#I have to wait for news either way before I can proceed with anything else though

[emometalhead]

Waiting on news via email is so stressful for no reason

[tsumuus]

crushing on you | captains

a/n short headcanons on if the haikyuu captains had a crush on you. not proofread.

characters tetsuro kuroo, daichi sawamura, wakatoshi ushijima, shinsuke kita

masterlist

tetsuro kuroo

you two have been friends since the beginning or high school

he noticied his feelings for you after a bout a year

realizing how much he enjoyed your company and how his heart skipped a beat when you were near

he gets more flirty

making playful comments and constantly teasing you

the way you react confirms his suspicions as to whether you like him back

still takes him a while to put two and two together

you often visit him during practice

but only because he practically begs you to come watch and support him

he does it so he has an excuse to spend time together

he'd try to impress you with his skills

often looking to see if you were watching

becomes more protective than he already is

invites you to his games aswell

makes sure you have a good seat so he can see you cheering him on from the stands

keeps his feelings to himself for a few months

unsure of how to proceed with putting your friendship at risk

he asks kenma for advice

he seems disinterested

but kenma knows you too and thinks the two of you couldn;t e anymore perfect for each other

and encourages kuroo to just take a chance

daichi sawamura

you and daichi have been friends since middle school

bonding during group projects

you two always seemed to end up be paired together

he realized his feelings much later

probably around second year of high school

he noticed how much he relied on your support and how his heart always seemed to flutter at your smile

he's protective ash

he becomes moe playful the closer you two get

he loves telling jokes he knows will make you smile

very attentive to all your needs

tired? he'll take notes for you so you could sleep during class

bored? he'll tell you funny stories about tanaka and nishinoya embarrassing themselves until you don't seem as bored

anything like that

keeps his feelings to himslef for a while

he confides in sugawara who teases him for waiting so long to do anything about his feelings

which leaves him a blushing mess

encourages him that theres nothing to worry about and to just go for it

wakatoshi ushijima

you and ushijima became friends at the start of high school

he just loved how determined and hard working you are

took him a long time to realize his feelings

hes a little dense, not stuopid, and thats okay

he just finally seemed to realized why he felt so different whenever you were around and how much he appreciated your company

he might not notice it but he becomes a tiny bit more reserved and quiet after

observing you from a distance and lowk getting a little flustered whenever youre around

so so so protective

like hes afraid to get too close to you but also doesn't want anyone else to get near you either

you guys have a similar schedule, just switch volleyball for wtv club your interested in, so you two walk from place to place together everyday

he'll send you pictures of little things that remind him of you

not realizing how initimate it usually is

i don't think he keeps it to himself for a while

i think after he figures it out himself he would bring it up with tendo and semi rather sooner than later

the two of them quick to offer any help to confess to you

they think youre the sweetest and a perfect fit for their captain

shinsuke kita

you two have been friends since elementary school

growing up in the same rural area and attending all the same schools

he probably didn't realize his feelings for you until like second or third year of high school

since you often came to games and practices to show your support

it took a lot of teasing from his juniors to finally realize

he's always been attentive and protective

but it reaches a whole new level since he realized his feelings

lowkey becomes more playful

matches your playful personality

which lowk confuses you because he's never acted like this before you think theres something off about him

but he's just nervous

sure he's had crushes before

but your his longest friend, theres something different about this situation than all the rest

he's always checking in on you

asking to spend more time than usual

he feels as if he should keep his feelings in

not wanting to ruin what the two of you have

also because graduation is coming up and he still wants to see you after

doesn't want to ruin the whole friendship if you happened to not feel the same

but his team sees how good you two are for each other and encourages him to take a leap of faith before he even has a chance to ask for their advice

[krirebr]

I Know I Should Know Better 7/End

Pairing: Curtis Everett x Female Reader

Word Count: ~3.6k

Summary: Curtis has been working as your body guard for almost two years now. Standing by and watching you work and party your life away is becoming more and more difficult, but is there anything he can do about it?

Warnings: Angst, adult themes, explicit language, anxiety, but mostly, it's a goddamn happy ending, you guys!! Finally!!! All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Holy shit. I can't believe it. We've made it to the end of this series. Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who's been along on this ride. Your support of this story has really bowled me over. I so hope you love this ending as much as I do.

For this one, especially, any comment, reblog, or ask will mean so much to me. I can't wait to talk to you all about where we leave our sweet beans.

Curtis stood on the front step of your house, waiting to be let in. He'd never gone in this way before, not even the first time. But he didn’t work for you anymore. He was the boyfriend now. A guest. So he'd play by the rules he'd always been so annoyed with Colin and Johnny and the like for flaunting. 

It only took a few minutes for Jensen to open the door. “Hey man,” he greeted warmly. “You know you don’t have to stand out here. Come on, get in.” Curtis followed Jake in, then stood somewhat awkwardly in the entryway. Luckily, Jake kept talking. “I should’ve texted you, but I was really sorry to hear how that whole thing went down. It wasn’t fair to either of you.”

“Thanks, Jake,” Curtis said sincerely. “I appreciate it. And I’m sorry, for all the secrecy.”

Jake shook his head. “No, don’t be sorry. You didn’t owe me any of that.”

Curtis gave a slight nod. “I hope you at least got a promotion out of it.”

Jake ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, kind of. Although I’m sort of pulling double duty right now while we try to find a new driver. But I think the trip went well, so��” he trailed off and shrugged. “You found something, yet?”

Curtis just shook his head. Honestly, he’d barely started looking for his next job. He’d been tired of personal security for a while now, and this seemed like a good opportunity to see what was next. Figure out what he actually wanted. Growing up in foster care, he’d been too aware of how easily things could be taken away, so as soon as he’d started making money, saving had been a priority for him. He had a decent rainy day fund set aside now. He figured he might as well make use of it. And if he got to a point where he needed to pick up a short-term gig here or there, he was sure, with all of his connections now, that he’d be able to do that. “No,” he said, “I think I’m gonna take my time.”

“Nice,” Jake nodded. “Good for you. Well, if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. I always liked working with you.”

That got a genuine smile out of Curtis. “Thanks, Jake, you too.” He glanced around your house anxiously. He thought he heard Michelle in the living room, but he didn’t know who else might be here, occupying your time. “Everybody still busy with her?”

“No, the stylist and makeup artists left a couple of minutes ago. I think she’s just getting dressed now, in her room. You should be good.”

Curtis nodded, patted Jake on the shoulder, and made his way through your house.

Two weeks apart. They’d been filled with constant texting, evening phone calls, as much checking in as he could manage in your busy schedule. Hearing about your appearances, junket days, meet and greets. You were finally back, as of that morning, but he still had to steal time for your reunion before the last of your late-night talk show appearances. Your schedule never stopped.

He took the stairs up to your bedroom two at a time and gave a light knock once he got to your door. It immediately swung open to reveal you standing right in front of him in your underwear. He barely had a moment to process before you were throwing yourself at him, filling his arms with you, burying your face in his neck. “I’m so happy you’re here,” you breathed.

“Yeah,” he whispered, holding you as tight as he could. “Me too. Me too.” He shuffled you further into the room so he could kick the door shut behind him and then stood there with you in his arms for as long as you both needed.

You finally pulled away and he took his chance to look around. A rolling rack of clothing your stylist must have brought over was against one wall. Two outfits were laid out on the bed. Your suitcase was flung open in the far corner of the room, items spilling out of it. And then he took you in. Your hair and makeup were already done, but if he looked very closely, he could see the barest hint of bags under your eyes. Your smile was a little sad and you were picking at your nails, seemingly without realizing it. “How are you doing?” he asked, softly.

“I’m alright. I’m– I don’t know. I’m really tired, but,” you looked around yourself, “I’m happy to be home.”

He nodded. The exhaustion was radiating off of you. You’d told him in one of your late-night phone conversations that you’d barely slept on your trip. He wished he could wrap you up and tuck you into bed right now. “Were you able to sleep on the plane at all?”

You shook your head. “No, there’s just been,” you shrugged again, “too much to think about.”

He opened his mouth to ask what was on your mind, but you were already turning away. You went to the foot of your bed and stared at the outfits laid out there. 

“Which do you think?” you asked, your hands on your hips.

He looked at the two outfits. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was looking for. He didn’t feel like he really knew clothes well enough to offer any sort of an opinion. One was a dress, low-cut and mid-length, maybe. The other was a pair of shiny black pants, although not leather, and a billowy metallic tank. Each outfit had a corresponding pair of sky-high heels sitting at the foot of the bed. “What are you gonna be most comfortable in?” he finally asked. 

You sighed ruefully. “Yeah, I'm sure jeans and a t-shirt would go over real well.” After a moment of thought, you picked up the pants and blouse and started putting them on. 

You were both quiet as you put on the finishing touches. He helped you with the necklace and bracelets, his big hands carefully opening and closing the clasps.

You stepped away and turned to him. “What do you think?” you asked, a touch of shyness in your voice. 

He closed the space between you and put his hands on your hips. “You’re beautiful,” he said, sincerely. 

You just looked at him for a moment, studying his face for something, he didn’t know what. Finally, you asked, “You really do love me, don't you?” with just a touch of awe in your voice.

“Yes,” he said without a moment of hesitation, trying to infuse that one word with all of his certainty. 

He'd only told you he loved you a few times, since that first time, not wanting to overwhelm or pressure you. He knew he'd jumped ahead. You hadn't said it back yet which was fine. He understood. You'd get there when you were ready. But even if he was trying to go at your pace, he never wanted you to doubt him.

You kissed him unabashedly at that and it did something to settle the worry he'd felt since he laid eyes on you. You pulled back and grinned, the first real smile he'd seen from you since before you left for New York. “I'm gonna get yelled at for messing up my lipstick, but I don't care,” you said, before going in for another, shorter one. He gripped your hips tighter as you pulled your head away, giving him a knowing smirk. “Come on, I’m sure I’m already running late.”

He didn’t let go. Something about this time, just the two of you, felt too precious. “I don’t work for you anymore. I’m the boyfriend now, so I don’t fucking care if you’re late.”

You laughed, big and loud, and it quieted the rest of the unease he’d been feeling about how you were doing. When you were done, you leaned into his chest and just stood there. “I missed you so much,” you whispered.

“I missed you too,” he whispered back wrapping his arms around you. He took a deep breath, savoring the fact that you were there, in front of him, in his arms. Right now, he had you.

And then, of course, there was an impatient knock on the door. “I'll be right there!” you called out, then knocked your forehead against his shoulder, taking a deep fortifying breath. 

“Hey,” he said quietly, “you're so good at this. No matter what, this is something you can do. I've always admired the way you handle this stuff. OK? You can do this.”

You sighed and nodded into his shoulder. He was quiet for a moment, thinking. You’d talked, a little, about how upset you’d both gotten the night before you’d left for New York. He couldn’t help but feel that maybe in his frustration and desperation and worry, he’d come on too strong. He knew you weren’t upset with him, but– “I just want you to be happy. No matter what that looks like, I just want to help you get there.”

You moved your head from where it was tucked into his shoulder so you could look him in the eye. “I know,” you said, gratefulness shining in your eyes. “If I know anything, I know that.” You kissed him again, short and soft and sweet. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

It was an odd experience, climbing into the back of your SUV instead of sitting with Jake in the front. Michelle sat in the middle row, acting pointedly cold to him. That was fine, honestly. He wasn’t quite ready to forgive her for the things she’d said when the news of your relationship broke. He didn’t know when he would be. You deserved better.

You were very quiet. He wanted to ask, again, about what was on your mind, but he didn’t want to do that with an audience. So he held your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, and didn’t move a muscle when you rested your head on his shoulder.

Curtis couldn’t stop fidgeting. He was sitting by himself on what he used to derisively think of as the boyfriend couch. Michelle was on the other couch, focused on emails as always, while Tanya hovered in the middle of the room. There were snacks and drinks laid out on the green room’s coffee table that he was welcome to now, but he hadn’t touched them. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, filling up the big TV on the wall as you chatted with one of the countless late-night Jimmy’s. You looked okay. A little stiff. A little tired. But that was probably only because he knew all the signs to look for.  

You’d covered all the benign greetings and small talk and were now getting into the meat of the interview. Whichever Jimmy this was reached across his desk and held up a black paperboard-backed picture of you, twelve or thirteen years old, complete with braces and awkward pigtails. It was from that fucking show. 

He saw the anxiety flash across your face, quickly followed by your cheerful mask, although he didn't think he imagined the way it was more strained than usual. Tanya saw it too, judging by the way she took a step forward. 

Jimmy was blathering on about the recent influx of TV reunions and reboots and wouldn’t it be fun, wouldn't everyone just love it if there was some sort of reunion for this? The audience roared in agreement. 

You forced a chuckle that wouldn't have fooled anyone, pure panic in your eyes. And then you looked directly into the camera and Curtis knew, he knew, that you were looking at him. He tried to send you all of his confidence, all of his support, all of his love. All of his certainty that however you wanted to handle this, you could do it.

He was fooling himself, he knew, but he was sure that you felt it, because in the next moment you took a deep breath, turned to Jimmy, and said, “No, I don't think so.”

Jimmy just gaped at you for a second, clearly taken aback by you suddenly not playing along. He tried to cover with a good-natured laugh and “What? Oh no! Why not?”

You didn't match his tone. You responded seriously, “I really hated making that show.” There were a few audible gasps from the audience, but you ignored them. “Everyone did. It was a miserable place to be. Everyone hated each other. Everyone fought all the time. For seven years! I was a child and no one protected me from that. I went to work every day, as a child, in the most toxic environment. But I was making money. So I guess it was ok.

“And now, god, it’s been ten years! And everyone just keeps bringing it up. It’s all anyone wants to talk to me about. And I just can’t talk about it anymore. I really can’t. I’m not gonna do it again. I’m done with that.”

“What the hell is she doing?” Tanya muttered next to Curtis, who was standing up now, unable to take his eyes off you. Whatever you were doing, it was incredible.

He could tell that the host wanted to break in, he kept looking wildly off-camera to someone for help, but you just kept talking. You wouldn’t stop.

“There’s just– There’s so much I don’t want to do anymore. I’m not doing ok, you know? I mean, you must know. It’s all over every gossip site. I’m not ok. I haven’t been ok for a very long time, maybe ever. But I just keep going forward in the same way, because that’s all I’ve ever done since I was a kid. That’s all I’ve known how to do. But I think– I think I’m done doing that now. I want to figure out how to be ok.”

Curtis took a step closer to the screen. “Holy shit,” he mumbled, deep pride filling his chest, “she’s doing it.” 

“What is she doing, Curtis?” Tanya asked, somewhat hysterically.

He ignored her. He couldn’t see or hear anything other than you. 

Back on the TV, Jimmy cleared his throat and opened his mouth, trying to somehow stop his show from careening wildly off the rails. But you put your hand up to stop him. 

“Please, Jimmy, I know. You asked a simple question and you got all this instead,” you laughed, unabashed, and there it was. There you were. Curtis beamed at seeing it. “Just let me say this one last thing.” You looked directly into the camera again. “I– I am really proud of this movie. We worked really hard on it, and I hope you go see it.” 

A laugh escaped Curtis. God, you were so good at this, knowing exactly what you were contractually obligated to do. He glanced quickly at the other end of the green room. Michelle was standing now too, her mouth wide open in shock, while Tanya looked like she might have a stroke.

“And I think–” you continued. ”I think it might be the last movie I do for a while. The last anything. We'll see.”

A wave of murmurs went through the studio audience. Curtis had fully forgotten they were even there during all this, they’d been so quiet since you’d really gotten going, just as enraptured by you as he was.

“Ok,” you said, with a sheepish smile. “That’s it. I’m– I’m done.” Then you stood, took off your mic pack, gently laid it on the chair, and walked off stage.

As Jimmy awkwardly threw to a commercial break, Curtis raced into the hallway. He walked towards the stage as fast as he could, intercepting you about halfway there, a lost-looking PA trailing behind you. You looked a little shell-shocked but good. You looked so fucking good. 

He gently touched your face with both hands as soon as you were within reach. “Holy shit, that was incredible. You’re incredible. I can't believe you did that. I'm so fucking proud of you.”

“Yeah?” you asked, your voice a little shaky, your eyes a little watery. “I didn't– I wasn't planning to. But then he asked about the show and, I don’t know. I’ve been thinking a lot about all of the things you're always telling me. About living my own life and what I'm worth. And I just thought, ‘What if I actually do what I want for once?’ And, yeah.” You shrugged.

“Fucking incredible,” Curtis whispered and leaned in to kiss you. It was soft and a little desperate and so, so happy. 

So of course it was cut short when Tanya called out your name. You both turned around to look at her standing at the end of the hall, looking harried. “What was that?! How on earth am I supposed to clean that up?!”

“Tanya,” you said, your voice shockingly calm and firm. “Stop. There's nothing to clean up. You're fired.”

It took everything inside of Curtis not to whoop with joy or pick you up and spin you around. But, shit, he wanted to. He really, really wanted to.

Your gaze moved to where Michelle stood behind Tanya. “Sorry, Michelle,” you said with a frown, “you too. I don't think I'll need a team or an assistant for a while.”

“You need to stop and think about this,” Tanya said, her tone placating. 

“I already have. Thank you both, sincerely, for everything you've done for me, but it's time to try something new.” And then you grabbed Curtis’s hand and led him back down the hall. 

You quietly got your things from the green room and changed your shoes, then brought Curtis outside through a side door, far away from where fans were gathered, expecting you to run into your SUV.

You took a deep breath as soon as you hit the fresh air. “I kind of just want to walk around for a while. That ok?”

“Yeah, whatever you want,” he said softly, squeezing your hand. There were a few hours before the show aired on the East Coast. A few hours, hopefully, before the bomb you’d just set fully exploded. A walk sounded nice.

 You headed away from the studio and Curtis was content to follow your lead. You didn't say anything, which was fine. He figured you had a lot to process. 

After several minutes, you let out a long, deep breath. “Holy shit. I can't believe I just did that. Holy shit, Curtis, I just quit!”

“How are you feeling?” he asked, carefully, wanting to make sure you weren't wracked with regret.

You took your time answering. Then finally, “So relieved. Just so fucking relieved.”

He stopped you from walking, using his grip on your hand to turn you to face him. “I hope you understand just how incredibly proud of you I am. How brave I think you are.”

“Curtis,” you said quietly, ducking your head, clearly overwhelmed. 

“I mean it,” he said as he squeezed your hand and started walking again. 

After several more minutes of companionable silence, you slowed down a little. “So, where do you think we should go?”

He shrugged and glanced around the area. “I don’t know. I could eat. Think you can get away with ducking into a burger place?”

You laughed and he stopped short at how nervous you sounded. “No, that’s not– I didn’t mean–” You shook your head and he turned so he was fully facing you. “I don’t know, it’s just– You said a year, remember? Back on my couch, you said I should take a year.” You were avoiding his eyes now, and you sounded so shy.

Your couch. That night, however many months ago. When you’d let him really see behind the mask, and he brushed his fingers against yours for the first time. As he realized what you were trying to ask him, the weight of it, the enormity of what you were offering, all he was able to do was whisper, “I remember.”

“Ok, well, I thought that maybe we could do that. Take a break. Go somewhere maybe, if there was somewhere you wanted to go.”

It took him a minute, as he was flooded with so many things—how much he loved you, how much he wanted to do for you, give to you, how happy he was in this moment—but once he found his voice, he gently grasped your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Wherever you are,” he said, with the most conviction he thought he had ever said anything. He leaned in and kissed you. It was short and more chaste than he wanted, but he was too conscious of how out in the open you were. He pulled back and rested his forehead against yours. “Absolutely anywhere you are.”

You threw your arms around him and moved your head so your lips were right next to his ear. And then you said, so so softly, so that it was just for him, “I love you. I'm so in love with you.”

A warmth he didn’t think he’d ever felt before filled his whole chest. All he could do was just hold you, right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, murmuring in your ear just how much he loved you, too.

Eventually, you’d start walking again. You’d find a little restaurant to duck into for a bite to eat. He’d make you put your phone on speaker as you told Lloyd and Wilford they were fired. And you’d figure out what came next, where you would go, what the logistics of quitting actually entailed. Then you’d get an Uber home and show each other with your bodies just how much you cared. 

But for now, he just wanted to hold you in the middle of the sidewalk.

I love you all. Thank you so much for reading. 💜

Tag List

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[oldwritingm]

Creepypasta/MH - How They’d Ask You Out

Characters: Eyeless Jack, Nina the Killer, Clockwork, Jane the Killer, Tim/Masky, Brian/Hoody

Eyeless Jack

I don’t think it would take him too long to ask out someone he liked

As long as he was sure that he really did like them, and that they didn’t hate him or anything, he’d be comfortable at least asking

He would bring flowers for sure

He’d show up at your door late at night, bouquet in hand

“Would you care to join me for a walk?”

You’d stroll through the woods, talking a bit about yourselves

It’d be a pretty deep conversation, both of you staying serious as you exposed vulnerable parts of yourselves

He’d hint at being romantically interested in you, but he’d wait until you were back at your house to pop the question

“You’ve probably noticed by now, but I really do think you’re amazing. I’d love it if you’d be my partner.”

If you say yes he’ll be absolutely radiating joy and he’ll promise to treat you well before bidding you goodnight

If you say no he’ll understand, thank you for your time anyway, and disappear into the night

He’s okay staying friends, but he’ll be sad about it for a while

Still, your companionship is more important to him than being yours

Nina the Killer

It won’t take long at all for her to ask out someone she’s interested in

As soon as she knows she can trust them, she’ll go for it

She’ll use something homemade to actually ask the question

Like a kandi bracelet that says “be mine?”

Or maybe a cake she baked herself

Either way it’s bound to be something decorative made with lots of love

She’ll find you at school/work/home and tell you she has something to show you

She smiles hugely when she reveals her little project, but inside she’s buzzing with anxiety

“So..? What do you say?”

If you agree she’ll literally drop whatever she’s made and throw her arms around you

She will proceed to take you out shopping to buy something to commemorate the occasion

Matching shirts, bracelets, a new piercing, maybe even a pizza to share

Just a little something to celebrate :)

If you say no she’ll be devastated

“Oh… well, thanks anyway…”

She probably won’t talk to you for a while, if ever again

Clockwork

She’d have to know you for a VERY long time beforehand

She has trouble trusting people, as well as trouble finding someone she’s genuinely interested in romantically

You’d know pretty much everything about each other by the time she decides to ask you out

That just means that she knows the way to your heart though

She’ll make a beautiful sketch of you

Maybe there’s some gore incorporated, but hey, if you’ve stuck with her this long you’ll be used to it

You’ll be hanging out one day, her drawing and you distracted by something else, and she’ll suddenly tear a page from her sketchbook

She hands you the drawing while saying:

“Hey, Y/n, so… I really like you. You’re my dream partner. I want you by my side always.”

If you agree to be her partner, she’ll grin, turning back to her sketchbook with a little pinkness on her cheeks as she mumbles “cool”

When you leave she’ll peck your cheek before slamming the door in your face, giddy that she had the courage to do that

If you reject her, she’ll frown

Probably won’t want to be friends anymore :(

She just doesn’t want to be around someone she loves knowing they don’t love her back

Jane the Killer

I think it depends on the person when it comes to Jane

If you guys click really well, she’ll probably try to advance the relationship quicker than if your relationship started off rocky

But either way she’s going to plan something romantic

She’ll buy you something nice and deliver it in secret

Like, one day you’ll just find a box of chocolates or a necklace with a note attached telling you to meet her someplace

Personally I like to think it’d be a blossoming cherry tree, or perhaps a scenic overlook

You’ll find her there waiting for you, hands fidgeting nervously behind her back

She’ll get straight to the point:

“Y/n, I like you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but if you do… wanna be my girlfriend?”

If you accept, she’ll get a huge smile and run over to you, throwing her arms around you and twirling you around

You’ll sit together at the scenic location for a while, leaning on each other with your fingers intertwined

If you decline, she’ll just nod with a sad smile

She’ll be sad for a while, but ultimately she’s got other things in her life to worry about, so I don’t think she’ll wallow for too long

Might keep talking to you, might not; again, it really depends with her

Tim/Masky

Another one who’d have to know you a while first

He needs to make sure he trusts you, yes, but he also needs to start trusting himself around you

Once he’s sure that you can both handle yourselves, he’ll take more time to hype himself up to do it

He questions bitterly whether you’d even accept if he did ask you out

Eventually he gets so exhausted from the constant will they/won’t they in his head that he spontaneously blurts out:

“Do you want to go out with me?”

You’ll be taken aback; you guys were literally just chilling in silence

Plus he would’ve given next to no hints that he liked you at all

If you accept, he’ll sigh, slouching severely in relief

Finally some peace of mind… and heart

He’ll murmur a thank you for giving him this peace, but won’t elaborate

If you decline, he’s going to beat himself up about it so hard

He won’t blame you at all; no, every ounce of blame is going into the anvil that he’s crushing himself with

Probably won’t want to keep contact for much longer

Your presence is just a constant reminder of (what he sees as) his failure

Brian/Hoody

He didn’t know you for too long before deciding to ask you out, but he knew a lot about you

If he’s interested in you, he’s going to find out everything he can

He prefers outside sources, but if he absolutely cannot find something he wants to know, he’ll begrudgingly just ask you

That being said, he knows how to charm you

He’s a pretty naturally charming person regardless, but he wants to do something special just for you

He’d leave a gift for you; something he knows you love

Jewelry with your favorite gemstone, your favorite flowers, a nice new fluffy blanket… something on the luxurious side

Plus a note saying:

“Y/n, please be mine. With love, Brian”

He’ll approach you later and ask for your response

If you agree, he’s got a whole nice evening planned out already, and he’s more than eager to take you on this first date

If you decline, he’ll probably “cut contact”

I use quotations because he’ll probably still keep tabs on you in secret for a while

He’ll get over it eventually, but until he does that’s his way of coping

Thank you for reading!! Take care of yourselves pumpkins <33

(divider by saradika)

[danopdf]

Richard Winters x Reader [getting lost on D-Day]

Proceed with caution! warnings: swearing, kidnapping, allusions to assault (physical and sexual), blood, usual bofb warnings

When you jumped out of that plane on D-Day your entire stick was scattered just like everybody else

So instead of wandering around aimlessly, you gathered up a few men from various divisions until you could make your way to the rally point and get back with Easy.

But when your group was passing through a more marshy area, when your entire group (about 10 men) was ambushed, and before you could even raise your M1 you had been tackled and with a few swift punches were out cold

You woke up in a dark, dingy basement that was damp enough for the cold to be seeping through your uniform and into your bones

Your hands are tingling as all the blood leaves them from being suspended above you, tied around some rafter

With blurry vision you tried to search the room, trying to see if any of the Germans that had kidnapped you were still around but it was so dark you had to use the flash of a bomb dropping to catch even a glimpse of the room

There are three other men in the room, all tied up and hung from the beams in the same kneeling position that you are

The door to the basement opens, and the harsh sound of German laughter floods down the stairs, followed by the heavy sound of boots and the soft light of a lamp, stretching their shadows across the walls.

======

Dick has barely been able to concentrate the past three days, not having any idea where you could be and hearing nothing about you from the other Easy men who had all finally gathered at the rally point- hell he’d even found Lewis before he found you

“Nix! Have you seen y/n?”

“They haven’t checked in yet?”

“No, nobody’s seen them since they got in with their stick, and none of those men know where they are either.”

Dick can barely concentrate because he

‘S terrified that everybody that he sees hanging from a tree or lying face down in the mud is going to be yours

During Brecourt Dick thinks he sees you out of the corner of his eye and he freezes, Carwood has to drag him back into the trench because he almost gets shot right through the helmet

After that, he tries to push thoughts of you to the back of his mind

He tries compartmentalizing it to make what may be news of your death easier to deal with but if anything it just hurts him more because he doesn’t want to push the thoughts of you away

======

You can’t tell how long it’s been since you dropped, but every time you get dragged up from the basement into one of the rooms it’s always night, or the drapes are drawn so tight you can’t tell if daytime has ever existed

The first few days you spent praying for someone- for Dick- to find you but after days of being beaten, bruised, touched, cut, and interrogated you want nothing more than the sweet relief of death

‘The others got the bliss of fading away in the night or a short-tempered captain, why can’t I get the same? Because you have to wait for Dick, he wouldn’t leave you and he wouldn’t want you to give up, you’re stronger than this.’

You just hoped that this town was one that's meant to be liberated, and not destroyed, but if the ever-encroaching sound of artillery being dropped is anything to go by, you may not be so lucky

======

Dick knows they’re running behind, but that’s what happens when you meet a bunch of Germans who don’t know when to quit

They were supposed to take the small town a week after dropping, but due to some overly enthusiastic resistance, it's been nearly two weeks since they dropped, since Dick lost you

He had sent most of the Easy men to start clearing houses and rallying up prisoners when his small meeting with Lewis gets interrupted by a voice yelling separately for Gene, who comes blazing around the corner already grabbing gauze from his pack

======

You heard the sounds of gunfire and grenades close enough that it made dust fall over your greasy hair and bloodied face, and you just hoped that it was the sound of the Allies winning and not them being the ones to flee

Twenty minutes after the gunfire and yelling had stopped the sound of heavy footsteps floods the house above, and muffled voices talking, kicking open doors firing off a few single shots

The door to the basement wrenches open and two sets of heavy boots descend the stairs

You flinch and pray that if it’s the Germans again this time they just kill you

Wincing as the flashlight passes over the room, scanning over the other bodies that have flies swarming them and landing on you- the only soldier left with your arms hanging from the rafters, bloodied and broken like a slaughterhouse pig

Steeling yourself you look toward the bright light and your body nearly gives out when you hear a familiar voice say

“L/n? Holy shit.”

And then the quick scuffle of boots as the same voice demands

“George go get Doc- and Winters, get Winters!”

The heavy footsteps come toward you and when a large hand reaches out to touch you, you flinch and your bleary eyes shoot open

“Hey, hey you’re alright, I’m gonna let you down, alright?”

By the time your vision clears enough to make out the person in front of you, your hands are freed from the rafter and you’re slumping forward into their arms

‘Toye?” Your throat is scratchy and dry from crying and being denied water for ‘misbehaving’ (biting an officer's hand hard when he tried to touch you)

“Yeah it’s me l/n, we’re here, we’ve got you.”

You haven't seen anyone good in weeks and you were no more than a few hours away from bashing your head off the wall until it all went away, but now here you are being held by a friend- a brother, and he’s so gentle, and caring

The second you can actually move your numb arms again you’re wrapping them around his shoulders and holding him as tight as you can, digging your bloody fingers into the fabric of his uniform as you start to shake and dob, but nothing comes out with how dehydrated you are

“Let’s get you out of here y/n”

Joe carefully wraps one arm around your waist and on shaky legs you start toward the exit, stumbling up the stairs, and blinking hard as the first bits of dull grey light seep through the windows

You know you shouldn’t be, but when you have to step over one of the men’s bodies to get out the door you feel a sense of relief and you give him a small kick as you lift your boot (which Joe sees but doesn’t say anything beyond a small amused huff)

You slowly step out onto the top step of the house and have to cover your eyes from the bright light of the dull grey sky- a sky that you haven’t seen in weeks

Taking a deep breath Toye stands beside you watching the way you tear up. Your lip quivers and suddenly you drop, and his hands are reaching out to guide you as gently as he can to the ground

Fast footsteps come around the corner and suddenly you’re being gently coaxed away from Joe’s chest and into the awaiting arm of Gene, whose eyes are scanning over you quickly and his hands are already reaching for a rag and water to both clean you and for you to shakily take sips of

More footsteps round the corner and more of Easy forms a cautious semi-circle around the front steps where you’re leaning against Joe’s chest and Gene is wiping caked-on blood away from the many cuts and bruises along your weak body

You’re practically asleep in Joe’s arms with the knowledge that you’re now safe, but you bolt upright (much to the gentle complaint of Gene) when you hear a series of fast, heavy footsteps and the commanding call of

“Where are they? Move, move!”

And suddenly there he is, pushing through the crowd of Easy men

“Dick.” You breathe softly, your raw voice cracking when he stands in front of you, taking in how different you look and how frail you’ve become since you last saw each other right before jumping out of those goddamn planes

He pulls off his helmet and drops next to you, pulling you away from both the others and into his arms, arms that you’ve missed so much

“I thought I lost you.”

You burst into tears, finally having some water in your system (thanks to Gene who forced you to drink, and thanks to Skip who immediately passed over his canteen)

Dick cards his fingers through your gross hair and plants soft reassuring kisses along your brow and down until he softly kisses your chapped lips

The kiss tastes more like blood than him but it’s still the most comforting kiss that you’ve had in weeks, and it’s Dick that’s kissing you, in front of everyone with not a care in the world other than making sure you’re comfortable and safe

“You found me.”

Slowly Dick slide into the spot that Toye had been in, holding you tight against his chest and wrapping you in his arms, allowing Gene to keep working on wiping away the blood and grime so he can fix you up

Most of the men disperse after realizing the intimacy of the moment, and the rest leave the second Dick tucks his head between your shoulder and jaw, and he sighs shakily

The entire time Gene is patching you up Dick is whispering soft words into your ear, reassuring you that you’re safe and that he’s not going to let anything happen to you again

Gene helps Dick carefully bring you back to the aid station that is being set up, so that he can do a more in-depth check-up, and the entire time Dick is next to you, holding your hand

When the time comes for you to give a statement of sorts on what happened to you over the few weeks that you were missing, Dick does not let go of your hand

Maybe he cries a little when he hears all that you went through, but that fact doesn’t leave the room

After you’re interviewed, checked over, and had a good cry while in the shower (that Dick sits outside of and holds your hand through the gap in the curtain so you’re not alone), Lewis tells Dick that he had commandeered a house for you two and that he had even found a real bed with pillows and a few blankets

Dick spends the entire night wrapping you in his arms and holding you as close as he can without you two merging together

You don’t say much other than just repeating how much you love each other

You fall asleep quickly in the safety of his arms and with his soothing heartbeat under your ears

Until the moment Dick falls asleep he is whispering promises into the crown of your head

“I’m not going to let anything else happen to you ever again, I promise.”

[johnslittlespoon]

https://www.tumblr.com/johnslittlespoon/744374471821017088/would-just-like-to-point-out-that-once-again-a

i love this so much omgggg. imagine bucky is in a mood one day with buck but still just collapses onto buck’s bunk and curls into the sheets. buck would think it was the most endearing thing ever. maybe buck is standing in bucky’s way, forcing bucky to grumble out an excuse me that’s just dripping with attitude but buck can’t even be upset about it because bucky proceeds to shove past him and throw himself into buck’s bunk and bury his face in his pillow. or imagine buck coming over to talk to bucky and bucky rolls away from him but it’s like. that kind of loses its effect when ur in BUCK’s bunk😭

linked post | gigglingsjdgk yes omg. this is so so THEM i'm gone

it doesn't matter how much they bicker or fight during the day or what type of mood either of them might be in– john will not sleep in his own bunk if his life depends on it once he gets a taste of sleeping in gale's. over the winter, the bunking for warmth excuse works just fine, but as the weather starts to heat up, his new excuse is "your bunk is comfier."

gale doesn't point out that this makes no sense with all of their bunks being the exact same; he'd love to tease john about it, but he doesn't want to scare him out of climbing into his bunk night after night, and he makes damn sure the other guys don't rib on him for it either. everyone's got their coping mechanisms, and they all know john's hanging on by a thread, so they're not going to question his vices.

imagine what goes down after that scuffle in the yard? john spends the rest of the evening pacing the yard, cooling off until it's time for lock–in, and gale's waiting leaning against his bunk when john comes back into the room, expecting a conversation. but john doesn't even look at him fully, just brushes past with a short bratty "scuse me" and drags himself into gale's bunk and curls up as close to the wall as he can get without another word.

gale turns and stares at him in disbelief, shaking his head but still feeling so fond because they can have the worst fight of their friendship and john still crawls into his bed at the end of the day like it belongs to him just as much as gale, even in his silent treatment.

gale half wants to go crawl into john's bunk instead to make a point, but he's not sure he can even fall asleep alone anymore after so many months of sharing a bunk, and he knows it's not really him that john's mad at– they're all mad at the world right now, and john's just taking it out on him because he's there and real and he subconsciously tries to sabotage anything good because he feels undeserving. the silent treatment is as much geared towards gale as it is john punishing himself for the guilt he feels after lashing out at him.

john presses his face into gale's pillow when gale climbs in behind him with a huff, pulling the thin blanket up over both of them, only hesitating for a moment before he slings his arm over john's waist all the same, deciding he's not gonna lay awkward and uncomfortable facing the opposite direction with nowhere for his arms to go; if john wants to be touchy, he can lay somewhere else.

john barely manages to put on a show of being tense against him for more than a few minutes before he's relaxing into his arms anyway, back pressing to his chest, a quiet sigh puffing out against the pillow. gale steals a gentle press of his lips to the nape of his neck, a silent apology, because he knows they'll talk properly in the morning once john's not as antsy and worked up, and john squeezes gale's hand where it rests over his stomach, and everything feels okay again. <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Black Light 4

Warnings: namecalling, violence, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You check yourself in the mirror. The black bob isn’t a bad look. You tilt your head back and forth making the sleek strands wiggles back and forth. The sunglasses complete the look and you ponder overhauling your usual style. You look dangerous.

You resist scratching under the wig and give yourself a smile. You look almost devilish in the get up but you can’t chance being recognised on your mission. No, this is very important. This is revenge. Served tepid.

You sneak out the backdoor and check your phone. You have another message from your new friend. She texted you earlier that she had a new cell already. You hang onto yours like gold, you’re not really sure what you would do if you lost it. Probably turn to the primitive lifestyle.

‘I’m headed to the club, meet you at the cafe.’

‘Sure thing, 🐔💸’ You text.

She texts back a simple question mark.

‘Chicken wing’ you clarify and smack your forehead. You’re such a dweeb. You follow up quickly; I’ll be there.

You head downtown, catching a bus halfway and tossing the transfer. You could use the walk as your nerves are starting to flurry. You approach the cafe and see your friend. She wears a denim skirt and an off-the-shoulder red shirt. Her shoes are the same shade as her top. She looks towards you then the other way, not acknowledging your approach.

You near and give a short ‘psst’. She whips around and sneers in your direction before blanching and saying your name.

“Like it?” You pull down your sunglasses. “I feel like Sandy from Grease. Well, more like Rizzo.”

“Uh, sure, why are you dressed like that?”

“Oh, I didn’t want that guy to recognize me so I figure I could sneak in like this.”

“Ah,” she nods and lets out a sigh, “right. Well, try going to the other one when they card ya.”

“That works too. You’re so clever.”

“Thanks,” she says dully, “come on.”

You give a bounce and follow her down the street. She marches on, set on her path as you skip to keep up. She’s a lot more graceful in her heels. And angry. You worry about Cole, he might not be ready for what she has in store.

“Hopefully that jackass is there but those types usually don’t have anything else going on,” she snarls as if reading your mind.

“Uh, yeah.”

“You make sure you point him out when you see him. And don’t get to close, I’ll take care of him. No drinks, either. Let’s not take that chance.”

“Sounds like a plan. Well, kind of.”

“Don’t worry, I can slip this guy something. Don’t you worry. Men are stupid, he gets distracted by his next mark and I’ll strike first,” she turns the corner and you flutter along with her, joining the queue outside the club.

“You’re so brave,” you admire.

“No, I’m pissed,” she insists as she crosses her arms, slowly shifting with the line.

You peek out around the bodies. You see that man, Auggy. He’s scowling at an ID. You watch him and his eyes flick up as if he can sense you. You recoil quickly and put your chin down.

“Hey, be cool,” your friend touches your elbow, “busy tonight, you just gotta blend in.”

“Mmm, yeah,” you murmur, “I just… I don’t know what I did. I was nice–”

“He’s an old grump,” she scoffs, “who cares how he feels.”

You approach the front of the line and make sure to veer towards the other bouncer, the one with the pudgy belly. He barely looks at your card as he waves you inside. The two of you enter to the buzz of the crowd and blare of speakers. 

“Now, we hunt,” she says, “keep your phone on you. You get close to him, let me know. Oh, and take a picture if you can.”

“Right, uh…”

“I’ll get upstairs, you stay down here,” she directs, “we’ll meet back up in half an hour if we can’t find him.”

“Sure.”

“Look, I got you. Anyone gives you trouble, text me. And give em a punch like I showed you.”

You put your fist up and pat your elbow as you reenact the brief lesson she gave you earlier. She smiles and squeezes your arm.

“Good,” she praises, “now, let’s do this.”

She turns and struts off. You admire her from afar. She’s so cool. And she likes you, you think. She’s a lot nicer than Amanda or Kam. You frown and spin around, looking around at the dancing figures and the bar shining at the far end of the room.

Where to begin…

You twiddle your fingers and give a huff. You have to get in the mindset. The grindset. The findset. Find him. Hmm, you’re not great with faces…

You go to take a step forward and you're suddenly hauled back by your arm. You yipe. No one around you reacts as you’re slammed against the wall, a shadow towering over you. You look up as your sunglasses are torn away and a light is shone in your face. The bouncer lets out a gravelly growl as the small bulb of the flashlight glares in your eyes.

“I knew it was you,” he grits.

“Oh, hi, Auggy!” You chime, “how are you?”

“Don’t act like you fucking know me,” he clicks off the light and leans down until your encased in the blackness of his silhouette. “You don’t want to know me.”

[tavyliasin]

Baldur's Date Open Creative Challenge!

Artists, Writers, Creators of All Kinds!

You are cordially invited to join a creative challenge!

You must be 18 years old or over to join, but there will be 2 categories, one for SFW works and one for NSFW works!

Accepted Submission Types

Please note all works must be your own and not made using any AI, including AI RP bots for writing.

Art

Comics

Valentine's Card

Fiction

Drabble collection (series of short fic, 1-5 paragraphs each)

Poetry

Song lyrics

Full songs/music

Podfic (With agreement from the fic writer)

Cosplay (No Nudes/NSFW/Explicit please)

Other Crafts (Puppets, embroidery, paper figure cut outs - whatever you like!)

For the Rules and More Details, please see below! Credit to Morb for the new event banner!

Welcome to the Baldur's Date Challenge!

Please be aware this event will include spoilers to characters, storylines, and endings, as well as NSFW content. Proceed with care!

The idea is to create something themed around a Date or Valentine Event. It doesn't even have to be romantic or positive, there are lots of ways to take this from Valentine's Cards from characters to slow burn romance to fully brutal heartbreak and violence. The choices are yours!

The Rules

By participating, even in the SFW version, you agree and confirm you are 18 years old or over.

All creators retain full rights to their works, subject only to the conditions of the platforms they share them on (ie, AO3)

Submissions must contain at least one named character from Baldur's Gate 3

Submissions must also be based around a date, valentine-type event, or similar

AUs, non-canon, alternate versions of characters are all WELCOME

You may choose your own prompt, or use the quiz to help you decide!

Poly Romance Welcome

Characters only, no actors or real people, other than using "Reader Insert" with 2nd person writing styles.

All works must be tagged appropriately for any CWs (please ask TavyliaSin for a list if required)

All characters must be 18 or over in the game as well as in the work you create

No characters in romantic relationships are to be related to each other.

Trans and gender-swapped characters are welcomed, unless it is only for the explicit purpose of making a canon homosexual couple into a heterosexual couple (eg, making Aylin a man so that the relationship with Isobel is straight) 

Deadline is 10th Feb to allow for time to check entries

Collections will go live just before midnight on 13th Feb so they are ready to be viewed on Valentine's Day

If you would like to help with the event running, please contact TavyliaSin on Twitter, Discord, or anywhere else you can hunt her down~

Dead Dove and controversial topics, kinks, and characters are allowed but must be properly tagged to give people a choice of what they engage with. This also means there is to be no shaming - Tavylia would like to support all creative works even ones she isn't personally fond of or would avoid.

How Do I Join?

You can either send your submissions directly to the AO3 Collections, or if you don't have AO3 you can wait until 14th Feb and reblog/retweet the posts I'll make for the collections on the day to add your contributions. It's open to EVERYONE who is 18+! Join in, give it a try! Submissions on AO3 close on 10th Feb 2024 (just before midnight GMT/UTC 0) so please try to get things in on time to be on AO3 so we have a few days to accept and check submissions. The collections will go live on 14th February for Valentine's just around midnight UTC0/GMT

Select "Post to Collection" to add your work! All works will be hidden until the collection releases on 14th.

Are there any Prompts?

Yes! Aside from the general theme there are prompts for art and writing (and anything else) on the following google form. You can roll dice to decide for you as each question has numbered answers and instructions on the dice to use! But you don't have to stick to the result you get - choose what you like. You don't even have to roll dice at all if you don't want to, just take a look at the selection for some ideas and choose what's interesting in it.

You can enter as many pieces as you like, so please use this to have fun and enjoy yourselves~

If you have any questions please drop them in comments, or contact me anywhere you can find me~

[wannaeatramyeon]

Gun Park x Reader: this is our place (we make the rules)

Chapter 9 - Probably should read ch1 first

Gun has a new neighbour. Index: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Epilogue

Things get a little weird after that.

Gun has ample sexual experience but no relationship experience. He does not know how to take the next step.

(He does know how to pleasure you in bed... though he knows definitively that that’s not the best way to proceed.)

And you are a lost cause, having little experience of anything at all.

You both tiptoe along the blurred line between tentative friends and something more.

The routine continues though it’s not as easy as it once was. You are on edge, reading into every little thing, face blushing and voice stammering at the slightest flirtation or touch.

Gun is Gun. He is how he always is. 

Yet he pulls back a little, taking your reactions as hesitation and uncertainty about him.

It doesn’t stop his eyes lingering on your lips whenever you try to get your words out. 

For the first time in his life, there’s a hunger in him that he knows exactly how to satiate but finds his hands completely tied.

.

.

Gun is the one who graces your front door, a very unusual occurrence especially at this time in the morning. Fully dressed despite the early hours and a duffle bag at his side.

He waits for you to answer, hears your sluggish footsteps approach the door and wonders if this was what it was like for you all those months ago.

The door swings open, and he’s greeted with the sight of you still half asleep and hair wild.

(I want to see this every morning, a hopeful voice in his brain offers. One that has grown confident and loud. Louder than his bloodlust. Louder than his search for a successor.)

“Gun? What time is-” The sentence is cut off with a large yawn.

Even that. Gaping mouth, bleary eyes, the way the yawn travels through your body and you stretch - he finds it endearing.

“I’ll be gone for a few weeks on a business trip.”

Gun pinpoints the exact second his words take hold, your eyes flying open and all signs of sleep gone from your face.

“Few weeks?!”

A brief nod. “If it goes to plan”

“Are you,” you bite your lip, wondering if it’s too forward for you to ask but you choose to bite the bullet instead, “Are you going to keep in touch?”

“When I can, of course,” Gun doesn’t even hesitate, no doubt in his mind that he would.

He does hesitate at his next move though, for a fleeting moment, before he takes a leap of faith and hands you a small envelope.

“Open it when I’m gone.”

“Ok…” Your hands grip the edges tight.

It’s only a few weeks. You’ve already survived many weeks, months, years without him and he said he would be in touch. Why are you feeling such a pang of sadness? 

Gun sees your face drop, lips turning down into a frown and starting to wobble. So he allows himself a small indulgence. Gives in to something he has wanted to do for a while. 

He takes your hand, holding it firm in his, brings it up to his lips and kisses each knuckle. 

Gentle, delicate. He didn’t realise he could ever be this tender.

“Don’t miss me too much,” he murmurs against your skin.

.

.

As soon as Gun is gone, you tear open the envelope.

Out drops a note enclosed around a key, very similar to the one you have.

The handwriting you can never mistake for anyone else’s.

‘Treat my home as if it is your own. Look after it for me.’

Running your finger along the jagged edges, you check to see if this key is actually real and won’t disappear the next time you blink.

Feels solid enough.

You give your wrist a harsh pinch.

Ouch. Fuck. Not a dream either.

You’re not stupid. You know what a grand gesture this is, and one you didn’t think would come from Gun. 

Giving a key to someone else is huge. A big step in a relationship, an even bigger step for you and him because who knows what the hell this is.

Although it is expected, now you think about it. Everything he does has an intensity, never without purpose. 

And actually. A trusted neighbour having your house key is perfectly normal.

(Idiot, a mocking inner voice taunts, you know exactly what this is.)

You grab your phone and fire out a message immediately.

You: your house key?!

You: are you sure? are you comfortable with me being in your apartment without you?

Gun: Yes.

Y/N: so what?? you want me to sleep in your bed? eat your food?

Gun: Don’t break anything and don’t leave a mess.

Y/N: That’s all you have to say?

Gun leaves you on read. 

.

.

He receives a few more texts from you through the day, each time Goo peering over and trying to read his screen.

“Is that Y/N?”

“...”

“Tell her I love her!”

“...”

“Ask her to reconsider the date.”

“Fuck off.”

.

.

On the second day, you cannot focus on anything. Not your lectures, your college course, books, TV. 

Phone incessantly pulled out of your pocket, thinking you heard a phantom buzz.

In the end you think it’s better to have it always in sight or in your hand. 

…Leading to your eyes flickering to the screen every minute. 

By evening, you decide to be the one who reaches out, sick of waiting to see if Gun will message you. Chiding yourself for being so childish in the first place and playing these games. 

And he’s on a business trip. Likely busy as hell.

You angle your dinner in a flattering light, snap a few pics, select the best one along with ‘not as much fun to cook for one’ and press send.

A few hours later you get a response.

A picture of his own meal in what looks like a very upscale restaurant if the plating and tableware is anything to go by.

‘Your food is better.’.

.

.

The third day you get a picture of a breathtaking sunset with mountains in the background.

‘Thinking about you.’

.

.

You return a selfie of you on his sofa the day after.

‘Thinking about you too.’

Gun replies in the next hour: ‘Good.’

.

.

It’s weird how being in Gun’s home without him is not weird.

You’ve been there enough times to know where everything is. The place now has a sort of nostalgic familiarity. Even the sleek and minimalist design which you scoffed at before, has a peculiar cosiness. Almost homely.

Maybe because it is so very much Gun Park.

Initially, you don’t stay much longer than is deemed polite - if it could be considered polite at all.

Over time, you find it harder and harder to leave.

Gun knows you better than you do apparently.

Maybe just maybe he realises how much you would miss him. How much being surrounded with his things would help, a part of him embedded in everything in his home.

Including you.

.

.

Nothing of significance happens over the next few days. The pictures and selfies increase in frequency.

Gun tends to send you pictures of landscapes and his surroundings, accompanied with a surprisingly romantic caption that leaves you giggling.

Car dashboard to show he's travelling, pictures of coffees and patisseries in overpriced and trendy cafes where he would no doubt fit in, and then images of food from even more eye-wateringly expensive and fancy restaurants.

And then one your eyes have poured over the most, a picture of an empty gym.

With a reflection of Gun, topless. Almost but not quite out of shot. 

Truthfully, you replay the image of him post-shower in your head multiple times a week. It pops up when you least expect it. Over time, the memory has grown blurred at the edges, and this has slammed everything back into sharp focus.

Today you get a glimpse again of his body. Shiny and slick with sweat, muscles flushed red and pumped.

You zoom in - not before shiftily looking around his empty apartment, as if someone will jump out and shame you for being thirsty. 

Eyes tracking over the collar bones and the curve of his shoulder, bicep popping with the phone gripped loosely in his hand. 

A peek of hip hones and one half of the delicious V muscle, the arrowhead that points straight down.

Ughhh. 

He’s not posing at all. You just know it’s one single picture Gun has taken and fired off without thought.

But you still feel the need to take a cold shower right this second.

You: 😋

Gun: 😯

The thought of Gun, a man so cool and calm and collected, using an emoji catches you off balance and you burst out laughing.

(... The photo? That is not true. Gun knows exactly what he is doing.)

.

.

One afternoon, you receive a selfie from Gun - which is unusual in itself.

Upon reveal, it’s a picture of Gun’s business associate - Goo Kim, smouldering at the camera and a fuzzy outline of Gun in the background.

‘Hey cutie pie, how you doing 💋’

Moments later, another picture. Blurred and taken from what looks like midair, phone falling to the floor. You squint at a fuzzy image of Gun trying to kick Goo, who aims a punch for his head.

Gun: dhakjsdhaksjdhs

Gun: kfdjhsdkfhd

Gun: Ignore that

Gun: Sorry

.

.

Another few days later, Gun’s eyes soften at the picture and caption he has just received. It’s a welcome reprieve from the day he had

You beaming with your arm around the plant, both in his apartment.

‘look whos finally home! we miss you!!’

“Huh.” Goo leans over Gun’s shoulder, adjusting his glasses and thinking his eyes are deceiving him. “I thought you would have killed that thing by now.”

.

.

“Since I left, I've been surrounded by all this noise. All I can think about is being with you at home. By your side. Listening to you, seeing you. Just existing... You have no idea the hold you have on me.” 

You don’t hear anything until the next night. A voice recording. Hushed, like a confession.

A slight grumble and a sigh. 

“I won’t be able to contact you from now until I’m back… Y/N.  I wanted you to know that I-,”

A pause. 

“I miss you too.”

[betweenthings2]

lips against a hipbone for dec prompts!

Thank you for the ask!! The January prompts are here (for real, this time, I promise) if anyone else wants to see them =) This is the last of the December prompts and I'm very sorry I didn't get it written earlier, like in December, but I'll be on to the white lingerie New Year's fic and January prompts now, plus literally everything else I have planned and in my inbox!

It got smutty on accident, but here's December prompt 10, lips against a hipbone.

**This is adult content, proceed accordingly**

Matty is so, so soft, everywhere. His hands are calloused and a little rough from playing guitar, and so are his knees from years of dramatically falling to his knees on rough stages, but everywhere else is so, so soft. The inside of his wrist, up to his bicep, the point where his neck and shoulder meet, down his chest, then his belly, over to his hipbone, then dipping down to the inside of his thigh, all so soft. George loves how soft he is, as soft as the way George loves him, and George's love is soft. It's a soft, gentle thing, all soft pinks and yellows and oranges that fade into something bigger, darker, like a sunrise.

It could be harder, of course, George's love could be something firm and strong, something that gathers deeper, darker colors, something that stands up and guards, but it doesn't need to be. It doesn't need to be hard, not when Matty is so, so soft and spread out in bed all for George.

Matty's just showered, so his hair creates a damp halo on the pillow, something they'd both complain about, but that's not on either of their minds now. Matty's big dark eyes follow George's every movement, watching as George presses a kiss to the inside of his wrist, then moves up, one to the crook of his elbow, one against his bicep, then over to the point where his neck and shoulder meet, then moves down his chest, pausing periodically to leave red marks against his collarbones, the moves further down, pressing gently kisses against the soft skin of his belly and then over to his hipbone. Matty lets out a quiet little gasp when he feels George's teeth leaving another mark there, then a little sigh when he presses a gentle kiss there as if to soothe the sting. Then George moves on to Matty's inner thigh, pressing a gentle kiss, then leaving a another red mark against the soft, pale skin there and then repeating. Then he moves to Matty's other thigh and does the same thing.

When he's satisfied, George moves up to press another kiss to Matty's other hipbone, before finally giving Matty's cock some attention, dragging careful fingers up the underside. George continues to take his time--it's not often that he gets Matty still and patient like this, just waiting for him to do what he will. That might have more to do with the fact that George has spent all day getting Matty as submissive and quiet as he possibly could just to enjoy this that anything else, but that's beside the point.

"Doin' so good," George murmurs. "Just want you to be patient. You can do that, I know you can."

Matty doesn't say anything. George doesn't expect him to, but he glances up anyway to meet his eyes, before going back down to lap at the head of Matty's cock, then take it into his mouth. Matty gasps.

George takes a moment, then sits back up a bit and asks, "How do you want it, love?"

"Want more," Matty whines. "Please."

"Oh, I know," George murmurs, teasing Matty's cock with gentle fingers. "To well behaved to tell me what you to do, aren't you?"

"Please?" Matty repeats.

"I know," George repeats, "I do, but this is about you, sweetheart. Tell me how you want it."

Matty breathes for a moment, looking very much like he's trying to figure out how to ask for what he wants. George finds it a little bit endearing to watch him try so hard to think, so hard to figure out what the right answer is. There's no right answer, of course, but Matty's looking for it anyway.

"Go on," George encourages, "tell me what you want and you can have it."

"Want you," Matty decides.

"You have me."

Matty shakes is head. "Want you, please."

George presses another kiss to Matty's hipbone, then strokes his cock once, asking, "Like this?" before pressing two fingers against his hole, just teasing, and asking, "Or like this, maybe?" he asks.

Matty nods. "Like that, please, please."

"Oh, you want me like that, do you?" George asks, still just teasing.

Matty nods.

"Not like this?" George pushes, taking the head of Matty's cock back into his mouth.

Matty gasps. "Like that, too, please, G."

"Gettin' greedy, love," George murmurs, sitting back up.

"No, no, 'm sorry," Matty says quickly. "'ll be good, I promise, please."

George strokes gentle fingers over Matty's hip and offers a gentle, "'s alright. 'm just teasin'. You're gonna get whatever you want."

"Not mad?" Matty asks, eyes wide.

"Not at all upset in any way," George promises, reaching for the lube. "I've got you. Don’t worry."

Matty relaxes at that and makes it very, very easy for George to slide one, then two slicked fingers inside him. He's warm and tight and George wastes no time in searching out Matty's prostate with gentle strokes of his fingers, repeating the motion until Matty whimpers. At that, George strokes his fingers over Matty's hip again and stills for a moment, waiting until Matty looks like he's about to beg, then moves again. He teases Matty like that, over and over, never going so far as to make him utter a sound beyond those made out of pleasure, until his cock his leaking precum against his belly.

George's own cock is heavy and hard in his boxers simply from watching Matty fall apart, and even though this is about Matty and making him feel good, George has to resist the urge to reach down and touch himself or change his plans and fuck Matty properly. Matty wouldn't object to that, George is sure, but he's not about to go changing things on Matty when he's as empty-headed as he is.

When Matty lets out another gasp that turns into whimper after a particularly firm thrust, George leans down to press a soft kiss to Matty's hipbone, then glances up, saying, "I want you to cum whenever you want, ok?"

Matty nods, half desperate.

George doesn't move, just raises his brow and encourages, "I need you to say, love, come on."

Matty nods again and says, "Ok, I will, please keep goin'."

"That's it," George murmurs. He presses his lips to Matty's hipbone once more, then moves to take Matty's cock into his mouth, as deep as he can.

Matty has a full body reaction to that, shuddering and clenching his muscles around George's fingers. George pays that little mind and keeps going, now intent on getting Matty to cum. He does cum fairly quickly, ever receptive and in tune with George, and George swallows it down and keeps up his careful movements until he feels Matty's hands in his hair, pushing him away. George lets himself be pushed away, this is about Matty after all, and sits up to carefully remove his fingers and grab a tissue from the nightstand to wipe away excess lube from his fingers, then precum from Matty' belly, before tossing it aside and laying down and to take Matty into his arms.

Matty cuddles close, almost instinctively, head on George's chest, still-damp hair almost ticklish. George strokes a hand through Matty's curls, letting him come back to himself in his own time, still so soft and wonderful.

As it turns out, though, it doesn't take Matty all that long to come back to himself because soon enough he's nudging his thigh against George's slowly softening cock, quietly asking, "What about you?"

George runs a hand down Matty's spine, then back up, murmuring, "Later. If you want. You don't have to though, I'm ok. This was about you."

Matty hums and agrees, "Later."

George just keeps rubbing Matty's back, content to lay there and be in love.

[aleksa-sims]

Simselfstory

The next day D. & I went to my parents to pick up our cat and some of my stuff.  Last night, we talked again. We decided to just stay together for now, to see..... how things will turn out.

There was also something else D. told me. Since he was getting better while he was away, he thought about starting his own business, bcs he quit his job. My Dad offered to help him.

The two had this in mind anyway. They talked about it months ago and now it was time to inplement things. I don’t want to go into too much detail rn. It will explain itself over time.

Mom: You have to take your pills regularly, D. This is important! The same goes for you, A.! The more time passes, the better you’ll be and hopefully..... forget what happend. 😞

Dad (to Daniel): The main thing is that you are safe & fine. Soon we have a lot to do and distraction is always good! But one thing I want to mention again. No matter what probs you two have, even if you relapse, talk to us!! None of us will blame you for asking for help. We want you two to be well, okay?

Daniel: Yea, I got it. 😔

Dad: And what about you A.?

Me: Yea, ok! But I want you to help D. with that job thing.

Dad: Of course I’ll help him. And actually we could start immediately, but if we proceed as planned and discussed, it may be that you and Daniel have to move. 😕

Me: Um... okay. I am prepared to do whatever it takes. 🙂(😟)

Daniel (to me): You...are really ready to move? To.... my house!? 😯

Me: We’ve talked about it before, and..... now that I’m pregnant, why not? You, me and.................. our Baby? 😳

Daniel: I love you, so I’ll love your Baby, too. Our Baby! And well, N.'s Baby. 🤨

Mom: Are you serious about this, D.? Can- and do you even want that?? 😟

Daniel: Yes!

Me: We decided to try and I have to talk to N. about it too.

Dad: However you decide to continue, together or .... separately, I will help Daniel. I’m just clarifying this, so you don’t make your decision dependent on that.

My Dad and Daniel kept talking about their new plans, while my Mom couldn't stop asking me questions.

Mom: You really wanna move? You know what kind of... strange things his mother did there. In that house! 😟

Me: It's a pretty house. I like it there. And she moved out, it's all fine. Besides, I have other worries rn, as you know.

Mom: That’s what I’ve been trying to make clear to you these past few weeks. But well, now you're pregnant. Either you two accept this and move on, or you’re really getting a divorce.

Me: He wants us to stay together. And actually I want the same. I don't wanna lose him.... I’m moving back to our apartment with him for a short while, see if Daniel and I can make it? And, I'm gonna talk to N. I don’t want to disappoint N. or hurt him. I have to come up with something. A soloution! 😟🤯

Mom: In other words, it's either/or? There is no other way out, A.!

Me: Who says that? You?.... I’m gonna do what’s right for me, Daniel and Nico, not for you or anyone else. 😒

Mom: What are you trying to tell me?.... You can’t do the same thing you did back then. This isn't normal!.. And you were unhappy! That’s not what you want! And I’m sure Daniel won’t agree with that. 😦

Me: I'm going to do what I got to do.

Mom: I know you A.! You won’t do anything. You will wait until one of them.......... goes nuts.

Me: I don’t think so. 😒

Just before Daniel and I wanted to leave, Ana also had some questions for me.😩

Me: Everything you are about to say, drop it pls.

Ana: Um.... ok! Have you had makeup sex? Or, no! I’d rather call it... homecoming-sex.🧐 I mean, you didn’t really fight, he just... took off.🤷‍♀️

Me: No, we didn’t!! We talked!

Ana: Then it's obvious! You want N.! With him you couldn’t wait even 24 hours. Plus, he knocked you up. 🤷‍♀️😬

Me: Ah...yup. You know, we'll see S. later. Are you joining us?

Ana: Nah! Sounds like a double date, I really don’t feel like it. I have other plans. And now go and have fun with your..... man. 😏

Me: Who are you having fun with, Ana? 🤨 Dennis?

Ana: Are you jealous of me for Dennis? 😜

Me: Ugh!... NO! 😖

Ana: Don't worry, sis. I’m not dating Dennis, a messed up guy. NO thanks! I have fun...... with myself. 😄

Me: Hmm?... I know you Ana! You have a secret. And you know me, baby sis. I'll uncover it. 😏💁‍♀️

Ana: Weirdo!

Ana really had a secret. At first I thought she was back with Adam or something, but no, it wasn’t Adam. Just that much, I get why she kept it a secret. 🤭

Previous/Next

[birlwrites]

No because everyone's reactions to him appearing would be so chaotic

There would be Walburga and Orion's reaction to Dumbledore letter who in turn would try to hold a meeting I feel or something to meet with him, Sirius just straight up yelling once he first sees him, the entirety of pureblood society and those they pestered in complete shock and then there's just Regulus there answering questions in the most cryptic way possible and Barty pretending he doesn't know anything And this all happening in a short time span because of how quickly news travels. Heck there was probably an issue in the prophet on his disappearance, and now a reappearance? Reporters are going to make the wildest stories.

YEAH FSJLGKSHLGJSKDGSDF

there was absolutely a story in the prophet - regulus is from an important family and he just vanished without a trace, and walburga would have wanted that as close to front page news as possible to force the dmle's hand into helping to look for him. so like. EVERYONE KNOWS HE'S MISSING.

sirius wordlessly screams and runs across the great hall in the middle of the sorting. mcgonagall is like 'WHAT are you doing' and sirius just blows past her to shake regulus by the shoulders and demand to know where the FUCK he's been. it takes 20 minutes of chaos and dumbledore restoring order before they're able to proceed with the sorting

immediately after the feast regulus gets pulled aside to go to the headmaster's office Right Now Please, he manages to grab barty's sleeve so whoop barty's coming too, partly for the chaos and partly because regulus has spent at least a full month IN BARTY'S ROOM and he is INTENSELY overstimulated and freaked out by all these people looking at him and knowing where he is so BARTY IS COMING TOO.

oh my god and if regulus waited until he had gotten his hogwarts letter to leave, that means he also got his PREFECT BADGE, and slughorn was going back and forth on whether to give it to someone else and decided on pulling either barty or evan aside right before the sorting (he couldn't decide which of them would be Less Bad as a prefect), and then he goes up to the slytherin table to find the fifth-years and rEGULUS IS RIGHT THERE. WEARING HIS BADGE. WHAT THE FUCK

dumbledore: your parents will naturally want to know where you have been

regulus: traveling

dumbledore: without telling them, as a minor?

regulus: sometimes the urge just strikes and what can you do

dumbledore: and where did you travel to

regulus, looking Deeply unhappy about it: the world of literature

[cilil]

New Year & Resolutions

So... 2023. As with many of us, it wasn't a great year for me. Lots of stress and struggling irl, family members getting severely ill, some tragic accidents... and with some of these situations being ongoing and big scary exams coming up, 2024 isn't looking much brighter for me in that regard.

However!

I still have my stories, my blorbos and my friends - and that means you guys - to keep me company and brighten my day. I don't know what I would do without you and all of the fun things we do together and for that, I'm endlessly grateful.

In late 2022, I (re)entered the Silmarillion fandom (as in, I was never interacting before that, but I was there), and in 2023 I joined and participated in a whole bunch of events and met so many great people - many new, but also a few I remember from back in the day. It felt great to finally, after all these years, have the courage to reach out and let you know that I love your works. Let's hope for another year of creativity and community, and I'm very much looking forward to what everyone has in store...

... which brings us to my new year's resolutions.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ I've started working on expanding my character pool, as some of you may have noticed in the more recent events and challenges I shared on my blog, and I want to continue doing that. Comfort is a fickle thing and I'm always worried I don't get it right, but I try to take it as an opportunity for creative growth either way.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Related to the previous point: I want to continue using the drabble and ficlet events specifically to give gifts to friends, mutuals and followers alike, so once again: If you have brainrot or fun ship ideas or anything of this sort, let me know, hit me up, let's chat. I love hearing new ideas. And if it's ever something I don't feel like I can write or talk about at that time I'll let you know, so no worries at all.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ I want to continue being present for events, but I need to find some time for my personal projects as well, which I haven't really managed this past year. There are several ideas for bigger projects I have lying around and collecting dust (both Angbang and otherwise) and I also have old fics from back in the day that I want to rewrite and share. It won't be easy, especially with the aforementioned exams and all, but I want to at least try.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ That also includes requests I have yet to fulfill and unfinished events. My apologies to all those who have waited longer for something than they should have - I assure you, I didn't forget about it. I'm just a bit of a bumbling fool who gets too excited about her hobby and then proceeds to bury herself in too much work.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ On the other hand, I did manage to make some progress in regards to being more motivated, being more productive and taking better care of myself and I want to continue improving in that regard, be it when it comes to fandom or otherwise. I also want to say thank you to all those who supported me during difficult times - you know who you are. Thank you. I appreciate you more than you will ever know.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ As generic as it sounds, I also want to continue improving my craft, both writing and, dare I hope, art. I had several moments over the year where I felt like I improved or I learned or understood a new thing, but there's always room for more and I'm someone who enjoys learning.

I might have forgotten something so there may be edits, but that's it for now.

I wish all of you a happy new year and all the best for 2024, even if things aren't looking too bright for you either. Despite everything, I'm confident that we can get through this together, and if nothing else just know that I'm here for you, trying to share the things that make my life better and hopefully bring others a bit of joy too.

By which I mean hot angel porn -

Bye~

[wvbaandtheboys]

Power-Up!! (A Punch-Out!! Fanfiction)

Little Mac receives a strange present from the mysterious Mr. Dream, supposedly to help him improve and become even better than he was before. Though both the boy wonder and his best friend, Birdie/Peter are skeptical of the consequences, Mac wishes to fulfill that burning curiosity of his. And it appears that he may have bitten off more than he can chew… (Oh! Content warning for gore. Also, if you don’t like reading transformation stuff, I’mma need you to either click off or proceed with caution. Either way, enjoy!)

“Once we get this operation going, you’ll be stronger than you could ever imagine.”

Mr. Dream’s words echoed back into Mac’s mind.

The young boxer unexpectedly was pulled out of a conversation with his trusted friend, Birdie, for an impromptu meeting with Mr. Dream, the spokesperson for the Dreamland Program and close associate of the WVBA. It wasn’t the most surprising thing to him after the fact, though. The man had scheduled a couple meetings here and there for the next month at the WVBA with Mac to set him up on what he called an “experimental routine.”

The details of this said routine were pretty vague. Mac asked a whole handful of questions to try and educate himself on just what he was getting himself into, but Mr. Dream barely gave out anything. In fact, it was almost like he was teasing the young boxer with potential bullet points, only to brush it off with a pearly smile and a variation of “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

Mac had previously discussed possibilities of career-enhancing factors with Mr. Dream before. Though Mac never really thought personally that he needed such things, as he was pretty much content with where he was in terms of rank, the idea of something that would potentially make him even better than he was before admittedly piqued his young curiosity.

His curiosity was only further roused by Mr. Dream’s enthusiasm about the entire operation.

The normally calm and collected enigma of a man showed some degree of excitement towards Mac’s new “carefully adjusted” schedule. Though certainly sly in keeping the intricate details of the product he was going to give the boxer unknown, Mr. Dream was encouraging of Mac to “experience the look before the leap.” However, he was abundant in instructions with where and how the young boxer should handle what he received.

Nearing the end of their chat, Mr. Dream gave Mac a small plastic bottle with a green bottle cap. Inside the bottle was a somewhat opaque, baby blue liquid. The appearance wasn’t at all concerning, in fact it just looked like a regular fizzy drink to Mac. However, the man informed Mac quite insistently that he should not let anyone else drink it. It was for him, and only him.

Those words stuck with Mac as he made his way back to the locker room where Peter was. “Hey-a, Macky! What’s that ya got there?” The blonde haired boy asked, flashing a bright smile at his best friend. “Oh, uh… Mr. Dream gave me this and… told me to try it.” He showed Peter the bottle. Abruptly, as though a flip switched in his head, Peter’s happy-go-lucky expression turned stern. “...He told you to drink that?” Even his voice changed to become more serious than a moment ago. “Uh… yeah…” Mac already got a bad feeling based on Peter’s reaction. It felt like he had a brotherly sense for when something was probably bad for Mac. And he had been right before a couple times.

It was kind of unsettling how intense Peter’s stare was as he seemed to weigh his own thoughts in his mind, thinking of what to say. “...Birdie?” Mac waved a hand in front of his face just to try and get him to blink. “Eh.” He blinked. Thank goodness. “...Mac. I-I don’t think you should drink that. Do you even know what’s in it?” Mac shook his head. Peter’s expression hardened. “So you don’t know what it’s made of or worse, what it’ll do to you. That’s even more reason to not try it.”

Mac could see where he was coming from. He had to admit that he had his own moderate suspicions, especially since the whole conversation lacked details. Though he took Peter’s concerns into consideration alongside his own, he was curious. Oh-so curious of what this little drink could do to make him stronger.

Call him naive, but his young mind just ran rampant with thoughts. He spun the bottle around in his hands, inspecting it from every possible angle like a scientist. There was nothing conspicuous about the bottle nor the liquid within it, but he did it anyway.

“...I-I know. I know. But… I… still wanna know what it’ll do.” Mac’s eyebrows furrowed as he gripped the bottle in his hand. He pinched two fingers around the cap, but made no motion to twist it. “Mac, stop. D-Don’t do it. Please.” Peter reached out his hand, but thought better of the situation and took it back. The growing tension of decision lingered in the air, uncomfortable and somewhat suffocating.

Even Mac felt it. Especially Mac. He was mostly indifferent, but common sense somewhat weighed in. Peter was right: who knew what this thing would do to him once he drank it? It could either help him, hurt him… or even.. worse. It got pretty bad thinking about it.

The tension only grew worse as Mac’s fingers tightened around the cap, slightly moving in a twisting motion. He opened up the bottle and brought the rim to his nose, sniffing at the liquid. The drink smelled pleasantly of citrus, the mild burn of carbonation hitting his nostrils.

“W-Wait, wait. Mac.” Peter stammered. “Huh?” Mac raised a brow. “…If you really wanna find out what it does… I-I can try it for you.” Internally, Mac was pretty touched by that. Whenever Peter sensed that Mac still wanted to act in a situation he didn’t exactly think was safe, he’d offer a solution to solve it himself. As rowdy and haphazard as Mac seemed with little regard for his own well-being at times, he could always appreciate his best friend looking out for him.

But keeping in mind Mr. Dream’s instructions, he started to feel a little worried.

“…Mr. Dream said I’m not supposed to let anyone else drink it, Peter. I don’t think I should do that anyways.” Peter’s eyes widened a bit, looking more annoyed at Mr. Dream’s frankly seedy nature in the situation more than anything. “You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me…” Mac didn’t want Peter to try it. Yeah, he was a little anxious now to try it himself despite his biting-the-bullet curiosity, but he honestly couldn’t let Peter try it on good conscience. What if something happened to him? What if it hurt him? He wouldn’t forgive himself easily if things went south. Not with Peter.

Mac thought of a compromise. It wasn’t fully satisfactory, but it was the best he had. If he really wanted to fulfill his quest to find out what this drink did, he had to convince Peter.

“Alright, alright. Here, I’ll cut you a deal.” Peter raised an eyebrow a little suspiciously, but he slowly nodded his head. “…Okay. I’m all ears.”

“I’ll drink a little. Not a lot, just maybe…” Mac measured with his fingers a length between just underneath the rim of the bottle to the first ridge. “This much. And then, we’ll wait a bit. If I feel anything bad, and I mean anything at all, I’ll put it down! If I feel just fine, then we can keep it going bit by bit. That way, you can keep an eye on me. Sounds good to you?”

That curious part of Mac hoped that he was convincing enough to at least allow the first part of the agreement to happen. The other boy’s expression remained fixed for a couple seconds, then changed to one of deep thought. For what was probably about two minutes, his face stayed like that. Finally, at the end of that time, it slowly changed to still uncertain, but leaning towards compliance. “You promise me you’ll stop if it happens?...” He inclined his head towards Mac with a tilt, clearly a little hesitant.

“I promise!” Mac nodded.

“...Alright. Deal.”

The young scrapper couldn’t help but give a little grin. He felt pretty clever for a moment about his negotiation skills. He was probably giving himself a bit too much credit, though.

Mac put the rim up to his lips, and drank the amount he specified. It tasted great, just like a lime soda. It was even kind of chilled like a fresh bottle of pop. “Huh. Not bad!” He sat down on one of the benches, nodding his head with a delighted hum. “How do you feel?” Peter sat down next to him, coming across as a little anxious in his tone. “Nothin’ yet. Let’s see.”

The two waited in silence for about five minutes.

“Anything?” Peter asked. “Eh… nope.” Mac shook his head. Peter had to admit that he felt a bit of relief at that, but his guard was still very much up. “...Okay.” He slowly nodded his head. Despite both of them being varyingly worried for valid reasons, Mac didn’t really like seeing Peter worked up like that.

“Hey, Pete. Ease up!” The young boxer chuckled as he wrapped an arm around him, rubbing his shoulder. “C’mon, we got a deal, remember? I won’t con ya outta it, promise!” Peter was barely affected by this reassurance, no matter how genuine it was. And while yes, it did bother Mac, he couldn’t be too upset. After all, he had not only gone back on a few of his promises before, but had been mistaken over the safety of particular scenarios. But he was more sure of himself this time around.

Confidently, Mac took another sip of the drink, and waited another couple of minutes.

Nothing.

“...Huh. …I’m starting to think we were worryin’ for nothin’.” The boy remarked as he propped a leg up on the bench. The bottle was halfway finished, and he felt no different than when he hadn’t drank anything. Well, Mac didn’t know what he was expecting, but he was anticipating something rather than seemingly nothing at all. It was kind of a let down, if he was being honest.

A couple minutes later, he had drunk the last of the bottle’s contents without incident. In fact, he felt kind of refreshed after the matter. “Well, Peter? I’m alright.” Mac turned to his friend a bit smugly. “Seems like you were worryin’ for nothin this time around, huh?” Peter sighed lightly, and nodded his head. “...I just didn’t really trust that bottle. I still don’t.” Mac’s grin faded. Peter was really taking this hard.

“...Yeah, I didn’t think you would. But, look!” Mac stood from the bench, pacing round in front of Peter with a confident strut. “See? I’m just fine! Ain’t nothin’ gonna stop Lil’ Mac!” Really, he was mostly doing this to try and amuse his friend. To try and get him to cheer him up. But Mac was also relieved that he was okay. No matter how cocky he felt at that moment, or slightly disappointed by the lack of anything happening, he was grateful nothing happened.

“...Hm.” Peter cracked the tiniest smile. Though he was relieved, he was barely paying attention. Deep down, he was still worried. Something could still happen. That thought clouded his head, sending him into yet another pit of deep thought.

“...Though, it’s pretty weird. Why’d he make such a big deal about this little thing?” Mac held the bottle in a hand still, scanning it over. He then carelessly threw it aside then put his arms up in a stretching motion. “Welp, that happened! What do you say we get some fresh air?”

A loud thud rang out into the locker room.

Peter perked up, and took a glance around. The thud was so jarring that he thought something heavy had fallen out of place, like a locker or a ceiling tile. It wouldn’t have been too shocking. This stadium was slowly falling apart after all, and the WVBA were barely paying any mind to it.

The lockers stood upright. The ceiling was intact. So then, what fell?

He turned back to Mac.

“...Mac?”

He looked down.

The boy was nearly stiff on the ground. Mac was laying on his stomach with his head facing Peter. The expression on his face was haunting. Mac’s eyes were wide, pupils dilated and trembling. His entire body was soaked in droplets of sweat, raining down his skin.

Streams of tears beaded down from his eyes. Drool rolled down from his open mouth to his chin, then to the ground as his chest rose and fell with his strained, ragged breathing. He audibly, yet softly gurgled, unable to form words.

His limbs and neck twitched erratically. Disturbingly enough, it almost looked like his muscles were… rolling. It was even visible just beneath his skin, causing moving lumps to surface for a few moments before disappearing again. He was in such a gnarly amount of agony that it was nearly unbearable to even breathe.

Peter’s heart dropped. “MAC!”

Every bit of calmness he had left him the moment he fully realized Mac had collapsed. His body practically flung itself off the bench and onto the ground, as he held onto his friend’s crumpled form with trembling hands. “W-WHAT’S GOING ON?! PLEASE, T-TALK TO ME!” Mac was affected by Peter’s touch, flipping onto his back with a loud whimper. Almost as though just being touched brought him even more pain.

The other boy’s hands shot up into the air, startled by the reaction. “I’M SO SORRY-!” He felt truly terrible about making him feel even worse. But his entire body was running on so much adrenaline that he could hardly think straight, let alone control his actions. What thoughts were coherent were circling a mile a minute, screaming in his head to help Mac. Just help him.

Meanwhile, Mac was still in intense pain. The initial tidal wave of hurt had passed, which made it a bit bearable, but it still felt like hell on Earth. He felt his muscles flexing, extending and contracting, rolling underneath his skin. His bones felt like they were creaking, making any sort of movement nigh impossible because of the sheer electrifying sensation of pain it would cause. His heart was racing in his chest, almost feeling like it was going to break his rib cage if it didn’t break itself first.

It felt like his body was actively trying to crumble itself into pieces.

Dread clouded Mac’s thoughts. He could only think, as he continued to suffer and his close friend watched, if this was going to kill him. If he was going to just die in front of Peter. No. No… he couldn’t die. This would have been such a foolish and easily avoidable way to die! But the pain he was going through felt like it was killing him. Making his thoughts decay to mush, his vision to a vignetted lens of the world around him.

Why didn’t he listen to Peter?... Why didn’t he refuse the damn bottle?!

Why did he stand there, and tell Peter everything was going to be okay when he also had a feeling that it wouldn’t be?!

Oh…

This was it… wasn’t it?...

Suddenly, a flash of red came over Mac’s eyes. And his dread melted into something else.

Rage.

A distinct rage began to boil in him, unprecedented and rapidly rising. The excruciating pain ravaging the young scrapper’s body became insignificant as this newfound emotion continued to rise more and more, contorting his terrified expression into one of unbridled anger. Confusion turned into intent, becoming clear in his throbbing head. He gnashed his teeth, wave after wave of heat washing over him, making him hot to the touch.

Peter could only sit there in slack jawed awe. He hadn’t the faintest idea what was going on. Just a couple moments ago, Mac was twitching and sobbing in agony with the fear of God in his eyes. But now, he was practically giving Peter a death stare. Peter’s jaw moved to try and form words, but he was rendered near speechless in the presence of such blazing fury.

“...W… What’s going o-”

Mac’s left arm gave a particularly violent twitch-

CRACK!

Pain surged through Peter’s jaw before he went flying backwards. His back met the floor before his head did with a harsh thud, his legs landing hung over the bench they were sitting on a few minutes ago. The taste of metal saturated his tongue, causing him to turn his head and abruptly cough. The floor beside him became splattered with blood. His eyes went wide. Mac… Mac just punched him.

That was no regular punch. No punch from Mac of all people should have knocked him backwards. That swing… It was filled with strength that was unfathomable for someone small like Mac. It was physically impossible for his body to possess.

Peter heard Mac grunt jarringly. Through his dazed vision, he saw the silhouette of Mac, who was now on his hands and knees, breathing hoarsely. Those unnerving cramping motions in his muscles still occurred visibly. Mac suddenly grunted again, but curled inwards as if something were happening to him. Something much worse.

The stunned Peter could only watch as Mac began to change. …To grow. His fairly well built body bulged and shifted, as Mac thrashed and jerked round erratically as if he were trying to stifle expressing anything during this clearly painful transformation. He was near silent, only the sound of his breathing hitching as he continued to morph. His arms were twice, no, thrice the size they used to be after the fact, the same growth happening to the rest of his body.

At the end of the horrific scene, Mac barely looked the same. His now longer hair hung in unkempt spikes, hulking muscles moving with the rise and fall of his chest. His gray tank top had been shredded in the process, laying in tatters of fabric on the ground. For what felt like an eternity, Mac sat there idly. As if he were drinking in what he had just experienced. What he became.

Peter finally garnered the courage to say something.

“...Mac…? W… What… happened to you…?”

Mac jolted, giving yet another grunt as his head turned upwards. Then, slowly, he turned to face Peter. His features had become rather defined, with noticeable cheekbones, a larger nose and thicker eyebrows that made his eyes look a bit smaller than usual. It was Mac but… He looked nothing like himself. He seemed caught off guard by Peter’s state, moving back the slightest inch with a surprised expression. But, as if a switch flipped in his head, the aggression from earlier returned.

Something about the way this new form’s expression changed to express rage was different, however. What was it? Maybe it was the way his eyebrows furrowed so deeply, his eyes gazing at Peter with nothing but disdain. Maybe, it was the way that his nose scrunched as he bared his teeth at Peter. Or perhaps… it was the near animalistic, low and vibrating growl that sounded from his throat. The snarl that followed as he turned his body towards Peter.

Maybe it was all of those combined.

In any case, Peter could only compare how he felt in this situation to how a hare would feel staring down a ravenous wolf.

Helpless.

“...M-Mac…?”

Peter felt a cold shock down his back. His hands began to tremble once more, traveling up his arms to the rest of his body. He couldn’t stop shaking. He… He was afraid. Terrified of what Mac would do to him.

Mac’s body inclined backwards like some sort of animal about to pounce. The growling only grew louder, reaching a fever pitch moments before he launched himself at Peter with a bone-chilling roar, and grabbed his ankles with a vice-like grip.

Poor Peter stood no chance against Mac’s newfound strength. With relative ease, he was swung up from where he stood and slammed against the wall of the locker room. The harsh and loud impact knocked any scream that he could have given to alert anyone out of him. His already limp form then fell to the ground and was promptly pinned beneath the giant’s overwhelming weight.

With yet another roar, Mac began to mindlessly beat his best friend. Just pummeling his body with that rage fueled adrenaline, either unable or unwilling to stop. The sounds he belted out were just as startling. Guttural screaming, snarling, and growling rang out non-stop as he continued the vicious beating.

The swing of a door practically being swung off its hinges was faintly audible in Peter’s near delirious state. “VHAT IZ GOING ON IN HERE?!” Wait… was that… Von Kaiser’s voice…? Had someone finally heard the commotion…?!

“EVERYONE, COME! QUICKLY!” He heard the old German man yell to what was supposedly the other boxers. Immediately, two more voices joined the mix.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT THING?! IS THAT MAC?!”

That was Super Macho Man. No doubt about that.

“AND H-HE’S ATTACKING PETER! WE HAVE TO DO SOMETHING!”

And that was Don Flamenco.

In the span of two seconds, both Don and Kaiser had their arms around Mac’s biceps, trying to pry him off. It barely did anything. Both men struggled to even slightly move his arms. Though they did have an effect, Peter kept getting heavy punches to the abdomen and face. “OY, MACHO MAN! GET OVER HERE AND BE USEFUL FOR ONCE!” Don yelled to Macho.

“W-WHAT?! I-I’M NOT TOUCHING HIM WHEN HE’S LIKE THAT! I DON’T HAVE A DEATH WISH!” Macho argued back. “Y TE DARÉ UNA SI SIGUES JODIENDO, GILIPOLLAS. ¡VEN AQUÍ AHORA!” Don hissed aloud in Spanish. Upon hearing this, Macho gave a loud groan. “ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT!” Peter saw the larger boxer’s arms wrap around Mac’s neck in some sort of headlock, with Macho arching his back with as much effort as possible to move him backwards. “COME ON, KID! GET OFFA HIM ALREADY!”

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOIN’ ON HERE?!” Yet another boxer’s voice rang out into the room. Macho turned his head in the midst of the struggle. “DUDE! DON’T JUST STAND THERE AND GAWK! USE THOSE FREAKIN’ BEAR MUSCLES AND HELP ME OUT HERE!” “ON IT!” Bear muscles…? That voice definitely belonged to Bear Hugger, then.

Even with the combined strength of two lightweights and two heavyweights pulling against him, it still wasn’t enough to overpower the hulking Mac who just became further provoked by the resistance. He jerked around with what wiggle room he had, trying to throw them off of him. In light of this, all the boxers only held on tighter.

Just one more ought to do it.

“WHAT THE-?!” One more voice came in. “SANDMAN! Terrific timin’! Give us a hand here, wontcha?!” Sandman? Oh, this should work! The last boxer was quick to join the group, pulling as hard as he could. Inch by inch, Mac began to be pulled back, until…

CRASH!

Mac was finally yanked backwards and landed on the floor. All the boxers collectively worked together to hold him down, despite the savage thrashing he was trying to do, still making those horrid animalistic sounds. Kaiser glanced back to the barely conscious Peter, and his eyes went wide. “D-Do you zhink you can hold him?!”

“Y-Yeah! We got ‘im good! Go check on Pete!”

The boxer got up and jogged over to the injured boy, kneeling beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder. “…Mein Gott…” It was horrific, the damage done to poor Peter’s body. His stomach and chest were basically painted with splotches of sickly, dark purple. Blood was even coming out from some of the wounds. His face was the worse part. His cheeks were inflamed to a disturbing degree, one of his eyes swollen shut with the other almost looking as if it were going to do the same. Blood splattered the bridge of his nose and from his lips, still running.

“…P-Peter. Can you hear me…?” Peter blinked the decent eye to say yes, as he didn’t have the strength to speak or move anything. Every single part of his body felt like it was on fire, burning and stinging with near excruciating pain. This was the worst beating he had ever received in his life.

Kaiser, though thoroughly horrified, kept a level head and nodded. “I-I’m… going to get you to ze medical bay, okay? You’re going to be alright, my friend. I promise you zat.” That made Peter feel just a little better in this horrible situation. He was terrified that he was going to get the crap beaten out of him and nobody would know. Thank goodness they came to save him.

However, the injuries proved to be too much for Peter to remain conscious. In a matter of seconds after receiving reassurance, his world turned black.

[vvyvernicus]

Sneak peak of my upcoming Astarion romance fanfiction!

(First Meeting)

Even from several paces away, his features were unmistakable—white, curly hair, red eyes, pale skin, and those distinctive pointy ears. His appearance stood out, surpassing the usual standards of attractiveness she encountered. She blinked twice, needing a moment to compose herself before approaching. As she drew nearer, he too regarded her with a hint of skepticism.

“You there! I don't know who you are, but come over here. I've got one of those brain things cornered,” he spoke to her, gesturing for her to come closer.

Brain things? What is he on about? Lexia wondered, cautiously walking towards him. More importantly, what exactly is he?

“A… brain thing, huh? I can't say I know what you're talking about, but you've piqued my interest,” Lexia replied, scanning her surroundings for anything resembling a brain as she reached his side.

Lexia's eyes lit up in immediate realization. Yes, this made perfect sense. Back in Roricus' hidden room, the map she was looking at had a location called The Sword Coast. If that was right, then she very may well have been sent to this world. She didn't know how, but if so, this was a fantasy world she was in. It was eerily too good to possibly be true.

I'm not sure what's going on here, but could this be one of the creatures of Hell? If so, it's probably best to eliminate it. But wait, can they even be killed? Lexia pondered, her mind racing with questions.

“I've only just arrived here, so my apologies if I seem uninformed. But are these brains regenerative? Or can they be permanently downed?” she asked, trying to grasp the best approach to deal with such a mysterious creature.

However, he looked at her as if she were the oddest thing he'd ever seen. Her mind went blank, unsure of how to proceed. She wanted information, not immediate dismissal. Yet her lack of experience in this new place left her feeling vulnerable.

“You really have no idea what these things are, do you?” he inquired, and she sighed.

“Of course not. As I said, I have never been here before. But if this brain creature needs to be killed, I can handle it,” she assured him, flashing a slight grin. If it was the size of a human brain, it should be easy to dispatch, right? At least small enough that she couldn't spot it immediately.

His stance softened a little as he continued to study her. Lexia sensed that she wasn't handling the situation well. Blending in was essential to avoid being taken advantage of, yet she felt like a complete novice. There had to be a better way to navigate this than appearing clueless.

“But…”

Her eyes focused on his features, and suddenly, she realized.

“There isn't actually a 'brain thing' here, is there?” she smiled, noticing a flicker of agitation in his eyes.

Being around demons accustomed to frequent lies made her adept at discerning truths and falsehoods. While demons were especially crafty, it did make knowing the lies of humans quite easy for her to catch on to. Even the most clever mortals had subtle ways of revealing their lies. From only this short interaction, she could tell that he was the type to lie frequently and get away with it.

“Well, of course there is. Well, was. But now it's probably gone because you've stalled me long enough,” he huffed in annoyance, a bit too dramatically.

“Don't worry about it. I'm sure that would have worked on nearly everyone else,” Lexia smiled, feeling much more relieved than before. He wasn't quite human, but she could tell he wasn't a demon either, which eased her considerably. “Also you're a—”

Before she could finish, she noticed his guarded expression. It was if he anticipated what she was about to say and prepared to retaliate. Even so, she wasn't scared of the potential outcome.

“An elf? Sorry, I just noticed your ears and… well, where I'm from doesn't have many elves,” she told him, leaving out that she had never heard of elves outside of fiction.

He seemed caught off guard but quickly responded with a smirk.

“Does that intrigue you?” he replied somewhat flirtatiously. “But yes, for your information, I am. You are an… interesting sort, aren't you?” he added, looking her up and down. “A person oblivious to the chaos sweeping across The Sword Coast. Honestly it's kind of pitiful.”

Lexia's eyes lit up in realization. Yes, this made perfect sense. Back in Roricus' hidden room, the map she examined mentioned a location called The Sword Coast. If that was accurate, then she very may well have been transported to this fantasy world. It seemed too good to be true.

“We are near Baldur's Gate, correct?” she asked, attempting to confirm her theory.

“Yes, that's where I was before…” He paused, looking like he didn't want to divulge his recent activities. “Ah, nevermind that. I take it you are in need of a traveling companion? You did mention before you were quite new to the area.”

He doesn't seem the most trustworthy, but having a guide would be nice. Lexia thought as she considered his offer.

“Alright, that would be great then. As long as you don't mind me prying you about these current events,” she began, knowing there was a fair chance he might feed her lies. “And my name is Lexia Erevas. I'm half-human, though the other part shall stay a secret for now,” she smiled playfully, hoping to divert his attention.

“Astarion. The pleasure is all mine. I'll be sure to uncover that little secret of yours later,” he said, voice becoming quite sultry. “I'll take the lead… for now.”

[one-winged-dreams]

ALL EVEN NUMBERS FOR AZUL GOOOOO

@sosoftandsweet

GAHHHHH I'M ABOUT TO GO HAM ON THIS LMAO

Was your FO immediately receptive of your advances, or visa versa, or was that something that came with time?

Azul was ambivalent based on his judge of Sol's character. He was damaged goods, so was he even worth interacting with? Should he try to kill him? But he's also fucking insane, and that's kinda fun. Guess I'll just let him hang around if he wants, idfk... And then proceeded to get attached to the point of RAGING jealousy if anyone else fucked with Sol. HE'S the only one allowed to fuck with him dontchaknow. Now he's just super fun to watch and be around, and he's just so damn CUTE, AUUUGH.

No couple is going to agree 100% of the time. What is the main source of any disagreement between you? Is it the same topic for all parties, or do you have different sticking points? Has this ever caused a row?

Sol would never in a million years disagree with Azul, but the shards of rage do flare up from time to time and he's just like "FightmefightmefightmefightMEFIGHTME." but like... In a weird affectionate sort of way? While still being angry? Like, I'M SO ANGRY YOU AREN'T KNOCKING ME TO THE FLOOR RIGHT NOW. And Azul isn't ALWAYS receptive, so Sol would aggressively follow him around, fuming and bonking his head against him askjgh. And either Azul would end up finding it cute, or he'd get angry too and be like "FINE, LET'S GO THROW DOWN, GOD."

Your FO is having an awful day and wants to throw it all in and just give up. It is your job to bring them around and help them believe in themselves again. How do you do it?

Azul absolutely does not give up on anything ever, but he does get moody. Especially back when the Restrictors were a thing. Sol proceeds to make a nuisance of himself asking Azul if there's ANYYYTHING he can do. Anything at all. Please ask me to do something for you. If Azul is feeling up to it, they request either a sparring session or a mission together. Nothing more cathartic than beating people up, even if it's each other.

Last time we asked how quickly your FO came to trust you. This time we want to know: How quickly did you come to trust your FO? Was it an instant thing, or did they have to really work to get through your barriers so you could open yourself up to them completely?

I still am mulling over the timelines, but I want to say Sol "joined" Deepground before Azul, he was just kind of on standby. He was absolutely considered one of the colored Tsviets, the Restrictors just didn't like using him because he was so broken. When Azul came along and he got to interact with him for the first time, the Restrictors kind of had them go at each other for funzies, let's test out the new beast on the scrap project zero suit style. And then Azul ABSOLUTELY managed to bust his lights out. He was quite the scrappy boy, though (no pun intended), and shifted into one of his rage shards, launched himself at Azul, and got knocked back down again. And then got up again. And he got knocked down. And he got up again. Now that song is gonna be stuck in my head. Anyway, he was burning so much mako on top of the mako that was building that he evened out and just collapsed, got laughed at, by Azul, and shard shifted again, but this time with heart eyes. And he was obsessed with him from then on out.

Do you or your FO have any skeletons in the closet? Have they been revealed yet, and if so, what was the reaction of the person learning about the unexpected past events? If not, do you think they will ever be revealed?

They are both literal killing machines made by morally reprehensible experiments. I think the transparency is there based on -gestures vaguely- everything. However, if they were to find each other's files, I think it would go like this.

Sol would obsessively pore over every detail, the fact that Azul was kidnapped by Shinra, killed his kidnappers, and then decided "Wait, I want in on this action" and went BACK to Shinra to volunteer himself would drive him fucking nuts. And the fact that he killed all the other behemoth experiments (minus you lmao) would have his head spinning with adoration. Like, wow, Azul is so strong, only someone so strong could do what he did, I love him I love him I love him I lo-

Azul would find it HILARIOUS that Sol had volunteered himself to a project without knowing the finer details of it. The fact that he basically got trapped into brutal experimentation, the reports of his gradual descent until the sudden absolute sundering of his mind turning him into an aberrant lunatic that killed the ones that had done it to him, and the decision to totally scrap him by handing him off to Deepground because he was too much trouble and not nearly useful enough? What a guy, just an absolute riot. It would probably make him TWICE as fond of him.