#any that handsome devil fans yet

[nyenylon]

This album is pretty good I guess '-'

Deepest apologies for Beigesune Miku

[little-diable]

Lightning - Tyler Owens (smut)

I mean, we all knew this would happen. I haven’t seen the movie yet, but I am DESPERATE for him. And as somebody who actually has something to do with studying tornadoes, I had to write this. I am obsessed with this fic, but I doubt this will get much attention, so please actually reblog it if you enjoyed reading it! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Tyler and the reader are chasing tornadoes together, but when they have to step back and find shelter, things quickly change between them.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, handjob, kinda enemies to lovers, teasing and all that fun stuff

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem!reader (3k words)

Wind was blowing in her face, letting her strands dance in the air while her eyes flickered between her laptop screen and the dark sky. She was surrounded by her team, trying to ignore their shouts as they decided which direction to head in. (Y/n) was torn between too many options, not liking the way this afternoon was playing out. 

It was do or die, miss or hit one of the biggest tornadoes they had come across in a while. And yet the second cell that was currently forming gave off a somewhat more promising chance of catching enough data this time around. 

“Which way will it be, lightning?” Her breath hitched in her chest as he mumbled the words, front pressed against her back. The hairs on her arms began to rise, fully focused on his closeness, allowing her to pick up on the scent of his familiar cologne, on the way his breath fanned over the back of her neck as if he was about to kiss that very spot.

“Am I dreaming? Is Tyler Owens asking for my opinion?” She slowly turned towards the handsome man. Her eyes instantly found his piercing ones, getting lost in their intense gaze while he shot her one of his signature smirks. Fuck, if he weren’t such an asshole most of the time, she would easily give in to the pull she felt, allowing him to tug her towards his bed without having to fear about the aftermath. But if there was one thing (y/n) was sure of, it was that Tyler Owens was all about playing games, toying with a woman until he eventually grew bored. He was a personification of a thunderstorm, fast moving and never ready to settle.

“Don’t let it get to your head, pretty.” She clicked her tongue with a displeased expression tugging on her features. There was no time left to study him, to curse whoever had created him for making him look this handsome. They had to stay focused, at least until she got the data she needed for her project. 

“Alright, we’re heading east.” (Y/n) closed her laptop before reaching for her bag–the bag that was snatched from her grasp before she could protest. Tyler had slung it over his shoulder while tilting his head towards his truck, silently asking her to ride with him. 

On any other occasion she would have cursed him, would have told him to fuck off. But today, while being heavily understaffed, she needed any help she could get. And knowing that Tyler drove like the devil himself, she knew she had the best chance of arriving just in time with him by her side. 

His smirk grew wider the second she gave in, begrudgingly following Tyler while her eyes found the confused ones of her teammates. She only rolled her eyes at them, raising her shoulders and dropping them again as if she was wordlessly telling them that she was just as confused as they were, not seeing through Tyler’s game just yet. 

Silence filled the truck, only a few commands left (y/n) whenever they needed to make a turn, chasing down the roads to catch up with the growing cell. All while the others followed behind them, too slow to catch up with Tyler’s truck. Her heart was pounding in her chest, riled up by the anticipation of chasing another storm – no matter how many times she had done this before, (y/n) would never get used to the thrill, the moments leading up to seeing yet another beautiful though terrifying tornado. 

“You alright, pretty?” She’d never get used to the way Tyler called her, dripping with that drawl she loved more than she’d ever admit. (Y/n) didn’t look at him, fully focused on her laptop to monitor the path their tornado took. No word left her pressed together lips, trying to drown out the feeling of his concerned eyes flickering towards her every few seconds. 

“(Y/n)?” The use of her name ripped (y/n) out of her trance, letting her wide pupils find his. She only nodded at Tyler, knowing she couldn’t waste any time on the crush she could never speak of, preferring to take her secret to the grave rather than feeding his ego–only to end up with a broken heart in the process. 

“Guys, can you hear me?” She held the radio close, speaking to the others while refocusing on the map. All they could hear was rustling, unable to pick up on the reply that was spoken on the other end. Curses clawed through (y/n), she tried to reach their teams again, while swallowing the sinking feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. No longer could she see them in the rearview mirror, telling her that they hadn’t made it down the narrow path Tyler had taken.

The road ahead was muddy, forcing the truck to slither along while Tyler tried to avoid holes and ditches. With one hand clutching the door, (y/n) tried to hold still, not daring to bump into Tyler whose angry cusses filled the truck. Both had their eyes focused ahead, knowing that this had been the wrong choice, the wrong tornado to chase. They were heading straight towards their death if they kept going that way, knowing that without their team by their side, they wouldn’t be able to collect enough data anyway. 

“I hate being the one to say it, but we gotta find shelter, lightning.” Tyler’s annoyed groans left her nodding, giving him the green light to take a sharp left to turn towards the town close by. With the slimmest chance to find proper shelter, Tyler kept speeding along, seemingly having a spot in mind. (Y/n) was angry, at herself, at the road conditions, knowing that this situation should have played out much differently. And all she could do was trust the man she had always tried to hate.

“Come, follow me.” The truck was forced to a sudden halt. (Y/n) followed Tyler outside, holding onto her things while he reached for her free hand to pull her along. He guided her towards what appeared to be a barn, a building she paid no attention to as she studied the tornado, getting lost in its beauty for a second. “They built an underground shelter here a few years back, if we’re lucky nobody else had the time to find it.”

Tyler pushed her into the unlocked barn, letting the doors slide close again before he led her down some stairs. She didn’t dare speak, torn between too many emotions. All (y/n) could do was let go of a sigh while being ushered into the empty, dark shelter. It took her a while to adjust to the darkness, letting her hands move along the metallic wall until she found what appeared to be a light switch. She gave it a try, though without any luck, letting herself drop to the ground while Tyler stayed glued to his spot. 

If both hadn’t been too deep in thought, they would have realised that this was the first time they were sheltering together, completely alone without any nosy eyes watching them or listening to their talks. 

“We should have gone west, I’m sorry.” Her whispers filled the small shelter, luring Tyler closer who plopped down next to her. He fumbled with his phone to turn on the fleshlight, letting it rest on the ground to alight their surroundings. A few boxes were placed against the wall, filled with water and some snacks they hopefully wouldn’t have to use, praying that they’d get out of here fast enough to chase their luck once again. 

“There’s always time for another try, pretty.” Tyler reached for her hand to squeeze it before he could stop himself, forcing her eyes to focus on the spot where she now felt a buzzing sensation. She let her head roll towards Tyler, studying the white hat he took off with his free hand, placing it down on the ground, only to comb through his hair. 

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you without that thing on.” (Y/n)’s whispers left him chuckling, a sound that momentarily managed to drown out the roar of the tornado. The howling was an almost comforting sound to them, after years of chasing them, well aware of every little detail. 

“Well, you’re one of the few who gets the honour, appreciate it.” She rolled her eyes at him before ripping her gaze off of him. Heat flushed through her at his teasing, a heat that only grew more biting as she realised that they were still holding hands. Her tongue moved along her dry lips, trying to find the right words to break their silence, silently hoping that she could cherish every single second of their time together. As much as she had once sworn to hate him while burying her crush deep inside of herself, she had lost all strength to fight against it, at least for now.

“Why have we never done this before?” Tyler seemed to feel the same longing, drawing her focus back towards him with his question. His eyes had an even more piercing touch to them now, having an invisible tight grasp on her soul she didn’t want to escape from. 

“Because you’re an asshole most of the time and I can’t stand being around you for long.” (Y/n)’s sharp reply left him laughing, a loud sound that had an addicting effect on her, leaving her chuckling while shaking her head at the man. 

“You wound me, lightning. Here I was hoping you’d finally let me take you out on a date, once this day’s over.” No longer did she laugh, the sound was stuck in her throat all too suddenly.

Did he truly mean it? Was he planning on asking her out? Or was Tyler playing yet another game with her? 

“Don’t fuck with me, Owens.” His hand darted out to grasp her chin, forcing her to keep her focus on him before she could even try to turn away from him. For just a second, she watched his gaze flicker between her eyes and her slightly parted lips. Once again her heart was back to racing, no longer focused on the howling wind, the sounds of things crashing outside, but fully and solemnly focused on Tyler. 

“Are you scared of this thing between us?” Once again, his question managed to rob her of the air filling her lungs, not expecting him to be this direct with her. A part of (y/n) begged her to cuss him out, to make fun of the question, to escape the avalanche that was about to roll upon them, but the bigger - more desperate - part of her, managed to gain the upper hand, leading her straight towards danger.

“Well, even though you enjoy riding your fears, I prefer to face ‘em. I’m not scared, not of this, whatever this is. But I’m fucking terrified of you toying with me and dropping me the second I’m no longer interesting enough.” He let go of her, only to pull her into his lap, making her straddle his stretched out legs. They held eye contact, wordlessly daring one another to move first, to give in to the pull that was as strong as an F5 they’d happily chase on any other day. 

“I’d be fucking stupid to mess it up with you.” She felt his breath on her lips, ghosting over her soft skin like he was giving her one last chance to pull away. A chance she wouldn’t take, letting it pass while finding his lips for a soft kiss that escalated within seconds. With his hand pressed to the back of her head and his other placed on her waist, Tyler held her to him while deepening the kiss.

Their tongues fought for victory, knowing that neither of them would back down from a fight against the other, urged on by their need to gain the upper hand. Soft groans and moans left them while their bodies searched one another’s closeness, knowing that this was something they wouldn’t tell others about, preferring to keep this as their secret. 

Her hands roamed his clothed chest, feeling his muscles beneath her wandering fingers while finding her way to his belt. She toyed with the buckle for a moment while her lips were still glued to his, knowing they’d have to part any moment now to inhale some much needed breaths of air. 

“You sure you want to do this in here, lightning?” His chuckles left her grinning, while holding onto the question she had wanted to ask for a while now. 

“Why lightning?” A kiss was shared between them, much softer than the one before. Her hand was still toying with his belt, slowly undoing the buckle to wordlessly tell him she wanted this much as he did, even though they knew that it was stupid and selfish of them to hide out here while their teams were undoubtedly worrying about them. 

“Well, the first time I saw you, you struck me like lightning, brightening my darkest day.” The explanation was cheesy, and yet it still drew heat up her neck. She could only swallow, smile at him and refocus on her hands. Tyler let her move, freeing his hardening cock while his impatient hands tugged on the buttons of her blouse, letting it pop open to expose her bra-clad chest. 

���Fuck, you’re a dream.” Her eyes flickered up to his while she spat into her palm, using her saliva to lube him up. Tyler couldn’t stop his moans from clawing through him, fully focused on the way he perfectly fit into her hand, pressed against the soft skin he wanted to feel against every inch of his body. His head rolled back against the wall, eyes closed and lips parted – offering a sight that made her walls clench around nothing, proud for being the one to make him feel like that. 

Her hand added more speed to its movements, squeezing him with just enough pressure to draw another raspy moan from Tyler. He allowed himself to relish in her touch for another moment before he gently though urgently grasped her wrist to stop her from moving. 

“Will you ride me, lightning?” His accent grew thicker with every syllable, leaving her shuddering while only a soft chuckle managed to leave her. She rose to her feet to shuffle out of her jeans, keeping her eyes focused on Tyler who marvelled at her as if she was the strongest tornado he had ever been fortunate enough to see, fully mesmerised by everything about her. She kept her panties on while finding her way back to his lap, knowing that they needed to hit the road soon, not giving them a chance to do this properly. 

“Wait, here.” He reached for his back pocket to pull a condom out of his wallet, letting her rip it open to roll it down his aching cock. Both their hearts were beating in sync, knowing that they were finally about to do something they had been desperate for ever since running into one another for the first time. No matter how much anger and hatred had once grown between them, it was now turning them from opponents to lovers–or whatever it was both were trying to adjust to. 

Tyler held onto her as she sank down on him, letting her forehead fall against his shoulder for a second. No words were spoken while they had to adjust, overwhelmed by the new sensation and the whirlwind of emotions buzzing through them like a storm hitting them both. With her hands holding onto him, clinging to the fabric of the shirt he wore, she began to move, fucking herself on his twitching cock with such a passion, Tyler feared he may never want to get out of this shelter again. 

“Tyler,” his name left her, a breathy whisper he almost missed, too far gone to focus on anything but their closeness. He palmed her ass, letting his fingertips dig into her skin to leave marks that would remind her of this very moment for days to come. His hips met hers, jerking upwards to make his cock disappear inside of her even deeper, drawing desperate moans from them which dripped with a need for more. 

“Attagirl, look at you, fucking yourself on my cock like you were born for this.” She moaned at his words, knowing that her thighs would start aching soon enough, begging for a new position to give herself the needed push to fall over the edge. “What? You’re already getting tired? I should have fucked you in my truck, make you scream my name while the world’s ending around us.” 

He pushed her off of him without a warning, leaving her dazed and confused for a second while watching him rise to his feet. With a hand stretched out for (y/n) to take, he pulled her up towards him–only to pick her up and press her against the wall. His cock was pushed back into her, stretching her walls while he fucked her with a fast pace that made both of them see stars. 

(Y/n) clawed at his neck, needing to hold onto him while he fucked her closer and closer to the edge. A cocky grin widened on his lips as he felt her walls tightening their grip on his cock. She was close, would let go soon with his name burning on the tip of her tongue, a perfect reminder that she was his from today on, glued to the man who she had once sworn to hate. 

“Scream my name, lightning, show them what a real thunderstorm sounds like.” If he weren’t buried deep inside of her, she would have rolled her eyes at him. But (y/n) was too far gone to care about his cheesy teasing, solemnly focused on her arising high and the name rolling off her tongue like a prayer.

And then she came, pushed into an orgasm so strong, (y/n) feared she’d never experience something like this again. It buzzed through every part of her body, stealing her breath as if she was drowning, forcing her heart to skip beats as if she was chased by someone or rather something. Tyler kept fucking her against the wall, urged on by her moans, the sounds he’d never forget again. 

Pants kept leaving him while chasing his own high, letting his skin meet hers with every ferocious thrust. And with one last “Fuck” Tyler came, relieving himself into the condom as his smirk returned to his lips. Both were heavily breathing, clinging to the other while coming down from their highs.

“I don’t know if I can walk back to the truck.” Carefully, he placed (y/n) back down on her feet, shaking his head at her with a soft smile thrown her way. Tyler pressed another kiss to her slightly swollen lips before both redressed, knowing that they had to get out of here and back to their team as fast as possible. 

“You know I’ll gladly carry you, lightning. I always will, if you let me.”

[kithtaehyung]

bet wrong (3tan717) | myg

drabble: bet wrong pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)  series: masterlist | three tangerines | 3tan717 | one  rating/genre: pg (18+) ; angst , fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: after seeing how comfortable yoongi is in his place with your brother and their friends, it’s hard for you to leave… but it’s also hard for you to stay. note: apologies for all the late postings! but kim yeji’s aura was so strong it made me write about her so here we are hahaha. it's not really edited cus i just wrote this up and posted so apologies for any mistakes! note 2: this is in a pocket universe in the three tangerines series, so if you haven’t read the series yet, these characters would make more sense if you did hehe. even though this is very heavily influenced by the olympics, i’m keeping it as easy to read as i can. you can imagine them watching any of the events happening lol warnings: 3tan yoongi as always, angst, olympics talk, yoongi fights back??, the Yearning is Strong, reader is a tease, shiv is back!, brother and jimin are dorks, but so is everyone else, yoongi on the phone, he's so down bad y'all i wanna cry :(( drop date: august 1st, 2024, 7:17pm est word count: 2.3k (just like the first drabble omg?)

—

—

“Hey, you made it!”

“Oh, shit, look who’s here!”

After a quick greeting to everyone in Yoongi’s living room, you slip off your shoes with a distracted, “I can’t stay long but, I’m here!”

Even though the handsome devil next to you shoots a look, it’s your brother that speaks up, “Wait, why?”

“I’m meeting my friends in a bit.” You hand a still-quiet Yoongi some snacks you brought for everyone, asking a question with a very obvious answer, “Where should I put these?”

He blinks before forcing out, “Over here.”

“K.”

Sounds of conversation and sports games spring about. Jimin’s clearly in some sort of squabble with your brother and Shiv is fanning the flames. There’s a couple guys you recognize but don’t really know talking on the opposite side of the coffee table, but they’re all watching the Olympics and giving their own comments. 

Hopefully it’s noisy enough to shroud your dizzying thoughts. Because Yoongi looks damn good in his casual fit and his hair speaks volumes. 

What you would give to run your fingers through those waves. Following him through his bustling apartment is already giving you the shivers, so what would a sudden touch feel like? A burst of fire?

“I’ll take those,” he instructs, taking the bags from you and pulling everything out with crinkles. When he sees a certain bag, his blinks make you giggle.

It’s a specific chip he likes, recently divulged during a long night of learning things about one another—like favorite foods, and how fast or slow he likes you riding. 

So of course you threw it in your basket before heading over. 

Commentators make conversation on the television as you shrug, “Don’t ask me, I dunno how those got in there.”

God, that smile always makes you melt. And he proceeds to turn you into mush as he shows gratitude under his breath,

“Thanks, doll.”

“Seriously, I think they just handed me those,” you joke, trying your best to not do any of the million and three things you want to. “Said I was cute or something.”

His laugh is immediate. But it’s shoved away by cheers and yells, and both of you pop out of the kitchen to see what happened on the tv.

Something big must have went down because even Yoongi reacts, scaring you with a delayed reaction,

“Holy shit, what happened? Sorry,” he immediately apologizes at your flinch, putting a daring but comforting hand on your lower back before making his way to the group.

Did he really just…

He is lucky your brother didn’t see from the other side of the couch. 

That was the boldest Yoongi’s ever been and he’s quite literally kissed you in your kitchen. 

“Yeji got silver.”

“What? Wait, run it back!”

“I thought she'd take it!"

Chill out. Relax, relax, relax. Everyone else is clearly entranced by whatever happened and no one is even looking at you. Relax.

But damn, that touch meant a lot more than an apology. 

Seems like the one vocally surprised at the replay wants to do a million and three things, too. 

On your emotional decrescendo, you scuttle back to grab a plastic cup. No use in trying to join them anyway. All you can do for now is get a drink in a kitchen you’re not supposed to know your way around.

Being in his place while your brother is too is quite the experience. 

However. 

This is absolutely the ideal situation you should be in. You would be the one showing up at Yoongi’s at the invitation of your brother, and it would be a small party where you blend right into the background with minimal interaction. 

But of course, the feelings of distance and guilt creep onto your feet, rooting you in place and forcing you to watch from afar. 

They’re all checking their phones and pointing at each other—accusingly? Excitedly?—before switching between different games on the tv and yelling at each other. 

And while you adore them for being such lovable geeks about this, your eyes cannot stop pinning Yoongi with longing. He’s so radiant doing the most normal things, and his eyes have that sparkle they get when he’s comfortable and at home. 

He’s perfect.

Your heart’s warm.

And the cup in your hand never touches your mouth.

—

—

After you take a seat at his dining table—yet another thing you should not know anything about—you cycle between watching them interact and scrolling on your apps. 

At first, you thought you were safe. Staying in the back and letting them have their own time together is good enough for you, especially since you were invited by your brother to stop by.

Really, you were just a courier for food they wanted. 

But it was on the way. And it’s a chance to see someone you’ve been missing.

So of course you faked reluctance to come.

The plan was to do exactly this. Hang back until you had to leave, maybe have a bite or two, and try hard not to yearn for Yoongi too long.

Failed step three.

But also now step one, because Shiv decides to twist around to yell, “Hey! Come join us!” 

“I’m good over here,” you reply, smiling when he gives you a look. 

“Suit yourself!” 

One of the guys you recognize but don’t really know gets off the couch to head into the kitchen, asking a question as he opens the fridge.

Wait, he’s asking you something? You?

You leave your chair so you can hear him better, and when he repeats his question you respond.

“Want a drink?”

“Oh, uhh. Sure.”

“Pick your poison. Yoongi doesn’t have much but it’s all strong.”

He’s pretty cute. But then again, all your brother’s friends seem to end up this way. “Water’s fine,” you say with a light smile. “I have to be somewhere else in a minute.”

“Leaving so soon?” He grabs a cup to fill with your choice before handing it over. Leaning against the same counter Yoongi has smushed you against many times, the man takes a sip of his beer. “You just got here.”

“I was told to bring food.”

“Ah, come on. You can stay a bit.”

Uh huh.

Bold choice to be flirting with the company present today.

But you know what to do. Swerve. “What even happened back there? You guys scared the shit outta me.”

From the creases of his eyes, your plan works. “Oh, Yeji? She was supposed to win gold.”

“Feel like she won anyway.”

You both snap your heads over to the kitchen threshold, and your stomach could win a floor routine with the amount of flips it completes. “How come?” You decide to ask, throwing both guys for a loop.

It’s Yoongi that responds first, “She’s trending from a video back in May.”

“Oh, shit, really?” 

“Fucking boss. But yeah, none of us got that one right,” his friend responds, which leaves you intrigued. 

“Got it right?”

“Mmhmm. We picked her for gold.” Glancing over at Yoongi now crossing between to get to his fridge, he claps his back. “Even this guy bet wrong and he’s usually right.”

“Bet with my heart,” your secret drones as he cracks open a bottle. 

“We all did, bro.”

Fucking hell, that move was hotter than it should’ve been.

But now you’re kinda invested in what they’re all doing, so you ask how the whole thing works.

Which leads you to sitting in the living room with everyone three whole minutes later.

“So all of these are events, and I pick what I think happens?”

“Yup!”

“Good luck.”

“Choose quick, the next games start soon.”

Everyone’s eyes are on your paper as you look at the options, with some laughs and comments as you circle your choices.

“Mm, I dunno about that one.”

“Hey, hey, no help.”

You glance at your brother and Yoongi before laughing, “I have no idea what I’m doing but this is fun.”

Their amusement is noticeable.

“If you get any of those right, I’ll be surprised,” your sibling teases, earning a laugh from Yoongi and a counterpoint from Jimin,

“Dark horse?”

“Nah, no chance.”

Park’s shoulders raise as he smirks. “It's all luck, you never know..”

Huffing, you pretend to have confidence for days, just happy that you get to be involved and not hang back like the initial plan. “Yeah, I have masterclass intuition, don’t you know?” 

Reactions pop and fizz around you.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Master class, huh..”

“We have a hustler here!”

Your eyes drift to Yoongi’s at Shiv's comment, and you both share a quick, mirth-filled, intimate stare.

This really is a lot more fun already. 

Your phone buzzing is the one thing that interrupts, and you immediately feel relieved and saddened by the fact that you have to go.

Finishing up, you hand your brother your picks before standing, heading to the door and saying that you have to leave. 

“Wait, already?”

“Tell them you’re busy!”

“I kinda want to,” you admit, feeling a little shy at all the eyes on you. “But we’re watching a movie and tickets are stupid expensive now.”

Yoongi’s already next to you as he waits to let you out. “You okay to drive?”

“Me? Oh, yeah, I just had water.”

“K.”

Why does he have to be so considerate right now? Now you just wanna stay here instead of sit through whatever movie your friends picked!

“Be careful,” your brother comments from the living room, and you wave goodbye.

“I will. Y’all have fun!”

“Okay!”

Facing Yoongi, you wanna do so many things. Hug him, hold him, kiss the shit out of him for his exuding presence in the kitchen earlier. 

“Thanks for the food.”

But you obviously can’t.

So you settle for giving him a smile. “Thanks for letting me come over,” you decide to say. “Have fun tonight.”

You get a small lift of his lips in return. “You, too.”

“Yeah.. I’ll try.”

Hearing sounds from outside as you walk to your car, you feel the loneliest imaginable. 

But alas.

It’s still not your place to stay.

—

—

Much, much later, you check your phone after the movie ends and you’re all walking out. While the girls are busy discussing the movie and Taehyung's checking his phone, you're greeted with two very surprising keystrokes.

Yoongi [9:30pm]: :( 

He texted that so long ago. Did something happen?

You [10:34pm]: you ok?

All of you talk for just a little longer. When you finally get into your car, you wave goodbye at everyone before looking at your device again, wondering what the heck warranted this rogue of a text.

Yoongi [10:40pm]: Yeah

Yoongi [10:40pm]: Just miss you

Well, fuck.

Heart clenching, your fingers skirt across the screen.

You [10:45pm]: i miss you too.. i didn’t wanna leave😭

Yoongi [10:45pm]: You did though😔

There are plenty of people in the lot. Many people walking past as you wait in your car. 

And all you can do is stare at your screen. 

Is… Is he drunk?

Yoongi [10:46pm]: So now you have to make it up to me :) 

That catches you so off-guard you scoff at your screen through a smile. 

You [10:46pm]: don’t be a loser!! 

Yoongi [10:46pm]: I’m your loser 

Cheeks hurting from your shy as hell grin, you bite your lip to keep your screams from alerting people in the nearby theatre. 

How dare this man be this bold when your brother is over there! 

If he’s gonna keep this shocking behavior up, who are you to not play into it? You fucking miss him and imagining being there and being yourselves—your true selves—makes your chest clench. 

You [10:46pm]: not today you weren’t :\

And now you have to make the drive to a house that no one's occupying.

This is so hard. So, so hard. 

But you have to keep going until that one day comes. If it ever does. The day you can do whatever you want with the man you’d fight the universe for? No one will know how to react, and frankly you don’t give a shit about that.

And then you wonder.

Does Yoongi feel the same?

Yoongi [10:48pm]: They're still here

Yoongi [10:48pm]: You down to come back?

Oh.

You are.

Yes, yes, yes you are.

Grateful eyes shut, forehead hitting your steering wheel and heart hurting but still burning lovingly.

There’s no fighting how desperately you want to see him. Especially after seeing him so happy earlier today. Of course you’re going to go. You’d cross mountains even if that meant you’d only get to see him from afar. 

Because—and this you know for sure—he would do the same. 

...But that doesn't mean you won't prank him just a little bit.

You [10:49pm]: don't bet on it w ur heart again💕

Buzzing with excitement, you start your car and pull out of the lot, calling your brother and letting him know you’re coming back.

“K! You gonna bring food again?”

Normally, you would say fuck no and hang up. But you’re so elated you get to go back, and imagining Yoongi's shock makes you laugh. “Yeah, yeah, what do y’all want?” 

“Wait, really? Hey! What do we want for dinner—”

“Wait!” You interject, something pinging into your mind and igniting your curiosity. “How are my picks doing?” 

There’s a scuffle on the line, and you can hear your brother complain, Jimin laugh, and a very, very familiar voice answer from your brother’s phone. 

Because Yoongi’s voice drones so beautifully through the speaker, and you can’t stop your cackling when he responds, 

“Turns out Jimin was right.” 

“Damn, I'm the best,” you boast, earning a loud laugh from him and welcoming the way your cheeks hurt with open arms. “Show me that video you were talking about when I get there?”

This is safe to say. It's all you really can say.

There's a little bit of silence before he answers how he can, too.

“Yeah, I will.” 

Mm. Maybe Yoongi does feel the same.

“Nice," you whisper. Lips curved up in hope, you keep your voice neutral, “See you soon!” 

Again, he responds how he's supposed to. And right after, you both hang up exactly as expected.

For now.

“See you soon.” 

—

—

—

fin. :)

-

how did the second 717 drabble go! | join the discord hehe | three tangerines

a/n: love you love you love you. that's really all i can say. but also, here's the video of kim yeji being an absolute badass in may and i cannot stop thinking about her GAHHHHHH and now the guy from turkey?? hello?? this year is so fun and interesting istg!!

[fiddlehead-soup]

Raphael x chronic hand pain!Reader

It'd been years and you'd tried every potion. Every healer you can find. You've had surgery and still, the pain in your hands persisted. There seemingly wasn't much anyone could do anymore. Everyone told you to just live with it, but you didn't want to--you wanted things to change. You want to feel better. So you sought out the devil Raphael.

Raphael turned out to be much more handsome and charming (funny; so damn funny) than you ever could've ever imagined. You even had a lot in common. The arts were one of the few things left in life you could appreciate without expending yourself. It was how you passed the time. It was what brought a smile to your face amidst your aches, what softened the pain for you when medicines could not. The romantic poems and heroic tales brought you to places you could never imagine going in real life anymore.

Your passion and appreciation for them extended beyond the typical fan and Raphael not only saw this, but admired it. Not to mention the fact that you hold conversations much better than most, even though at first, to him you were just a pitiful mortal in dire need of help like the rest of them. The more sadistic part of him even enjoyed watching your daily struggles, knowing each one would bring you closer to selling him your pretty little soul.

Maybe you knew that deep down, but it just felt so good when he held your hands in his. He made them hot--really hot--and that warmth was always a boon to your aches, it soothed them so quickly like nothing else. Afterwards, he'd lift each hand up to his lips and leave you with two kisses atop your hands, the charmer.

At least he did at the start. The typical routine eventually lead to five little kisses on each of your knuckles. Ten total kisses.

Maybe one on each cheek for good measure afterwards.

They kept adding up, but you never complained. It felt, ironically, heavenly.

A year of that passed. He eventually stopped reminding you to make a contract with him. He no longer chided you when you complained, no longer teased that he could heal you in an instant if you weren't such a scared little mouse (just sign the damned thing already).

No; when you called for him then, exhausted after a long day of strain; he simply held you. Hugged you, kissed you, sang with you, read with you. There was no magic at work, but yet, you felt better each time. Just for awhile.

And it was around then that Raphael realized in a moment of horror? Disgust? Betrayal? Honesty. That he did not really want to cure you. Should you have made the contract with him and healed, you would have no need for him any more, or so he thought. And he wanted to keep visiting you. Dare he admit to himself that he rather enjoyed the time you two spend together listening to live music, attending theater, and reading romantic literature...

Five years, that situation continued on. You'd found a new reason to want to live. You'd grown so much. He didn't realize he was a part of it all, not really. He was too busy focusing on how brightly you smiled, the sound of your laughter, the way you held yourself up with more confidence, even when he wasn't around.

It really did seem like you'd no longer a need for him, even with your condition. You healed in your own way.

He didn't like that. He didn't like the hold you had on him, either--he needed you to need him the way he had grown to need your company.

Unbeknownst to him were your true feelings for him and so, perhaps in a rash act of desperation--something to keep you wanting, needing, something to cause you ache as he did whenever he saw you--he left you a goodbye letter dressed with a rose on your night stand to wake up to one random morning.

The letter stated: Though he'd thoroughly enjoyed his time with you and finds your taste in many things rather impeccable, including in his own company, it is clear no actual business was ever to be done between you two. The devil would always welcome you to his home with open arms--should you decide to ever make him a serious offer--but the curtain on the show you starred in must fall at some point. This letter would be the end of whatever it was you had, and what a grand finale it was.

Silly devil! Didn't he know, the best shows always featured an encore?

[silly-lil-scribbles]

Introduction post!!

free

status: eepy seepy

lyrics that fit the current vibe:

current chance of a response if you dm me*: 0%

* does not apply to mousie cuz its my emotional support friend

- My name is Finn! You can also call me scribbles, soup, or really any dumb nickname will do. it/he <3

woah look at that.. its me.. on another website!! slight flash warning for spacehey btw ^^

if you havent read this in a while, i would suggest reading again cuz i update it a lot <3

- faggy but in the most aroace way possible

- as far as gender, boy-ish

- I MADE A JAIL ACCOUNT SO IF IM JAILED I MIGHT BE OVER THERE ‼️ @soup-has-been-imprisoned-noooooo

- I POST ABOUT BUGS A LOT! if you dont wanna see that …. sorry? i always tag if op didnt but just proceed with caution yk

- I post about the magnus archives/protocol and my chem frequently, though I also just reblog a ton of random shit. may be nsfw. Also I forget to tag for spoilers a lot so just know that there are magpod spoilers in general on my blog.

- Music artists I like: mcr, mother mother, lemon demon, will wood, dazey and the scouts, cavetown, fob, nova twins, that handsome devil, noahfinnce, qbomb, gum disease, sparkbird, mischief brew, poppy, be your own pet, pierce the veil, specimen, faetooth, the mechs, rabbitology, madalyn mei, scene queen, she/her/hers, femtanyl, leathermouth, baby queen, pansy division, the spook school, egg, the crane wives, and of monsters and men

overall i just really enjoy punk and emo and dark cabaret

- Shows/Podcasts/Other Media that I like! DANGER DAYSS, Malevolent, The Magnus Archives, Stranger Things, Welcome to Nightvale (though I haven’t finished it yet), the Osemanverse, Nimona, Adventure Time, Gravity Falls, ATLA, LOK, It, Hilda, Camp Here and There, Radio Rental, warrior cats, the silt verses, dead end: paranormal park, the saw franchise,,,, big fan of horror movies in general so id love suggestions, also there’s probably more but my memory is shit

- my blog is super messy so all of my art is under the tag #scribbles draws a thing and my original text posts (not the short personal ones typically, just the one i actually want people to see) are under #scribbles says shit.

- my body hates me very much (in other words im physically disabled)

- surprise, my brain also hates me very much! And yes also undiagnosed!

- tone tags are appreciated <3

- i post a lot! if you left an anon ask please check my #scribbles asks tag if you cant find it, sorry ‘bout that

boundaries n stuff:

- not ok with sexual or romantic comments

- platonic flirting is ok if we’re moots

- sex averse, feelings on romance fluctuate a lot but usually indifferent

continued:

- i have a tmagp fic i just starting writing! If you wanna know more, posts related to that are under #electric desires have unraveled all my wires :(

- I have 4 cats and a dog, also a gecko

- i have a queerplatonic partner!! hes awesome and swaggy and writes so much. so. much writing. wow. not saying wow in a bad way im just genuinely impressed. chou if ur reading this i love you <3

- SURPRISE i have another queerplatonic partner too!!!! its super fun and cool and pathetic /vpos. my favorite excitable soggy cardboard box ilysm <3 (if ur a regular around here im sure ur familiar lol)

- i love them both so much holy shit guys aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

- coyotekin therian !!

- i love bugs!!!!!!!!!!! please show me bugs!!!!!!!!!!!!

- My favorite colors are hot pink, cyan, neon green, and red

- I love interacting with mutuals and getting asks! plspls send me random shit in asks im begging

- I’m creating a cartoon called Catlantis (still in progress)

- I have a love hate relationship with writing but i do it anyways so oh well

- Frogs.

other tags i use a lot are:

#soup poorly draws gay people out of obligation; my series of promised dyhard drawings.

#soup gets pathetic about friendship; me when im a sappy bitch about my friends or partners

#objectives list; save file for when i say im gonna do something so i dont forget about it

#catlantis save; hoarding info for catlantis

#insomnia induced rambles; i cant sleep and im making it your problem

#our lady of sorrows; not the song, my mcr inspired goddess i made up for my dnd character to worship

#scribbles asks; asks

#info save; good to know

#scribbles liveblogging tmagp; exactly what it sounds like

#art save; resources for doing art

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[verdemoun]

I. I need to know. Hosea's first few weeks or even months in modern times. How was he found? How was he with Bessie? How'd he adjust? Anything he loved/hated in particular? AND BESSIE???? HOSEA AND BESSIE STUFF IS JUST *CHEFS KISS*

spare some crumbs for a hosea fan im begging

HOSEA BELOVED

Waking up was more peaceful than it had any right to be for Hosea. It was more like the slow confused raise of his head like he'd just fainted for a second. Bessie was the first thing he saw and he just melted into a smile so relieved and in love and happy to see her again before he started to realize she had aged, her hair was cut in a fashion he'd never seen before and wearing a skirt that fell just below her knees? Scandalous? Hot??

Admittedly any happy reunion was cut short by the revelation Lenny also died/timewarped just a few minutes after him and was having a much more violent awakening still wheezing and gasping for breath as if he was still trying to breathe through a collapsed lung. Comforting the young man he calls son was more important than simping. (Sean was fashionably late but soon took over because Lenny very much needed and wanted Sean more)

Did not give a single fuck about how or why or where he was. He held Bessie's face gently and kissed her like he expected the Devil to appear and drag him to the Hell he rightfully deserved after his lifetime.

Absolutely lovesick. Being able to stare at his wife who was still so beautiful with age so happy so healthy the way she looks at him with the same affection in her eyes takes away even the slightest fear or nausea on the drive home. Fortunately Lakay to Blackwater is a significant drive so they got to be introduced to a lot of modern era through passing through cities and towns on the trip.

People forget Hosea absolutely believed in all Dutch's anti-government freedom rhetoric so much - they were shared ideals they originally bonded over. They were the start of the VDLs. He would hate so much of modern era. Laughed the first time he saw taxes on Bessie's payslip and then got angry. First slang term he learns to use correctly is ACAB. Learning that the government recognized retirement age is 65-67? The government would expect him, at 55, to get a job? Bessie can't just retire and spend every waking moment in his arms?? Livid.

His saving grace is his wife. He loves her so, so much. She is practically a beast tamer, how quickly she can touch his arm and kiss his cheek and suddenly he's too happy and content in love to even think about setting the mayor's perfectly manicured garden on fire.

He never learns technology. He is still happy with newspapers and books thank you very much he genuinely does not understand wikipedia and thinks everyone is so intelligent when they look at their phone and suddenly know the answer to a question he asked. Bessie is secretly grateful she is almost certain if there was written record of the things he said about local council he would get arrested.

Hosea was the one to have the obligatory 'no i'm old and hideous now there's no way you could love me' moment because he thinks Bessie's wrinkles and grey hair and signs of age are as perfect as she is. Yet, he finds the exact same things in himself deformities. Bessie assures him he is as handsome as the day she fell in love with him.

Since Bessie is very happy with her job as a professor and Hosea detests much of modern era he is very happy being the house husband. He learns to use appliances and takes over cooking. He makes recipes from magazines and proper cook books. He is the ideal domestic man he is chasing the boys out the door to go to work/get a job with the same energy as his famous 'do something!!' lecture so he can mop and make sure the house is perfect for his beautiful hard working woman's return.

Bessie might dress modestly to most people's standards but coming from 1899 Hosea absolutely loses his mind. His wife wearing pants? Hot. A cardigan with just a shirt underneath? Practically in a state of undress? Genuinely concerned they could get arrested. Watching her do her hair nice and wear cheap jewelry that looks aesthetically nicer than fine jewels in 1899? Acts like he's dating a countess would crawl behind her if she told him to. 50s housedress that hug her waist? Old man is feral.

Honestly their modern era life is just everything Hosea craved and missed and mourned for when settling down with Bessie didn't work because of his stubbornness in 1883. He has absolutely no desire to return to crime (because getting away with crime is significantly harder in modern era (he still crimes. man is a kleptomaniac who plays confused old man with dementia whenever he gets caught)) after a proper second chance to do things right with Bessie. They read together, they listen to music, slow dance in the living room, go on walks through parks holding hands making everyone who sees them wish they had what Bessie and Hosea have.

Side note: Hosea very much has a type. Bessie is as strong-willed and sharp-tongued as Dutch and it is very obvious to anyone who sees how tightly she has him wrapped around his finger. She holds so much power over him just because of how much he loves her. Full Gomez Adaams 'look at her. i would die for her. i would kill for her. either way what bliss'. Fortunately, she is a genuinely very kind, patient, loving person who adores Hosea for the person and way he is and does not abuse the complete control she could have over husband.

[aurorawritestoescape]

The Devil in Me

Pairing: DEVIL!Dieter Bravo x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Genre: smut and fluff, Devil AU

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, porn with almost no plot, allusions to sa, reader struggles with self worth, praise kink, breast play, thigh riding, blood play, vampirism, unprotected piv, daddy kink, oral(f receiving), fucking the Devil, creampie, religious themes, men’s thighs)

Summary: being an aspiring actress but failing to succeed, you decide to use an unorthodox method to get the desirable money and fame. You perform a summoning ritual in order to sell your soul to the Devil. Lucky for you, he pays you a visit and happens to be devilishly handsome.

Word count: 4,3k

A/n: the moment I saw Pedro’s Met Gala look, this thot was nailed into my brain. Hence the fic. Big thanks to @ozarkthedog for giving me a necessary push with this post. English is my second language, sorry for any mistakes or general fuckupery of the story;) <3

As long as you remembered, your only wish was to become a famous movie star with millions of fans who worshiped you. So you took various and fucking expensive acting classes, went to dozens of auditions where you acted your heart out. And still every time another nepo baby got the job of your dreams. You felt bitter as hell. You couldn’t bear the rejection, the harassment, slimy hands and hungry glances of producers and agents. Under the pretences of helping you, they hunted for your body like predators and gave nothing in return. The debts were pilling up, and waiting tables at a lousy café didn’t promise you any financial stability. You kept jumping high but still couldn’t grab that lucky ticket in the air. 

So when, at a flea market, you happened to see an old spell book, it immediately piqued your interest. You looked through the pages and noticed a ritual called "Summoning the Devil to Sell Your Soul." You laughed at first but, to your own surprise, paid for the book and brought it home. It was on a whim. You didn’t believe any of that hocus-pocus shit, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

…..

You were in your rented one-bedroom apartment, sitting on the bed and reading about the preparation for the summoning. You let out a laugh. It was so easy. Make the room dark. Light some candles. Say the spell. And voilà! The Devil himself would appear and give you everything you wished for in return for your  precious soul. You didn’t think much of it. 100% that it wouldn’t happen. But if by some crazy magical supernatural chance it did, you’d be ready. Your soul had been torn to shreds by disgusting and power-hungry men, so you’d be happy to replace it with the long awaited fame and money. 

You followed the simple instructions: drew the curtains to keep the light of the sunset out and lit all the candles you could find at home. You looked around and found the atmosphere quite relaxing. The air was heavy with a sickly mixture of scents - vanilla, pine, strawberry. Yet it was hiding the greasy smell of the Chinese you’d had before. The candlelight bathed the room in a golden light, its flickering flames making shadows dance on the walls. You plopped down on your bed and placed the spell book on your lap. At the back of your mind, you were laughing at yourself for being such a fool. But to an outside eye you’d have seemed serious and focused. Your lips silently moved, reading the spell several times. Then you cleared your throat with a cough, said "Fuck it!" and read the spell loudly.

….

Nothing happened. You were still alone in your shitty room, shitty apartment, living your shitty life. It wasn’t a surprise. You sighed heavily, closed the book with a thump and threw it on the floor. You climbed on your bed, got under the covers and buried your head in the pillow. Disappointment was gnawing at your gut. How could you hope that ridiculous summoning spell would work? You shut your eyes, feeling the tears fall on the pillow beneath you. 

You didn’t know how much time passed. You were in that trippy state between wakefulness and sleep. Then your whole body twitched and chills covered your skin. You weren’t cold, quite hot actually because of all the candles. All of a sudden, you felt the weight on the other side of the mattress. You turned rapidly and saw a man sitting next to you on the bed. His back was leaning on the headboard and his legs were stretched out and crossed at the feet. You jumped out of the bed with a scream and stared at him paralyzed with fear, eyes round and breath unsteady. In contrast with your own reaction, he seemed relaxed. His dark intent eyes had a humorous spark in them, looking at you with amusement, his plump lips were curled up in a smirk. His skin was tan, the colour of caramel and rich honey. He had an aquiline nose, a salt and pepper patchy beard and a moustache. His dark hair was neatly slicked back. He was, without a doubt, the most handsome man you’d ever seen. But the most peculiar thing about him was his attire. He had a bright red coat with a red shirt underneath and a thin black tie. You glanced down to see that he was wearing black shorts which were covering little of his thick thighs. On his feet, he had black high patent boots with black socks peeking out. 

His smirk was replaced by a blinding grin and you heard his deep comforting voice. 

“Hi, darling,” he said, rolling R with his tongue, making the word sound delicious. 

“Wh...who the fuck are you?! Why are you in my apartment?!” you exclaimed in a panic, wrapping your arms around your middle. 

The stranger’s smile fell, and he looked at you with sad puppy eyes and furrowed brows as if you’d slapped him on the face. 

“You summoned me, remember?”

You couldn’t believe your eyes or your ears. With your voice lowered to a whisper, you asked him as if somebody could hear your secret, “Are you the Devil?”

His wide smile returned, making the wrinkles around his eyes more pronounced. He opened his arms to present himself to you and announced enthusiastically, “Yes, I am! The one and only King of Hell, darling!”

 You were speechless.  What do people say in these situations? Would you like a drink, Satan? Why are you in shorts? It was crazy. So you kept standing there with an open mouth and widened eyes. 

Noticing your confusion, the Devil sat up, bent his right leg and started scratching his knee. “I understand your shock and all, but I’m a busy man, you see. People desire a lot of things these days. Thank God for consumerism,” he added, putting his hands together in a prayer and looking up. “Do you still want to sell your soul?” the Devil inquired as he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes.

You closed your mouth and opened it again. “Yes! But to be honest, I didn’t expect the spell to work …and you look like this…it’s a lot,” you explained to him while fumbling with the hem of your t-shirt.

At that, the Devil’s face fell, and he looked down at himself straightening his coat and shirt.

“What’s wrong with the way I look? …wanted to try something new. And I’ve been told that it’s very stylish,” he retorted, glancing at you sideways.

In truth, you loved the clothes and the boots, but his childish reaction amused you and, feeling a little bolder, you decided to tease him.

“Been told by who exactly?” you smirked at him. “Demons,” he replied with his plush lips in a pout.

“Ha! They’re telling you what you wanna hear. They’re kinda your employees.” You crossed your arms and continued your taunting, “And this lip ring. What’s that for?”

The Devil sucked in his lower lip, touching the ring with his tongue and replied, “It makes me look edgy”. You raised your eyebrows at him, “Why do you need more edge, man? You’re the fucking Devil!” Oh, you enjoyed it. At hearing that he shrugged, growled, took off the lip ring and tossed it in the direction of your wardrobe. He then stared at you with narrowed eyes, as if trying to burn a hole in your face. You almost burst into giggles, seeing him like that. The big bad Devil got bullied by a human girl.

By the look of you he must have realised that you‘d been playing with him and his grin returned to his face.

“Haha, very funny,” he said sarcastically and leaned his back on the headboard again. “Let’s talk terms and conditions then, style expert. You give me your soul, I give you what you desire. What is it you desire, darling?” he added with a luscious smile.

The endearment made you blush. You cleared your throat and replied that you wanted to be a famous actress. He nodded and waved his hand as if brushing away your concerns. 

“No problem! You will be, beautiful! We just need to make the deal, and you’ll be the happiest and wealthiest star till the day you die. You’ll live for many wonderful years, but when the time comes I’ll see you in Hell” he explained with excitement on his face. You were aware of that condition but hearing out loud about the prospect of burning in Hell for eternity made you drop your head in doubt, a surge of nerves making you pace the floor along the bed.

Seeing your unease, the Devil crawled to the side of the bed you had previously occupied and sat there with his feet on the floor. You took a step back and looked at him as your fear returned. He was the Devil after all. His exposed legs were spread widely, almost touching yours. His long coat was laying on the bed like a crimson cover. 

He took your hand and placed it between his big, hot palms. To your surprise, the physical touch made your core tingle and the heart skip a beat. 

“You know what, if you aren’t sure, I won’t pressure you. You can go through some more auditions, do a couple of tampon commercials and may be one day your fame will find you.”

“No!” you exclaimed, almost startling yourself. You knew what he was doing, painting your dream impossible to achieve on your own, but the desire to make it big was so strong, all you needed was the smallest push. “I  can’t live like this any longer. I want it here and now.” 

Then adoration and content blossomed on his face and your chest swelled. 

“That’s wonderful,” he purred. “Now we need to do the deed, and it’s done.”

You swallowed loudly. “The deed? Mmm… As in ‘to have sex’?” 

His gaze drifted lower, taking in your form in front of him, and he responded in a husky voice, “You shall give yourself to me completely and fully, and then you’ll be mine forever.”

Of course. Men in power always wanted a piece of you, why would the Devil himself be different? But in a weird way, you trusted Him more than anyone else to make your wish come true, and so you whispered “O… ok.”

His whole demeanour changed in a flash. His face darkened, previously adoring eyes got flooded with lust and desire, the soft smile morphed into a hungry animalistic grin. 

It scared you. You glanced down at yourself, suddenly aware of your old almost see-through t-shirt and sleeping shorts covering not much of your body. You’d felt too comfortable with him before, in part forgetting who it was in front of you. At that moment, the air grew hotter and heavier. The candle flames began trembling rapidly without any breeze and the whole room got darker, resembling a crypt. The Devil’s red coat and shirt looked maroon. 

He still had your hand in his palms and gently pulled you closer to him. You were all the way between his legs and the Devil moved his right leg, slid the knee between your legs, placed his hands on your waist and pushed you down, so you could straddle his right thigh. You grasped his shoulders to stable yourself. He wasn’t smiling anymore, his expression was determined and lustful. His plush lips found your neck and you whimpered. The Devil smelled like smoke and your eyes watered a little. He started leaving open mouth kisses on your neck, making your eyes close. Your chest was flush against his broad shoulder, and you were sure he could sense your heart fluttering. 

“I promise to give you everything you desire, darling. But before that I’ll  make you feel devilishly good,” he whispered, nipping on your earlobe. “Do you agree?”

You nodded, but he needed to hear it.

“Words, baby.”

“Yes,” you replied, and a peculiar feeling rushed through your body. Your eyes darted down and you gasped, finding yourself completely naked. Your clothes just vanished. His lips left your neck, and he was leering down at you, devouring your form. “Fuck…you’re gorgeous.” The praise made your head spin and your core tingle. Chills covered your whole body and you shivered.

“All trembling for me,” he murmured. “Such a good girl.”

His hands snaked down to your ass, palming your cheeks and pushing you closer to his torso. Your clit rubbed on the material of his shorts and a quiet moan escaped your lips. The devil grumbled, hearing the sounds you made for him. You felt his huge bulge pushing into your thigh. He lowered his head, reaching your breast with his mouth, and started to lick and suck on your bud.

“Delicious little thing,” the Devil cooed at you between his ministrations. You needed more, so you began grinding on his thigh at a steady pace whimpering softly. Your movements made the hem of his shorts rise up, and you felt his bare leg with your cunt. You were so wet, making a mess of his shorts and thigh. You’d never been so aroused before, and the need for a release was overwhelming. Soon your body and forehead were covered in beads of sweat, your legs trembling from exhaustion. He was guiding you with his strong hands gripping your hips and kissing you wherever he could reach. Your clit was throbbing, and soon you felt your core tighten and the burning in your stomach increase.

“Fuck! m'go… gonna cum!” you moaned through heavy breathing. 

“Yes, cum for the Devil, baby!” he ordered and slapped your ass cheek, leaving a slight burn. Your head fell back, the spine arched, and a hard orgasm shook your whole body. The strength left you, so he continued moving your body, helping you to ride it out. When overstimulation hit, you fell on his chest. You put your forehead on his shoulder, as aftershocks shook you from time to time. 

“No rest for the wicked,” he said, and suddenly took your exhausted body in his arms bridal style, and plopped you on the bed carelessly. 

You got a whiplash from the rapid change of position. You were on your back, and the Devil climbed on top of you, straddling your thighs. The tail of his coat was covering your feet. You couldn’t help but gawk at him. A strand of hair fell on his forehead. His broad and tall frame was towering over you, and his looming shadow covered almost all the room. It made you feel tiny and powerless under him. One moment you could swear his shadow had horns and giant wings, but you blinked, and it was normal again. The devil was leering at you with hungry obsidian eyes and, feeling exposed, you tried to cover your chest with your hands. But by some invisible force, your hands were yanked over your head and held there tightly. As if being touch starved, the Devil began kneading your soft breasts. He twitched one nipple hard, making you scream, but the pain was replaced by pleasure when he put his mouth on the burning bud and circled his tongue around it. He wasn’t rushing it, sucking on each breast for a long time until you couldn’t take it anymore. Overstimulation made you squirm and rub your thighs together, as your cunt was crying for attention.

Happy with his work, the Devil set up again, admiring your abused puffy nipples.

“Daddy’s thirsty, baby. Will you help me out?” You bit your bottom lip when you heard what he’d called himself. It was so twisted and your stomach was overflowing with desire for him. 

But the question confused you. As if to give you an answer, he placed his hand on your belly and, following his gaze, you noticed long, sharp claws on his fingers. You were sure they hadn’t been there before. You swallowed loudly and squeaked, “Don’t hurt me, please”

His grin widened as he cooed at you, “Don’t worry, darling. You won’t feel a thing."

The Devil pressed his index finger below your belly button and made a vertical cut with his pointy claw. You gasped, although the pain was bearable, just a little sting. You saw drops of blood appear, and his eyes sparkled. He dropped his head to your belly and licked the blood, moaning avidly. He made a few other cuts and cleaned them with his mouth. Though a bit scared you enjoyed feeling his tongue just inches above your cunt. You desperately wished he would move lower. When he was satiated, his head fell on your stomach, and he caressed your thighs and legs with his now both normal hands, humming quietly. A strange wave of affection took over you. You asked him if he could free your hands. He looked up at you with an air of confusion in his heavy-lidded eyes. It seemed that he’d forgotten having tied you up at all.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” he replied finally in a hoarse voice. When your arms could move, you began combing his soft silky hair with your fingers and gently scratching his scalp. The Devil purred. He was still rubbing your thighs so you knew he didn’t fall asleep.

“Are you ok?” you finally inquired as if you were just talking to your lover.

“No one ever asks me that,” the Devil replied as he looked up. He gave you a sleepy smile and still seemed to be drunk on your blood.

You were awestruck, thinking how much he was like a human man, aside from the claws and the blood thirst. You wondered if he was lonely but didn’t want to break the comfortable silence.

After a few minutes he sat up and you noticed that all the cuts on your belly disappeared. The lustful expression returned to his face once again.

"Thank you, darling. You tasted divine,” he whispered as he climbed between your legs. “Would you like me to fuck you now?” he asked, leering at your spread cunt and gently tracing your slick folds with his finger. 

“Yes!” You said louder than it was intended. 

“Then beg for it, baby! Pray to your Devil!” he ordered with a mischievous smirk. Your cunt couldn’t bear another second without his attention. “Please! I beg you, fuck me please! Make me cum!”

Your words seemed to satisfy him. 

“Oh, I’d be happy to. Lie down and enjoy yourself. Daddy’ll take care of you.” Then you felt two thick fingers enter you. You moaned, arching your back and your fingers grasped the covers. His digits were thick, but you’d been dripping on the bed for a long time, so he entered you easily. 

“So tight, darling. We need to work you open first to receive the Devil’s cock in all its glory.”

He was pumping his fingers in and out, curling them inside and pulling the filthiest sounds out of you. Then you felt his hot mouth on your cunt. He was lapping at your juices, swirling his tongue on your hardened clit and working his fingers. Soon he added the third and the fourth digit and fucked you steadily.  You never expected to stretch that much, but you guessed everything was possible with the Devil. He seemed to enjoy eating you out as much as you did, as he growled into your cunt, the vibrations taking your pleasure to the highest level. 

“Such a nasty girl, giving your soul and pussy to me,” he said, leaving your cunt for a second and licking his lips.

You whimpered at the sight. He was turning you on even more than you could imagine. Soon, his and your moans created a sinful harmony together

“God!” you cried out and he slapped your cunt with his free hand. “Devil, baby, not God!” The pain mixed with pleasure sent electricity through your core and another orgasm hit you. You gushed all over his hand and lower face and he drank you up like it was the tastiest nectar. Finally, you pushed your legs together to stop him from licking you. 

“Now you’re ready for my cock”, he said, sitting up, then grabbed your hips and span you on your stomach. Your face hit the pillows, and your body felt cold as the covers were soaked with your sweat and juices. 

“Elbows and knees, baby,” he ordered. The motion was so rapid you needed a moment to obey, but he impatiently yanked your hips in the air with his big hands.

You heard the rustling of his clothes and then his cock landed on your ass. By the weight of it, it was huge. You turned your head to get a peek and saw his enormous erect member with red angry tip leaking precum on your ass cheek. You got nervous, and he smirked at that. 

"Don’t fear, my dear. I’ll be gentle." 

That was a lie. One moment you felt his tip at your entrance, and in the other he plunged his hard length into you to the bottom. You yelped, suddenly feeling full to the brim. 

“Mmm, such a greedy pussy. Sucking daddy in so well.”

His first push made your front slide forward on the bed, so his arm circled your middle to keep you still, the other hand pushed between your shoulder blades, making your spine arch even more. He started fucking you with strong and deliberate thrusts, and the bliss in your core made your eyes roll back. Loud moans were leaving your open mouth as you were drooling on the pillow. You could sense every vein of his thick cock, and his tip was pushing at your cervix, causing a delicious ache. 

“You gonna come again, baby”, he said and it wasn’t a question. “I can feel you squeezing me. Let daddy help a little”.

Suddenly you felt pressure on your clit. You looked down but didn’t see his hands as they were still holding you in place. The invisible force returned and began circling your bundle of nerves in tight strokes and gently twitching your nipples. You didn’t need much time to reach the third orgasm. Every nerve was electrified, making your limbs and torso shake uncontrollably. Your cunt was flattering around the Devil’s cock and that made him growl, “Yes, that’s my girl.”

The invisible hands left your body as soon as the muscle strength left you. If not for him holding you by the waist, you would have plopped down on the bed. His pace increased and the slapping of his hips on your ass was getting faster. At last, he started cumming. You felt his cock pulsate inside your channel, filling you with his hot seed. He was pumping his cum and your juices back into you vigorously accompanied by lewd sounds and his snarls. Some time passed and he was still going. You were completely spent, and your eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. When he finally stilled and pulled out, he lowered your hips gently and laid down next to you. You felt his cum leaking out of your hole.

Then the Devil took you in his arms, so you could rest your head on his chest, and he covered your legs and ass with his coat to keep you warm. 

He pinched your chin with his fingers and tilted your head up to face him. You were looking at each other with gratitude and satisfaction. His dark eyes were trailing the lines of your features as if they were constellations in the sky. Your breath was once again stolen by his beauty.

Then the Devil kissed you. His plush lips were first gentle, but when his tongue slipped inside your mouth, he tightened his arms around you and kissed you hard. He tasted like something sweet and spicy. You were glued to each other for a long time, and you purred in his arms. It was a parting gift and at the same time the kiss sealed your destiny. When the Devil’s lips left yours, you whined. He smiled at your greediness.

“Before you go to sleep, we need to sign the contract, darling”. You followed his eyes and saw that he was holding a big parchment. 

“Let me help you, baby.” He took your hand and put your index finger in his mouth. A sting made you wince. He pulled it out and pressed your fingertip onto the paper. It left a crimson mark on the contract.

“That’s it. Now you are mine forever,” he explained with a soft smile and licked your finger making the bite mark disappear.

You furrowed your brows looking up at him, grabbed his tie and tugged him closer to your face.

“Wait. You told me that we just needed to fuck to seal the deal. Was it even necessary?”

He chuckled and then whispered in your ear “Well darling. You’re so stunning. How could I not? You should’ve known better than to trust the Devil.

You giggled and pushed your face into his neck. He still smelled like smoke, and you thought that it was your favourite smell in the world. You closed your eyes and soon drifted off to sleep. 

When you woke up, the bed next to you was empty, the candles had burnt out and the morning sun was peeking through the curtains. You sat up and wondered if it all might have been a dream. The contract, the Devil and the best sex of your life.

But the next moment your phone buzzed with a call and, when you picked it up, your whole life changed. 

😈

Thank you for reading! <3

Comments and reblogs are appreciated💋

Part 2

[unfilteredcurse]

100% agree on the entire tekken fandom being so fucking weird with jin kazama smh (especially fucking reddit, twitter, and the youtube comments section which is why i rarely look up tekken content on those sites in particular). that would be like if you were a star wars fan and you can't even enjoy luke skywalker without someone talking about how "luke tried to kill his own nephew yet he forgave his father, he is a hypocrite and a bad hero you're a bad person if you like luke". just like luke in star wars the last jedi, jin was ooc as fuck in tekken 6. even the writers themselves admitted they didn't want to do this, it only happened because of harada and they got so much backlash for that character assassination back when tekken 6 was first released. so why...why for over 10 years do i have to constantly see so many unfunny repetitive jokes, hate, and slander about jin kazama. why is the only thing i see when i look up jin is "ww3" for the billionth time. why did i have to see people making customizations of jin dressing up like h*tler, p*tin, and fucking s*suke uchiha. why do i have to see fucked up fan fiction of kazuya, miguel, or fucking s*suke uchiha raping and torturing jin kazama to "punish him for his war crimes and also because he never suffered what kazuya/miguel/s*suke suffered from". i'm also so sick and tired of seeing fucking s*suke uchiha stans and r/Tekken daring to comparing my boy jin kazama to that stupid uchiha from naruto who is a misogynistic egotistical narcissistic irredeemable skinny femboy twink asshole. jin would never try to kill xiaoyu multiple times, unlike s*suke who tried to kill two women who admired him. jin has no ego unlike that ego obssessed jerk s*suke. jin is actually handsome and hot, he's a muscular toned man and not just anohter generic femboy twink. jin was never cruel to either her or hwoarang. if anything jin was always more like itachi uchiha, jin always said "forgive me" to his opponents and his motivation, both jin and itachi have the whole black feather aesthetic, both jin and itachi hate their own bloodline, and jin's goal is to kill/stop his own bloodline for the greater good just like itachi. jin would fucking choke and then brutally murder s*suke for what he did to both team 7 and team taka. damn it harada, why didn't you just retcon it like how you retconned kazumi having the devil gene but not jinpachi. why didn't they just say that jin kazama was brainwashed by azazel or something. sometimes i can't help but think about an alternative timeline where tekken 6 scenario campaign never happened, jin was still loved and the side characters (ex. Asuka and Paul) were not made irrelevant joke characters and had something to do.

forgive me if i got a bit too extreme here, but i...i...i just had to let out my emotions now. jin has always been important to me, he's my childhood crush and also one of my biggest comfort characters (along with mitsuru from persona 3 and kiryu from yakuza). which is also why i'm so glad i found posts like these, my feelings feel validated.

Oh believe me, I feel ya, anon. I guess this is just what they call the pain of loving a cursed character doomed by both the fandom and the narrative... but in the end, we all know what's actually beneath all that and that there is much more than meets the eye to Jin (and other characters too).

Also, comparing Jin to fucking P*tin and H*tler is.... something entirely else and I am honestly terrified of those people if their reading comprehension leads them to these comparisons. I just-

You don't know how much patience I have to build up to (sort of) stay in the fandom with all these "jokes" still running around kn freaking 2024. I wanna say that I sincerely hope it will get better, but seeing the overall state of the fandom now and 5-10 ywars ago... I kind if doubt it will get better any time soon.

[mystic-novella]

cw: suggestive

“You know for someone with such a handsome face, it really is a shame you frown so much.”

Hero feels a sudden warmth spread to their cheeks and the tip of their ears. They glance up to see a sweet, yet poisonous smile on the villain’s face. It was so strange how one moment they were throwing fists and shouting insults at eachother only to end up in a compromised position like this.

They couldn’t have predicted Villain climbing on top of them in the middle of their fight like this, but it was obvious at this point it was a rather clever technique to distract them. Gears started turning in their head, and they weren’t sure how to react as their nemesis cupped their cheek with a feather-light touch and a piercing look in their eye. It was enough to give them a fluttery feeling in their stomach, one they wished wasn’t as pleasant as they liked to admit.

The hero despised how alluring his expression was, as they leaned closer with parted lips. Only Hero understood the consequences of sharing a kiss with the devil, yet they didn’t move away.

“I- I…What?” They asked while stumbling over their words, unable to fully process Villain’s comment.

“As a matter of fact, I quite enjoy you when you’re like this,” The villain chuckled heartily as they held the other’s chin. “so vulnerable and speechless…it’s honestly rather adorable. More entertaining than when you try to act all tough.~”

“Shut up.” The hero grunts, attempting to retrieve their anger from earlier but not nearly as convincing as before. “You’ve tried this a thousand times, it’s still not gonna work on me.”

The villain simply pouts as they trail a finger up the crimefighter’s chest, noticing their breath hitch. “How disappointing…Though I suppose you have been the stubborn type, hm? Never the type to be honest with your feelings.”

Hero scoffed, lightly shoving the Villain away from them. “And why the hell would that matter to you?” They growled, only for their charming opponent to respond with a toothy grin. The villain gazed at them intensely, tracing a finger across their cheek which slowly turned scarlet.

“Because…I notice how you put a front around the public. Your fans. Your colleagues. Your so-called “friends”. You have a reputation to uphold, so naturally you put up that stoic facade around the people that rely on you.” The villain spoke in a hushed, velvety tone as they casually wrapped their arms around hero’s shoulders. “Well…all except for me.”

Hero’s eyes widened and they attempted to stare at anything else in the room to escape Villain’s alluring presence and the skin-tight leather touching their skin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“There’s no need to lie to me puppy.”

Their honeyed voice along with the sudden pet name nearly flooded the hero’s senses, almost enough for them to listen to any of the villain’s commands.

“Don’t you want to be free…? I know you must be so tired of hiding. So, why not let yourself go, hm~?”

It didn’t take long for their enemy to brush their lips against theirs, soon giving the hero the night of freedom they had always desired.

[mjwiththefangs]

Trickery & Daggers - Chapter 5

In which we get to know everyone a little more. Also on AO3 Masterlist Word count: 2768 Warnings: None.

--

Wyll’s Patron came for him that night as they made camp. Now, he sports a pair of horns, as well as other warped demonic features. When he asks Morgana how he looks, she softens and smiles at her chivalrous friend, uncertainty painted in every line of his face, and with a chuckle, she reassures him that she sees quite the handsome devil. He laughs, and again, she is glad to feel that she can lift his spirits.

 Though she can't help but feel bitter for him; it would seem that no good deed goes unpunished after all.

 Karlach, meanwhile, wants to do something nice for Wyll, she tells Morgana how she’s never had a friend like him, who’d stick their neck out for her. It resonates with Morgana that neither has she, and crosses her arms, silently mulling this over and nodding at the appropriate moments.

 Friends. Hm.

She ends up finding Shadowheart after. The whole day the somewhat sour cleric has been glaring at her, and Morgana finds that her curiosity outweighs her irritation.

 “Who do you worship?” Shadowheart blurts out, bristling.

“I- What?” Morgana blinks, taken aback, “I don’t worship anyone. Why?”

The dark-haired woman narrows her eyes in suspicion.

“You don’t follow Selune?”

“The- moon lady? No!”

Shadowheart relaxes, marginally, then gestures towards Morgana’s eyes.

“Then those marks that appear around your eyes- where do you channel your magic from?”

Ah. That.

She supposes that they do resemble the marks of Selunes followers, now that she thinks about it. Shadowheart is waiting.

“Well. Not from any god or goddess, that’s for sure.” She mutters.

She hasn’t ever been able to discuss her pact with others, not that she’s had the opportunity anyway and she’s not even sure if her patron would object. Seeing as her lips aren’t magically sealing themselves shut, and she senses no ill will of her patron, perhaps she can speak of it after all.

 So, tentatively, slowly, she speaks.

“I am… a Warlock. My power comes from the Fey.” She scrunches her nose in thought. There's a faint stirring of magic brushing the back of her mind, telling her that’s enough, unwilling to divulge more to this particular cleric for now. “I can’t really tell you much more than that.”

“Huh. Two in one party. Though I suppose it is nice to know we only have one devil on our collective shoulders” Shadowheart seems satisfied with her response, casually flicking her braid over her shoulder.

 But Morgana’s curiosity is piqued now.

 “What about you?” She asks, “Who do you worship?”

 Vixen-like eyes assess her cautiously, but without hostility. Finally, it seems Shadowheart reaches a conclusion. She raises her chin.

 “I worship Shar. The Lady of Darkness.”

The Lady of Loss herself. No surprise of her patrons' reluctance there, they never were keen on the goddess. All the black and purple ensemble of her fellow half-elf suddenly make a lot more sense, though in fairness, Morgana did rather like the colour palette regardless.

Shadowheart is waiting.

Morgana nods, unperturbed. “... I always was a fan of her colour scheme.” To her delight, Shadowheart snorts a laugh. “Seriously though, who you follow is your business, not mine. But thank you for telling me.”

 The Cleric smiles at her, and it's the first time her expression has been so warm and genuine. She looks almost like a different person.

 “Well. Perhaps I should have told you earlier. Who knew you’d be so… pragmatic.”

 “To sharing secrets, then.” Morgana chuckles, “But in the spirit of inquiry, what else can you tell me about yourself? None of us really know one another yet.”

“Another time, perhaps. I’ve shared enough for now.”

 With what little Morgana understands of Shar’s ways, she knows secrecy is paramount to her followers, and so she nods, bidding Shadowheart a good night. 

 Now, though, the idea is planted in her head. She should ask the others about themselves. They’ve been travelling for a few days now, and it seems they will be stuck together for more, surely they should get to know one another?

 How strange, she’s been alone for so many years, and she always thought that suited her just fine. Now though, the thought of returning to that life, to how she lived before, settles in her chest, hard and cold and lonesome.

 Her brows crease. No. No, it’s fine. She’s always managed. The only one she ever needed was her patron, and even then she always relied on herself, both before, and following the events of forming her pact.

 …Still. It certainly couldn’t hurt, getting to know her companions.

The Warlock approaches Lae’zel, ignoring the feeling of a pair of ruby orbs trailing after her. The gith’s sharp gaze pierces her when she stops before her tent.

 “Speak.”

Yeah, no, this was a bad idea, she decides, pivoting on her heel.

 “Wait.”

 She freezes. This is it, she has offended the fearsome warrior, and will meet her end at Lae’zel’s blade.

 “You wished to speak to me, did you not?”

 Always so direct. Straightforward, even. Morgana gulps silently.

 “Yes, but it’s, um, it’s nothing important.” Smooth.

Lae’zel straightens her posture. Despite her lacking in height, she poses a formidable presence. Her expression is unreadable.

 “What were you seeking?” Her head cocks to the side, “Questions about the creche, perhaps?”

 Huh, Morgana isn’t dead. She watches the gith closely and feels her tension ease.

 “Actually, I was hoping to know a little more about you. I’ve never seen a Gith before.”

 “I would imagine I am your first” 

 Lae’zel is proud, and uncomplicated, she says what she means and is surprisingly refreshing to speak with, Morgana finds. She is fearless and driven, her only will to serve her Queen and ascend to the Astral sea.

 They spend some time, not as much as Morgana would like, discussing the astral planes, and Morgana feels as though she understands her companion a bit better than she did before. Lae’zel is a formidable ally, and Morgana finds herself feeling just a bit safer knowing that Lae’zel is watching their backs.

 Gale is equally excited to glean from her knowledge of astral planes after her conversation with Lae’zel. He tells her about Tara, his tressym. She’s never seen a tressym before. He happily tells Morgana about evenings with Tara, indulging in a glass of wine, occasional poetry and sitting by the fireplace.

 He asks her if she is practiced in magic.

 Her mouth quirks into a grin.

“I am. Though perhaps not the same as an accomplished wizard, such as yourself.” She allows her magic to flare, the marks flashing around her eyes, and holds up a palm of Eldritch, fae-touched magic. Silently pleased, she notes the lack of interference from her patron. They are happy to allow her to share this time.

 Gale's face lights up, joyful in his curiosity. “Aha! Another warlock, I did have my suspicions, mind you.” He rubs his chin speculatively, eyeing the magic above her palm. “Hm, though not quite the same as Wyll. You draw your power from the feywilds.”

 She laughs, and feels the silver-bell joy of her patron echoing the sentiment. “A very good deduction, Gale of Waterdeep!”

 She closes her hand, dissipating the magic. The wizard’s enthusiasm is infectious as he jumps into quizzing her about schools of magic, what spells she knows, cantrips, and how she learns.

 “Do the spells just come to you, from your patron? Or do you have to study them first? Can you learn from studying, as wizards do?” He fires off, and then suddenly switches trajectory, “Ah, the Archfey you serve; they aren’t offended by this, perchance? Are you able to discuss your pact?”

 Morgana finds herself pleasantly amused, and again there is no interference or ill-will from the Archfey. “I can study spells, to an extent, depending on their will. I can be gifted spells that she finds fitting; she especially thought Faerie Fire and Tasha’s hideous laughter to be such spells!” She shakes her head, smiling. “As for offending her, well. As far as I know, only one human has ever done so, and they paid with what they loved, if I recall!”

 Then, she turns a bit more sombre, chewing on her lower lip as she thinks.

 “I can’t discuss much of my pact. Not now. Fey can be very… particular.” In truth, she doesn’t want to, especially seeing that she can’t very well lie. Recalling the events of her pact can be… unpleasant, from a painful part of her life that she’d rather forget. Her pact is forged from a single trade; she cannot forget what she gave.

To her pleasant surprise though, Gale laughs, good-naturedly. “Ah well, perhaps we can compare notes another time. I’m always keen to learn more, a wizard's work is never done!”

 She agrees, finding that it's something she would genuinely enjoy.

 It’s nice to have something to look forward to.

She knows those cerise eyes have been following her all evening. He’s been watching with thinly veiled amusement and he watches her still, expectantly.

There’s a long silence between them, and his expression twinkles with mischief.

 She doesn’t greet him, not really. Despite his assistance in the grove, she hasn’t really spoken to him, nor does she know anything about him. Time to remedy that. She clears her throat.

“Tell me about yourself, Astarion.”

“Oh, what’s to tell- I already told you I'm a magistrate, it's all rather tedious, really.” He breezes.

Liar.

 She can’t help herself. “Does anything honest ever leave your mouth?”

 He laughs. The damned elf actually has the audacity to laugh at her while she scowls, feeling petulant. She shifts her weight to one leg, jutting out her hip as she does so.

“Something funny?” She asks dryly.

His laughter fades, though he still looks bemused, peering down at her. The gaze isn’t unpleasant, but she’s quickly learning that he’s rather damn perceptive.

“You’re favouring that leg.”

Too damn perceptive. She doesn’t respond straight away.

Years of caution have served her well, and despite the comfort she’s beginning to find in her companions, she is still not prepared to trust them with her weakness. She thinks fast. She doesn’t need to tell the whole truth, but a half truth will do nicely.

“Pulled a muscle.”

“Of course, my apologies.” He tips his head in a performative bow, that perfect smirk not faltering. In doing so, he leans closer to her, his perfume washing over her senses and her pulse spikes.

 She swallows and takes a tentative step back, creating space between them again, his eyes following her movement. She again silently curses him; he’s damn handsome and he knows it, and he certainly knows how to use those charms of his. 

 Realising the secretive, smooth-talking elf will likely not be sharing anything more about himself, or anything honest for that matter, she gives in. She can deal with him another day.

 There’s one thing she has come to realise about Astarion though. He may be a devious flirt, but he’s outright vicious as a rogue. He’s cunning too, and she knows already that her patron likes him.

 So, resigning herself to understanding him better another time, she excuses herself and decides to wait around the fire until it's time for her night watch and then she can pull out her journal and fill in more pages.

.

Later on, Morgana sits, spent and exhausted, beside the crackling flames. The sound is soothing, a comfort she has long sought out during her life. Stormy, weary eyes watch as the fire dances and pops and sparks and she hums appreciatively, basking in its warmth with palms outstretched.

 Beside her, the book lies partially forgotten, the quill expectantly laid alongside its cover. Her thoughts are laid bare upon its pages; childhood, youth- incoherent noise scrawled upon the parchment surface, her study notes on literacy, her constant hunger while living rough, and crude sketches of things she's seen alongside them.

Tonight, her journal is far from her mind as she drifts off, welcoming the permeable heat of the fire and the lulling embrace of sleep.

 But, the journal is not unnoticed by another. An elegant pale hand plucks the journal and quill from the earth noiselessly, gracefully.

 Ruby eyes flit over the pages. The crude sketches, messy and hastily drawn, recount the recent sights and events in varying detail. He recognises the crashed nautiloid ship, and skims the notes surrounding it. 

“Why does a ship need sphincters?” he reads aloud with amusement colouring his voice. The word ‘sphincters’ is spelled incorrectly, scribbled out and rewritten a couple of times before finding the correct spelling, complete with an exclamation mark.

He flips back a few pages. A, presumably, forgotten appointment is crossed out for the Blushing Mermaid, first light! The words ‘fucking mindflayers’ are scrawled bitterly beside them.

 He chuckles once, and nods his approval of the unfinished mermaid sketch on the opposite page.

 He flips the pages back in bigger chunks now, catching glimpses and peeks into her life, spotting idle thoughts dotted through the pages, including ‘cold day’, ‘another headache’, a few odd instances of just ‘hunger’ that he finds himself very much relating to. Then his brow creases in thought. He should have reached the first page by now, yet it still appears as if he is barely halfway through, and even the pages are beginning to look a little more old and worn and yellowed with time and he clicks his tongue in realisation.

 She's enchanted the journal; infinite pages, so she never needs to carry more than the singular tome with her. His expression softens as he glances at the messier writing, the simpler drawings and the clumsy spelling. The repeated lines written by unsteady hands. Most of it is in common, but he recognises the few bits of script in very rough elvish.

 The journal snaps shut suddenly, and he rolls his eyes with an irritated tsk.

“I was reading that.”

“It's private.” She glares, well squints really, at him from where she's propped up on one elbow on the ground, her hair mussed up from her brief sleep. She flicks her wrist and the journal jerks into her hand.

 Astarions lips curl up and he cocks his head, facing her fully.

“Neat trick.”

 Morgana huffs and narrows her eyes, unamused, sparing a quick worried glance at the journal before tucking it away back in her pack. She seems to squirm under his gaze.

 “You seem tired, darling, perhaps I should take over the watch?” He suggests, lowering his voice to a smooth purr. He studies her, as she blinks and considers him. The way she worries at her lower lip, the bags under her eyes and smudged eyeliner.

 He isn’t jesting when he says she looks worn out. She relents with a heavy sigh, and sluggishly gets to her feet, brushing dust and dirt from her clothes. It's even more apparent now, standing unsteadily on her feet, that she’s favouring her leg. The little half-human is very unbalanced, her full weight bearing on one side, and under closer examination, he realises her left leg is not completely straight. Up until this evening, she’d been hiding it well.

 Ah. So this isn’t something new.

This is habitual, the way she adjusts her posture. She blinks sleep from her eyes, and it dawns on her that he’s watching, and she shifts, ever so slightly, but just enough to be stood straight, her crooked leg carefully turned to appear not so.

 She clears her throat, and her guard is up again.

 “In any case. If you’re taking over my watch, I'll retire for the night.”

 Astarion says nothing. He bends at the waist and opens his arm towards her tent, wishing her ‘Sweet dreams’ as she passes him. Her gait is practised, but in her exhaustion, it fails to hide the oh-so-subtle limp in her step.

 Curious. He rubs his hand over his chin in thought. He had assumed he was getting to her lately, luring her in with flirtations and suggestive words. He’d seen that pretty flush on her cheeks, his sharp ears had heard how her heart sped up. Yet, she still maintains a distance.

 He would have to try something different.

Even more curious, he realised, he’d seen the scrawl near the start of her book. Her literary difficulty with reading and writing, had she taught herself? What about Elvish?

 Oh the things he could murmur in her ear in their shared tongue.

 Astarion decides that he rather liked the sound of that, actually.

[atomicvoidjellyfish]

Haikyuu: Oikawa Toru x Reader MANEATER

POV: Reader who knows her self worth, doesn't believe in competition and is becoming a high value women. Watching everyone bow around her ;)

Aoba Johsai High the place to be or so you thought, apart from the ridiculously good boys volleyball team the school itself was pretty average.

The thing that definitely annoyed you the most is the Toruu Cult groups!! The endless squealing, uwu voices and don't even get started on the fan pages and utter desperation that oozed out of these girls. But all those girls were nothing compared to the Devil herself.

Emi Yamamoto (girl with the bowl cut PS: made up name!) Not only did her and Fumiko join The Seijoh's Girls Volleyball team but they also used it as a means to try to get closer to The King himself.

You'd occasionally seen him in class from time to time. He looks pretty bored and flustered off the court depending on his mood. He never really took notice of you cause of all the cultists swarming to him.

Present time:

You were so annoyed being given detention for not wearing the right coloured socks. School can be so petty sometimes. You huffed finally grabbing your books and started heading towards you locker all the way on the other side of the school.

The school was so quite having all the other students left. You eventually reach your locker at the end of the hall the sun rays still shinny in through the glass door. If they day couldn't get any worse your lock got jammed. "Clink, Clang Clak" you were getting frustrated the noise catching someones attention. You were too busy to hear foot steps or notice someone standing behind you.

Oikawa: "Well aren't you just gorgeous, Ive never seen you around before" he say with a confident smirk.

Y/N: "Sorry I'm not interested in being apart of any of your fan clubs" You still continued rattling the lock around.

Oikawa: "Wow someones fiesty, Im sure nothing like a couple of photos with me wont fix." He moves placing his forearm up against the lockers next to you slinging his arm over his head. Oikawa was very amused and very curious to get a closer look at you.

Y/N: "Im sorry my lock is jammed, if you could help me fix it that would be more than enough." You let go of the lock tucking your hair around your ears out of your face. Sneaking a glance at Oikawa. You admit he was tall, chocolate, sweet and very handsome. Definitely hasn't met he match yet, you knew from then on school was going to plenty fun.

Oikawa: "Well of course I can help you out with that, anything for you" He winks his eyes lingering before fiddling a little and un-jamming the lock, taking it off for you.

Y/N: "Thanks....Can I have my lock back?" You'd finish putting your books away.

Oikawa: " If you can get it, sure you can have it back" He smirks holding it up high way above your head.

Y/N: " Im not doing this." You open your locker grabbing a pencil and jamming it through the hole making some what of a temporary lock. "Listen Oikawa Im going home you can keep the lock" you stuff your bag with homework turn around and start making a b line towards the locker room exit.

Oikawa: He quickly catches up with you grabbing your wrist gently spinning you around to face him bringing the both of you a lot closer. "It is getting late, you're not a bag girl are you? Acting all mysterious, out late and trying to run away from me" He towers over you with a big smirk as he stared into your eyes.

Y/N: You look down smirking "Well what do you want me to be" you say looking up at him with a very seductive gaze. He looked a bit shocked. You took the chance to free yourself from his grip and start quickly going to the exit. "Thanks Oikawa-chan loved the chat" you chirped giggling a little. You had him exactly where you want him now.

Oikawa: He watch as your figure slowly faded, sure there were plenty pretty girls at Aoba Joshai but you were different. Heavenly, you were absolutely breath taking. Oikawa snapped out of his trans smirking "This will be fun" he chuckles. "Well better get back to training before Iwaizumi growls at me"

Little did Oikawa and Y/N know Emi and Fumiko were watching scheming on what they should do. They could feel the heat in their cheeky and the envy already consuming them. The tension between everyone was getting thick!

Part 2 coming soon: Now the stage is set things are gonna get hot and spicy, might consider Oikawa x reader x kageyama!!! Bring in a love triangle ooooo. Will leave link when post is out or feel free to like and follow for more content love you all xoxo

[maskyish]

Re:vale - Shuffle Talk 2022 (Episode 3)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

Please note: I am NOT a professional and my level of JP is very, very basic. I do this for practice and to share with other fans for fun. Please take my translations with a grain of salt as there may be mistakes. If you see any, please let me know and I can correct them. If anyone else has this card and wants to translate this at any time then please feel free to do so!

Momo: Good morning! Hnn… It’s pretty cold…. 

Filming Staff: Good morning, Momo-san! I’m sorry for having to leave so early in the morning… or rather, I should say late at night. 

Staff: Once the bus leaves, you’re free to rest until we get to the location. 

Momo: No worries! I’m sure you’re sleepy too, right? Since we want to catch the sunrise while filming~. 

Okarin: Momo-kun, good morning! 

Momo: Morning, Okarin! ….. Huh? Where’s Yuki? He’s not with you? 

Okarin: So Yuki-kun isn't here yet. 

Okarin: We have some time before we leave. Maybe he’s getting ready in the room? 

Momo: Yeah. Probably…. 

Momo: ……

--flashback--

Staff: Many fans are looking forward to seeing shots of Re:vale’s closeness! (1) 

--back to present-- 

Momo: ……

Momo: Sorry, Okarin! I think I left something in my room– 

Yuki: Morning.

Momo: Ah! Yuki! 

Okarin: Speak of the devil! Good morning, Yuki-kun. 

Momo: I’m glad….. Did it take you longer to get ready? 

Yuki: …… Yeah, kinda. 

Yuki: ‘Cause I went to Momo’s room. 

Momo: Huh, my room? Why? 

Yuki: …. I thought you might’ve overslept. 

Momo: Eh? Really?!  I mean…. Actually, I was about to head to your room, too. 

Momo: I wanted to talk to you for a bit before the shoot. 

Yuki: You too? 

Momo: Huh? Me….too? 

Yuki: Oh……..

…….. 

Momo: Pft– Hahah! Yeah! I wanted to talk to you too!

Yuki: …..Haha. I see. 

Yuki: I didn’t want it to stay like this even though we’re filming overseas.  

Yuki: I want to take pictures with you too. 

Momo: Yuki…..

Momo: …. Yeah, same! I’m sorry for being so stubborn yesterday over something so petty. 

Yuki: It’s okay. Wanna shake hands to make up? 

Momo: I do! 

Yuki: ….! Haha, with both hands. 

Momo: I’m really, really sorry! If you want, I can do even more? 

Yuki: Fufu… It’s too much, isn’t it? 

Yuki: ….. Let’s have a good photoshoot, Momo. 

Momo: Yeah, we’ll do our best! 

——

Staff: Cut! Looks good! We’ll take a break! 

Momo: Nice job, Yuki! They got a lot of good pictures, right? 

Yuki: Yeah. 

Yuki: I feel like I’m in heaven surrounded by these lotus flowers. 

Momo: Hahah, I guess so. The way the morning sun sparkles on the reflection of the water’s surface is so magical! 

Yuki: Momo, look. The sun is rising. 

Momo: Whoa… it’s amazing. A sight like this is rare….. 

Momo: If there really is a paradise, I feel like it would look like this! 

Yuki: The lotus flowers are in full bloom. 

Momo: Look over there! One white flower is blooming. 

Yuki: It’s true. It’s as white as snow. (2) 

Momo: “Yuki”? Like your name? (2) 

Yuki: Ah. A play on words…? 

Momo: It’s punny! ….But, isn’t the only white one lonely? 

Yuki: It’s not lonely. It’s surrounded by peach-colored flowers. (3) 

Yuki: …… Pun-intended. 

Momo: The punny Yuki is also handsome… ! 

Momo: Anyways…. When you’re surrounded by such beautiful scenery, the little things don’t matter.~

Yuki: Like little fights? 

Momo: Right. Like a little lozenge. 

Momo: By the way, you don’t have to worry about fights on the way home, we have plenty of coconut candies! 

Yuki: That candy is too sweet…… But, it’s not bad to have fights like this from time to time to sort out various things. 

Momo: Huh? Don’t you get upset when we fight? 

Yuki: Pissed. 

Momo: Hahah! Yeah, I know. 

Yuki: But, they say the more you fight the closer you are. 

Momo: That may be true. When we first met, I never imagined I’d fight like this with you, Yuki. 

Yuki: That goes to show how deep our bond has become. 

Momo: Yuki….! 

Yuki: I mean, without Momo I may not have even been able to retain my human form. 

Momo: Huh? 

Yuki: I can’t get up in the morning, and I don’t get much sun. 

Momo: You sound like a vampire again! But a monstrous Yuki is also super handsome! 

Momo: I mean, even I can’t live without Yuki. You’ve already won my stomach. (4) 

Momo: The hamburger you made before was the best in the world! 

Yuki: Really? Then, next time I’ll make hamburger curry with some Thai spices. 

Momo: Yay! I really like Thai curry too! 

Momo: I’ll have to buy some spices as a souvenir! 

Yuki: Fufu. Sure thing. 

Momo: Alright! Let’s give the rest of the shoot our best! 

Yuki: Right. 

[End of Rabbitv]

TL Notes:

1. Flashback from part 2. 

2. Yuki means snow. So Momo points out that the color of the flower is “snow” like Yuki’s name as a play on words. 

3. Momo can also mean peaches. So Yuki is doing a play on words here with Momo’s name now. 

4. I don’t really know how to phrase this, but I believe this is just referencing Yuki cooking for Momo. Like how they say “a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach” sort of thing. So this is a bit of a liberal translation as a literal translation would probably sound weird. 

[wren-kitchens]

anyway i’m gonna spam you guys with various unfinished things that I like here’s a vampire au I came up with a little while ago lmao

“you know, I wasn’t even gonna buy it.” scott is saying to grian. “like, I knew it was silver, but equally the price was just ridiculous.”

“you did buy it though.” grian points out. “how much even was it?”

“like, £250.” scott says.

“for that?” grian says, pointing at the little poppy pendant on scott’s necklace.

“i know.” scott nods. “I think I was scammed. there’s not even a gem in here.”

“you think?” grian says. “you’ve been alive for, like, 600 years and you didn’t think to haggle. not to mention that’s literally silver; how are you still wearing it?”

“I like it.” scott shrugs. “besides, it’s not too painful.”

“it shouldn’t be at all painful!” grian exclaims. “just get fake silver, no one can tell the difference.”

“yeah, but this was only in genuine silver.” scott says. “besides i’m sure i’ll have a spare chain lying around, i’ll look later.”

“I swear, lizzie is the only one who cares about safety here.”

at that moment, the door crashes open, lizzie stood panting in the doorway, flapping her arms excitedly at something behind her.

“speak of the devil.” grian says.

“hello.” scott says. “any reason you want to dent my wall?”

“new- new vampire.” lizzie says through breaths. “oh, goodness. I ran here.”

“sit down.” grian says. “and I retract my previous statement. apparently only I care about safety.”

lizzie sinks into a sofa, fanning her face. she glances over at scott. “is that real silver?”

“yup.” scott says.

“that’s silly.” lizzie says. 

“well, i’m gonna get another chain.” scott says.

“still silly.” lizzie says. “that stuff doesn’t mess around.”

“what’s this about silver?” joel is at the door, accompanied by an unfamiliar man.

“scott has a silver necklace.” grian says.

“that’s dumb.” joel says.

“that’s what I said.” lizzie nods. “anyway! new vampire, guys!”

“hey.” the stranger says shyly. 

he’s quite pretty. tall, with honey blonde hair and brown eyes. he looks like a newly turned, not quite old yet. scott can’t seem to take his eyes off him.

“i’m jimmy.” he says. “uh. not.. entirely sure how this whole vampire thing works? um. yeah.” he chuckles awkwardly. scott might be in love.

grian clearly notices (because of course he does) and snorts. scott elbows him.

“he’s just some guy.” 

“and so what is scar?”

scott watches grian’s face turn red with smug satisfaction.

“shut up.”

“guys, introduce yourselves!” lizzie says as joel sits on the sofa next to her.

“i’m grian.” he says. “been around for, uh.. about half a millennia. and i actually care about safety.” he shoots scott a look.

scott rolls his eyes. “i’m scott. i’ve been alive for 617 years. and.. I don’t know, I like poppies.” he shrugs, hoping it’s not obvious how much he’s trying to look casual.

“you know me and lizzie.” joel says. “uh, there are a couple of others but they’re not here today.”

“well, welcome to the club.” grian says. he turns to lizzie. “do we have a name, I can’t remember.”

“I have no idea, I set this up centuries ago.” lizzie says. “if we do I can’t remember it.” 

she looks up to see jimmy still stood awkwardly. “come sit!” she says, patting the sofa on the other side of her. 

“yeah, we don’t bite.” scott grins. “well, not often.”

“oh, don’t tease.” lizzie says, as jimmy sits down tentatively next to her. “he’s kidding.” she tells him. “we don’t even drink blood.”

jimmy frowns. “what do you drink?”

“coconut water.” grian says. “it can be used for emergency blood transfusions—joel found this out for us—and so it’s somehow the same for us as drinking blood.”

jimmy grins, and god damn it, he’s handsome. “wait, so you’re vegan vampires?” 

“I-“ lizzie thinks for a second. “vegan is when you eat only plants, right?” joel nods. “then yes, I suppose so.”

“that’s so funny.” jimmy says. “oh! that’s what you should call this club! ‘vegan vampires’!” he exclaims, and oh, god, it is so cute. 

“I like that.” lizzie says, clicking her fingers. “can we call it that?”

“you made this club.” grian reminds her. “so yeah.”

“awesome!” lizzie beams. “we are now the vegan vampires.”

[demvalhaken]

Dem Rambles lol (I am insane)

I honestly wanna create a PMV or something but I SUCK AT THAT TYPE OF STUFF. I’ve honestly never been good at drawing frames, but maybe trying something new will fix this horrid artblock

Lol, I don’t even know what song I would do tbh

ALSO, I ONLY WANT TO LISTEN TO ONE SONG ON YT AND IT FORCES ME INTO A MIX I DIDNT ASK FOR. I WANT TO LISTEN TO ONE “NEW NORMAL” NOT 50 LYRIC VIDEOS AND FAN ANIMATIONS OF NEW NORMAL BY JACK STAUBER. LET ME WATCH ONE MUSIC VIDEO.

BTW, JOJO SIWA RIPPED OFF THE TOOL LOGO, WHAT A BUNCH OF HIPPY DIPPY BOLOGNA. I DONT THINK I WANT TO KNOW YOUR GUILTY PLEASURES, JOJO, IM COMPLETELY FINE AFTER YOU VIOLATED THAT POOR FISH.

My guilty pleasure is liking those silly yt essays about Spongebob and internet shit. I now realise how nerdy my history has become. I’VE BEEN READING ENTIRE WIKIPEDIA ARTICLES ON BEES AND WATCHING HOUR LONG EXPLANATIONS. I watch science stuff for crying out loud, and commentary… Layze, Chad Chad, Danny Gonzalez, Drew Gooden, Soda Pets… I DREW FAN ART OF FUNKYFROGBAIT AND WATCHED THEIR VIDEOS LIKE 6 TIME EACH. AUHHHHHGHGHGHGHGG

I feel as though That Handsome Devil doesn’t get a lot of love on his music except for Savages and Charlie’s Inferno. My favourite song by him is Inside You or Stockholm Syndrome or the entirety of History Is a Suicide Note and Your Parents Are Sellouts AND THAT HANDSOME DEVIL (Name ablum)

I’LL JUST BUILD A FUCKING TIME MACHINE! (BUILD A FUCKING TIME MACHINE!) REWIND TO THOSE TIMES THAT YOU LIED TO ME! I’LL JUST BUILD A FUCKING TIME MACHINE! (BUILD A FUCKING TIME MACHINE!) REALLY, IT’S ALRIGHT, IT’S FINE WITH ME! WELD IT TOGETHER WITH A SOLDERING IRON! WHEN I TAKE A TRIP I CAN FEEL A PART OF ME DYING! BUT I GO BACK ‘TILL THERE’S NO REGRETS! ‘TIL YOU DIDN’T KNOW ME YET! ‘TIL ONLY YOU AND ME WERE ONLY LEFT! - Time Machine by That Handsome Devil

Tbh that song is kind of comforting for me, please take a listen to his underground music, I am not a Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss! I am a TRUTH, SHARE, GIRLBOSS! I DO NOT GASLIGHT OR GATEKEEP

Btw can we all agree that no one is an “AI Artist.” I was watching an essay video on youtube and this (Not to be mean) interviewed dumbass said that he was an AI Artist. Oh, poor him, his AI images are being shared around the internet and he’s gonna probably do a DMCA thing. I don’t give a shit that your “AI Art” is being shared around, go back to your basement >:( We shouldn’t call anyone an “AI Artist,” it’s not art, it’s an generated image using data from billions of stolen images from photos and artist. I just have a burning HATRED for these people. Dem Facts for you!

Sorry for the ramblings, I fell asleep to 9 chad chad videos and now I can confirm that, no, she does not give me nightmares :)

I’m not even gonna read any of this and just post it, I mean no hate to anyone unless they deserve it. Love you guys, I read every comment btw if you’re wondering

Dem Rambles, women are hot and I eat powdered sugar

[call-me-the-cassie]

The Mood Lift

Written for the Jilytober 2023: Masquerade Challenge @jilytoberfest Prompt:  am taking the stairs because there’s a huge dog inside the lift and my office is 20 floors above and oh look at that, this handsome man always climbs 22 flights of stairs.

Lily Evans was a very professional young lady. She wasn’t the kind to dilly dally at work at all, no, she left her personal life at the door of the Scrivenshaft’s skyscraper when she came in every morning and worked diligently for eight hours while thinking strictly professional thoughts in her strictly professional attire. And if she thought less than strictly professional thoughts on her one-hour break, well, that was nobody’s business. It was a break, after all.

Not that there were very many unprofessional thoughts, even at break. Lily liked to stay present in the moment, and she was reasonably happy at her workplace. She may not build lifelong close relationships there, but she did like her coworkers enough to spend her free time walking across the road to get sandwiches and coffee with them and chat about frivolous nothings.

“...and then I spent the rest of the morning figuring that out, so I haven’t really had a moment to be tired, but now I’m surprisingly drained out”, Lily said, talking to Marlene McKinnon, her next desk neighbor, one sunny Monday as they walked back with their extra strong coffees. It had been a rather nerve-wracking morning for ones still unused to the chaos the office sometimes descended into.

Marlene nodded sympathetically. 

“Things can get a little heated up this time of the month”, she reassured. “You’ll see it’s nothing to be alarmed by soon enough - all bark and no bite.”

They walked into the building, moping just a little about Mondays, and then an awkward silence reigned briefly as they waited for a lift.

“This building is way too tall if you ask me”, said Marlene to fill the silence. “I have to get here five minutes early just to account for the lifts, and one of them is always out of order.”

“I’m not a huge fan myself”, Lily admitted. “But what can you do? It’d take way longer to take the stairs.”

“Ha! I’m not sure I’d make it to the top at all!” Marlene laughed, and Lily thought that was the end of small talk about lifts.

She was so very, very wrong. She was soon to discover that the lifts weren’t a topic of small talk at all, no, they were the roadblocks on every employee’s path to success, the cog in the otherwise smooth machinery that was Scrivenshaft, the creation of the very devil himself to wheedle hapless young women into damnation.

Lily hated the lifts. Soon they were eating up two thirds of her lunch breaks, till she gave in and started packing herself a little snack to avoid having to leave her desk, and she may have forgiven that, and the fact that they seemed to grow more and more unreliable every day, forcing her to come in earlier and earlier and leave later and later every passing day, if only there was limit to the lifts’ crimes against humanity.

The lifts were evil incarnate, and yet, she depended on them for her very survival. It was an entirely unbearable situation, and someday something would have to change, but she soldiered on bravely till he came into the picture.

It was after nearly a fortnight of suffering that she first saw him. She was still new, still not quite filled with bitterness, still hopeful that the struggles were temporary, and therefore still capable of being surprised when she saw someone make their way to the stairs instead of standing in line for the lifts as they all did.

“Who’s that?”, she whispered to Dorcas, one of those employees who had been much longer than most of them. “I know the lifts are tiresome but… he’s not really going to walk up twenty flights of stairs, is he?”

Dorcas looked bored.

“Maybe he doesn’t need to go up twenty floors”, she replied briefly, which was entirely unhelpful, because there weren’t any offices below the fifth floor anyway, so the man was in for quite a trek either way.

Lily would later find out that all of Dorcas’s replies had a tendency to be brief, the older woman was notoriously unforthcoming with information. She would also notice that Dorcas had never answered her question, and she still had no idea who the man was.

Once she’d seen him, he seemed to appear constantly before her, leading her to assume that he must work there as well. When Marlene couldn’t help her figure out who it was with the little information she had, she took to trying to find out more about him in non stalkery, professional ways.

Perhaps her professionalism was wavering just a little bit.

She made a little game of it, just now and then, noticing little things about the mystery man to tell Marlene, who was proving her wrong by quickly becoming a fast friend of hers. 

“He wore a blue shirt”, she’d first described, but that predictably led nowhere, and with time she found ways to be more specific.

“I saw him on the twenty second floor today, I can’t imagine how he’s doing it”, she said another day, and that was a little more helpful.

“He basically skipped up the stairs! How does the man have so much energy?”, she’d grumble sometimes.

“I suppose that explains how he’s so fit”, she’d admit, but only on break, because that was an unprofessional thought, and she only had them on her breaks, and only in front of Marlene, although others in the office had heard of lift man by then.

Months passed.

“It’s a little unfair, you know”, Marlene would remark now and then. “To call him lift man when all we know about him is that he doesn’t use the lifts.”

“He has made his whole personality about the lifts, Marlie, what else could I call him?” Lily would protest, and Marlene would accuse her of projecting because she herself was becoming obsessed with the lifts, and then the pair would bicker like lifelong friends they might actually be becoming.

Lily was starting to be rather happy, and the walls of professionalism were starting to relax. She was bonding with her coworkers, her work life was proceeding smoothly, and though she was no closer to unraveling the mystery of the lift man -not that there really was a mystery to solve- she rather enjoyed the little game she and Marlene had bonded over. 

If things felt too good to be true -and here Lily would have protested that they didn’t feel that good- the fates intended to balance the scales very soon.

The lifts were to blame, of course. As had been already established, they were the source from where all human sorrow flowed into the world, and they could not accept the calm in Lily’s life, her defiance of the chaos they spread.

The lifts demanded revenge, and they timed their vengeance well.

It was a wet Thursday morning, and Lily Evans was running disastrously late. Her once professional bun had been replaced by a slightly sloppy braid, her high heels swapped for sneakers, and her calm, professional gait had vanished in favor of frantic running when she arrived at Scrivenshaft that morning. 

She put the causes for her circumstances firmly to the back of her mind and reached out for the lift button. Surely there would be one upside to all of this, surely the lifts would be faster now that everyone was already in their offices, she told herself. The lifts would be kind to her today.

Fate laughed at her naivete, the lifts chuckled at her optimism.

Out of order signs hung proudly on two of the three lifts in the building, a little dust starting to gather on them, and a passerby often noted how problematic the situation could be without doing anything to remedy it.

No one, however, was as afflicted by it as Lily Evans was that day, because when the doors to the third lift opened, and they were, indeed, faster without the morning rush, Lily found herself face to face with what she at first assumed to be a hellhound.

Lily didn’t necessarily fear dogs, but this was no ordinary dog. It looked like a wolf, and when she held its gaze for a moment, Lily knew true terror deep in her soul. She looked around for a moment, realized very quickly that she was all alone at the moment, and bolted for the safety of the stairs.

They weren’t far, but Lily was panting anyway when she reached halfway up the stairs and looked behind to see if she was being pursued.

She was, but not by the creature she was running from.

No, she was facing the lift man instead, and he looked a little alarmed. Panic flared as Lily wondered how much of her antics he had witnessed.

“Hello”, she said, trying to smile. “I’m Lily.”

To his credit, the lift man smiled right back, as if the situation wasn’t absurd at all.

“I’m James”, he replied. “I think I’ve seen you around. Lily Evans, yes?”

And just like that, Lily did know who he was. She had emailed him. They had had at least three brief exchanges in an online meeting. They didn’t work together on a daily basis, but she was still floored for a moment by the realization that she had no idea what James Potter looked like before this moment.

Well. That was partly why she was floored. Lily couldn’t exactly deny that she was momentarily very distracted because she’d never seen him from up close like this before and he was much prettier than she had realized.

“That’s me”, she replied, recovering quickly. “Sorry, it’s been a crazy morning, I didn’t realize you’re James Potter.”

Lift man -James- climbed up the few stairs between them to join her.

“I don’t blame you”, he smiled, “I never put up profile pictures. Can’t have people distracted.”

Lily found herself relaxing a little as he gestured to himself, grinning at his own joke.

“I’m afraid my distraction is unrelated”, she sighed as they fell into step. “It’s the lifts.”

“Work of Satan himself”, James said promptly, and Lily’s heart fluttered a little.

“That’s what I say!”, she exclaimed.

“I concur wholeheartedly”, he replied. “They’re my lifelong nemesis.”

Lily could have kissed him there, as they stopped for a moment at the second floor to catch a breath. 

Or so she thought.

“What are you doing?”, she half squeaked as he pressed the button summoning the only functioning lift to them.

“Waiting for the lift?”, he said, sounding confused.

“I thought they were your nemesis," Lily protested. “James, you can’t take the lift.”

“Lily”, he said very patiently. “The stairs don’t go any higher, because no one would climb up more than two flights of stairs, and I sure as hell wouldn’t climb up twenty-two flights.”

Lily looked around. He was right. The stairs didn’t go any further.

“We can take the fire escape”, she suggested. James could accompany her or not, but there was no way she was going anywhere near the lifts ever again.

He looked surprised.

“Lily, I hate the lifts as much as you do, but…”

“You don’t understand”, she interrupted. “There’s a dog in there, a big, angry vicious dog, and we need to get away before the lift arrives and it attacks us.”

She sounded unhinged even to her own ears. James paused for a moment.

“How about”, he suggested “we wait for the lift, and if the dog is still in there, I protect you with my life and we take the fire escape?”

Lily considered this for a moment.

“And I buy you coffee to compensate for the ordeal”, he added.

“Well, okay, then”, Lily relented, pleased that he seemed to enjoy her company as much as she enjoyed his.

They waited, but there was no awkward silence to fill, and when the lift doors opened and no dog presented itself, James gallantly declared that it was doubtlessly a trick of the lifts.

“I believe you completely”, he reassured her.

“I suppose I should buy you coffee instead, since you were prepared to defend me with your life”, Lily offered, hoping he’d take her up on it. 

“We could do that”, James agreed, “or we could get dinner together this Saturday and work on a petition to banish the lifts.”

Lily’s eyes widened a bit in surprise.

“As friends, of course”, James added. “We’ve been through so much together.”

“That sounds great”, Lily smiled. 

They exchanged numbers and reluctantly parted ways at the twentieth floor.

Despite the morning’s difficulties, Lily found herself smiling a little all day.

James had picked the perfect place for dinner. Light, breezy and casual, perfect for their new budding friendship. Lily was instantly at ease, and she loved the food there.

“Oh my god this is absolutely amazing”, Lily gushed over her pasta. 

“I know right!”, agreed James, just as enthusiastic about his onion rings. “I’m pretty good company!”

“No, really, how have I never heard of Leaky Cauldron?”, she said. “This is heaven, James, you’ve brought me to heaven.”

“Underrated gem, this place”, he said. “You’re very welcome.”

“I haven’t thanked you yet”, Lily protested, and then her tone softened. “But I am now. Thank you for offering to fight a dog for me, and for keeping me company, and for bringing me to my new favorite diner.”

“Happy to”, James replied, a faint blush spreading over his face. “You’re pretty good company, my new favorite friend, as long as you don’t tell my old favorite friend.”

“I can do that”, she laughed.

“Speaking of my old favorite friend”, James continued, “I do actually know a bit about the dog’s backstory.”

Lily listened, riveted, while he explained how his friend had seen the dog wandering the streets that morning and decided to launch a very ill thought rescue mission. He reassured her that the dog and the friend were now both safely stashed away at their respective homes, and the lifts weren’t to blame for once after all.

They had more to talk about than either of them expected, and when the dinner was over, they decided to get an ice cream, and when somehow there was still more that they absolutely had to discuss, they agreed to meet for dinner again.

And again. 

And then for lunch, and then for coffee. Lily introduced James to Marlene, who gleefully spilled the beans about their speculation about the mysterious lift man, and James introduced her to Sirius, who apologized for his part in scarring her with the dog.

Lily didn’t believe in workplace romances, but she hadn’t believed in workplace friendships either, and she had been proven very wrong there, so she took a leap of faith a few weeks later and asked James out.

“I’d love to get dinner with you this weekend”, she replied deceptively casually one day when James asked her if she had plans, “but I’d like it to be a date.”

And James had beamed , grinning ear to ear as he took her up on it.

And then professionalism went out the window entirely as he leaned forward, just a little, and left a kiss on her cheek.

“See you soon, Evans”, he said as she stood there, beaming back at him.

Maybe, just maybe, the lifts weren’t the spawn of the devil after all.

[chocolatenyancat]

Hey there! I'm fluttershytherapper! And this is my intro! (I haven't done one yet)

Things about me!

I'M A MINOR

She/he pronouns

Bisexual

I have autism

Gender fluid

Things I like

Fnaf

Trollge files, Friday night incident, funkin physics & trollge files: disorder

Mlp

AoT

Lomando. Com

Fnf

guts and blackpowder

Crk

SCP containment breach

Danganronpa

Junji ito

return to treasure island 1988

Salad fingers

Dr aibolit

the adventures of captian vrungle

Jurassic Park(dinosaurs)

Space

Octonauts

slendytubbies

Bands I like

Slipknot

Will wood

Mitski

Bemular (if anyone remembers him)

Bjork

Radiohead

The misfits

Lemon demon

That handsome devil

cannibal corpse

People who are welcome here!

Scenes and emos! (Or any style)

LGBT+

Trollge fans! (Or any fandom)

Furries(no zoos or pedos)

Therians

Age regressers

DNI LIST

P3dos

Z0os

R$psexuals

Anti trans and LGBT+

Anti furs and Anti therians

NSFW accounts

Pro shippers

zi0nists

Don't be toxic plz