the cat is, they are undeterred)

-Is generally very loud, does TRY to remember to be quieter around those more noise sensitive (Pink HAS kicked luck out on a few occasion's they've visited for being too loud and stressing others out telling them to run or go for a hunt in eir territory or SOMETHING to get the energy out and to come back after they're calmer.) is working on their volume control.

-Can do formal dancing and play (….the piano I think?) but generally prefers to not, but on occasion will get a whim to try to dance with whoever's closest (CAN formal dance like a walt but will do it more fast paced for the fun of it and will dip and spin and keep the dance partner on their toes (…and keep them from falling which has almost happened on many occasions)

-Wildcard is not allowed to be around Dahlia or the little dears without supervision (mostly for being loud and the swearing), as well as with others children….it is debatable if their parent(s)/guardian(s) will allow Wildcard around them mostly because Wildcard can be a lot for some (Wildcard is very protective of children and will do anything to make sure they're safe! Doesn't mean they're…good with them, they try their best.)

-Wildcard is like if a dog was a cat.

#mod post #lore #slendlr

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ttrpgbrackets · 1 year

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Propaganda Below

Assassin's Dagger

Evocatively named but actually quite mundane. The wizard whispers to an object and that object then seeks out and vigorously and repeatedly bumps into the desired target. Obviously if you whisper to a poisoned dagger the result is one thing while doing it to a letter is another. Travels any distance and always arrives (eventually).

What makes it cool?

Ok maybe this isn’t the flashiest power or the most powerful, but I love it regardless. The “evocatively named but quite mundane” effectively places the spell in the context of a larger world of magic-users, where spells can be named misleadingly. Its examples of use spark your imagination and get you thinking about possible clever uses of the spell. Not to mention that it’s dripping with the absurd, witty humor that I love about Troika!’s writing. Assassinate someone! Give them a gift! Hammer a nail! Dip a sandwich in soup! Send the Ring to Mordor! The possibilities are practically endless. The “(eventually)” turns this into a Chekhov’s Dagger of sorts, and allows it to show up whenever is best for the GM. But it always has to arrive, thus not undermining player agency and forcing the GM to work with player actions. Please vote for this power it is so cool.

Argent Trickster's Rook

Flashing a wicked grin as she rolls the dice or turns over her cards, the Lunar claims faces unwisely wagered against her. She performs a sacred hunt by challenging a human to dice, cards, or a similar game of chance, convincing him to stake his shape as his wager. She needn’t convince him that she can actually take his form, and may convince him through vague language, metaphor, or half-truth. Her own wager must be one that her target would consider equal in value to the theft of his shape. If the Lunar wins — including by cheating, as long as she isn’t caught — she concludes the sacred hunt and claims her target’s form. Her target must be genuinely playing to win. If the Lunar’s target wins or catches her cheating, the sacred hunt fails, and she can’t take his shape through this Charm until next story. She may still attempt sacred hunts against him by other means.

What makes it cool?

This is literally a way for a shapeshifter character to win your form in a gambling game. The "normal" way for a Lunar to take something's form is a literal ritual hunt, which ends with eating part of the target, and this is one of a few ways to steal a human's form without killing them. There's just something really fucking cool and evocative about winning someone's face in a game of cards.

#indie ttrpg #ttrpg community #ttrpg design #tumblr bracket #round 1

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stuffymcstuffsworld · 1 month

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Lucky card

From the moment of birth, he had always been lucky. Such was the way of his family's bloodline. It was both a blessing and a curse.

◇mum-mum-mum-mah, mum-mum-mum-mah, mum-mum-mum-mah, mum-mum-mum-mah, mum-mum-mum-mah◇

He smirks as he struts into one of the many casinos his family runs. One of the few places he is able to go all out with his luck. The heavy techno beat pulsing in the air.

◇I wanna hold em like they do in Texas, please. Fold em, let em hit me, raise it baby, stay with me.◇

Here he's on the hunt. His eyes scan the room. Looking for a rush. Some kind of thrill to appeal to his monstrous appetite.

◇I love it◇

He takes a seat at one of the table games. The pretty dealer plucks the money from his hand with a practiced ease and replaces it with a large pile of chips. A shark-like grin on their face.

The game begins. The cards are dealt smoothly. This wasn't normal poker, though. Here at this table, they like to challenge the big fish using 666 decks in the mix. Making it a tad harder for any card counters to keep track.

◇Love game intuition, play the cards with spades to start.◇

High cards, low cards, big wins, huge losses. It made his skin crawl. A knowing feeling that ate him alive as he tosses more chips in. The dealer flips one of the cards showing the ace of spades.

◇and after he's been hooked, I'll play the one that's on his heart.◇

The dealer flashes a cheeky grin, batting their eyes as they collect the pot. Orias can't help but throw his head back and laugh. It seems he had a sassy opponent tonight.

◇oh, oh-oh, oh, oh oh oh oh oh, oh-oh. I'll get him hot, show him what I've got. Oh, oh-oh, oh oh oh oh oh, oh-oh. I'll get him hot, show him what I've got.◇

The smell of cigarettes and the flow of neverending alcohol fuels him forward. Poor thing, he wasn't planning on losing tonight. He ups the ante.

And so it continues, round after round. Bet after bet. Good hands, bad cards, it was a familiar dance. One that he dominated.

◇Can't read my, can't read my no, he can't read my poker face.◇

Untill he starts to lose... he narrows his eyes and looks at his dealer. They have a calm, serene smile as they shuffle a new pile of decks. Quick hands working fast.

◇She's got me like nobody.◇

So that was their game. It wasn't uncommon for the demons who worked in the casino to cheat. In fact it was encouraged when going up his kin. It made things exciting.

◇Can't read my, can't read my no, he can't read my poker face.◇

All he needed to do was figure out the trick, and it would unravel. He'd start winning again in no time. Only... the trick kept changing.

◇She's got me like nobody◇

Just when he thought he figured it out, they seemed to have changed tactics. It was a game of cat and mouse. It made him giddy.

It irked him and pleased him at the same time. He watched their delicate hands deal the cards yet again. As they pull their hands back, he acts on impulse and grabs it.

◇Po-po-po poker face, po-po-fuck her face. Mum-mum-mum-mah. Po-po-po poker face, Po-po-fuck her face. Mum-mum-mum-mah.◇

For a moment, they eye each other. Neither looked away. The thick silence between each other could be cut with a knife. He kisses their palm. "For luck." He says.

◇I wanna roll with him, a hard pair we will be. A little gambling is fun when you're with me.◇

Eventually, the two reach a stale-mate. An endless stream of ties. Frustrating both of them. He looks at his dealer and says. "Let's change the game." Here at this casino, the whales like him could change the games at will, and the dealers complied.

◇I love it.◇

His dealer pulls out a gun. Showing him three bullets. Carefully loading the pistol in front of him before cocking it and aiming at themselves. A challenge was issued.

◇Russian Roulette is not the same without a gun, and baby, when it's love, if it's not rough, it isn't fun.◇

He licks his lips and nods. The trigger is pulled.... nothing. He's handed the gun. He kisses the barrel staring directly at his dealer.

◇oh, oh-oh, oh, oh oh oh oh oh, oh-oh. I'll get him hot, show him what I've got. Oh, oh-oh, oh, oh oh oh oh oh, oh-oh. I'll get him hot, show him what I've got.◇

Click. Nothing. Only one safe move left. But that was the point. Demons like them wanted the risk. They wanted the uncertainty. He offers the gun back. His dealer accepts it without hesitation.

◇Can't read my, Can't read my, no he can't read my poker face.◇

Running their fingers through their hair, they eyed him as they liked it up. The shot rings out. Many customers turn to look. It grazed their ear and shattered one of the light fixtures.

That peaceful smile still remained as they looked at him. It made sense. In order to work here, you had to be willing to risk it all, even your life.

◇She's got me like nobody◇

The blood drips from their ear as they hand it to him. The gun barely balanced on a single finger tauntingly. Two shots and a safety left. He liked those odds.

◇Can't read my, can't read my no, he can't read my poker face.◇

He takes am. Bang! Another shot knocks his hat right off his head. The pair chuckled as they examined the bullet hole that just barely missed his skull. Intoxicating.

◇She's got me like nobody.◇

He places the hat on his dealers head, and a glimmer of amusement flashes across their face. Once more, it's their turn. They aim right in between the eyes. Click. Nothing.

◇Po-po-po poker face, Po-po-fuck her face. Mum-mum-mum-mah. Po-po-po poker face, Po-po-fuck her face. Mum-mum-mum-mah.◇

That just leaves the last bullet with him. He takes it and aims to the roof. It clicks again. He raises an eyebrow. Looking at his dealer, he finds them with a new accessory.

There where the bullet had grazed their ear before sat a new piercing. He snorts. How poetic. The game is over, he's lost.

◇I won't tell you that I love you, kiss or hug you. Cause I'm bluffing with my muffin. I'm not lying. I'm just stunning with my love glue gunning.◇

He's had a lot of fun tonight but has also lost a lot as well. They've really moped the floor with him tonight. He watches as they tuck something into his pocket.

◇Just like a chick in the casino, take your bank before I pay you out. I promise this, promise this, check this hand cause I'm marvelous.◇

He pulls it out to show the Ace of Hearts. That little brat. He looks up, and his dealer is already gone. No doubt to rob another pour soul of their cash.

◇Can't read my, can't read my no, he can't read my poker face. She's got me like nobody. Can't read my can't read my no, he can't read my poker face. She's got me like nobody.◇

#welcome to demon school iruma kun #mairimashita! iruma kun #orias oswell

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vatofsulfuricacid · 1 month

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SENORITA - (G)I-DLE

CHAPTER 1.

“No. Our casino doesn’t allow that, Miss.”

Tags: SONADOW, fluff, sfw, gambling au (sonic is the gambler shadow is the dealer but theyre playing blackjack so they kinda play against eachother), amy is there! Not for long tho, implied angst A/N: trade with @houdinicalvini, HE MADE ART FOR MY SHITTY SONADOW FIC WHO CHEERED!! i fully allow criticism, including MEAN criticism, under my stuff. but be specific don't just say "sucked shit" like WHY did it suck shit specifically.

“Are you serious…?” Amy tried to appear unaffected. “I can’t surrender? You gluttons won’t be fine with half my bet?”

“No.” Shadow eyed her with indifference.

Amy slammed her hands against the table, everything on the table rattling as she stormed off.

Shadow rolled his eyes before turning to Sonic, who was waiting to sit down. “She’s not normally like that. She’s… pretty good, too.” He returned his eyes to the deck before resting his chin on his hands.

“It’s alright.” Sonic sat down in the now-vacant chair, holding his briefcase on his shoulder. He then pulled his bills out and handed them to Shadow, smiling.

“I wanna buy in for 1,000.”

A look of shock fell across Shadow’s face. “Are you… an experienced gambler?”

“That’s one way to look at it!” Sonic smiled.

“I legally have to kick you out if you’re drunk.”

“I’m as sober as you are.” Sonic leaned into the table, grinning and mimicking Shadow’s pose. Shadow didn’t match the grin, looking suspicious of Sonic’s antics.

“What’s your name?” His eyes narrowed.

“Can I buy in or not?” Sonic interrupted, crossing his arms on the table.

Shadow’s eyes narrowed in annoyance before he took the money, passing over a hefty stack of chips. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Sonic took the chips, still smiling as he replied. “You won’t have to know it anytime soon.”

Shadow chuckled under his breath. He leaned back in his chair, unconsciously mirroring Sonic’s position. “What’s your bet?”

“All of them.”

Shadow’s eyes widened. “All of them?”

“Yes.”

“I—Fine. It’s your money. I’ll match your bet.”

Sonic’s childish grin grew as he pushed his chips into the center of the table.

Shadow shuffled the cards, eyes still fervently locked on Sonic. “This is called a dovetail shuffle.”

To his surprise, Sonic didn’t reply, deciding rather to keep smiling as he shuffled the cards.

“The Jokers are already gone. I removed them last round.” Shadow pushed a card towards Sonic facedown, and took himself one from the stack. He then repeated the process, giving another to Sonic and one to himself.

“Hmm… what a tough one!” Sonic proclaimed, eyes panning over Shadow’s cards. 4 of Hearts, and one facedown. Sonic, having an 8 of Spades and 9 of Hearts, had 17 points total. Sonic tapped the game table, indicating that he wanted another card.

Shadow bit the inside of his mouth, forking over another card from the deck to Sonic.

4 of Hearts. 21 exactly. Sonic’s grin grew as he leaned into the table again. “Alright, your turn.”

Shadow, not saying a word, flipped over his last card. 9 of hearts. 13 points total.

“You know, 13’s an unlucky number!” Sonic replied, taking the chips for himself. “You wanna play again? I love this game.”

A look flashed upon Shadow’s face.

“No. Not with you.” Shadow slammed his cards against the table, using the other hand to fix his quills.

“What, afraid you’ll lose? You seem terrified right now. It’s all in good fun.”

“Not with you.”

#sonadow #fluff #gambling tw #gambling cw #cw gambling #tw gambling #tw smoking #sfw fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #light angst

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tildeathiwillwrite · 3 months

Text

Tag Game: OC Interaction

Thank you to @willtheweaver and @illarian-rambling for the tags here and here!

Willtheweaver's OC: Gale blew in on the winds, a jay from far west of the forest in search of a new home. His sudden arrival and unique appearance made him the subject of ridicule and suspicion from many of the native birds. As a result, he never set up roots for fear of being attacked, and his cheerful, optimistic nature became buried under layers of paranoia and cynicism. One particularly vicious attack could have ended him, but luck came in the form of Lady Grey. Rescued and nursed back to health, Gale swore loyalty to his savior who allowed him a place to live. The change in fortune has brought back flashes of his old self, although it will still be some time before he recovers fully from the trauma.

Katie's OC: Avymere Kalaphon Spearsong III is a 153 year old elf and Duchon (gender neutral equivalent of Duke/Duchess) of the city of Salis. They act as a spy and political agent for their father, Archduke Eluan Spearsong, who rules Salis. They also keep watch for assassins, on top of playing the perfect, if ditzy, heir in front of the court. They tend to keep up a happy-go-lucky facade in order to disguise their true cunning and because of this, are very reluctant to let their true personality show, to the point that they've sort of lost who they are. The one thing they embrace with their full, honest heart is martial arts. Though it's seen as a lowly habit that the court indulges on account of the Duchon's 'airheadedness,' they really do love to practice Talmel Valkys and are quite the fighter. It's where they feel they can drop any acts they have up. Apart from that, they have a hard time socializing outside of situations they're not used to and get easily flustered when they don't hold all the cards, as they don't actually have much experience outside of the highest echelon of Salis society. Though well meaning, they also tend to come off as aloof and unaware of the problems of the common man, even though they truly believe that they are a servant of the people they rule.

My OC: Draven Cozenson is a sarcastic human gunslinger who hails from the eastern continent on Valaria. He has black hair, dark eyes, and is rarely encountered without his pistols close at hand. He's spent the last decade hunting down lycanthropes and building a reputation as the kind of man who would do just about anything for money, the definition of the scoundrel with a hidden heart of gold archetype. Despite his infamous reputation, he has a moral code for the kinds of jobs he will and will not take, mainly being that he doesn't hunt down normal humans or elves, only lycanthropes, and he won't hurt kids. He's well aware of his reputation and how others---especially the Zariyan nobility---view him, and occasionally leans into the role of the rugged, uncouth, bloodthirsty hunter if it poses an advantage in a situation (such as if he thinks it'll get him paid more for a job). He holds a slight disdain for members of the nobility, especially a certain lord who employs him. While he sometimes works alone, he is typically found with an elven skinwalker by the name of Octavian de Silv.

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Draven and Gale: He wouldn't be too bothered by the presence of a sentient, talking bird, all he'd really care about is whether or not said bird is a threat. Due to working with a shapeshifter and his own experiences hunting down lycanthropes, a talking bird isn't too far out of the spectrum of possibility. With that out of the way, I think they'd be pretty neutral towards each other. Draven would be mildly curious about the kind of life a sentient bird would live, and sympathetic towards Gale's past should he chose to reveal it. Gale might be interested to hear about some of Draven's experiences

Draven and Avymere: This interaction would be pretty interesting. Draven would absolutely fall for their facade at first, as he wouldn't have reason to think otherwise of them unless tipped off in some way. The discovery that they practice martial arts would be his first clue that they aren't all that they appear to be, and it would pique his curiosity. Since Draven also has a habit of mouthing off to nobility, he might throw Avymere off their game pretty quickly on accident. If he ever found out about their true role, his respect for them would immediately grow, but he wouldn't let the revelation change his outward attitude. He has a reputation to uphold, after all, and so do they.

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Gently tagging @thewritingautisticat @chronicallydragons @thethistlegirlwrites @stargazer-luna @scaewolf and open tag! :D

#my ocs #others ocs #tag game #writeblr tag game #writeblr #draven cozenson #oc interaction #writing tag game

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afloofwithmultipleinterests · 1 year

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HELLO? [[tickling department]]? IT'S FOR YOU!!

A sequel tickle fic to Cheater, Cheater! (Ler!Jevil, Lee!Spamton) With the player being away for who knows how long, Jevil and Spamton hang out in the void behind Seam's shop, attempting to entertain themselves best they can. However when messes are to be kept to a minimum, All hope of escaping boredom is lost... or is it? Lee!Jevil Ler!Spamton Lee!Spamton(?)

It was so much fun writing this fic series with @coy-lee! its been ages since i've stretched my fingers for some good old fashion fanfiction! Spam and Jev are so fun to write... Thanks for writing with me coy. writing with you and LF both make my world!

Anyhoo... On with the story!

📞🔊 ☎️🎵 📞🔊☎️🎶

HELLO?

[[tickling department]]?

IT'S FOR YOU!!

📞🔊 ☎️🎵 📞🔊 ☎️🎶

It was true that Jevil and Spamton had a silent truce to the whole battle thing, or as the clown would like to put it, his 'numbers game'. Alas, Spamton's mission to achieve the higher plane of existence had ultimately been foiled... the salesman found a new purpose he had never seen before in this prison. He had friends. Actual, PHYSICAL companions!

It was after hours in the old cat-plush's shop. The player would be gone for an extended period of time, perhaps years from now, so the cat tended to doing business of his own behind closed doors regarding his two newest creations. Spamton was playing a card game with Jevil, although it appeared neither one knew what actual game they were playing.

"GO-[[Frank's fish fry buffet!]]"

"IVE GOT A FULL HOUSE, HOUSE!"

The two said simultaneously while laying their cards down for their consecutive games.

"I THOUGHT WE WERE PLAYING [[Gone fishing! Be back later]] NOT [[house!]] ... NOT [[hou-]]." Frustrated, Spamton's glasses went staticy for a moment. "nevermind.." As soon as the whisper came, the puppet glitched back into his normal salesman tone. "YOU GET THE [[photo noise]]."

"YES, YES! I UNDERSTAND, UNDERSTAND!" Jevil nodded, impulsively bringing his gloved index and thumb to his chin. "BUT, ITS NOT VERY CHAOTIC TO STICK TO THE RULES! I LIKE A CHAOS, CHAOS, A MISCHIEF, MISCHIEF! ITS JUST NO FUN SPAM-SPAM!"

Sometimes Spamton just couldn't understand Jevil no matter how much he puzzled.

"ANYWAY! ITS NO FUN TO JUST PLAY CRAZY EIGHTS EVERY TIME, TIME! " Jevil exclaimed, throwing cards into the air haphazardly. Spamton flinched and gazed up at now the fluttering cards.

"CRAZY [[888-8888]]? IS THAT WHAT WE WERE PLA-" The doll spoke, cutting himself off when his eyes trailed down to find Jevil being surrounded by walls of cards stacking perfectly on top of each other. They continued to stack, building a tower around the jester, taller and taller as the cards multiplied out of nowhere. Construction noises sounded from inside the endlessly growing fortress, minimizing as it continued to grow. it wasn't long before the large card tower had stopped growing and had gone quiet. Then a cackling form burst from the top of the tower, looking down at his friend far below.

"HOW'S THE WEATHER DOWN THERE, THERE!?" Jevil called. Suddenly the cards caved from the top, the fool surfing down the wave of cards that soon crashed to the ground. He was now once again seated where he was before, cards falling like leaves all around them. Jevil bounced up and took a bow, thanking Spamton and the seemingly nonexistent audience for cheering him on.

"You aren't making too much of a mess in there, are you Jevil?" a deep voice asked from the other room.

"WHAT!? WHY DO YOU ASSUME SUCH THINGS SEAM, SEAM!?" the jester called back, offended. Spamton couldn't help but laugh at Jevil's reaction to being called out. "UHG... GAMES ARE NO FUN WITHOUT A MESS, MESS," Jevil sighed, falling back onto the floor, staring into the void above.

Spamton thought a moment, scratching his head before his mind flashed back to about a week prior. If he could shift his face at all, a grinch-like smile would be there. Oh he knew EXACTLY the game that would be perfect for this occasion. His fingers were itching to wiggle and knead after that whole experience.

'GEEZ, I DUNNO HOW YOU CAN STAND IT, NO WAY I'D LAST!' Spamton recalled Jevil saying to him mid-attack. He'd test that statement himself, if not MORE teasy than Jevil. If he could figure out how the jester did it, that is! Although he was keen in the art of salesmanship, when it came to the art of tickling, Spamton didn't have sea legs like Jevil did. The puppet just hoped he could live up to the playful nature Jevil has come so naturally to him. However, he didn't mind taking a leap of faith on this… Spamton wanted to have fun! Besides, the clown had it coming to him anyway.

"ACTUALLY I THINK I KNOW A [[Book of games to play with your children!]] THATS NOT [[🎶i came in like a wrecking ball!🎶]]"

"OH *REALLY?* IS IT FUN ENOUGH TO SHARE WITH THE CLASS, CLASS?" Jevil perked up a bit, curious. He fell back again after a moment. "sigh BUT MESSY IS STILL MORE FUN…"

Spamton got up from his seat, which shortened him back to his regular height. Sliding back and forth across the ground as if he were floating, the doll clasped his hands together attempting to strike up a deal. Now THIS was in his ballpark.

"OH IM SURE THIS [[specil game]] WILL PEAK YOUR INTEREST MY [[friend request accepted]]!" Spamton advertised, growing a little closer to the jester through the ocean of cards.

"[[100% Entertainment!]] [[100%-]] F UN, FuN, FUN! [[for the whole family]]." The spam-bot finally stopped in front of the imp, that award losing smile offering the chance of a lifetime. "NO [[tough stains to get out]] NO [[pottery disrespected!]] ONLY- ONLY- ONLY-" Spamton was stuck on a record loop.

"ONLY WHAT, WHAT!? SPIT IT OUT MAN!" Jevil shouted, shaking the spambot's shoulders dramatically, his eyes wide, sparkling with excitement. Spamton legitimately had the jester entranced by this proposition. The best customer is a desperate one he supposed. Jevil was on the edge of his nonexistent seat now.

"I CAN SEE YOU'RE [[LOSING YOU R MIND]] OVER THIS [[once in a lifetime offer!]] YOU'RE LIKE ME! [[desperate.]]" Spamton started, his aura going from that of a salesman to... playfully intimidating... this didn't go unnoticed by Jevil, who's eyes widened at the sudden change of mood. "WELL YOU'RE IN FOR A-" suddenly, Spamton's hand started ringing. It had literally turned into a black phone! "EXCUSE ME ONE MOMENT." Aw... Jevil had to wait!? NO!! He was way too impatient.

"BUT, BUT-"

"HELLO? [[tickling department]]??"

Tickling WHAT!?

"I SEE... IT'S FOR YOU!" Spamton pointed the phone at Jevil.

Before Jevil could even process what's happening, the jester was pushed into the sea of spades, diamonds, and clubs by tiny little Spamtons.

"GYAaAaAaA! WAIT A MINUTE! IT DOESN'T LOOK LIKE YOU HAVE FULL HANDS, SO WHAT'S WITH ALL THE MINI SPAMS!?" Jevil rhymed, eyes wide and a nervousness in his belly. His tail curled up closer to his body and he lightly peddled his feet as he tried to glare at the puppet now towering over him, the biggest most genuine grin with a gleam shining off of his colored glasses.

"[[the boys]] ARE HELPING A [[papa!]] OUT~!" Spamton chuckled, the phone disappearing for his actual digits. "ISN'T THAT RIGHT?" The 'boys' nod rapidly in agreement before they start to do their thing.

The tiny Spamtons manage to hold down Jevil's tail and hands, meanwhile Spamton sat on Jevil's legs similarly to how the jester had awhile back. The purple imp's mouth twitched upward nervously, curling in a cat-like manner.

"N-NOW SPAM-"

"HM? WHATS A MATTER [[jack in the box!]] I THOUGHT YOU LIKED A LITTLE [[MISCHIEF, MISCHIEF!]]" The doll imitated Jevil's voice as he lightly trailed his skittering fingers up the sensitive devil's sides. "A [[CHAOS, CHAOS!]]"

"AYE-MKHMKHM! N-NOW THAHATS... NOT FAIIIR! KHKHKHM! -SNORT-" Jevil retorted, trying not to give the puppet the satisfaction of breaking him as easily as the jester had broken him. He shook his head a bit as it was one of the easiest things he could move at the moment. His hat jingled to the beat of his shaking." YA CAHAN'T JUST - - - KHKHK" Jevil tried to complain about Spamton turning his own words back on him but he couldn't finish his sentence without bursting into giggles already, so he shut his mouth tightly.

"HM? OH ON CONTRAIRE, [[valued friendship]]." Spamton spoke with a smirk in his voice. He started to make his hands go in circles, getting slowly closer to the tummy pudge by the second. "BESIDES, I HAVEN'T HEARD A [[Stop at go!]] YET~!"

Jevil's cheeks puffed out like a bubble, little snorts occasionally coming out as Spamton circled closer and closer on the jester's belly.

"AWWW... NOW JEVIL? I THOUGHT YOU SAID [[IT ISN'T HEALTHY TO HOLD BACK YOUR LAUGHTER]]! YOU AREN'T DOING THAT, ARE YOU?" Spamton asked, a teasing tone seeping out as he finally reached the middle of the jester's tummy, a bit of struggle revealing itself as the jester tried to kick his legs and wave his arms.

"N-NO! I-KHEEHEEHEEM NOT! IT JUHUHUST DOESN'T TIHICKLE! KHMKHMHM!" Jevil squeaked out, trying his hardest to keep what little composure he had. He barely had any to begin with. The jester kept his eyes shut, not wanting to see the doll's face rival his own naturally devilish grin. It was his job to be the menace!

oh.... ohoh that was a BRILLIANT opportunity to be taken!

"IT DOESNT?'' The tone Spamton had was unclear. Jevil felt the fingers pause, staying on his secretly terribly ticklish tummy for a moment. The jester could assume that the puppet was in thought about something.

"WELL... WHAT ABOUT THIS SPOT?" suddenly the fingers jumped to his ribs, starting to lightly skitter. Jevil nearly let it slip but he kept it in, however before he could process the first transition, another one came. "OR THIS ONE?" Then one to the top of his tummy. "OR [[this one!?]]"

Oh he couldn't STAND it! Just choose a spot already!! Stop changing!

Suddenly, he felt his arms change positions. Those devilish little Spamtons put his arms above his head!

"OR THIS-" Spamton started, putting his hands down under the imps arms to transition yet again, when be heard a loud and sudden giggly yelp result.

"PPPFF! NYAHAHAHOOOO! SPAMT- AHAHAHAHA-SNORT-GYEEHEEHEEHEE!" Jevil cackled, finally cracking and letting out what had been bubbling under the surface the whole time. His laughter was shrieky and full of snorts which was accompanied by the jingling of his hat as he tossed his head around.

Spamton chuckled along with the jester, his laugh ranging from his own to various other laughs he had heard before. "AWW... THERE WE G0! [[100% customer satisfaction!]]"

His wiggly fingers vibrated the newly discovered tickle spot, ensuring this jester a chuckle fest. " TiCkLE T1CKLE~ [[tiny jester figurines!]] ARE YOU SURE YOU AREN'T [[tickles your fancy?]]? [[Number1ratedsalesman1997]] DOESNT LIKE [[liar, liar plants for hire!]]"

"OKAY OHOHOKAY I'M TIHIHICKLISH! NOHOHOW CUT IT OUT PPPPFF-NOCHIOHOHOHOHOHO!* -SNORT-!" Jevil conceded, trying his hardest to pull his arms down to his sides. "The boys" were holding tight and were much stronger than they looked, especially when working together.

"DO YOU REEAAAAALLY WANT [[remember kid, blue stop signs]]? I THOUGHT YOU LOVED THIS [[hopscotch!]]" Spamton slowed to just a few pokes here and there, admittedly hesitant of continuing after that.

The Spamlings seemed to feel the same way, starting to loosen their grips to where Jevil could break away easily.

Am I going too far? Spamton thought as his poking slowed. how do I know if he really wants me to stop? I don't want to hurt him..

The salesman had never been on the other end before- at least not without the cards being flipped instantly... he only really received the attention, unable to break away as easily from the much taller, much more popular salesmen.

I'm not good at this... what if Jevil doesn't like this? ... he would tell him if he didn't, right?

Oops.. Spamton was spacing out. He just noticed the white noise filling his ears, and the vague popcorn television static he could see through the reflection of his glasses.

"S- pant -Spamton? Ehehe... Hey?" Jevil's voice was unnaturally gentle. He panted a bit, calming himself down while looking his friend over with a bit of concern. "What's a-matter, buddy?" Jevil chuckled. He still hadn't broken out of the Spamlings hold, deciding to just lie there.

Spamton paused, his smile dropping as much as it could physically, before the mini Spamtons fused back into the salesman "I..." the glitch faded as Spamton backed off of Jevil completely.

What was he thinking? He couldn't do this... it just.. wasn't what he was made to do. He couldn't be silly like this..

That thought saddened him... that he couldn't play a game like this without chickening out. Spamton sat down, scrunching his legs up to his chest, and wrapped his arms around them. "Sorry.. I- just... i'm not.." he couldn't get the words out.. he couldn't describe exactly how he felt without disappointing the clown.

Jevil seen Spamton, was unsure of himself... doubtful. Now that just wouldn't do! He barely did anything to the clown.

"OI, HEY HEY HEY! WHAT ARE YOU SORRY FOR? I... I THOUGHT WE WERE HAVING FUN, FUN! " Jevil said, trying to get answers from his companion. He finally sat up and put a gloved hand on Spamton's hunched shoulder. "DON'T MAKE ME TURN THE TABLES JUST TO GET A LIL HONESTY, HONESTY," Jevil threatened lightly, giving his friend a playful glare.

Spamton's entire face reddened a bit after that comment, nervousness heightening.

"W-WELL [[Well well WELLY well well-]] I-[[icebox]] I-[[Isosolese triangle]] I'M NOT S URE [[How to video]] DO THIS. I'M [[ANXIETY!!]] ON MESSING UP, OR [[too far gone..]]." the puppet explained his anxiety as best he could. Things as fluffy as this were so foreign to him already, it's been years since he has played this game.

Jevil looked puzzled, trying to understand what exactly was the problem... But after a moment he came to a conclusion.

"THAT WAS YOUR FIRST TIME, TIME DISHIN IT OUT? I'M IMPRESSED! THE TICKLES DIDN'T HURT AND WEREN'T TOO LIGHT EITHER. I WOULD HAVE SWORE YOU KNEW WHAT YOU WERE DOING, DOING. LOOK AT ME, EVER THE FOOL, UEE HEE HEE!" Jevil giggled as he explained in no uncertain terms that Spamton had done nothing wrong. In fact, he seemed pretty good at tickling already. Must be in their glitched out genes.

Spamton's face seemed to increase in color at that... now he felt bashful of the compliment. "... ARE YOU JUST [[you're just saying that!]] TO MAKE [[number1ratedsalesman1997]] [[feel better soon!]] ..?." The salesman turned his head, confused at the compliment.. he truly wasn't expecting that. In all honesty, he was waiting for himself to screw everything up with his friends like last time. To have both Seam, and Jevil leave at any given moment because he was being a sleaze, or unintentionally disrespecting them.

"IF I WERE, WERE, WOULD I DO THIS!?" Jevil questioned before rolling onto his back and acting like a dog that wanted his belly rubbed. "C'MON! LAY IT ON ME, UEE HEE HEE! OR ELSE I'LL PICK UP WHERE YOU LEFT OFF~" Jevil teased with a grin, trying to spur the spambot into action.

... Spamton could cry tears of joy if he wasn't just playfully threatened. His confidence spiked up as his face returned to its normal white hue... it was time to scratch that itch he had just minutes prior.

"LEAVING YOURSELF OPEN FOR ME, [[AYYYYYyyyyy!]]? WELL, LET ME REOPEN OUR CONTRACT WITH A NEW [[8-digit phone number]] SPECIL!" The normally pink and yellow glasses flooded with an intimidating reflection that flashed seemingly from nowhere.

"YOU KNOW WHAT? I DON'T NEED [[friends |The boys| i've got knives!]] TO SH0 W I MEAN [[business]]. IVE GOT THE RIGHT [[trick up my sleeve]] FOR YOU, JEVIL.." That grin seemed to widen as Spamton drew closer to Jevil, teasingly wiggling his fingers at him before pouncing on him and kneeding over his sides and ribs.

"UEEHEEHEEHEEHEE! -SNORT- SO NOHOW YOU CHOOSE TOHOHO PLAY WITH M-GYAHAHAHAHEEE!" Jevil cackled out, immediately bursting with laughter. He kicked his feet and flailed his arms aimlessly while he let Spamton give him the "deal of a life time".

The doll's fingers swirled and scritched slowly up, just barely grazing the jesters armpits.. closer and closer… Jevil was secretly expecting it so the blow wouldn't be as shocking as before to the ticklish area... however he was startled by the rapid booping to his hip area on both sides.

"AAAAH!!!" Jevil shrieked in surprise. He hopped up reflexively, accidentally knocking the spambot off of him and onto the floor.

Pink and yellow swirls encircled Spamton's glasses while his jaw fell ajar, and little angel spams flew around his head. Spamton shook his head, making the angel Spamtons disappear all the while Jevil rubbed the tickles away from his hip joints. Spamton hopped to his feet, quietly clasping his hands together in assessment of the situation "HM? A LITTLE [[jump rope!]]? I THINK I HAVE A [[home remedies]] FOR THAT." The spam-bot snuck to Jevil's leg, before jumping on and attaching himself. He started to climb him like a kitten.

"AYEEEHEEHEE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME!? CLIMBING ME LIKE A TREEHEEHEE!?" the jester giggled, dancing around, hopping from foot to foot as Spamton crawled up his leg.

When Spamton got to Jevil's midsection, the Email-bot gently squeezed the tickle spot under the jester uniform every time he grabbed to climb.

"ARE YOU SAYING THAT YOU'RE NOT [[Christmas trees now 50% off at your local Walmart!]]? THATS [[false advertising]]! FOR SOMEONE WHO ISN'T A [[fine oak]]]..." Spamton climb up until he was on Jevil's back, securing his position with his knees. "YOU'RE QUITE THE [[Blueberry Maple Syrup]]."

The puppet tickled along the jester's shoulder blades, and neck coil, which scrunched, and skyrocketed off his shoulders upon the unexpected touch.

"NYA HAHA! YOU LITTLE GYEEHEEHEEHEE! -SNORT-!" Jevil squawked, trying to catch his head and put it back on. It was boinging around, the coils now fully accessible to the puppet teasing the area. "WHYHY MUST THE DOHOHOLL BE SO CRUEL HEEHEEHEE T-TO TIHIHIHIHICKLE THE NIGHT LIHIHIGHTS OUT OHOF THE F-FOOHOOHOOL, FOOHOOHOOHOOHOOL!?"

Jevil continued to dance around, unable to dislodge the gremlin latched onto him.

Spamton bulleted laughter with a cheeky and mischievous tone. The salesman skittered over the exposed neck coil while using his other hand to poke under jevil's arm when he tried to reach up and grab his head.

"IM [[SURPRISE!!]] YOU'RE ABLE TO [[Time it to ryhme it!]] WHILE IM [[Tickletickletickletickle~]] YOU!" He teased, swapping from multiple spots with that single free hand away from the coil.

Jevil slammed the one arm down that Spamton could reach every time the puppet poked and prodded under there, making it hard for the clown to reach his hat to put his head back on his shoulders. He couldn't get it with just one hand! The other was practically tied to his side in defense.

"UEEHEAHAAHAaHaHA- -SNORT-!!! OHONOHOHO NO THIHIS ISN'T FAIR- N-NOHOT UNDER THERE, THERE!!"

"NOT [[right there on the dotted line!]]? ARE YOU SURE? THIS SPOT LOOKS LIKE IT MAKES YOU [[satisfied customer!]]"

"NAHAHAHOOO! BAHAHAD SPOT! BAD SPAHAHAHAAAAT! UEEHEEHEEGEEHEE! -SNORT-" the Jester laughed, squatting down for a moment. He suddenly sprung up, his body catching up to his head, and he grabbed one of the tails of his hat. He swiftly popped it back into place before bouncing back onto the floor.

Jevil sprawled out on the floor belly down, trying to catch his breath.

Spamton paused after a moment, letting the jester have a bit of a break to recover from the monkey climb tickle attack.

"HAVE YOU HAD ENOUGH OF THE [[Stand-up specil]] YET [[now introducing the lil' devil darlin!]]?"

Spamton turned around, facing Jevil's J-shaped tail. It was wagging from left to right in a cat-like manner, almost similar to a wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tube man.

"OR DO I HAVE TO WHIP OUT THE [[ BIIIIIG GUNS! Come and buy them before huntin' season!]]?"

If Spamton could stretch his toothy grin even further into a menacingly playful expression, he would probably be wearing it in this moment. He had an ongoing theory, and if it proved to be correct, he would most likely have Jevil beat, if not even from when the clown got him.

"W-WAIT... WHAT GUNS, GUNS?" Jevil asked nervously. He wasn't exactly sure what Spamton's next target was, but the little doll's confidence was worrying to the Jester. The spambot was tuckering him out quite quickly already. But admittedly his curiosity was peaked too.

"IT DEPENDS," he started, the Jester hearing the clear grin in his voice. "HOW [[ready, set, go!]] ARE YOU TO FIND 0UT?"

"I-I... UM... HEHE..." Jevil's smile curled up into his own grin. "MORE READY THAN YOU ARE FOR MY INEVITABLE REVENGE! UEEHEEHEE!" he teased back.

Spamton's face flooded red, steam coming out of his ears in embarrassment while a honking choo-choo sound effect accompanied it. How DARE him! Spamton wasn't gonna get all embarrassed from that teasing little jack in the box right now!

"FOR SOMEONE IN THE [[sticky situation]] YOU ARE," Spamton inquired, grabbing Jevil's tail with a hand. "YOU'RE AWFULLY BR4VE TO POKE [[the bear!]] POKE [[the sides]] POKE [[the tum]]!"

"HEY! HANDS OFF THE TAIL OR ELSE I WILL POKE 'THE TUM, TUM'!" Jevil squeaked, trying to sound intimidating but failing miserably. He tried to wiggle his tail out of the puppet's grip, but he seemed to be latched onto it like a koala.

Sensing the nervousness, Spamton hummed curiously. Perhaps Jevil DID have a secret to hide about his tail... he was much too curious for his own good, the trashman brought his hand up to the tippy top of that strange looking imp tail, giving it a slight poke. Jevil loudly squeaked, his tail starting to wag back and forth similarly to a worm trying to escape.

"SPAMTON I SWEAR TO SEAM, IF YOU DO IT, ILL COME BACK TEN TIMES AS HARD! MORE POWERFUL THAN THE RED JOKER CARD, CARD!" Jevil was beyond nervous. He kept his tail in sight for VARIOUS reasons... It was a weak point. If Spamton even tried-

"OH? MORE POWERFUL THAN [[here kitty-kitty!]]?" Spamton wiggled a couple of fingers on it. "I'D HONESTLY LIKE TO SEE YOU [[try, try again!]]"

"PFFFPAHAHAHA! I WIHIHILL JUSTYOUWAHAHAHAHAIT!-SNORT-" the little devil cackled already. Something about his tail made it just so sensitive. Perhaps it was because it was a true mark of his identity as an object, a key part of his being. It wasn't fair! Seam's tail wasn't like that, so why did his have to be!?

"CO0cHie COOCHie CO0 YOU LITTLE [[pop goes the weasel!]]~ IT DOESN'T T1CKL3, DOES IT?" The salesman teased. Now that made it worse! Couldn't Spamton just shut up already!? Not that Jevil wasn't having fun, but BOY the clown's fingers were starting to itch for a stuffed tummy.

"YOUOHOU'RE GOHOHONNA BEHEAHEHA SOHOHOREHEHEY!!!" Jevil threatened through his crazy clown belly laughs.

Spamton felt he really didn't need to try too hard to tickle it. The puppet just barely wiggled over it, and the ticklish jester was already in stitches!

Jevil at this moment realized just why Spamton never got the chance to tickle others often...

"ITS TO0 BA D, RE4LLY." Spamton poked the tail with a single finger. "I WOULD HAVE THOUGHT YOU'D HAVE [[prison break!]] BY NOW. GUESS THAT OLD SPAM- SPAMTON G. SPAMTON HAS GOT THE [[number1rated salesman |G1gGleb0x|]] BEAT!"

it was because the dealmaker seemed to make the premise of giving him a wrecking too hard to resist.

Jevil's tail suddenly wrapped around Spamton's hand, the tip of it being placed in it similarly to a phone. Shocked at the sudden change, Spamton froze his tickling and started to stare at the tip in confusion.

Jevil started to catch his breath again, which let him be able to make ringing noises while shaking his tail like a phone ringing off its handle.

"HEHhaHeh... WELL, WELL? .. GONNA ANSWER IT?" Jevil asked, looking behind himself at Spamton, a look of which spamton returned with a nervous one. The puppet looked back towards the 'phone' hesitantly, before putting the receiver to his ear. "H-HELLO?"

"HELLO, HELLO!" Jevil said aloud.

Spamton stuttered.

"WH0 1-1 S THIS?"

"TICKLING DEPARTMENT!"

Spamton's glitching cut out, his tone quiet and anxiously squeaky.

"... t… tickling department?"

All of a sudden, the tail whipped him up, throwing Spamton in the air before catching him in a comfortable snake-like coil. Spamton recovered from the sudden scare, before realizing the situation he was in.

The clown was up and at em', a devilish grin on his face alongside those playfully mischievous eyes. Oh spamton was a GONER! Literally, AND figuratively. Jevil had just been tickled to hell and back.. and still he somehow had a surprising amount of energy left. Spamton's eyes widened, his cheeks increasingly reddening at the playful expression on his friend's face...

"ITS FOR YOU, YOU!~"

-- . .- -. .-- .... .. .-.. .

Seam's ears perked up once again to the sound of laughter. This time it was the glitchy cackling of that sly salesman. Thaaaat was to be expected honestly. The cat's keen ears caught every little noise that came from their playtime. Jevil wasn't one to truly get exhausted from a game so much as bored of playing the same game for too long. Perhaps that's why Spamton was so confident in pushing the joker's buttons. Some of us have to learn the hard way, he supposed.

Seam chuckled to himself, sipping his tea and listening to the chaos in the other room. He missed having a family. They all did... So it only made sense that they stick together.

The sound of crashing and squealing and laughing and utter chaos...

He could certainly get used to this again.

#sfw tickling community #deltaplume #deltarune tickles #UTDR #ler!spamton #lee!jevil #ler!jevil #deltarune #tickle fic #hehehehehee :3c #tickles for the jestie booooy~#but then again... jevil never could stick to one singular game for too long!#tickles #wholesome fic #THESE BOYS ARE GONNA MAKE MY HEART MELT LIKE ICECREAM ON A SUMMERY SUMMER SUNDAY!!#ISTG!!

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