#High-performance air horn

[selfdefensegearco]

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Sonic Sentinel: Elevate Your Safety with the Unstoppable Power of the 129dB High-Performance Air Horn

In the heart of Oakland, California, a city once known for its vibrant culture and community spirit, concerns have been growing as crime rates soar, leaving both law enforcement and residents grappling with a disheartening reality. As the city grapples with these challenges, an unconventional solution is emerging-one that involves a seemingly unlikely hero: the […]

[hazbinwhoree]

Can you do an Adam x angel reader (romantic) one shot where Adam is at a gig (cus he’s canonically in a band) and he takes notice of the reader in the crowd. Yk just kinda do what you want with it (maybe you could make it a little smutty😏) thx 💜💜

Fucking the Guitarist

A/N: Again, I wrote this high, so I’m sorry for any mistakes ✌️

Warnings: Semi-public sex

(Name) wouldn’t consider herself a groupie by any means, but she did make a point to go to every single performance that Adam’s band put on. She had a massive crush on him, but so did half the girls there. She didn’t feel like competing, so she had never met Adam before, seeing as he was always swarmed by girls as soon as the show ended.

It was another night spent watching Adam’s band, and they had just finished their final set. (Name) slipped out some side doors into an alley to have a smoke. She was lighting up when she heard the doors open again. She turned to see who her company was, and almost dropped her lighter when she saw Adam himself.

He glanced at her then did a double take. “Sup.”

Oh my god, he was talking to her.

“Hey.” (Name) tried to play it cool.

“I know you. You come to every show.”

(Name) was shitting herself. He had noticed her?

“How come you’ve never come up to say hi?” Adam asked, walking over and taking the lighter out of (Name)’s hand. He flicked it open and lit her cig for her.

“Because,” (Name) said after a long drag. “I’m not some groupie.”

Adam was looking at her with an expression she couldn’t quite place. “I know that,” he said, handing her back her lighter. (Name) eyed him, taking it and screaming internally when their fingers touched.

Adam held out a hand, and (Name) passed him the cig. He took a long drag from it before handing it back, making sure their hands touched again. “Did you enjoy the show?”

“I always do,” (Name) replied.

“What’s your name?”

“(Name).”

They chatted for a while before Adam needed to get back to his band. “I’ll meet you here next time?” He phrased it as a question. (Name) was star struck. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Okay,” Adam smirked, backing up and making finger guns at her. “Next time, (Name).”

To (Name)’s surprise, he did meet her in that alley again after his next show. And the next show. And the next show. They kept meeting until (Name) would dare to call them friends.

It was after a show and they were talking in the back alley as they normally would. “How’d you get away from your adoring fans this time?” (Name) teased. Adam chuckled but didn’t answer. “I don’t know why you spend time with me instead of getting laid. You’ve got plenty of options.”

Adam smiled, looking away. “Yeah, it would be nice to get laid after my shows more often.” (Name)’s heart dropped. “But there’s only one person I’ve wanted to fuck lately.” He pointedly looked at her and she blushed.

He grinned, backing her against the brick wall. “You’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

“Who-” (Name) swallowed. “Who do you want to fuck?”

Adam rolled his eyes, caging her in with his arms on either side of her head. “You, bitch.”

(Name) floundered for words and Adam suddenly looked slightly unsure of himself. “If you want, I mean.”

Of course (Name) wanted it, she’d wanted this for months. Boldly, she reached up and grabbed his collar, dragging him down to her level. She pressed her lips to his. She could feel Adam smile against her mouth, pleased.

His hands traveled down her sides to her ass, which he lightly tapped to indicate what he wanted. (Name) got the signal and jumped, Adam picking her up, and (Name) locking her legs around his waist.

They made out passionately, (Name) holding onto his horns. When they pulled apart for air, (Name) dared to ask, “Can I see you without your mask?” The question threw Adam off.

“How about we go back to my penthouse?” he finally asked.

That was a big step, (Name) hadn’t been expecting, but they were taking a lot of big steps tonight. Adam set her down and offered her his hand, and together they flew off to Adam’s apartment building. They didn’t bother with the elevator, flying straight to Adam’s balcony.

As soon as they landed, Adam was on her, pushing her onto a couch, not even bothering to go inside. He nudged her legs apart with his knee and settled between her thighs, pressing his erection against her crotch.

They fervently reconnected their lips, teeth clashing and tongues rubbing against one another. When they separated for air again, (Name) reiterated her question. “Your mask?”

Adam hesitated.

“You’re about to be inside me,” (Name) pointed out. “I think that’s intimate enough for me to see your face.”

Adam hummed. “That’s a good point, sweetie.” He leaned back and grabbed the bottom of his mask, slowly pulling it up and off his face. (Name) stared at him starstruck. Adam looked unsure without his mask, so (Name) reached up to cup his face in her hands.

“You’re so handsome,” she whispered.

Adam smiled.

They kissed, and (Name) moaned at the sensation of his human lips. The noise spurred Adam on, who snuck his hand up her shirt to grope her breast. (Name) moaned again. Adam pulled back and ripped off her shirt. Shame, she had liked that shirt.

She didn’t have time to be annoyed about it though, as Adam was climbing off her and tugging down her pants. He pulled her up and (Name) went to question him before she was cut off by him bending her over the arm of the couch. He ripped her panties off too.

He knelt down next to the couch so he was looking at (Name)’s face as his hand massaged her ass before his fingers crept to where she wanted them most.

“You’re so wet~” Adam smirked, enjoying the expressions on (Name)’s face. He slid one finger inside of her, then two. When he was met with no resistance he added a third finger. He watched (Name)’s mouth fall open as she moaned again, burying her face in the couch.

“Ah ah,” Adam pulled his fingers out. (Name) whined at the loss. “Let me see your face.” (Name) turned her head, blushing. “Good girl~” Adam’s long fingers slid back into her and she sighed contentedly.

“Adam,” she whined. “What, baby?” Adam teased. “You want my cock? Can’t wait to get a taste of the original dick, huh?”

He thrust his fingers in and out, revelling in the facial expressions of pleasure (Name) made. “Please,” (Name) begged. “I want you.” Her words made Adam’s dick twitch, and he decided he’d had enough of teasing her.

He pulled his fingers out and stood, undoing his belt and pulling his pants and boxers down, kicking them off. He stood behind her and gripped her hips, fingers digging into her flesh. He lined himself up, and slowly pushed in.

(Name) let out an unabashed moan. “Adam~”

Adam couldn’t go slow for long, quickly bottoming out with a groan. “Fuck, (Name), you feel so fucking good.” (Name) clenched around him at his praise. After giving her a moment to adjust to his size, Adam began thrusting.

He started at a steady pace, but very quickly lost in, pounding into (Name) with no regards. Her ass jiggled as his pubic bone slammed against it everytime he thrust in deep. His grip on her hips was almost bruising.

(Name) was gripping the couch cushion for dear life as Adam fucked her. She realized, vaguely, that they were on his balcony, where anyone could possibly see them. The thought only made her more excited. Maybe she was a bit of a freak.

Adam reached a hand around her and down to her clit, circling it with one slender finger. (Name) cried out, the pleasure intensifying tenfold.

“I’m fucking close,” Adam grunted. His hips stuttered, his thrusts becoming sloppy. “(Name)!” he moaned her name as he came, bending over her to bite down on her shoulder as he unloaded his seed into her womb.

His fingers didn’t cease their minstrations, and (Name) came shortly after with a drawn out gasp.

They both panted, coming down from their highs. They were sticky with sweat, and (Name) was sticky with cum when Adam pulled out.

He slid an arm under her breasts and pulled her up, holding her steady by the waist.

She turned around in his hold and looked up at him, looking utterly fucked out. It was Adam’s new favorite sight.

“Let’s get inside,” he said, bending down to kiss her forehead. “I think we both need a shower.”

[tomswifty-fr]

Last post got me thinking about horns and okay, people love to draw dragons with piercings through their horns and make accents with whitespace illusions of holes through the horns. I also do this, it looks badass, but horns are bone? They're alive bone? And I've been trying to figure out how to make it work that's not only "magic".

There are all kinds of crazy horn modifications out there that just do things to the keratin - dying, carving, tattoos, caps, getting stuff enameled or embedded in the surface, as well as surface-level piercings - but having something go through the horn itself is Hard Core. That's an extreme level of body modification. It's the kind of thing you have to seek out a specialist for, and vet them thoroughly. If surface level relief carving is getting an earlobe pierced, then an all-through horn piercing is like corneal tattooing or those guys who implant magnets in their fingers.

The procedure is performed with something like a biopsy needle, but larger, and involves plague magic to control pain and sterilize and shape the wound. Even with numbing, it hurts like hell and the infection risk is high. Since you can't just leave your marrow exposed to the air, the opening is fitted with something like a gauge made of bioceramic or, less ideally, a body-safe plastic. It's common for these to made to look like other materials, or to have a veneer applied after it heals.

Recovery is simplified by the fact that there's no open wound and no joint involved, but it still hurts a lot and has to be kept an eye on. This usually includes follow-up visits with the artist or a doctor to check for signs of infection and administer medicine or magic to promote bone healing. The worst-case scenario is finding a crack in either the horn or the gauge, since that means potentially bacteria inside, I emphasize, your bones. The patient may or may not be provided sealant or disinfectant to put around the edge of the gauge, but it's unclear whether these actually help.

Once it's healed, you can either leave it as a hole or put stuff in it. Rings are a classic, as are various dangly things and plugs with cool designs.

[tellmeallaboutit]

give me all your NSFW Raphael headcanons, please <3

GLADLY! TW: those are for Dark!Raphael as always, I don't have any other flavour of Raphael in store.

The more excited Raphael gets, the more he loses control of his tail. It waggles, it slashes the air, it twitches, it lives its own best life.

Generally has a crazy and hard to control libido due to his infernal nature. He is not very happy with this as it makes him easier to influence and control and he is very aware of this.

Absolutely loves tears. Especially licking tears. Has his own rating system for tears based on their purity, roundness, saltiness and clarity. Tav's are 12/10.

Does have problems with finishing too quickly, but his refractory period is so short it doesn't really matter.

Couldn't care less when people stroke his horns. Laughs at the fascination mortals have with them. Plays right into it and doesn't leave his house without giving his horns a thorough waxing for extra shine.

Raphael can generally take a jab, but not about his performance in bed or perceived dominance. Haarlep knows it. If Haarlep could, they would post posters all over the hells with RAPHAEL SUCKS DICK FOR A SOUL COIN AND HE SUCKS AT IT

100% sadomasochistic (mostly sadistic) to the point of not wanting/understanding vanilla sex at all and only having it for ulterior seduction purposes. 'Everything is about sex, sex is about power' is his motto.

Selfish in bed, not only with Haarlep. His orgasm is an absolute must and a goal we should all strive for, yours is optional unless he wants to make it a point of control/domination. You should be coming in your pants at the sight of him anyway, and if you're not, that's a clear 'you' problem.

Haarlep gets less respect than a dildo, because at least a dildo gets cleaned afterwards.

You'd be hard pressed to find a kink that would be a hard no for him. Tentacles and illithids maybe.

But when it comes to favourites, it's humiliation, degradation, fear play. And a corruption kink, of course. His whole life is a corruption kink.

Has strong hunting instincts, which he generally finds BENEATH HIM, but absolutely cannot resist when they kick in.

His sperm burns. Not the nice warm fuzzy feeling, it burns. Not to the point of actual damage, but to the point where you're screaming for him to finish somewhere else.

Doesn't care much for virgins. Like, it's nice, he definitely wouldn't turn them down, but it's much more important that they have a SUCCULENT soul.

Don't ask me about the chamber pot guy, I don't want to know and you don't want to know either.

On a totally unrelated note: he doesn't find things (fluids, excretions) that we humans find repulsive so repulsive; I suppose sulphur smells pleasant to him, and sulphur smells like… yeah, go smell some sulphur yourself.

He actually likes to curl up around something, tail and wings included, and press his weight against his bed partner. It's hot, uncomfortable, leaves you with a high chance of suffocation, and again, a 'you' problem.

Aftercare? What aftercare? He is a busy man, he has more important things to do. Haarlep can do it, they don't have shit to do anyway.

Unless it's mind games and the purpose is to break you. Then okay, he might have five (5) minutes to caress and praise the poor mortal.

Obsessive, has had several obsessions in his life (they didn't make it out alive) It's not always the same thing that triggers the "gotta have it, gotta have it, gotta have it". With Hope it was her purity, but with other objects of affection it was different. Must be something he feels is "very special" though, because all things very special should by definition belong to Raphael.

[koiiiji]

lookism x reader. between takes

summary ; lookism actually is a series, and all guys are just actors, same as you, so you happen to meet with them backstage.

starring ; seongji, jungoo, jongun, gimyong

SEONGJI x demon!reader

the bustling film set was alive with energy. you were taking a break from your role, when you spotted Seongji Yook across the lot. his team was filming scenes for “lookism,” in the mountains of cheongliang too. you couldn't help but smile at the sight of your friend. Seongji noticed you and waved, making his way over with a grin. “nice horns. going for a new look?”

you laughed, adjusting your tail. “just trying something different. how’s the day going on your end?” he shrugged, glancing at his hands and feet. “i feel kinda weird with this,” he said, gesturing to the fake extra finger on each hand and foot.

“really?” you asked ironically, pointing at your demoniacal makeup, horns on your forehead and the tail behind you. “i think we’re both quite the spectacle here”

as you both found a quiet spot to sit, the conversation flowed easily. you talked about your roles, shared behind-the-scenes stories, and teased each other about your costumes.

“you make a pretty convincing demon,” Seongji said, his tone teasing yet sincere. “i’d say you’re stealing the show.”

“thanks, but i think you’re the real star,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “i saw you on set, your scenes have been incredible, your appearance in “lookism” will blow the whole show.”

there was a comfortable silence, the kind only shared between good friends. yet beneath it, there was an unspoken tension, that nobody dared to speak about. Seongji leaned back, watching the crew set up for the next scene. “you know, i’ve always admired how dedicated you are to your roles.”

your heart skipped a beat, his words feeling more personal than casual. “thank you, Seongji, i really appreciate it!”

and before you knew it, the break was over, and you both had to return to your sets. as you stood, Seongji hesitated for a moment. “hey, maybe we could grab dinner after filming wraps up?”

the invitation hung in the air, filled with possibilities. “i’d like that,” you replied, trying to contain your excitement.

with a shared smile, you parted ways, the encounter leaving you with a sense of anticipation.

JUNGOO x pirate!reader

cozy coffee shop was bustling with the morning crowd. you felt a bit out of place in your full pirate costume — with oversized shirt, high knee boots and tight corset, complete with a big hat adorned with feathers and all small accessories everywhere. your team took a break from filming, you all needed a caffeine boost. as you waited for your order, the door chimed, and in walked Jungoo Kim. you heard that his team filming “lookism” somewhere near your location. his costume torn in some spots and covered in fake blood, his skin in bruises from a fight scene and hair is messy. despite his rough appearance, he carried himself with his usual charismatic confidence.

your eyes met briefly, and you both did a double take. you recognized him instantly — you kinda were his fan, he is an actor you secretly admired and respected.

he recognized you as well, approaching with a playful grin, trying to play it cool. “ahoy there, captain,” he called out with a playful grin as he sauntered over. “looking for treasure, or have you already stolen it with that outfit?”

you laughed, tipping your hat. “just trying to keep myself and the crew in line.” you smiled, waving your head to the side where your set colleagues were sitting, feeling your cheeks warm. “and what about you, mister criminal? fighting off enemies before breakfast?”

Jungoo smirked, leaning in conspiratorially. “thought i’d see if the rumors were true about a captivating pirate queen causing a stir. seems they were right.”

you leaned back on the counter, smiling conspiratorially at him, playing along with his little performance, “ah, so you're not here by chance, and it's you the one who are looking for treasure here” you smiled teasingly, lifting your chin, the feathers on your hat trembled slightly.

“well, you caught me,” he chuckled, eyes twinkling. “i do have a knack for looking for treasures. maybe i should join your crew — think you could handle the competition?”

“only if you promise not to steal my spotlight,” you bantered back, imagining him in a tricorn hat and boots.

Jungoo leaned closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “i promise to keep the spotlight firmly on you. though, i might steal a dance from the captain.”

the playful exchange left you smiling, and you found yourself enjoying his company more than expected.

“i have to admit, i’ve been a fan of your work for a while,” he confessed, suddenly trying to sound nonchalant. “your performances are always captivating.”

surprised and flattered, you replied, “really? i’ve been following your career too. your fight scenes with sword are legendary.”

but as the director burst into the cafe and barked at everyone, urging them to return to set to start filming, Jungoo offered you a wink. “break a leg, captain. i’ll be here to catch you if you fall.”

with a wave, you returned to your role, feeling a bit more buoyant from the encounter.

JONGUN x black swan!reader

film studio was a maze of sets and props, buzzing with activity. you were navigating the corridors, adjusting to the thick black eye lenses you wore for your role as the black swan in upcoming film. they made everything difficult to see, but the effect was stunning on camera.

as you carefully made your way to the break room, you suddenly collided with someone. the impact, unexpected and strong, caused you to lose your balance and fall.

“whoa!” a deep voice exclaimed. you found yourself looking up at Park Jongun, who was also wearing the same intense black lenses for his role on the neighbor set.

“i’m so sorry!” you said, embarrassed as you tried to regain your footing. Jongun quickly helped you up, grabbing your wrist, pulling. you to his broad chesr, a little harder then he should have. his grip steady. “no, it’s my fault. these lenses make it hard to see anything.”

“tell me about it. i’ve been bumping into everything.” you laughed softly, brushing yourself off. he glanced at your costume, noticing the contrast between your delicate ballerina attire and his all bruised and blooded body makeup. “looks like we’re playing quite opposite roles.” he said, finally losing his grip and letting you go.

“yeah,” you admitted, feeling a bit self-conscious. “i had to lose a lot of weight for this role, so i’m not exactly steady on my feet.”

Jongun offered you a charm smile. “you look incredible, though. very convincing as a ballerina.”

“thanks,” you replied, appreciating his kindness. “i’m guessing you’re the tough guy in your film?”

he nodded, a hint of pride and amusement in his voice. “yeah, shiro oni, always ready for few crazy fights. but i promise i’m not as scary in real life.”

as you continued talking, you found Jongun to be easygoing and surprisingly funny. you shared stories about your roles and the challenges of filming with these horrible jet black lenses.

“next time, we should get a guide dog,” he joked, making you laugh.

“or maybe just a cane,” you suggested, enjoying the lighthearted banter.

eventually, it was time to return to your respective sets. “it was nice bumping into you — literally. let’s try to meet again when we can actually see each other.” Jongun smiled dazzlingly again, gently clasping your wrist, and leaving a light, soft kiss your knuckles.

“deal?” he asked with a charm grin, while you stand there smiling shyly, feeling a newfound connection.

“i’d like that,” you replied, feeling grateful for the unexpected encounter. with a wave, you both headed back to work, the meeting leaving you with a smile and the possibility of a new connection.

GIMYONG x targaryen princess!reader

sun was beginning to set over the bustling film set near the sea, casting a warm glow on the neighboring sets of two popular series. one set belonged to the fantasy series where you played a targaryen princess, and the other to the hit show "lookism," where Gimyong had one of the main roles.

he had often glanced toward your set during breaks, intrigued by the regal world of dragons and thrones. he'd heard about y&u from mutual crew members and quietly admired you from afar.

but today, fate seemed to favor him. a scheduling overlap meant both productions were on a break simultaneously. seizing the opportunity, Gimyong wandered over, pretending to be curious about the elaborate set design.

as you stepped outside, still in your flowing, black gown embroidered with red and gold threads, depicting scales, tails and heads of dragons on the sleeves and collar. you saw Gimyong standing nearby, looking somewhat out of place in his black coat. classic black trousers, white shirt and loafers amidst the medieval backdrop.

“hey, aren't you from "lookism?"” you asked, recognizing him from the posters plastered around the studio. he abruptly pulled his hand away from the blue weird machine that soon will be turned into your dragon with computers cgi effects help. he beamed at you, intensively nodding. he was a bit surprised but pleased you knew of him. “yeah, i'm Gimyong. i've been curious about your set for a while. it's got quite the atmosphere.”

you smiled, appreciating his interest. “it's definitely a different world over here. i'm [y/n], by the way.”

“it's nice to finally meet you,”he said, but paused himself for a moment, glancing back at weird blue platform. he noticed once, that your team usually shoot scenes of flying on dragon's back on this thing. brilliant pick up line immediately was born in his head.

“sooo that’s supposed to be your dragon on screen, right?” he grinned, swinging onto the platform from behind, trying to play it cool, but it came out a little awkward, as you can see he is clearly nervous. you giggled softly, but decided to play along, already understanding what he was leading to.

“yes, his name is Vermithor, really huge dragon.” you elegantly covered your mouth with your hand, trying to hide a shameless smile, at Gimyong’s attempt to flirt.

“you know, im kinda dragon myself, being the son of a golden dragon… so how about safe the dragon and ride-” you couldn't let him finish the sentence, bursting into laughter from his pickup line and such a self-confident face. Gimyong was truly humongous man.

in fact, he was not confused or upset by your laughter, because in the end he amused you. his light laugh joined yours and he was happy that he made you laugh.

“no, but seriously, i’ve heard great things about your performance.”

“thank you! it’s been a dream role for me,” you replied warmly, your genuine smile still playing on your lips. “i’ve seen a few episodes of lookism — i absolutely in love with it! your character is such a gentleman.” you exclaimed admiringly, remembering all the scenes where Gimyong was filming with his 'mother', and how cheerful his character was, representing a wonderful leader.

as you talked, the conversation flowed naturally, and Gimyong felt his initial nervousness fading away. he found himself captivated not just by your talent, but by your genuine enthusiasm and kindness.

“maybe you could give me a tour of your set sometime?” Gimyong suggested, hoping to extend the conversation — and his time with you.

“i’d love that,” you replied, intrigued by the idea. “and maybe i could visit yours. i’ve always been curious about how you bring such a cool fightings to life.”

with a shared promise to explore each other’s worlds, Gimyong returned to his set with a newfound excitement. meeting you had been even better than he imagined, and he couldn't wait when you will visit his set, to show off in front of you with his skills and muscles.

[triptanite]

Arabellan Dry

Rolan fuckers I thank you for your patience - thought we could do with something a little light hearted after the angst of my first post :') enjoy

This is adjacent to the Speak to Me post (which I'll be turning into more of a chapter series over time) but you don't have to read either for the other to make sense

Pairing: Rolan X reader

Content warning/s: none

MASTERLIST

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

"I like them. Your horns." You profess, absentmindedly. You take in the details up close, refusing to look down where you're sure he would be looking up at you.

"You'd be the first." Rolan swallows hard, his glass bone dry.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

You squint at the faded label of the liquor bottle. It lays heavy in your hand, one of dozens procured by your party during your travels.

Arabellan Dry

Little flakes of wax seal crumble onto your fingers as you crack the top, and you sniff the contents with caution. A little more sour than you'd like, but you've certainly has worse. You take a hefty first sip, a familiar burn lacing down your throat and into your chest. You wince and ponder how people actually like this stuff. The scent lingers on your breath now, and your wandering eyes land on the tiefling you'd been avoiding since the party started.

It wasn't that you hadn't wanted to see him. No, quite the opposite. It was only recently that you'd returned to the Emerald Grove bloodied and bruised, a gentle giant druid at your side and victory in your veins. The rest of the day therein was filled with a flurry of conversations that you couldn't remember. Your body was exhausted, your brain a blur. Tieflings, druids, so many mixed emotions. You remember being thanked, being scolded, wiping goblin viscera off your weapons, eating gruel.

One thing you do recall was the golden gaze of one tiefling wizard; Rolan. Your brief conversation is lost somewhere in your mind between the sleeping tadpole and the likely head trauma from battle, but you remember those eyes. The high of combat made your hands quiver. It took most of your attention to will your body to calm, weakening your listening skills.

Now, rather than adrenaline alone, your blood buzzes with dry red wine.

Shadowheart's gaze catches yours over her own goblet of something undoubtedly strong. She smirks, gesturing her head towards Rolan and his siblings. Mischief twinkles in her eyes, and you resist the urge to roll yours in response. Shadowheart tips her cup back, draining the contents, and mimicks for you to do the same.

You glance down. Your face looks back at you at an unflattering angle in the deep red. It's unclear whether it's the colour of the wine or if you really are that flushed in the cheeks. Looking back up, you bring your chalice up in a silent toast to your friend.

Fuck it.

You gulp down your drink with little elegance. Courage, Sharran-style.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

"Patience. Have you no respect for showmanship?" Rolan chides his siblings as he cracks his knuckles.

Oh, that voice. Low and warm and boastful, like velvet.

Your head swims slightly as you approach. You focus very hard on keeping your feet from crossing over. Perhaps you'd overestimated your drinking abilities.

"Having performance issues Rolan?" Cal heckles. Your stifled giggle announces your presence, and Cal waves you down in greeting.

"Hush you, now..." Rolan replies, eyes quickly flicking over you before he braces himself. "Behold!"

A gorgeous burst of glittering light manifests in the air like a firework. You stare in child-like awe, and find yourself clapping genuinely. Finally, Rolan turns his attention to you.

"Adoring applause? You're too kind." He bows, smiling.

"Humble as ever, Rolan." You bow at the waist in mock-servitude, just catching your balance.

"Remember when he could hardly cast that?" Lia laughs.

"They grow up so fast."

You procure a handkerchief from one of your pockets, dabbing your eyes in jest. Cal sobs like a proud mother, patting his own tear-less eyes.

"Never have I met such troglodytes. Now, pass the wine." Rolan extends a hand towards Lia, not an ounce of venom in his words.

"Don't suppose you have any tricks to one-up Rolan the Great?" Cal asks as you join their log seat. You run your finger around the rim of your empty chalice, thinking. The atmosphere is familiar and calming, you feel your shoulders relax.

"Afraid not, although I've been told I have two incredible left feet on the dance floor. I'm sure that's worth something."

"Ha! I'd like to see that." Lia chides, having produced a small loaf of bread to accompany her drink. Quick as lightning, Cal reaches over and plucks a chunk out of Lia's hand and into his own mouth. She flicks one of his horns in annoyance.

"Needs cheese, Lia." Cal nods thoughtfully.

"Thanks, Cal." She responds in the same tone, "Show me where the good stuff is and I'll snag more bread from the table."

"Deal. Rolan, mind my drink, yeah?"

Before you or Rolan can catch up with their conversation, the two are already off. Lia laughs as she holds the remainder of the loaf high out of Cal's reach.

"Idiots." Rolan chuckles affectionately. He looks good when he smiles, when he's relaxed, you notice.

"Can't live with them, can't live without them." You agree, pointing your head towards some of your companions.

You spot Volo holding Astarion a conversational hostage, the very picture of disinterest on his pale face. As Cal passes by, carefully balanced stack of cheese wedges in his arm, Astarion ropes him into the chat and makes a smooth escape. Cal looks helplessly around but it's too late. Volo has brought out a quill and several hundred questions, it seems. You laugh, drunk on moments of normalcy after weeks of planning and fighting and surviving.

"What are you drinking tonight?" Rolan asks, a glass goblet half-full of something dark and red in his grasp. There's an easy smile on his face.

"It was Arabellan Dry," You tilt your hand to show it's emptiness, "Although, I've discovered that I may be more of an ale person."

"It does have a bit of a bite," Rolan laughs. You eye his pointed teeth, wondering if he does too. "I suppose it's more my thing than yours. Not to worry though. With the amount that you and your companions have borrowed during your adventure, I'm sure there'll be something there you'll like."

"You look good, Rolan," You admit, a little too tipsy to catch yourself. "Good-happy, you look happy. It suits you."

It's hard to see with the red hue of his skin and the dark light of night, but you swear you see a flush crawl up his neck and towards his cheeks.

"Ah, thank you." He stammers just slightly, golden eyes raking over your face, "You as well. I imagine that's the glow of victory on you."

"Well, that and the good company." You cast your eyes around your camp again. People are talking, drinking, dancing. Scratch is zipping between people like it's a race to get as many pets as possible. The air smells deliciously of campfire wood smoke. You hope it never washes out of your hair. "It feels safe here, even if only for a moment. I like seeing my friends just enjoy something. I think we all deserve to let off a bit of steam. I'm certain I'm still washing goblin smell out of my clothes."

As you turn back to your conversation, you catch Rolan's lingering eyes. He looks slightly out of sorts, like he was half-listening. At his lack of response, you brush imaginary dirt from your forehead.

"Something on my face?" You chuckle, only slightly self-conscious.

"No," Rolan startles back to reality, sounding somewhat embarassed. He hesitates a moment, gulping down a healthy amount of wine before continuing, "I just, I understand what you mean. Not necessarily for the bard and the druid, but for Cal and Lia. All things considered, I'm glad you asked us to stay."

"I expect it'll make a good story for Lowakkan."

"Lorroakan."

"That's the one! Looking forward to Baldur's gate, I assume?"

"Oh you've no idea." Rolan grins wide, all of his excitement tensing up in his shoulders. Noticing that his siblings are otherwise occupied, he sits himself down next to you. He's so close that you can feel his body warmth against your side. There are fine lines around his eyes that crinkle when he smiles. He smells like the campfire and something vaguely herbal. Your head swims again.

"Something on my face?" Rolan teases, breaking you out of your staring trance as you realise with embarassment that he was still talking.

"No! Sorry, please go on."

"It's all right," He laughs, draining the last of his wine, "I think it comes with being a wizard. The talking, that is."

"Should I expect Lorroakan to be chatty too, then?" You ask genuinely, turning your body to face more towards him. Your knees knock against his and neither of you make an effort to move away.

"I hope so, I want to hear everything he has to say. He's going to make me the best wizard in Faerûn, I bet my robes on it."

"He can hardly make you into something you already are," You nudge him, making a gesture similar to his when he did his glittering light spell earlier.

"You flatter me," He laughs. You feel your chest swell a little. You think that you could come up with every cheesy compliment in the book if it made him laugh like that. "Though I will admit, it's not easy to even get to that point with most. People see my appearance and in their ignorance miss out on something spectacular."

He boasts, but his tone is tinged with something more. Genuine hurt, sadness. You eye your arms and legs, more exposed in your casual wear than your armour of late. Though you'd been given several new scars and gashes, you supposed most people greeted you as an adventurer. You weren't a tiefling like Rolan, like Cal, like Lia. Ironically, you felt sorry for people who would had never heard Cal's quick humour or his incredible mediating skills. You felt angry at the thought of them not taking Lia seriously - her fierce determination and loyalty, her compassion, her resolve.

"Ignorance is right," You nod, "Their loss for not having met you, or Cal or Lia. You're destined for greatness, I can sense it. Even if you are stubborn as an ox and have awful taste in wine."

"Flattery, insult, and a pep talk? I should join you more often." He scoffs lightly, adjusting some loose strands of hair that have curled around his horns. "Though I'll need you to tell me when I look dishevled. People already take one look at my head and move aside, I don't need to look like I've fought an ogre and lost too-dammit!" His claw tangles into a knot in his hair, and you notice his voice slurring slightly and fingers fumbling.

Looks like Arabellan Dry hits everyone hard and fast.

You place your cup down and stifle a laugh. Looking into his eyes, you raise your hands up towards his head.

"May I?"

Rolan stops losing the fight with his hair for a second. He looks taken aback and relieved in equal measure . He nods, electing not to speak, and you swear he looks a little shy as he does.

You reach up, vision blurring your two hands into four, then back into two again. Gently, you untangle Rolan's hair, smoothing it back where it usually sweeps around his horns. You untuck his fingers, and he softly grasps your hand in his as you brush against the base of one curved horn.

"I like them. Your horns." You profess, absentmindedly. You take in the details up close, refusing to look down where you're sure he would be looking up at you.

"You'd be the first." Rolan swallows hard, his glass bone dry.

You aren't lying, you have always been fascinated by the diversity of body parts in Faerûn. Tiefling horns, Dragonborn tails, cambion wings. Having appendages typical of a human meant that you'd only ever admired from afar - not wanting to risk offending or overstepping. But basking in the dim moonlight, wine in your veins, and the permission of your friend and ally; well, it would be a shame not to revel a little in the moment.

You press the pads of your fingers against the side of one horn, unsure of how much feeling it might have. You move slowly, allowing plenty of time for Rolan to interject with that assertive tone you hear so often from him. It's smooth, but textured with ridges and grooves. It reminds you of the tusk of an elephant or the curled horn of a ram.

Rolan's breath hitches, his free hand clutching so hard at his cup that it might shatter. You lighten your touch, realising with horror that you might be making him uncomfortable. His hand stills, remaining atop yours, keeping you there without force.

"Sorry, is this okay? Should I stop?" You ask genuinely, frantically.

You finally cast your eyes down, eyelids heavy. Blood rushes through your face at breakneck speed, swelling your cheeks rosy. He meets your gaze, his own golden eyes slightly glazed from the alcohol. His voice comes out in a low whisper, nervous, curious.

"No, it's okay. You don't have to stop."

"But do you want me to?"

You can practically hear the cogs turning in Rolan's brain. His cheeks are flaming red and the heat from his skin could singe off your eyebrows. You're not really any better, heart hammering like your chest was a forge. You've got tunnel vision, just about forgetting that you're at a lake-side camp with your friends and not in an isolated dreamscape on the Astral Plane. Rolan seemingly finds his words, opening his mouth to reply when you're both accosted by a jostle and the smell of baked goods.

"Remind me never to rely on you two for rescue, you're useless!" Cal admonishes you both. You and Rolan snap away from each other like you've been burnt. "I was stuck talking to Volo for ages."

"Oh my gods, Cal, is that you? Why, you must've aged about a century since I last saw you!" Lia gasps, plucking Rolan's chalice from his grip and replacing it with a small wicker basket full of bread. "You all right? Rolan's not giving you a hard time is he?"

"No, no! Of course not," You stammer, giving your most convincing attempt to appear casual, "What did you guys end up finding? Did you raid a picnic island or something? You've got enough cheese to feed an all-out mouse army."

"Well despite being prisoner to Volo for twelve tenday, I managed to get something useful out of him. Apparently this cheese is best with grapes, so I got grapes, and then this one is a dessert cheese? So I think we should try that last. Oh, and this one..."

You tune Cal out slightly as he pulls wedge after wedge of various dairy products from a basket lined with cheesecloth.

"You and Rolan been drinking from the same cup?" Lia asks you, the ghost of a smirk on her mouth.

"Pardon?" You practically squeak, voice an octave higher than normal.

"The Dry? You both stink of it," She laughs. Lia pinches a slightly crumbly block of a harder cheese from Cal and hands it to you with a slice of a crusty bread. "Here, it's good for sharing."

Your face burns as you try to decipher how serious she's being. Rolan looks just as embarassed at the exchange, tight-lipped like he doesn't trust his tongue. You split the block in half and offer some to Rolan to break the tension.

"Want some?" You ask, almost shyly.

Your hands touch again, and you're certain you're both as transparent as a window to Lia.

"I would love some, thank you." He replies, a little too stiff to be convincing. Turns out you both have something in common, you're terrible actors.

Lia eyes you, all three of you picking up on the silent conversations that seem to be happening simultaneously.

"Oh! That's a good one," Cal interjects, "Volo says that one goes best with Arabellan Dry."

You lose your composure, giving into a fit of laughter as you raise your empty cup in agreement. You're drunk; whether that's on wine or embarassment or exhilaration you can't tell.

But given the company you're currently in, you don't mind not knowing just yet.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Ta da! Took a little while of coming back to this one every few days but I think it turned out sweet. Looking forward to writing more Rolan already - take care :3

[shawnxstyles]

don’t keep driving

DATE: FEBRUARY 4, 2023

summary: when your morning starts off on the wrong foot, a certain celebrity cuts you off and makes it even worse. this causes you and harry to bicker before he gets on stage, leaving things unsaid. being his security, you were forced to work around him. while he’s performing, harry makes sure to leave you flustered enough to come into his dressing room at the end of the night.

request: yesss

words: 6.6k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [choking, slight orgasm denial], degrading, daddy kink, praise kink, size kink, protected sex (consent is not directly implied here, always ask for consent!), dirty talk), language, and loads of dialogue (especially at the end)

note: the timeline here is completely different from his actual tour. i did describe the la night 8 outfit and a few real incidents that occurred from other shows lmao, but everything else is obviously fictional. enjoy!! harry masterlist

famous!harry x security!reader

—

You weren’t the type of person that gets irritated easily. Patience was your forte throughout your whole life, meaning you were rarely impatient to the point of madness.

However, unlike most of your life, you were a little more ticked off today than usual.

It started when your alarm didn’t wake you up this morning. You were so tired from the previous night, you passed out on the sofa in your living room. Your phone was left in your purse and therefore, making you frantically get ready this morning before heading to work.

Then you stopped to get some coffee because last night’s shift was a drag. You didn’t want to feel like crawling out of your skin again. You sipped your drink in the car, on your way to work. You nearly spit it across your windshield when you tasted the bitterness. Looking at the labeling, they completely botched your order with a black coffee. Was a vanilla latte that hard?

Setting the burnt-tasting liquid in a cup holder, you focus on driving. You try to keep your calm, hands gripping the wheel harshly. Traffic was packing up, making you later and later for work. Your head throbbed in stress as you sharply inhaled with a scowl on your face. You pressed the radio on to fill the road raged air. The very much overplayed “As It Was” plays throughout your speakers, making you roll your eyes. Once you exited the freeway, all you had to do was get through a few lights. Just a few stoplights and you would be at work.

Just breathe.

A flashy, red sports car speeds past you, swaying in its lane carelessly. It swerves in front of you, cutting you off entirely. You huff, slamming down on your breaks and honking your horn. You thank heavens that no one is behind you as you switch lanes aggressively and smash the gas pedal to accelerate to his speed. You catch up to the vehicle and glare at the figure. You almost couldn’t believe it.

Ironically, Harry Styles is driving with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his phone. He grins at the small screen, eyes flicking up and down from the road. You both arrive at a red stop light, breaking ferociously over the white line. The sight of his casualness angers you as you beep again. His head is alerted left toward your car. With knitted eyebrows and a death stare, you flip him off.

As he sits frozen and shocked, you accelerate through the now green light, leaving him in the dust. For some reason, a hint of a smile curls on your lips as you roll into the private parking lot. You show your ID card and pull into the security area. In your rear view mirror, Harry follows closely behind you, parking in a different section.

You smirk to yourself, knowing you gladly flipped off none one other than the Harry Styles.

—

You slip through the crowded hallways, anxious from the high-pitched screaming coming from the stadium. The closer it gets to showtime, the more anticipation fills up to the room and leaves everyone on high-alert.

It’s just like any other night.

You worked security at the Kia Forum. Ear piercing screams, blinding lights, and chaotic energy surrounded you almost every night. You knew some people would kill for a job that monitors and guards their favorite bands, and you were immensely grateful, but that doesn’t mean you don’t get stressed out and exhausted by the end of the week.

To add, you worked at the Kia Forum, not for the artist. Meaning, you were not directly affiliated with the band or artist performing there. Many people got confused and begged you for an autograph, but it was rare you talked one on one with the musicians for longer than a minute. Working at the forum helped you to not get attached to certain artists because you got to see a variety of artists every day, so you were never obsessing over one. Again, people would kill for your job.

But out of all the people you’ve worked security for, Harry Styles had to be the… most contradicting and unexpected. At least to you.

You’ve seen hundreds of videos of him online and he seemed like the perfect man with the perfect face. He was kind, charming, and had an old-man sense of humor. His figure was exceptional, making teenage girls fawn over him until they faint (you’ve witnessed it). He’s performed at the forum too many times to count (14 times if you were counting though) and each time he acts the same. Funny. Charming. Delightful. Engaging. Sexy. Emotional. Blah blah blah.

Fans don’t see the side of him that you see. Sometimes, you don’t even think his crew or friends see it. He was one of the only artists that you’ve talked to for more than a minute. And every minute you spent practically spitting at each other, you felt your time being wasted. Truly, Harry was cocky, vain, and couldn’t care less about your feelings. The only appropriate way to act was to deflect his own attitude back at him. You weren’t going to put him on a pedestal just because he was a celebrity; he was a person just like anyone else. You’ve only known him for a total of a few weeks; tonight would be his 15th time at the forum since you’ve worked here. However, the car incident today was your last nerve. Thankfully, this was his last night here before Love on Tour finally traveled out of the country.

Shaking your head, you wash away all of the pounding thoughts in your head. You rush around the back rooms in anticipation and anxiousness. Scurrying through the endless hallways, your foot snags in a random extension cord too quickly to balance yourself. Bracing for the fall, your arms extend out, only to be caught by the man whose name is plastered around the arena tonight. Tattooed arms lift you up to your feet as you try to balance yourself, chest pushing off of his chest. A smirk rises on his lips at your proximity as you roll your eyes until they touch the back of your skull.

“A thank you would be much appreciated,” Harry doesn’t remove his arms from beneath yours, keeping you closer than you’d like to be.

You swallow, green eyes piercing yours addictingly. You quickly glance at his outfit; a pastel pink T-shirt with a sequin teddy bear and blue leather pants. Harry Styles, the image, was adorable, sweet, and sexy— something you could’ve admitted at one point in your life. But since you’ve had your eyes opened by Harry, the real one, your blood boils every time he speaks, arrogance laced in his tongue. He was immature, and his childlike mannerisms crumpled any belief that ever found him endearing or sensible.

The only thing that may be sensitive was his ego, which made Mount Everest look small in comparison. Even though he did somehow manage to make a teddy bear shirt sexy, you would never in a million years tell him that.

“You were in my way,” You grumble, pushing yourself off of him. Your fingers felt the valley of his abs through his shirt as you brushed over them swiftly. Swallowing thickly, you stand in front of him with a locked jaw, acting like you didn’t just feel down his torso.

“If anythin’, y’were in my way—”

“Oh, sorry, did I ruin your makeup? Boo hoo. I didn’t ask for you to catch me!” You taunt and shout, eyes furrowed in irritation.

“Think I’d just let you fall?” His tone was surprisingly soft, and in some way, convincingly genuine, but you ignored it.

“Yes, I think that’s exactly what you’d do,” You click your tongue as your eyes bulge from their sockets. Harry’s nose flares while his lips are pursed tightly together.

“That doesn’t make me look good though, does it, darling?” Now, he tries to act soft, sweeping some of your hair to the side. You swat his ringed fingers away in disgust, infamously rolling your eyes. The trace of his fingers left a burning trail on your skin.

“And texting while driving does? Let’s all hail Harry for being such a great role model!” Your arms cross as your eyes roll dramatically for the hundredth time this minute. “For all I know, you were probably sexting some French model.”

Harry instantly remembers a few hours ago, when he was driving unsafely near the forum. He continuously stared at the adorable video on the screen instead of the road, accidentally cutting you off when he swerved into your lane. He cringes at the memory and your comment. As you spin away from him with annoyance sizzling off of you, he grips your elbow and swings you around to face him again. Your body twirls irritatingly too close to him as he holds you tightly by your elbows.

“S‘important,” It wasn’t really. It was just a heartwarmingly sweet video of his Goddaughter getting her nails officially done for the first time. He doesn’t know why he pulled you back toward him. He knows you didn’t like him and would rather breathe poisonous chemicals than the air surrounding him. But for some reason he needed you to know that he wasn’t texting some French model.

How did he mess up that bad?

“Sexting is more important than your life?” Your eyebrows lift as your eyes hang wearily at his dumb statement.

“Since when do y’care about my life?”

“I don’t. I care about other people’s lives. Which you endangered with your reckless driving!” Your shouts echo throughout the halls as the screams from the stands get more noisy and impatient for Harry’s arrival. “You have such a God-complex. Thinking you’re always right,” You grumble with a head shake.

“But if m’not right then that makes y’right, huh? So who really has the ‘God-complex’?” A smirk crawls up his face, arrogance inflating his ego. You huff under your breath, eyes squinting tiny daggers into his soul. Your skin boils with angered heat, fists bawling to contain it.

“Two minutes, Harry! Need you under the stage now!” A crew member jogs and calls for him across the way. Harry sincerely smiles in affirmation as the member slips back underneath the stage.

“Why do you act like you’re so high and mighty all the time? Just because you’re famous doesn’t mean you get to break the law!” You practically spit in his face.

“I break more things than you’d like to know,” He licks his lips with his unexpected innuendo, causing your heart to randomly speed up. His cocky attitude triggered you more than you would like to admit.

“That’s it! Your ego. Somebody needs to humble you.”

“I would say I’m quite humble. You are not.”

“Maybe that big ego is to make up for something,” You fire at him before he could continue to say a snarky comment back. You fold your arms as his face freezes and his words stop. He clicks his tongue as a psychotic laugh suddenly tumbles from his throat. You furrow your eyebrows at him concerningly.

“You are so fuckin’ in for it,” His voice is deep near your ear as he slips past you, jogging away. You didn’t know you were holding your breath until you walked out into the arena, bursting with lively energy and high-levels of anticipation. As best as you could, you shake off the sound of Harry’s voice; demanding, alluring, and almost… lustful.

You approach one of your co-workers, who is also one of your best friends, and greet her with a fist bump. The barrier was surrounded by guards to begin with, so your presence probably wasn’t needed, but the cash was good for a night shift. And plus, the shows were extremely fun, even if they were for Harry Styles.

—

You might not care for Harry, but his fans were something else. Laughter bubbles up in your throat from reading their ridiculous and out-of-pocket posters.

The jumbo-tron pans to a large white poster that says ‘DADDY?’, causing Harry to shift his attention that way. He stares at the sign, holding back a devilish smirk that you knew all too well.

“Yes?” He says, smile breaking as his laughter echoes in the microphone. Everyone screams so ridiculously loud, you swear there wasn’t a single person silent. “All I can say is, yes?”

The fans continue to scream at his taunting and devilish behavior. Your mouth falls open and you gasp, wondering if it’s true or if he’s just doing it for the fans. You imagine using the name in bed, and heat rushes up to your face when you imagine Harry with you. If he was anything like he was on stage, he was probably into edging and choking as well. He constantly “edged” the audience and pretended to choke himself during one of his songs. Your eyes blur as your body begins to sweat from the lewd idea; Harry’s hand around your neck while he fucks you so deep your eyes are rolling back for a new reason other than his cockiness. You curse at yourself and rapidly shake your head because Harry was the last person you should be having dirty thoughts of.

As the night goes on, Harry eventually transitions into “Keep Driving”, which he has been waiting for all night. Ever since you and Harry’s conversation in the hallway, he hasn’t stopped thinking about you. He hasn’t forgotten the way your hand traced his abdomen and how warm your face felt under his fingertips. He especially didn’t forget your little comment. He peers at the back of your head as the intro starts, his hands resting tightly around the microphone. He starts singing, excitedly waiting for the bridge.

You actually really liked his music, and it frustrated you sometimes that he was so annoying because it made it hard to appreciate. However, as a new song begins you face your attention to the popstar smoothly singing the words.

“Passports and footwells, kiss her and don’t tells,” Harry sings, eyes gliding toward yours as he winks. A group of girls screams happily behind you, but you had a strange feeling it wasn’t for them. Your heart jumps as you watch his eyes drift away to other parts of the audience. You continue to watch him with squinted eyes and a chewed lip, trying to decipher why he just did that.

The entire crowd sings along to the absurd and random bridge, everyone putting their full heart into it. It was endearing to see so many people coming together to appreciate a common interest. A reason you loved this job was because you loved music, and every day it reminded you of how many people loved it just as much.

“Cocaine, side boob, choke her with a sea view,” Harry motions his hand towards his throat, pretending to choke himself. You notice how he pinches the sides without gripping all the way, wondering if he did that on purpose or not. When it comes to choking (as a sexual act), it is important to not fully wrap a hand around their neck, so they don’t… well, pass out or die. If he knew that, that must mean he’s into it…

His green eyes locked on yours for every word of that line, his mouth wide as he husked out the lyrics. You swallow, heart racing as familiar heat creeps up your neck. Before you could look away, he removes his hand from his own neck and points directly at you. Your eyes widen as you forget to breathe, coughing on your flusteredness.

What. The. Fuck?

With uneven and strangled breaths, you tell one of your co-workers that you feel unwell and need to use the restroom. He nods understandably and you jog to the nearest bathroom.

As Harry continues to perform, he notices you vanished. He wasn’t sure when, but your figure was no longer stuck standstill to the left of the stage after he finished Matilda and Little Freak. Something in him pangs with pain, but he assumes it’s from the depressing songs he just sang. He doesn’t have enough time to ponder and find the real answer because the delicate Satellite intro begins to play throughout the arena. He begins to sing just like he has all night, but he can’t keep his eyes from wandering to that empty gap between all the workers.

—

The iconic and chaotic screams of tonight become only a memory as the show ends. Thousands of stylish people begin to leave the arena safely with the help of security like yourself. However, you left the room right when the show ended because you were too unwell to say the least.

When you came back from the bathroom after Harry’s little choking charade, you came back to him dancing and singing as if nothing happened. As the night continued on, his enchanting eyes would hook onto yours for a second too long. Every time he strategically moved, hand sliding seductively down his torso or hips swaying sexily, his eyes would burn holes in your skin.

Saying you were flushed and flustered during the concert was an understatement; you felt like you were bathing in a sauna on a summer day. The anger that bubbled under your heated skin didn’t help in cooling you down; it only made you more furious that his little antics affected you so easily. You tried to deny the fact that he was looking directly at you by rolling your eyes, but when he did it more than occasionally with that infamous smirk on his face, it confirmed the theory.

You pushed through the authorized doors, sweating under your uniform. You were determined to find him and talk to him. In some twisted way, you felt like he had some power over you now. Like he had won this stupid little war you had. You knew he knew what he was doing, and you were sure he had an idea of how it made you feel. You didn’t like that.

When your blazing eyes discover his dressing room door, you pound your clenching fist against it. You don’t wait for him to answer before opening the door impatiently yourself.

“Harry—” Your words get caught in your throat as you eye the half naked man in front of you. Harry stands shirtless across the small room, sweat glistening on his tattooed skin as a towel rests upon his shoulder. He casually turns around, an unamused expression on his face. You gulp, pushing all your feelings down. “What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?” Harry asks innocently as he dabs the towel over his sheer skin. You try not to avert your eyes from his face, but he’s making it incredibly difficult to not look at his toned abs and arms.

“The hand! On the neck!” You whisper-shout at him as he nonchalantly strides closer to you and lays the towel on the couch. You remain angry as he stands in front of you with a guiltless look on his face.

“I beg your pardon?” He politely states with huge eyes, causing you to growl and nearly punch him in the mouth. Maybe if you did it hard enough, he would never talk again. You heavily considered it.

“Th-the choking thing!” You stumble over your words out of frustration. His body radiated heat that you were close enough to feel, heart pounding unwillingly in your chest from the sudden proximity.

“Ohh, you mean this?” Harry delicately rests his ringed hand over your neck, any word you even thought about saying got caught in your throat.

His fingertips press lightly against the pulses on your neck, metal digging into your skin delightfully. You attempt to swallow your saliva as your heart beats crazily. After a few seconds, your vision gets slightly dizzy and your heart stammers faster and faster. He releases the pressure, hand remaining lightly around your throat. You take heavy breaths, looking up at him as flames light up in your irises.

“Har—”

“Ah ah, no talking yet. I think you’ve done enough of that,” He demands deeply with a threatening press to your pulse. You obey with a heavy puff as he releases, not having much of a choice. Being right next to the door, his opposite hand twists the tiny lock, trapping you inside.

“Do you remember what you said before I went on?” As your mind flashes through the memories of tonight, you’re reminded of a handful of things you said to him. But you didn’t know which one he was referring to, so you shake your head. “My ego. You said it was so big it must make up for something. What did you mean by that?”

Your eyes widen as heat crawls up your skin quickly. Harry can feel you gulp against his hand as you remember the underlying reason behind the insult.

Harry knew what you meant, he just wanted to hear you say it. Your little bursts of anger gave him enjoyment and relief, especially after 15 shows working together. The acid that spat from your mouth always ignited a fire inside of him that he’s never felt from anyone else. He never understood it, but when he was on stage and saw how flustered you were, it finally clicked. Your little comment earlier gave him an opportunity.

“Your dick is small,” You grumble, looking down at the carpeted floor.

“What was that?”

“Your dick. Is. Small.” You emphasize every repeated word with an irritating puff. Like earlier, a psychotic chuckle elicits from his mouth, scaring you from his unknown thoughts.

“I don’t like your big, bratty attitude.”

“It’s nowhere near as big as your ego.”

With your words and his rippled laughter, the last thing you expected him to do was kiss you. It was sloppy and hungry as he ripped apart your jacket until the zipper broke. You gasp as it falls to the floor around you, allowing him to slip his tongue dangerously into your agape mouth. His lips move in rhythm against yours, teeth clanging with desperation. Your hands intertwine with his damp curls and you tug them viciously. A groan elicits from his throat as his hand tightens around your neck. He pulls away, both of you heaving from the intensity and heat.

“What the–”

“No talking. Got it, brat?” His grasp is strong against you, rings pinching your skin tastefully. Your cunt aches underneath the tight fabric of your uniform, frustratingly horny from his appeal. His muscles bulk as he chaotically unbuttons your pants, yanking them down thighs.

You hastingly flip off your shoes, cursing at yourself for giving into him. His rough palms on your skin set you on fire; shots of electricity soaring straight to your clit. The blinding pinches of his fingers around your throat create a pool of arousal in your panties, and it disgusts you how turned on you are from him.

“How wet are you right now?”

“Drier than a desert,” You lie through gritted teeth as he pushes you harsher against the wall.

“I’ll see about that.”

Following his own word, his free hand slips past your underwear and cups your pussy. A strangled noise leaves you at the feeling of his bare hand touching you so vulnerably. He has you at his mercy, for once not being able to fight back. Instinctively, you grind once over his rugged palm needily and he growls at your heavy arousal.

“Fuckin’ brat,” He spits, rubbing against your heat ferociously. For the first time tonight, you moan unwilling at his movements, hands grasping securely on his shoulder blades.

With a smug smirk, Harry continues to itch your clit, giving you a blissful friction that has your eyes rolling. Your stomach tenses as you bite your lip forcefully, containing all of your noises. You almost forget about his hand on your neck until he presses along your pulses. Stars begin to gloss over your vision as heated lust fogs up your mind. You feel your body float into the sky until you're seeing the clouds of pure ecstasy surround you.

As the burning blood runs through your veins again, you take a deep breath that causes you to moan out loudly. You slap a hand over your own mouth at your foolishness, knowing that anyone could hear you and know exactly what was going on.

You see, Harry is famous. He can get away with a lot of things like sleeping with a fan or maybe even texting and driving. But you, an average security worker, could not. If someone knew what you were doing right now, you’d be fired on the spot.

However, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as Harry slots a slender finger inside of you. You whimper at how easily he slipped it in. You were so fucking turned on, you could fix the drought. He simply curls his digit as you clutch around him, causing him to hiss.

Harry removes his hand from your panties, causing your eyes to shoot open and glare at him angrily. He brings your wetness up to his mouth and widens, sucking away all of your juices from his fingertips. Your chest heaves at the sight, exasperated and outraged that he’s having so much fun with this.

“For someone so hostile, you taste very sweet,” His taunts, making you growl. You try to push him off of you because you were sick of him. Sick of his games and sick of his ego. Way too sick of his ego. You didn’t have time for this. But he holds you secure by locking you to the wall with his hand. “Nuh uh, we’re not done just yet. We haven’t even gotten to the fun part. You know, where I show you you’re wrong.”

With a skillful hand, he unzips his trousers and tears your panties off your body. You gasp, shocked at how impulsive he’s being. He pushes his briefs down until they’re around his ankles. His cock springs free, large and leaking. His tip is pink followed by several veins running along the sides. You can see its neglect, aching and desperate– you can feel the pain. But your heart stammers wildly in your chest when you really comprehend his size. He was thick and bulky, but also long and lengthy. It almost looked fake because it was so surreal. People would pay big money for that, and having an idea of his income, maybe he had.

“Did you pay for that? Because there is no way,” You whisper breathily in the heated silence. He magically slips on a miraculous condom that he must have gotten while you were daydreaming in a haze. Of course, he just has condoms with him. He chuckles hoarsely and shortly as he leans closer toward your ear.

“All natural, baby,” He rasps from the aftermath of singing all night. His breath is soft and electrifying on your skin, causing your cunt to throb with undeniable desire.

His thumb rests on your pulsating clit, petting it delicately, unlike the roughness of his hand on your throat. Your thighs clench, sensitive because he’s being such a tease. He runs his fingertips over your wetness as more begins to leak out of you, his cold, metal rings grazing the skin of your inner thighs.

“What is taking you so long? Scared your fake dick is going to fall off?” You strangle out your snarky words from behind his choking grasp. He clenches his teeth in annoyance as he grips your supple thigh and hooks it around his hip.

“I was going to ask if you were ready, but since you want to be so impatient, I don’t really give a fuck anymore,” And with that, he thrusts inside of you completely.

Harry tucks himself deep in you, giving you no mercy with his vicious movements. Your nosy moan echoes throughout the tiny dressing room, but you didn’t have enough self-awareness to stop it. His thick cock stretches out your walls so deliciously, your pussy constricts snuggly around him. He groans at your tightness, wet and warm all around him. He plunges brisker into you, addicted to the feeling of your velvety cunt wrapping him.

Your legs tremble with his powerful propels. If he wasn’t pinning you with his cock wrathfully into the wall, you’re sure your legs would give out from underneath you. You squeeze your leg hooked on his hip, bringing him closer and deeper inside of you. You both share a collective groan at the new feeling, touching a place that sends you both into overwhelming bliss.

“Still small?” He husks smugly as his hand caresses the nape of your neck, controlling your pulses. Harry moans when you grind your hips into his, rubbing against his shaft mesmerizingly.

“I’m,” You try to contain your moan in order to drain his satisfaction, “unimpressed.”

“Really? How about I go deeper?” Like before, he lifts up your other leg, latching your body completely to his. You gasp as you leave the ground, hands digging into his shoulders brutally. He shoves you against the wall, fingers restricting your airflow as he slams into harsher than before.

Harry rams inside of you at a new angle, intensifying the pleasure to an even higher level than before. His thrusts are brutally quick, as if he was trying to win a race. Losing your grip, one of your hands falls down his crafted torso, tracing his toned and tattooed skin. Your eyes roll back in pure ecstasy as you lose reality. You feel your spirit leave your body; you swear you were dangling above yourself. With your lack of oxygen, the world slowly slips away from you in a lustful haze. If you died now, you would be beyond pissed because you were with Harry, but at least you had the best sex of your whole life.

But you would never, in a million years, tell Harry that.

His coarse hand drags down your abdomen, leaving a blaze in its trail. His rugged thumb circles hastingly over your bud, causing flashes of your orgasm to appear in view at the sensation. As your head begins to drop forward, Harry releases the blinding pressure from your neck and slams his hand on the wall to balance on. You desperately inhale, craving the oxygen to bring you back to the present.

When your stomach tightens and you squeeze around his length, it alerts you both that you were on the brink of your orgasm. The overwhelming pleasure from his cock doesn’t miss to prevail over you as he jabs your cunt with no sympathy. Your nails scratch along his butterfly tattoo that sits beautifully in between you both, almost too innocent to be involved in such a sinful act. The head of his shaft repeatedly hits your g-spot, eliciting loud cries from your mouth. He doesn’t try to quiet you.

“Tell me, Y/N. Tell me who’s making you feel this good,” Harry demands as he rocks and flicks his hips skillfully. You were too desperate and way too close to reply with a sassy remark. However, your mind flashes over the memory of tonight when Harry read that sign. That sign. You knew if you didn’t listen to him he would take it away from you.

You hated how he had so much control over you. But your body thought otherwise.

“You! You’re making me feel so good, Daddy,” Breathless moans and mewls tumble from your mouth as your climax shakes your whole body. “So deep.”

He growls heavily against your ear, your body vibrating from the effect. A devilish smirk haunts your lips at how affected he is by the simple name, and in some way, you felt like you had a centimeter of his control.

“Daddy, huh? God, you’re such a slut,” He grunts, squeezing the back of your neck as he twitches inside of you. “Am I still small? Hm?”

“N-no, you’re big, Daddy. So deep inside of me. Fuck, I’m gonna come,” You whine embarrassingly as your head shakes against the wall.

“Come, Y/N. Come all over my big cock,” He husks in your ear as you continue to thrash on the wall. To silence you, Harry catches your lips with his. Your pussy tightens around his length as your orgasm waves over you. Your body and mind submerges into a blissful fog as your climax surrounds him. His thrusts become languid and messy as he feels your cum soak his cock. Your tongue slips graciously along his pink lips, helping him finish. If you weren’t in an orgasmic haze, you would have walked out and left him edged.

With a string of profanities against your lips, his length spasms against your walls. His cum shoots into the condom, and within a few moments, his movements still.

Heavy breathing, hearts racing, muscles trembling, and sweat glistening, you two stand with your bodies pressed together. You swallow at the awkward aftermath because you didn’t think this far. You never even thought this was a possibility in any universe.

You just had sex with Harry. Oh shit.

He watches as you come to the realization. You quickly push him off of you and pull up your pants. You wince when you notice that you have no underwear because Harry tore them to shreds. Slipping on your shoes, Harry saunters over to his vanity and wraps a towel around his waist.

“Don’t act so terrified, Y/N,” His familiar cocky and nonchalant character was back like normal, and in all honesty, it gave you some type of comfort. His attitude gave you an excuse to be irritated and allowed you to shift away from the awkwardness that remained wrapped around your throat. Even if he was across the room from you now, you could still feel the tight grasp of his ringed fingers pinching your neck. You had a feeling that everything he did would now somehow remind you of sex with him.

“How are you so okay right now? Do you just do this with everyone?”

“What do you mean?”

“So you just bring people back here after every show and have sex with them?”

“Bloody hell, Y/N. No, I don’t do that,” He practically winces from your accusation, and you subconsciously relax your muscles at his denial. “Never done that actually.”

“So then what was this?”

“Technically, you came in here,” He pins you with a knowing look and you roll your eyes with a huff.

“Just so you know, no one can know about this, okay? And I know you probably couldn’t give less of a shit, but I could be fired,” Your jaw ticks as your eyes wander around the room, refusing to look at him directly.

“I won’t tell anyone. Promise,” Although he is a cocky and sarcastic jerk, you can’t help but realize that his tone is one hundred percent genuine. With a simple nod, you take his word for it and start to exit the room.

“By the way, you owe me new underwear.”

“Anything you like in particular?” With your hand on the knob, you think for a moment.

“I want one of everything. I know it won’t even put a dent in your pocket, but I like to think that I did,” As his chuckle fills your ears, it becomes more and more distant as you exit the small room. Security and crew buzz around the hallways, shocking you frozen immediately. You’re praying that nobody saw you walk out of Harry’s room, let alone heard you five minutes ago.

“Y/N! There you are. Did you know that the crew had a prank war under the stage? It was so funny, God, you just had to be there. And I was laughing my ass off when Harry’s bus left without Harry,” Your co-worker pats your shoulder as she laughs. In any normal circumstance, you would join in on her hysterics, but a small gasp leaves your mouth as your hand covers your lips.

“They left?”

“Yeah. They always leave in a rush I guess,” She replies to your question and then rambles on about the pranks from the crew. Your head turns back to peer at Harry’s dressing room door. You notice that the little paper with his name has been removed from the slot.

Everything was too chaotic for anyone to know where he was.

Now, that’s hilarious.

You subtly giggle as you and your friend trail down the hallway. In the back of your mind, you imagine Harry sitting all alone in the room. He probably had a valet take his car, so now he had nothing. You assumed most of his belongings were on the bus, and maybe that even meant his phone. Impulsively, you tell your friend you have to go to the bathroom and turn around. You head back to his dressing room and enter without knocking this time. Unlike before, he’s fully dressed with an annoyed look on his face. You tuck your lips inside of your mouth, trying to contain your giggles at his irritation of the situation.

“You know they left? Without me? How do they even do that?!” You can’t hold it back anymore as your laughter ripples from you. You cover the noise with your hands, but it’s no use.

“They probably realized they don’t really like you anymore.”

“Oh, ha ha. So funny, Y/N,” Harry says facetiously and rolls his eyes as he stuffs everything in his small carry-on bag. “I feel like this is the moment where you offer me a ride.”

“Mm only if I get something out of it.”

“Anything you want I can probably get it, let’s just go,” He ushers you both out of the door and when you walk into the hallway this time, it’s empty. You don’t hear a peep as you trudge through the carpeted walkways all the way outside to the secure parking lot. You get to your car and you both slip inside when you unlock it.

“You know, I expected better from you.”

“I will leave you here,” You glare at him from across the console.

“I can get you a car. Do you want the one I was driving earlier? The red reminds me of how ferocious you are all the time.”

“You mean the one that you nearly killed me with? No thanks,” You shove the key into the ignition and reverse out of the deserted area. “You know, you never told me what you were actually doing on your phone anyway.”

“Oh, I was looking at a video of my Goddaughter. She was getting her nails painted,” He smiles softly, recalling the short clip of her pure happiness.

“Sounds adorable, but that was still wrong,” He groans and slams his head against the heat rest. You smile smugly in satisfaction as you speed through the empty roads of LA, completely contradicting your opinion.

His bus leaving was like perfect karma that was made to humble him. Maybe Harry wasn’t the worst person ever. As long as you had the wheel.

—

tags: @crybabyddl @raajali3

[comfortless]

*ೃ༄ Some thoughts on a lighthouse keeper König with a fem, harpy reader! 18+ MDNI.

Signing away months of your life for routinized labor comes with little internal protests for him, he’s done it before with military work. He’ll do it again without question; anything, anyplace to keep him away from a house that’s never felt like home.

König’s blessed with an abundance of skills and the strength to perform hard labor. He’s disciplined enough to embrace the solitude, maybe even thinks of this contract as a reprieve from other people, from creature comforts and the hustle and bustle of ordinary life.

He packs only the bare minimum for himself— clothing he doesn’t mind lantern oil spilling onto, thick books ranging from myth to histories, a trusty hunting knife he’s been keening for the time to polish and sharpen to bring back to its former glory. Food and shelter are already provided for him in a cabin battered by sea breeze and saltwater just a bit too small for a man his size mere paces from the pillar of light that he’s resigned himself to tend to.

Each day is spent checking systems, keeping the haunting yellow light clean and functioning well, jotting down weather readings, and meticulously keeping things orderly. The occasional sound of a boat’s horn would bellow out, as close to a voice calling it’s thanks as it could get from his self-sought isolation. The ocean is lively enough for him, anyhow. The sight of a whale a short distance off shore isn’t an uncommon one, pods of dolphins flipping up into the air like performers, a show just for him. Even the sky above is a sight with flocks of birds he could not name passing by, or sea gulls flying high above only to ground themselves on the rocky shore to cock their heads at him; he imagines that if they could speak their small, shrill voices would ask him ‘What are you doing here?’, and he’s thankful he would never have to answer.

Each night, he reads. The bed is a bit small for him, a cot, really. He has to curl in a way that makes him feel like a dog left to waste away outside, knees nearly tucked to his chest and an elbow propped to keep his head up while he turns to pages of his books. He always wakes to his head resting on a page, the scents of old ink, amber and cedar fill his nose when his eyes flutter open.

He makes himself simple breakfasts, the scent of black coffee lingers throughout the cabin each morning. Occasionally it’s bacon, occasionally eggs in a basket, something as simple as his life has become. He thinks about his days of war when he walks to the shore with his mug in hand, wistfully watching the waves, haunted and volatile, so very much like the ocean of his eyes.

It’s never quiet. The gulls call from above, their wings outstretched as they sail through the air, and the waves make raucous noise as they crash against the rock, wearing down every fine point to something softer. A part of him longs to be worn down too, to pry that aching from his heart, the scars tarnishing his body, the callouses on his hands, dissolve them all in dark, salty waters with a gentle ebb and flow. He’s never thought himself to be one deserving of gentle things, but he greedily yearns for them anyhow.

He admires the sea shells that wash up on the sandy patches of the shoreline, some are pearlescent and untarnished, he dares not touch those. The ugly ones with splintering cracks remind him of himself, he’ll allow his hand to reach for those, toss them back into the hellish abyss where they belong. He doesn’t need a reminder of what he is, why he’s here. He wants to surround himself in pretty things that no one can dirty with their fingerprints, not even himself.

A torrential rain breaks up the monotony of his duty for a few days. He’s soaked to the bare bones running back and forth from the cabin to keep the light functioning, wiping away condensation from the glass that confines it and fiddling with the old machinery to stop the massive light from flickering. He holes himself up there, in that old tower for two long, sleepless nights. He imagines ghosts, ghosts of the people he’s killed without remorse dancing at the corner of his vision, taunting him endlessly from purgatory with their frantic dances and unnatural jolts. When he turns his head, their faces are gone, carried away by the ocean breeze that rattled the walls of the lighthouse, yet can not touch him.

He’s hardly able to keep himself upright when the rain finally stops. Addled from a lack of sleep and an ache from hunger, he slinks down the steps to the wet ground outside. There are no gulls fluttering about with their squeals and questions and begging, and for the first time since he’s come here, the water is calm. The sun beams down from a cerulean sky, not a single cloud fattened and gray with rain water in sight.

Only a bird.

König’s taken note of the wildlife since he’s come, all of the sea creatures that would swim about, the pelicans, petrels and gulls that would make their rounds. He’s never once seen a bird this big. It’s wings stretch wide, gracefully flutter to soar higher only to rear back, knees kicked up to its chest in its graceful descent. It doesn’t ground itself to beg him for a crumb of toast or shriek at him, it only perches atop the lighthouse, looking down at him as if exacting some strange, silent retribution.

The bird shifts in place for a moment as his eyes squint to get a better view of it. He’s mesmerized when he takes note of a very human face, soft nude flesh in place of feathers right down to the ankles that house plush, downy feathers and the coarse skin of scales leading down to brutal, curved talons. Her breasts heave and legs tense as she stretches her wings out to take flight. With a single leap she takes back to the air, twirls in it effortlessly as if she’s in the midst of the most elegant, seraphic dance to return to whichever whisper of heaven she descended from.

The most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

The salt and foam must play their tricks, because he’s no where near deluded enough to believe he’s seen an angel in a place like this, that one would think to visit him at all.

Still, he’s an awful bastard, because his cock twitches in demand from the sheer sight of her flying far, far away from him. He doesn’t allow himself to touch pretty things, but god he wants to touch you. He settles for returning to his cot and tugging down the zipper of his pants to rest his length in his hand, slow, deliberate strokes with his eyes closed, bringing himself to ruin from just a fleeting memory.

He chalks it up to sleep deprivation the next morning, a waking wet dream. Even before coming to this little island, it had been well over a year since he had been in the presence of a nude woman. Work quickly makes him forget, keeps his hands tied and his mind emptied of softer flesh and beautiful skies.

She comes back with the next storm, a shivering mess in the rain. A rough gale struck her down and he watched her spin out amongst thick, wet clouds, her form aglow with the backdrop of thunder. She falls to briny water, and without thought he’s left his cabin to dive right in after her, scooping the poor thing up to haul her back to the safety of a warm home, a roof above her head.

König wraps her in the only blanket that he has, feels her gaze on his back while he stokes a fire all for her as she sits and shivers, trying to gather her bearings. Human kindness is unexpected, unwarranted, really. She signals great storms, her talons cruel. He looks at her in awe when she nestles against his shoulder, her eyes locked to his, both faces warmed by the glow of crackling flames and comfort.

He tells her he isn’t worthy of an angel wasting her grace on him. She tells him that nothing sent barreling out of the sky like she had could be as pure as he believes.

[diazsdimples]

Play me like a fiddle

Rating: E

Pairing: Eddie Diaz/ Evan "Buck" Buckley

Word Count: 34k

It's here!! Musician AU is finally here!!! This has been consuming me for weeks, and now, 34k words later, here it is. I genuinely feel like I've given birth. Please enjoy a small snippet below!

Soon, the orchestra falls silent and the lights in the auditorium dim, the low chattering of the audience fading away to nothingness as they sit and wait, anticipation building. There’s an echo of footsteps and Bobby strides onto stage, the audience breaking into applause as he takes the stand. He bows once and turns, gesturing for the Oboist to begin tuning.

The room is filled with the sounds of the instruments tuning and Eddie blows experimentally into his horn, adjusting it as it falls a little flat. Bobby waits until they’re all finished and gives Buck a small nod.

The audience applauds loudly as Buck takes the stage, strolling across it with a confidence Eddie can only dream of. There’s a few whistles and catcalls as he sits down, taking out the spike of his cello and settling it between his legs. There’s a smirk playing at the corner of Buck’s mouth as he raises his bow, eyes locked dead on to Bobby’s and begins to play.

The first few notes that burst from the cello are deep, rich and fill the room with their warmth. The orchestra follows along behind, the wind section playing in answer to the question Buck’s cello sends out and they’re away.

Eddie watches with awe as Buck plays, counting carefully so he doesn’t forget to come in. Buck’s eyes are closed, and his head is tipped back as he plays, the lights of the auditorium making his curls glow golden as he tosses his head. The look on his face is not dissimilar to the way he looks when he’s in the throes of his orgasm, as though the music is transporting him to another dimension. It’s passionate and full of emotion and Eddie can’t help but match it when he comes in, the music bursting proudly from his horn and sailing through the auditorium, filling it with the call and answer of the cello and the horn.

Bobby’s watching it all unfold with delight as he flicks his baton. He raises his hand, pointing to Eddie as he comes in and gestures for him to play louder, to let it all out and Eddie puffs out his chest, letting it all burst free from him. Buck’s head flicks up in an aborted movement to seek Eddie out across the stage and Eddie’s heart swells. There’s truly nothing more he wants to do than make music with Buck.

And then it’s just them playing, Buck scrubbing away furiously as Eddie concentrates hard on the passage. It’s exposed, high and difficult and he’s been practicing it for months.

Of course, he nails it, egged on by Buck’s performance, and he lets his breath go as he sits back, not due to come in for a few more moments. He catches Chimney’s eye from across the stage and the man sends him a surreptitious thumbs up across the stage.

The concerto lasts half an hour and the whole time, Eddie is mesmerised by Buck. If he thought Buck had been putting on a performance in rehearsals, nothing could have prepared him for what Buck would be like in the actual concert. The man is swaying so much Eddie worries his spike might slip free, and his bowing is so enthusiastic that a couple of the hairs break, hanging limply by the side as he skips the bow across the strings.

By time they’re playing the final few bars, Eddie’s sweating and he can see that Buck is too. His forehead is glistening, the light from the stage reflecting off it to make it look like he’s sparkling. They play through the final few bars and Buck and the orchestra finish with a flourish, Buck’s bowing arm up in the air as his chest heaves, breathing hard. Instantly the audience erupts into applause, louder than Eddie thinks he’s ever heard before. There’s whooping and cheering and it’s like a roar in Eddie’s ears, drowning out all other noise. Buck stands up, beaming from ear to ear, and takes a bow as Bobby stands next to him. They go through the motions post-solo, the conductor and soloist leaving the stage, coming back on, leaving again, going through this at least 3 times until a woman from the 1st violins comes up to Buck shyly and hands him a bunch of flowers.

Read the rest on ao3

[the-faramir]

Today seemed like any other day in the town square of Willowside. Townspeople milled about the shops, buying whatever foodstuffs and supplies the merchants had to sell.

Suddenly, calliope music started playing from one of the side streets. People turning to look saw a parade approaching the town square. At the forefront marched Midori, a kitsune woman with a red fox fur pattern and red hair, dressed in a green circus ringmaster's outfit complete with a green top hat. She carried a short staff resembling a stick of multicolored candy with a head resembling a snake's which she shifted up and down with the beat of the music, keeping the constituents of her parade in step.

Once the ringmaster stepped into the center of the town square, she gestured dismissively with her free hand and the entire parade faded into a green mist, leaving only Midori standing there as the calliope music continued.

She spoke with a magically amplified,  booming voice, reaching all in that part of town as if she were standing next to them.

"ANNNNNNND NOW, because we sailed all the way from Kerrick and we aim to entertain, we proudly announce tonight's performance of the only island-hoppin', xulgath-defeatin', carnivorous-plant-mulchin', demon-slayin', dinosaur-extinctin', ghost-bustin', aeon-stone-repairin', extinction-curse-liftin' circus in the Inner Sea, including THEEE VERRRY HEROESSS who brought Mistress Dusklight of the Celestial Menagerie to justice and freed those under her control: the CIRCUS OF WAYWARD WONNNNNNNDERRRRRS!"

Midori began to twirl her staff faster and faster in front of herself, finally tossing it high into the air and catching it deftly in her hands before it could hit the ground. She thrust the base of the staff into the ground, magically transforming it into a candy-striped ball python that started dancing to the music which began building dramatically as Midori prepared to sing.

🎵🎵🎵

Step right up, don't be shy, take a chance, Join the Circus of Wayward Wonders, be part of the dance. The ringmaster calls, with a voice so bold, "Buy your tickets now, let the marvels unfold!"

Come one, come all, to the grandest show in town, Where wonders await and smiles replace every frown. A spectacle of colors, where magic and reality blend, Axel's birds take flight, with sweets they descend.

The Dwarven Throwers, stout and brave, They soar through the air, the audience they crave. Elizia's serpents, a dance so divine, With Mr. Tickles, they twist and entwine.

Hear the music, feel the beat, in your heart, Magical Myrrie plays her part, a symphony to start. The Mystic Artists, with strokes so fine, Your dreams on canvas, in colors that shine.

In the center ring, the lights shine bright, Every act, a story, every performer a knight. The circus is more than a mere delight, It's a world of wonder, taking flight.

So gather 'round, the show's about to begin, The Circus of Wayward Wonders, where dreams spin. The ringmaster's song, a call to all who hear, "Come join the wonder, come join the cheer!"

🎵🎵🎵

Once the music had stopped, a few people in the square clapped politely. Midori took an over-exaggerated bow, picked up her snake, changed it back into a staff, and then meandered through the town square to sell tickets.

Surveying the crowds for potential buyers, Midori's attention caught on the brightly colored tail of...well, Midori wasn't quite sure. She—Midori initially thought the being was a "she," but rethought "perhaps 'they,' because it's better not to assume with an unknown being"—they certainly did not appear to be a local. Definitely, a sentient person of some sort as their eyes—all four—had a look of intelligence about them as they glanced about the town. They wore a humanoid-style top on their humanoid torso but had a snake-like tail similar to a nagaji's or lamia's. They also had horns, which were not unknown in the various forms of nagaji found across Golarion.

Midori sauntered over to the being to strike up a conversation. "Why hello, my good being! Not to be rude, not to make assumptions about you, but you appear to be from out of town. May I ask from where do you haii?" Midori's eyes widened as a grin crossed her face. "Are you in town for the circus? Have you heard about us in your homeland?"

@llixulia

[noonaishere]

Music of the Heart [J.YH] - seventy-one | whirlwind

It was terrifying how fast Hongjoong had scheduled the pitch meeting with the CEO, and even more terrifying how fast you were working on the pitch for Ans:wer’s revamp. The rest of the day was a flurry as you, Hongjoong, and Maddox put together the presentation, at the same time pooling ideas for the first album and making notes for the title track. By the end of the night you had the presentation, now fleshed out with so many bullet points and tons of pictures in it for style concepts, finished. Hongjoong and Maddox had worked on the demo, with your notes on ideas for their songs, and that was also finished by the end of the night with Maddox and Hongjoong having supplied the vocal talent for it. You weren’t even sure how you all accomplished it so fast.

The next day you were in a daze: somehow you were standing in front of the CEO of the company you started working for not too long ago, giving a presentation, and having him smile and nod receptively at you. You never thought you’d be doing any of those things, and you also never thought that the Ji Hak would shake your hand afterward and tell you he loved the idea.

“I’m glad Maddox was able to convince Hongjoong to see reason. We expect big things from you.”

You bowed and nodded. “Thank you. I’ll certainly try.”

He smiled and walked away, talking with his secretary about his next meeting. You would have been floating on cloud nine if it weren’t for how nervous the project made you. No pressure.

“Hey,” Hongjoong said as he walked over.

You turned to him, still dumbstruck.

“No pressure.” He smiled.

“I don’t know if I believe you.”

“You mean you don’t believe our illustrious captain?” Maddox asked as he hung an arm around Hongjoong’s shoulder.

Hongjoong rolled his eyes and laughed. “You’re not doing it by yourself, we’ll both be right by your side.”

You believed him. “No pressure.”

Maddox gasped and clapped his hands together. “It’ll be our first album as Crom3r!”

A few days later Ans:wer were in the studio to listen to the demo of their newest single.

You remembered their old designations since you looked up their old profiles online when you were working on your pitch: the leader, Seongho; the ‘mom’ and visual, Mirinae; the ‘dance machine’, Changheon; the center, Yongsun; the face, Mookang; and the maknae, Uijin.

Seongho, Changheon, and Yongsun were all married with kids, Mirinae had just gotten married, and Mookang and Uijin both had long-term girlfriends. Though, you didn’t get those last two tidbits from the internet, Hongjoong had told you. It wasn’t something you particularly needed to know for the album itself, but it did put into context how much older they were when they started their careers, and how much their lives had changed. And also: their current life priorities.

“I’m so nervous,” Yongsun said.

“My heart is nervous. How old do you have to be to have a heart attack?” Uijin asked.

“Don’t joke like that.” Mirinae said as he slapped his arm lightly.

“I’m excited,” Mookang smiled. 

“Let’s all temper our feelings, everyone,” Seongho said, seriously. “We don’t know if we’ll like it. Please,” He gestured to Hongjoong to start the track.

The song started with an instrumental and a traditional singer performing part of a folk song, the lyrics having to do with the sun and a flower opening. The beat of the song came in, and this was obviously the time that they would have somewhat of an extended dance break as the traditional singer kept singing and traditional instruments played. You could practically see the group and the backup dancers already in hanbok, dancing in ways both graceful and powerful. The high note was allowed to hang in the air for a moment, before there was a build up towards the end, where an added horn section made the song feel imposing and powerful, and helped the song end on a strong note.

You looked at them as the track ended. Two of them had their mouths open, one had his hands over his mouth with his eyes wide, two just sat there with wide eyes. After a few moments, they all weighed in.

“I like it.”

“I-- I like it.”

“I like it.”

“I really like it.”

“I love it.”

“This is amazing, we have to record this!”

You sighed a sigh of relief and all of you got to work as you went over the plan for recording the next day.

  previous | main cast | masterlist | next

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[munsonsreputation]

Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: [2.4k]

warnings: no use of y/n, pure fluff!!!!, crush confessions, pining (not too much discussed), cursing, and mentions of smoking. all credits for taylor swift for writing such an amazing song <3

summary: you and eddie are two very different people...or so it seems so for everyone else. but only you and eddie really know the love you two share, even if it's out of the ordinary. so as you look through the crowd while you're being crowded homecoming queen, it's nice to see the love of your life waiting there...after all, it's been a long time coming.

You’d rather be anywhere but here at this very moment. The distinct sound of the student body talking and cheering amongst themselves at tonight’s annual homecoming game. The marching band playing their instruments while the cheerleaders performed their halftime routine on the outer track field, red dirt flying through the air with every foot stomp. Then suddenly the whistle blew, and the speakers sounded.

They would announce homecoming court .

And here you were, heels sinking into the football turf as the floodlights beamed brightly across the field. Your arms linked with Jason Carvers’, who was crowned homecoming king this year, having won homecoming prince in his freshman year of high school.

On paper, you and Jason would’ve been the perfect couple. He was the star of the Hawkins basketball team, a part of the winning squad that took home this year’s national Indiana High School Basketball league trophy. You were the “good girl,” keeping up your grades, highly involved in extracurricular activities and even becoming vice president of your class year.

But you didn’t like perfect on paper.

You preferred surprisingly simple yet complex to the eyes.

“You look beautiful,” Jason whispered, turning his head to stare at your side profile.

You darted over at him, not bothering to hide your revulsion as you rolled your eyes begrudgingly.

“You shouldn’t be complimenting me when your girlfriend is sitting on the stands…and need I remind you I have a boyfriend?”

Nodding your chin up to the bleachers, you saw Chrissy, pom-poms resting in her lap as she wistfully watched on, the love of her life Jason cozying up in the cold summers’ breeze next to a girl who was clearly disinterested in him.

He scoffed lightly, “She’s not the one standing up here tonight, is she? And if I stand correctly, your boyfriend is nowhere to be found.”

God, he was disgusting, but right about one thing.

Eddie wasn’t here.

He hated big school events like this one. Thought they were totally useless and took away the spotlight from things that mattered like arts, which you definitely agreed with. But you’d hope that since his girlfriend won homecoming court, he’d actually show up, but he didn’t.

“Just keep your hands and comments to yourself, alright?” You snarled through your smiling teeth as you watched some people from the yearbook club approach you with cameras in hand.

A voice from the student body now echoed through the speakers, firstly introducing the underclassmen homecoming court who stepped up. Waving to the crowd of students sat on the bleaches, cheering as they whistled and blew their hand held horns in the air.

You honestly didn’t know how you even won in the first place. It all started as a joke, your friends daring you to run for queen and you’d thought that someone had rigged the voting when the results came in. You had miraculously swept the entire thing.

But you were sure your metal head and his friend Robin in student union had something to do with it. Though you weren’t complaining…school tricks were fun in this case.

“Now please welcome the senior homecoming king and queen!”

You stepped up, right hand coming to wave to the same crowd spotting a few of your friends cheering you on, but you could never miss Eddie, even if he was feet away, watching from the fences with a cigarette hanging from his lips as his hands clapped for you.

“Son of a bitch.” You muttered to yourself with a smitten smile, watching as he winked towards you, knowing he had been caught.

You paid Jason no mind, simply bowing down a bit to allow the poorly made plastic crown, bejeweled with dollar general gemstones, to be rested on your head as one of the volunteers did the same for the jock.

“Congratulations to this year's homecoming court! Please feel free to share a kiss or not with the—”

As Jason was trying to be some sort of fucking comedian, bending down to try to kiss you, you scoffed, dropping his arm and instead, picking up the length of your dress, jogging through the rough ground towards Eddie.

“Hey! Where the hell are you going!” You could hear the whiny voice of Jason’s faltering behind you as all you could do was giggle, getting closer to Eddie, where he hollered loudly.

His arms were held out, immediately hugging you despite the fence that sandwiches the bottom half of your bodies, “There’s my girl,” he whispered against your hair until he pulled away.

You smirked, lightly pushing at his shoulder with a closed fist, “I thought homecoming was for losers?”

He failed to hold back his cheeky smile. “Yeah, but you’re my favorite loser, so I just had to come.” Eddie responded shrewdly as you rolled your eyes, undoing your fists and wrapping them around his back.

“Oh, you’re so clever, aren’t you?” You imitated with an offended tone but couldn’t help the smile continually seeping into your face.

He nodded, giving you a small peck that made up for his half absence.

Neither of you could feel the eyes of everyone staring, but they were. Practically watching every movement between the odd couple, as they shared another sweet kiss and watched the freak hoist his girl up and over the fence. Giggling at how her dress caught onto one of the metal rings, causing it to rip, but paying no real concern as they left the fabric there, blowing against the breeze as they ran off hand in hand into the night sky.

All the while, the king complained in the middle of the football field.

“Where are we off to, my knight in shining leather?” You pestered, kicking your feet up on his dash as he smirked, starting up the engine, keeping his brown orbs on you.

“I was thinking I take you to my castle, we smoke a joint, and I show you how much I adore you.”

Your eyes rolled, but your cheeks couldn’t hide the heat of a red blush and your pearly whites flashing him that smile he loved to see every day.

“You know I’m crazier for you than I was at sixteen.”

He whistled lowly, sending you a wink, “Oh, how could I forget? You had a big fat crush on me back in sophomore year and I practically had to beg you to tell me—”

“Stop!” you yelped it out, trying to forget about your pathetic confession that ultimately led to the start of your and Eddie’s romance.

“Oh, don’t be like that, sweetheart. It was romantic!”

“Stupid Stacy Burke! Does she really think she’s going to win against me?!”

You had thought you were alone in the computer room, using the device to work on your campaign posters so you could hang them up around school tomorrow. You were desperate to win in order to keep your seat as Vice President. Last year it was an easy win for you, but now all of a sudden the dumb Stacy Burke wanted to take your seat just for notoriety.

It made you fume.

“If she thinks she can just buy her votes with cupcakes and muffins, she has got another thing coming!”

You were seething as you pressed print, pushing yourself out of the seat and heading over to the printers in order to get your posters and head back home for the day to prepare for your speech when

“Ohmygod!”

Your scream took Eddie aback, causing him to jump back, holding out his hands as you clasped yours over your heart and mouth.

“Jesus Christ! What the hell are you doing in here!” you ordered loudly, watching as Eddie held something up.

Posters. Specifically for Hellfire.

“I was making recruitment posters for Hellfire.” He shook them, watching as you rose your brow and tilted your head to get a better look at the words printed.

“Hellfire? Never heard of it.”

He sighed, rolling them back up. “It’s new. Finally, got enough members to have an official club.”

“Cool,” you sighed, nodding your head calmly as you attempted to push past him, yet he held his arm out, stopping you.

“Eddie, let me through.” You spoke, moving his arm.

He sighed, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a piece of crumpled paper that he held out. “Stacy really wants your spot, huh?”

Your brows creased together, deliberately taking it from him and unfolding the sheet. And that’s when your blood really started bubbling. Her senseless campaign posters were basically a jab towards you, with a photo of her smiling and a poorly drawn stick figure of you, accentuated with,

“Don’t put a nerd into council! Vote Stacy Burke for Vice President for a tubular Sophomore Year.”

Crumpling the paper once again, you forced past Eddie, going towards the door to tear down all her stupid posters before anyone else could see them, but the metal head called back out to you before you could make it out of the room.

“I already took them all down.” He declared, making you stop in your path, turning back around to see him pointing at the rubbish can right beside you.

There they were, a pile of the crumpled up posters in the bin. There had to be about fifty wads of them in there.

“T-thanks.” You peered back at him as he bowed nonchalantly, the silence being too much to bear in this small room.

You cursed to yourself, crossing your arms across your chest as you stared sharply, “Why did you do that for me?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do?” He snickered obviously, scratching the back of his neck while you didn’t look too convinced.

Eddie was…different than most.

He wasn’t necessarily a loser. Yet he wasn’t a part of the cool clique.

He was just him.

Something that intrigued you since you heard his name and memorized his face. A sort of intrigue which had slowly snowballed itself into an innocent crush. One that had you stealing glances at him in the cafeteria and peering past your lockers to see him saunter through the hallways.

“Well, I appreciate it.” You nodded, giving him a lipped smile, rocking on your soles, focusing your sights on the floor instead of him.

His chuck covered feet slowly entered your view, the heartbeat in your chest beating faster by the minute that it should’ve been a crime.

“I see the way you look at me.” He admitted, nibbling back a smirk, knowing it would only make you embarrassed, and he didn’t want to make you feel that way.

Somehow you caught Eddie’s eyes too.

You were similar in that sense that you weren’t in the cool circle, yet still not a loser that supposedly Stacy Burke thought you were. He knew that people loved to send glares and eye rolls his way, so he got used to the looks.

But yours were different.

He knew it the first time he caught you staring at him during lunch. Eyes soft like pearls with your lip caught between your teeth as you…appreciated the sight before you.

He hated the glares, but he loved the way you looked at him.

“T-the what?”

You tried to seem puzzled, to act as if you didn’t scurry your eyes back to your sad lunch tray once he caught your eyes on him on that random Friday.

“It’s cool,” Eddie assured you, with a grin on his face, like an actual sincere smile that wasn’t to be perceived as cocky. “It’s nice being looked at…by you.”

That made you blush. Immediately giving you away.

“Cool.” You muttered, gawking up at him through your lashes, pulling your hair forward to attempt to crowd your reddening cheeks.

Eddie let out a relaxed huff of breath. “You’re not going to ask if I have a crush on you too?”

“What!” You said it a little too vociferously as he chortled. “I know you like me…it isn’t a bad thing if you do.”

You folded your arms across your chest once more, a little defensive, “Well I didn’t say that…do you like me?”

He shrugged his shoulders, now a smirk plastered on his face, “You tell me if you like me first, then I’ll let you know.”

“How do I know you’re not just trying to embarrass me?” You raised your brows skeptically, and he grinned shrugging his shoulders once more as he stepped closer to you if it was even possible.

“I don’t gain anything from embarrassing you…and I wouldn’t do that, anyway.” He answered, stopping just inches away from you as you met his eyes that looked down at yours.

You took a deep breath, letting the air leave your mouth as you confessed, “I like you.”

He smiled, a blush covering his cheeks now that he didn’t care to hide as he nodded his head and looked behind him out the door, then back to you.

“I like you too…soooo what do you say we hang our posters together, then we can get some ice cream at Scoops and brainstorm how to destroy Stacy Burke’s campaign?”

You couldn’t hide the smile, nor did you try to as you nodded, dashing over to the printer to grab your freshly made posters before trading yours with Eddie’s.

He graciously took them, commending your attention to detail and the photo of your smack dab in the center of the poster. You reached for the roll of tape before jutting your chin out the door.

“C’mon dungeon master, you owe me chocolate cone with extra sprinkles.” You hailed out, already down the hallway as Eddie trailed behind you with a whistle.

“Coming right up, sweets.”

From that day forward, it was you and Eddie against the town of Hawkins, Indiana. The two of you not caring if you were scrutinized or called a crazy for dating the town freak or him being accused of corrupting the vice president of the class.

You and Eddie didn’t play their stupid games.

If anything, you two lived in your own little world. Enjoying the peace on your side while the bad guys always tried to let themselves into the gates that you and Eddie kept locked up just for the two of you to ever know.

If there was one thing that this sad town had right about you and Eddie, it was that you two would runaway together, leaving behind everyone and everything that had ever done you wrong.

So sure, maybe you were the bad bad girl and maybe he was the whispers in the hallways, but it had been a long time coming.

It was just you and him lost in the light.

Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince.

A/N: Finally I finished up this song fic!!! It's short and sweet and I hope you guys like it (it's not my proudest work but i did my best). I have so many more song fics in the works and i can't wait for you all to read them when they're finally ready. In the mean time, reblogs and comments would be greatly appreciated and be sure to slide into my asks with your february bash requests!!! 👑💘💫✨

[opal-owl-flight]

Aaand heres the complete visual guide for the Candlefolk variants!!

More abt them under the cut!

Candlefolk across the realms

A candlefolk’s appearance tends to change depending on the realm they were born from, as the ruins in each realm have materials and environments unique to their location. Whats shown are the common shapes, but Candlefolk can take on appearances different from what is presented (or look completely different from the appearance they took when they were born).

Isle: usually the same shade of bluish stone as the rocks found in the realm, or brown, like clay. Highly spiritual. Very serious about their purification duties.

Prairie: mossy folk with Manta features. Soft shape. Round. Many are born from large pots gaining sentience, though some are born from bells. Very in-tune with light creatures, and also plant life! Voices are like the tolling bells across the prairies.

Forest: Made from dark colored stone, metal, or fossilized wood (seems to be a light color, from what I can see in-game). Immune to rain (flame burns as strongly as a forge). Megatuna/whale features (like the one seen in the forest). Usually shy. Prefers the company of the forest/creatures rather than other sapients. Living forges that hide under their turtle-like shells to raise their temperatures high enough to melt all sorts of metals. Paddle-like feet to easily and quickly traverse and navigate the flooded woodland, and hammer out superheated metals. Surprisingly poetic...

Valley: Made of the russet stones, gold, stained glass, what have you. Have a more “carpe diem” lifestyle, compared to isle-borns. Have Racer manta features — long tail, helps steer. Quadwinged. They also have a fine mesh of "downy feathers" made of metal that help insulate them against the cold that would make their bodies too stiff to move. Movement makes these "feathers" clink and chime! It aids in their frequent dancing and performing...

Wasteland: made of the darkest stone or metal (helps blend in). Their fire burns lowly, but that grants them near- immunity from the dark creatures. Always on high alert towards the creatures that hunt them, helping other pilgrims find their way. Have dark creature features (horns, ridge, long tail); which usually helps them fight. Additionally, they tend to have long snouts like the krill to help them breathe the wasteland air.

Vault: made of that dark blue stone. Quiet and reserved, deep in study about the kingdom’s past. Have spirit manta features, made of decrepit memory cubes or the deep blue stones of the Vault. Tend to wear robes that cover most of their body.

Eden: the rarest kind, once upon a time. Only emerging when the other realms have been mostly healed and when new peoples returned to settle on them, establishing a new kingdom. Jointed limbs and features, like a mannequin, allow them to swap parts out easily and shake off most injuries (as the rock rain still happens occassionally.) Appearances vary wildly beyond that.

[lokorum]

headcanons my brain came up with after 2 days crying over the dark murrrge story

mb i'll add ketheric's "but can you call it teenage angst when you're 250 yo" thorn and gortrash's hcs at the end, as "from: me | to: me" bonus but who knows??

beware - spoilersss!! (｢• ω •)｢

btw durge's name is isa (he\they, ~78yo, high-elf (ignore the horns phphph)

before events of bg3:

● loves: snow, spicy-milk tea, sleeping in the high, secluded spaces. hates: shoes

● bad, just purely evil combination of being taciturn and looking directly at people’s eyes (quickly became one of gortash’s “favorite last resorts” to speed up negotiations) 

● cosplaying seagulls - moves through the city over the rooftops only, eats trash, steals fish and vegetables for fun. probably definitely took enver’s  “it’s much easier to find beauty in something, when you’re looking at it from the above” advice too close to the heart

● most people in the bhaal church are used to isa leaving and returning in secret. (they tried to ask them about hiddens paths (with zero success); they tried to convince sceleritas fel to ask them about hidden paths (with zero success); they tried to spy on them to learn locations themselves (with zero success and couple of too bold adepts lost to the undisclosed accidents); 

● it’s “you get what you deserve, not what you want” kinda church, mate

● braids corpse’s hair, hums lullabies to fading fireplaces, carves bhaal’s runes on the walls and makes stone bleed

● wild bitch attitude - can appear in the middle of an important ceremony, take the priest's place and kill sacrificed person slowly and meticulously just because 

● ketheric - depressed enthusiasm; isa - violent enthusiasm; gortash - my enthusiasm is way better than yours and deserves all of the attention but okay, i’ll give you like 5 minutes 

● traveled a lot before settling at baldur’s gate just to be disappointed in 20 different languages 

● crawls back to his beloved underground temple like a defeated cockroach because its +25°С outside

● "behind closed doors they perform rituals that make wind howl and ground shudder. after that, for a long while, the air is cold and knives are somehow feels sated"

● refuses to show enver location of the church, but not because of how sacred it is 

● warm lights, buzzing streets, cheerful, unsuspecting, delightfully naive people - when isa first time visited baldur’s gate - the city was almost welcoming. when years after orin threw them away like a useless toy, disposed of them, broke them - (cheerful, unsuspecting, stupidly naive) part of them couldn’t believe that it’s really happening

● “you are the flesh maggots adore” vibes all over this stinky place

enver's hc before bg:

● “NO. no! No. No. No-o-o. no-no. no. No.” - starts tapping his finger on the table - “Well, maybe…”

● has two sides, one of them is in a dire need of bible, and the other one is responsible for that damn wardrobe

● "my work schedule is too tight for you and your nonsense” @ spends all evening crying into a cup of wine 

● sometimes his selfcare routine is to make other people feel miserable in the most spectacular way. sometimes he just wants to be left alone in his evil-scientist laboratory. and sometimes - restless hands, red cheeks from too much wine, voice like he is about to share a secret - it's something different

● can come up with 10 ways to orchestrate someone’s downfall in 10 seconds and it's not even his best results 

● “i have no idea where you’re receiving your information from, darling, but it’s inaccurate” - smiles and stealthy kicks body back under the table 

● uses etiquette as a weapon. can't be scared by ten different knives, forks and spoons at the dinner table (when alone - eats using a single fork that he fetched from gods knows where)

● if he knows that a peaceful solution is not an option - deliberately creates an especially scandalous scene, just to feel what it's like, to stand above a pile of dead bodies of someone who dared to threaten him

● having loyal bhaal child looming nearby, ready to protect - spoiled him rotten

● im like 99,9% sure he is an adrenaline junkie (and during events of bg 3 he is either deeply addicted to having an "illusion of control" or trying to outrun 10 different ways to die horribly is his new hobby, idk)

[avengerscompound]

The Interview - Chapter 9

The Interview - A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Rating:  E

Warnings:  nothing

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Melody Danes

Word Count:   2188

Summary:  Melody Danes gets the break of a lifetime when as a lowly intern, she’s assigned to write a profile piece on Captain America.  Steve Rogers is a hard man not to fall for and as she and Melody get closer and Melody’s career takes off, jealousy leads to sabotage, and the potential to bring her whole world crashing down.

Chapter 9

Dressing for a vampire dinner theater wasn’t something everyone could claim to be experts at.  Melody had been to this particular show so many times now, that she had an outfit ready to go.  She knew how it fit, she knew how to do her hair with it, and she knew exactly how red she liked her lip color and how sharp she liked her eyeliner.  It was a look she’d adjusted and added to each time she went to the show.  It consisted of a long black, Victorian-style dress, with a red corset, over a white, high-necked ruffled bodice.  At her throat, she wore a brooch with a dark red stone in the middle.  Over the dress, she wore a long, tailored lace coat that she’d made with the help of Bobbi.  She had knee-high, lace-up boots, and a little lace fascinator she wore in her hair, putting in product to enhance her curls.  The fact her hair was naturally black just added to the effect.  It meant when she was completely dressed, it was hard to tell that she wasn’t one of the cast.

The buzzer to her apartment sounded and she went and answered it.  “I’ll be right down,” she said.

She grabbed her clutch and hurried down the stairs.  Steve, Sam, and Bucky were waiting on the steps together.  They’d been told that people dressed up for the event, but if they stuck with shades of red and black they’d be fine.

Bucky had gone in his usual head-to-toe black.  A black leather jacket over a black shirt and black jeans.  He’d slicked his hair back and he had leather gloves on.  The gloves were to hide his prosthetic hand, but they helped add to the vampire feel he had just by wearing his regular clothes.  Steve had opted for a three-piece suit, the jacket, vest, and pants, he had paired it with a white shirt, and rather than wear a tie, he’d put on a red cravat.  It didn’t quite pass as a vampire, but he looked good, and you appreciated that he made the effort.

Sam was the one that had really gone all out.  He had a waistcoat with red roses embroidered on it that he wore over a white ruffled shirt.  He had black dress pants, and over the whole ensemble, he had the perfect vampire cloak with red satin lining and a high black collar.

“You all look so good,” Melody said as she stepped outside, into the warm New York evening.  “Sam Wilson!  Look at you?”

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he teased and fished in his pocket.  He turned away from her, and when he turned back he smiled revealing a cheesy pair of vampire fangs.

Melody laughed as she approached him.  “You’ll fit right in,” she said, as she kissed him on the cheek.  She did the same to Bucky and then moved to Steve.

“You look amazing,” Steve said.  “Straight from a classic vampire movie.” 

“Thank you,” she said.  “I’ve been to this show a lot.”

“What’s it like?” Bucky asked as the group began to make its way to the subway station.  A car drove by and honked its horn and Melody and Sam both enthusiastically returned the waves of the people in it.

“It’s corny and fun,” she explained.  “There’s a lot of very talented out-of-work actors in New York, so performance-wise it’s better than a lot of dinner theatre you might see in other places.  You sit down and have dinner with a vampire ‘family’ -” she put the word family in air quotes “- there’s live music during dinner and the cast all kind of drop hints for what will happen later.  The meal is pretty good actually.  It’s kind of supposed to look over the top, and aristocratic, but everything is shades of black and red.  So there are these charcuterie boards that are put out as appetizers and it’s blackberries, dark red grapes, and then very dark red salamis and smoked meats, as well as cheeses and crackers that blend into that.  Then there’s a tomato bisque, a salad with blackberries, blood orange, rose petals, feta, and red peppers.  Then a main of these amazing shish kebabs and purple roasted potatoes.  The dessert is a red velvet cake.  They have amazing cocktails that look like you’re drinking blood.  At dessert, the real play part of it goes down.  But I don’t want to spoil it.”

“It sounds like it’s going to be really fun,” Steve said. “I’ve always loved the theater.  I try to go see musicals whenever I can.  Which isn’t that often, to be honest.”

“I’m completely the same,” Melody said.  “Because Bobbi is an actor/singer, she tries to keep up to date with what’s on and all the songs.  I go with her when I can.  We’ve gotten good at grabbing discounted tickets.  But I love it.  I’d go every week if I could.”

“You guys really support each other, don’t you?” Sam asked.

“She’s my best friend and my closest family,” Melody said.  “We were there for each other when there was literally no one else, and it was always our dream to come to New York and make it - her as an actor, me as a writer.  I don’t even think I’d be here if it weren’t for her.  But even if I’m wrong and I’d have figured out a way to do it on my own - I wouldn’t want to.”

“That’s how I feel about these two,” Steve said.

“So we date each other, we date the family?” she said, looking up at him.

His eyes crinkled in the corners, lining his otherwise flawless skin.  “I guess so.”

The small group made their way down the stairs to the subway platform.  It was there that they were set upon by a group of fans who wanted selfies and to talk.  Melody stood out of the way as best she could, and when the train arrived, Sam caught her arm, stopping her from getting into the same car as the fans and guiding her into one of the cars further down.  “Do you ever get used to that?” she asked.

Steve shrugged and nodded his head from side to side.  “Yes and no.  There are always times when it can be too much.  You know?  When there are too many of them and you’re just trying to go about your day, or you’re having dinner, or in the middle of a conversation.  But you get used to figuring out ways to minimize it, and you get used to the back and forth involved.  These people usually are fans or they’re people we’ve helped.  They aren’t bad people, no one wants to upset them.”

“And that’s why Sam made us sit in a different section?” Melody asked.

“That’s right,” Sam said.  “But it’s not all bad.  You get free meals sometimes, and people like giving you gifts.”

“People like giving them gifts,” Bucky corrected.  “So I have a question.  Your cousin - Bobbi - is she seeing anyone?”

You smiled and nudged him slightly.  “No, Bucky,” you said.  “She’s single.”

It wasn’t long before the group was getting off the train and heading back into the warm New York night.  The city was busier down where the restaurant was located, the street was filled with the sounds of traffic and the sidewalk was crowded with people, striding along, seemingly in a rush, as all typical New Yorkers were all hours of the day or night.  Melody led the way to the black and red facade of the dinner theater.  The greeter at the door was dressed like the classic Bela Lugosi Dracula.  Melody knew him both in his role at the theater and a little as just Jake from the few times you’d hung out with the cast with Bobbi.  “Ah, Lady Melody, you have come to visit us again.  And you’ve brought friends.  Enter.”

He let them through and led them to their seats at one of the long tables in the red and black room.  There were four long tables in all, ornately carved out of a dark wood.  The chairs were all high-backed and lined with red velvet.  At one end of the room was a fireplace with a large Gothic portrait above it, and at the other end, a string quartet was playing slow haunting music.  There were already some other patrons at the table and Melody knew that by the time the show started there would be actors at the tables too.

“This is cool,” Sam said.  “Reminds me of dates I went on before I joined the Air Force.  I bet neither of you has been anywhere like this,” he added, gesturing to Steve and Bucky.

“You would win that bet,” Steve said.  “I have no idea what to expect.”

“You’re going to love it,” Melody said and took his hand.  “At the very least you’re here with your friends.”

“That’s true,” he said and bumped her softly with his shoulders.

The room slowly filled and the actors came in, starting the show in a very low-key way so that the people had time to settle and begin eating the appetizers.  Sam and Melody talked Bucky and Steve into trying Vampire’s Kisses cocktails.

When Bobbi came out in her full Victorian vampire costume and took a seat at the table opposite Bucky, Bucky’s eyes lit up.  Melody hadn’t realized just how much of an impact her cousin had on the ex-assassin.  It wasn’t a surprise exactly.  Bobbi was Melody’s favorite person in the world, but Bobbi had this way of drawing attention to her with her loud and flamboyant personality, whereas Bucky Barnes seemed to avoid attention like it was the plague.  Perhaps it was the way she shone so brightly that attracted Bucky.  Or maybe it was just that Melody hadn’t seen Bucky open up fully yet.  Either way, he looked smitten.

As the night went on, the men really began to enjoy themselves.  Melody and Steve became more affectionate too.  Not that their PDA was anything more than completely innocent, but they nudged each other playfully when they shared a joke, and they held hands under the table when they weren’t eating.  During the final part of the production, while the audience was watching the vampire hunters come in and try to save the audience, he kept his arm around her, almost protectively.

Even though Bobbi could only interact with Bucky in character, and she had to divide her time and attention between all the guests, Melody loved getting to see their flirtatious interactions.  Bucky practically had hearts for eyes, every time he spoke to her.

Melody could relate.  She felt the same way about Steve.  She was smitten.  Her heart fluttered in her chest every time she locked her brown eyes with his blue.  She worried she was going to fall too hard too fast for him, only to lose part of herself.

When the show was over, Melody, Sam, Bucky, and Steve went to the bar next door to wait for Bobbi to come meet them. The group greeted her with a round of applause and after a couple more drinks they headed back to Melody and Bobbi’s building together.  The whole time, Steve kept his arm around her.

When they arrived back at her building Bobbi stopped to talk to Sam and Bucky as Steve pulled Melody to the side.  “I am so glad we did this,” he said, leaning into her.  He was so close that even in the low glow of the streetlight, she could see the fine lines of his face.  “Next time just the two of us though, I think.”

“I completely agree,” she said.  “Bucky is really into Bobbi, huh?”

Steve chuckled and looked over at them.  “He seems to be.  It’s good.  He hasn’t dated at all since he got out of HYDRA.”

“I’ll tell her to be gentle with him,” Melody said.

“Thank you,” he said, softly, leaning in just a little.

Melody could tell he wanted to kiss her, but he wasn’t going to bridge that last little gap.  She put her hands on his cheeks and moved in, so she could feel the heat of his breath on her lips.  “Kiss me,” she breathed.

He brought his lips to hers, softly and tenderly.  His lips slowly caressed hers, just barely parting.  It sent a shiver through her and as he pulled back, she chased him briefly, wanting a little more.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said.  “We’ll set up another date.”

“Just the two of us,” Melody said.

Steve pecked her cheek and pulled back completely.  “Just the two of us.”

Melody climbed the steps, meeting Bobbi halfway up. “Night, Bucky, night, Sam,” she called to the two men as they began to walk away.  “I had fun.”

“Night, Mel,” Sam called back as Bucky raised his hand.  “See you ‘round.”

“I got his number,” Bobbi said as they went inside.

“I got the first kiss,” Melody countered,

Bobbi laughed and nudged her.  “Always having to one-up me.”

// NEXT

[ashleyfableblack]

"...and the drapes are white, Chryssi. We told the decorators rainbows, I know we did. And we need to- GYAHUGH!!" Chrysalis followed her tiny wife's eyes to the pair of larvae dangling from a bough of mistletoe. "What?"

"What?!" Twilight rubbed her eyes with a groan of pain. "What do you mean, what?" She never understood how Pinkie could go through all those cartoon character wild-takes without hurting her face. "What are our babies doing up there?" "They're helping, beloved" she said matter-of-factly, Twilight looked from her bughorse wife back to the tiny larvae dangling from the rafters. The pair hissed and chittered at each other as they wiggle-wormed their way around the decoration, using the red ribbon as adventurous foals might use a jungle-gym. "Do you think that they could maaaaybe help from a little closer to the nice, safe floor, honeybug?" Chrysalis tilted her head slightly, regarding the tiny larvae awkwardly fumbling and snipping with a small smile. "They'll be fine. They're just enjoying their first pony Hearthswarming with their broodmates." Twilight's eyes were sore. She hadn't gone 'full Twilight' as her friends used to call it since the years before she and Chrysalis had been married. "Honeybug, what if they fall? They've only gone through their first molt! Their chitinous plates are barely formed. From that high up their exoskeletons would only be able to withstand the impact force of a fall if they landed with a pitch of..." Twilight continued on with the complicated mathematics only a astrophysicist or a panicked mother could perform. Chrysalis studied her with a growing grin. She couldn't help but chuckle. To the changeling queen, the air had become as thick with the motherly concern billowing from Twilight as thick as smoke from a tire fire. She leaned down to plant a loving kiss on her wife's horn, bringing the rampant mathematics of parental terror to a stop. "You're irresistible when you're this adorable." With a crackle of green flame from her horn, Chrysalis lifted the two larvae from their precarious perch and placed them delicately into the trails of her mane. "Better?" she smiled. Twilight looked from her wife's reassuring smile to the tiny faces of their babies. Their violet eyes and tiny, prickle-fangs gleamed back to her from Chrysalis's cobweb mane. Though she couldn't hear their thoughts like Chrysalis, their glowing smiles and eager wiggling had a very "Again, Mama!" quality to them. She sighed and leaned into Chrysalis's barrel. "Thank you, honeybug." The lovers kissed. Their infant equine-insect babes chittered gleefully, bathed in the warmth of their mothers' love. In the distance, a snowball went PAFF off a changeling's carapace as two of their soldiers began an impromptu re-enactment of the Battle of Basalt Bay. Another joined in from her hidden burrow. From the castle ramparts two Tunnel Engineering Specialists shape-shifted into catapults and began lobbing iceballs the size of ciderbarrels into the fray. And thus, all Tartarus broke loose. So, this was Hearthswarming in New Equestria.