#but I still can't stand him so not much is still too much

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

hii I was wondering if u could write something where daeho and reader are already in a relationship and they find eachother after the first round and maybe they are upset with eachother for going into the games.

anc if it could have a bit of fluff that would be nice!!

tyy🫶🫶🫶

At Least We Have Eachother

KANG DAE-HO X READER

Summary- Dae-ho and you both join the squid games for the benefit of the other. Neither of you know about it, until you find each other after the first game.

Warnings- Squid Games, mentions of blood, murder, and death

A/N- Thank you guys for the overwhelming support with my Daeho fic. I am so motivated right now, it's not even funny. He is such a sweet baby, MY SHAYLAAAA

Word Count- 1,192

Your debt was not something you were proud of. To be honest, it crept up on you. It started with medical bills, then Daeho ran into some Ex-Marines, who dragged him into a bad gamble.

From there it kind of went down hill. Struggling to pay bills, borrowing more money, making the wrong people mad. In other words, the two of you were in an extremely bad position.

When a strange man with a suitcase approached you on your way home, you were hesitant. In any other situation you might have ignored him and walked away. But, you had just had another invoice from a debt collecting company. Not to mention the loan shark that came up and threatened Daeho two days prior. The eviction notice was also putting a hole on your kitchen table.

The idea of following the funny-looking card, winning a bunch of money, clearing your (and Daeho) debts. It was too good to be true, you knew that deep down. At the end of the day, you were at rock bottom. Desperate people do desperate things.

So, while slipping Daeho a simple lie about spending the night with a friend... You took off to the discrete location alone. Where you were picked up by a van. You don't remember much after that.

The regret sunk in deep when you realized what you had gotten yourself into. When you awoke seeing hundreds of people around you, all in the same position, you were noticeably scared. You barely left the bed you woke in. Only to stand with the crowd to listen to the guards and sign the needed contract. It seemed too late to back out now...

The first game was lonely, intimidating, and revealing. The only reason you weren't lying head face in the sand dead, was your fear. It struck you stone-cold still on 'red light'. The ring of your ears pressured you to move forward on 'Green light.' Due to the deadly shots to other players. It pushed you to move so you didn't suffer the same fate.

You were much too nervous to talk to anyone, you saw little point in making friends at first. That was until the realization of any team games.

After the first game was officially over and you had returned to the common room, you'd taken a moment to think. To think how it would be if you were able to walk home now. How it probably wouldn't even matter if you had died, so many people were out for your head anyways. It was all looking dark, but Daeho was your light. He was always so positive, he kept you happy. You owed it to him to keep fighting.

To keep fighting for that adorable, handsome, sweet face. That same face that was currently staring you down....

"Daeho?" You questioned, just in case your mind was playing a trick on you.

"What are you doing here!" He ran over, pulling you further behind the layered beds. His grip was tight on your arm, once the two of you stopped, he seemed to notice. At that he quickly loosened his squeeze.

"W-why are you here! I-I thought you were sleeping over at-" You cut him off, your guilty conscience taking over.

"Daeho, what are you doing here?" You rebutted, frantically pushing your hair back. He knew you were nervous.

"To settle some of our debt, but that doesn't even matter anymore. People are dying, you can't be here!" He stressed over you. He did a few takes over your form, making sure you were not hurt in any way. You thought he was finished until he slowly brought his hand up. He stuck his thumb out and seared a few drops of blood off of your cheek. You hadn't noticed them before...

An argument against him was impossible to think of, but you managed. "Well I can say the same about you! You could get killed also. Where would that leave me!" He threw his head back, pressing both hands over his face. He dragged them down, an annoyed expression on his face.

"Ohhh, this can not be happening.. I-it doesn't matter, because you're here, where you were not supposed to be!" He started to fidget with his fingers, a sign he was distressed.

"Dae...I'm also here because... I got fired yesterday..." You looked down, picking at your nails. His head snapped to look at yours. "What?"

"They were... overstaffed and, apparently a younger employee could do the same amount of work for minimum wage... So, they just got rid of me..." He looked sympathetic, but still mad.

"You should have told me. We would have figured it out. You didn't have to lie."

You thought for a second, "Its not like I wanted to lie! I was trying to help us!"

"How reckless!" He said. It was almost comical!

A laugh pushed its way out, "Oh my gosh, don't act like you aren't here too!" You started to raise your voice, frustrated.

He took a single step back, hands on his hips. "You're supposed to be the smart one! I'm fun, loving, a burst of fricken light!" He said, his words contradicting his tone, not joyfully at all.

"Whatever! What matters now is that we were stuck in a death trap! The money is not even our first problem. We might not even be alive before the day is over! Or worse, you'll be dead and I'll be left to suffer!"

He gave another sigh, stepping forward and embracing you. It was exactly what both of you needed. His arms wrapped impossibly tight around you. You could only reciprocate the squeeze. His head fell on top of yours, he nestled in.

"I don't want to argue, I just want you safe... We will be fine." He said, keeping you in his grasp.

"I know, but I just wanted to help... The man seemed so promising, that we could have a normal life again." You wanted to let your tears flow, but you couldn't risk looking weak. You had to remind yourself that there were still a couple hundred other players in the large room.

He shook his head on top of yours, "I would live in a tent as long as I was with you.... I can manage anywhere, as long as you are by my side..."

You pulled back to look at him. Your arms still wrapping around each other. "I just, I know you're not happy... I wanted to clear everything up, one day own our own house. One that we can never get evicted from." He pushed a stray hair behind your ear.

"Oh Dae, I don't care about that. I just want you." You shoved your head into his chest.

"I love you.."

"I love you too."

"What the hell are we going to do here." You questioned, peaking up from his chest slightly.

"Were going to stick together. We're going to get out of this alive." He pulled back and down to press a firm and reassuring kiss on your lips. Maybe things would be so bad after all.

Oh, how naive you both were...

A/N- Honestly, I like my first Daeho fic better. But that's probably because I am a SUCKER for emotional hurt/comfort. Anyways, I hope y'all enjoyed this one. Pls lmk how I can improve!!!

[prael]

Day 6: Revenge Or Fate

IOI/Gugudan Sejeong x male reader smut

words: 5,611 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

"What's that look for?" you ask with all the whimsy you can muster. "I only said that I bought your favourite popcorn. Why are you staring at me as if I just got down on one knee and proposed?"

"You did say you'd marry me someday," Sejeong jokes. Then she does that thing she always does when she's nervous—tugging at the lobe of her ear.

You roll your eyes. "Yeah. I mean when we are both in our sixties. When you have become the crazy cat lady and I the bachelor with a penchant for wine and cigarettes. It's not even close to that time yet."

"Why would you be smoking?" Sejeong wrinkles her nose. She knows you can't stand the smell.

"Because I'll be an ageing bachelor, duh," you answer with a dismissive wave of a hand as you sit by her on the couch. She's got her legs curled up against her chest, the way she always does when it's cold outside. You'd know—she's been sitting like that on your couch every winter since the beginning of time.

She lets out the softest of laughs before it quickly dissipates into silence. She's staring across the room, but not really looking at anything. Her face is painted in melancholy. You know her well enough to know that look, and you hate it. Hate everything it represents. You sigh. The first time you saw her like this was back as teenagers, after the dog she grew up with had been hit by a car. It still hurts your chest.

"You've got that look again," you tell her. "Like there's a million and one things in your mind and none of them particularly good."

"I'm okay. Just tired." Sejeong's smile doesn't quite convince you.

"I wasn't going to say anything. I thought you'd tell me if you wanted me to know, but it's been months since you asked me to come over on a Friday night, so something has happened. I haven't seen this much annoyance behind your eyes since the end of Game Of Thrones. What is it?"

"I'm just feeling overwhelmed, that's all. I wish you weren't so observant."

"You should be used to it by now."

Sejeong flashes a half-hearted smile and takes hold of your hand as she used to do when you were kids. You feel guilty for the way your stomach flutters.

"I guess we have always known each other better than anyone else," she admits, her hand still clasped around yours. It's warm and familiar. You feel the urge to push away, but how can you? It would give far too much away. She has always had this effect on you—you could never distance yourself from her warmth. "He's an asshole."

"You don't need to tell me twice," you chuckle. Then: "Tell me what happened."

"I think he might be cheating."

The air escapes from you at once. The way Sejeong said it is so casual, almost as if she'd resigned herself to this fate a long time ago. And here you are, trying your best to keep your anger under control, like always. But not for her sake—rather, for yours. You know where your feelings belong, and they have no place in the situation at hand. Not today, and definitely not ever. You take a deep breath and look her square in the eye.

"What did he do?"

"I shouldn't have mentioned it," she laughs nervously. She doesn't want to put any more weight on your shoulders than she already has, because that's who she is, you suppose. But how can she expect you to ignore it when she looks like a sad dog staring into the rain on someone's front porch?

"We're best friends. I want to hear everything," you insist.

"He's been acting differently lately." Sejeong pauses. "Distant. Like there's something he isn't telling me."

"Do you think there might be?" you ask carefully.

"It's always something with work. Or a friend that really needs him. Or a family member or—fuck. I don't know."

"I'm sorry."

Sejeong sighs and runs a hand through her hair. There are unshed tears in her eyes. This bastard is making her cry. You want to smash something, preferably his head.

"I don't wanna bother you with this shit," she whispers. She sounds exhausted.

"Don't say that," you retort softly, squeezing her hand in yours. It's clammy. "Don't ever say that again."

She gives a curt nod.

"God knows I've told you enough about my romantic misadventures over the years," you joke. Your chest tightens when Sejeong lets out the tiniest of laughs. Maybe you can still make this right, whatever this is. "Misery loves company."

"You know," she begins, pausing to look at you properly. There is something unreadable in her gaze, something that you've never seen before. It makes you hold your breath in anticipation of whatever is to come. "If there's one person I could choose to be miserable with, it would be you."

For a brief second, you forget that time exists.

"Well, I'm very honoured," you reply eventually. There's another pause where you ponder what to say next. Then, simply, because that seems like the easiest answer: "Do you want me to go beat him up?"

Sejeong laughs and punches you in the arm.

"I thought you were a pacifist?"

"Yeah, but exceptions must be made sometimes."

She raises an eyebrow at you. You can't tell what she's thinking. "For me?"

"Yes."

It feels like standing on a cliff. You want nothing more than to jump, to feel freefall in your whole body. The only problem is that you'll most certainly die. The ground below is made of jagged rocks and bad ideas. Yet, here you stand, willing to do anything in the world for the beautiful girl next to you. Even if it means lying broken beyond repair.

Sejeong breaks your trance when she explains, "There's this girl he works with. We had dinner together with some people from their office two weeks ago, and... I don't know. They just seemed off. She kept looking at him. You know that look? The one where they linger on someone just a bit too long."

"So that's what gave it away?"

"Well, that and the rumour. They had a thing before he met me. It's over now, or it was." A single tear rolls down her cheek. She wipes it away quickly, seemingly irritated at herself. You frown. Sejeong has no reason to be ashamed of being hurt. She should be allowed to shed tears, even buckets full if necessary. You wouldn't judge. "At least that's what he said. He promised me it was over. But... God."

You reach forward to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Her lips tremble, so you quickly move your eyes back up. Staring at her lips is dangerous territory.

"You don't deserve this shit," you say resolutely.

Sejeong chuckles sarcastically. "Then why do I keep ending up here?"

That question stings. Not because it's directed at you—it isn't—but rather because you know the answer. Sejeong has been in this kind of position too many times to count. She attracts guys like honey does flies; every single time, with no exceptions. Only the worst seem to make it past the rest. Sejeong gets caught in their deceitful net time and time again, only to inevitably break her heart after months and months of manipulation disguised as devotion.

"Want my honest answer?"

"Yes."

"I think it's because you're the sort of person that believes the best in everyone. And that is a beautiful trait. I love that you do that. I really do. But sometimes..." you trail off, not quite sure how to continue without sounding accusatory.

"Sometimes I get screwed over," Sejeong finishes. You nod in response. "You're right. I guess it's my fault for trusting too easily."

"No," you shake your head. "It's not your fault. That part is absolutely wonderful. It's just..." You're suddenly hesitant. What if Sejeong takes this the wrong way and shuts you out?

"What?" she probes.

"Have you ever heard the expression 'you can't see the tree for the woods'?"

"Sounds stupid."

"It means you can't see what's right in front of your nose," you explain.

Sejeong stares at you for a long time. You think she understands, but it's impossible to know. It would probably be better that way—if she understood and did nothing about it. You aren't supposed to feel this way about her. How many times haven't you imagined what it would be like if things were different? If circumstances were perfect, if her current guy hadn't appeared out of anywhere and swept her off her feet before you'd even realised what was happening.

But that's just your luck.

"Thank you," Sejeong whispers. "Can we, um, watch something? I don't wanna think about this right now."

You let out an awkward cough. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. Do you remember when you forced me to watch Twilight, and I spent the entirety of the movie complaining about how terrible it was?"

"You still watched all of them with me." A tiny grin appears on her face. Thank God.

"That was truly the highest form of torture," you joke. "I hope you brought something better today. Please don't tell me you downloaded another movie about sparkly vampires."

Sejeong punches your arm. "I'll have you know I am extremely cultured nowadays."

"Yeah? Show me then."

A couple of hours pass and everything feels decidedly normal. You rest against the arm of the couch and Sejeong rests against you. You make jokes at the expense of the film as you always do and she laughs that soft, carefree laugh of hers. The credits roll and Sejeong sits up, stretching her limbs like a cat after a nap. You smile at the familiarity of it all. For a moment it doesn't matter what she has—or hasn't—been crying over.

"I'm tired," she says. She blinks slowly as if to prove it to herself. It's quite endearing, actually.

"Yeah?" you ask nonchalantly.

"Will you let me stay here tonight?" Her voice is small, unsure. But why? It's not the first time she has stayed here. This place is practically a second home to her.

"Like you need to ask," you retort lightly as you stand up and look down at her.

She opens her mouth to speak, but that's when her phone rings. When she sees his name flashing across the screen, she visibly freezes. Annoyance seeps into you like acid rain. His nerve—to call at such an hour, and expect her to pick up. Sejeong just watches, almost paralyzed, until eventually, she does pick up.

"Hey," is all she says. The reply is much longer. You can't make out the words he's saying but the tone tells you all you need to know.

"I was going to," Sejeong replies tersely. Silence. Then: "I told you already, I went over to—" Pause. She swallows thickly. "You didn't tell me you were going out." A longer stretch of silence, during which his voice gradually increases in volume. Suddenly Sejeong sits bolt upright. Her eyes grow wide with confusion and disbelief.

"Me!?" She shouts. "He's my best friend! I wouldn't—" Another pause. She takes a deep breath. "No. No, that isn't fair. You can't—"

It sounds like he hangs up. Sejeong doesn't move. Her hands are shaking violently.

"Do I even wanna know?"

"I should go home," she murmurs flatly.

"To him? To the guy who's probably just fucked his co-worker?"

Sejeong turns to glare at you, eyes cold as ice. You immediately regret your words.

"I'm sorry," you quickly amend. "That was uncalled for. It's none of my business. I shouldn't have said that."

"Why?" she asks bluntly. Your heartbeat picks up in a hurry. There's anger in her eyes. Anger that could turn against you so quickly.

"Why what?" you reply defensively.

"Why don't you wanna be with anyone? You've rejected every single person who's tried to get close to you since we were sixteen. There's got to be a reason."

The world grinds to a halt. Time, space, and life itself stop existing for a minute while you consider your options. On the one hand, you could lie; come up with a suitable excuse and maybe she won't push for more. On the other hand, you could simply admit to the truth that's haunted you for years.

You open your mouth. Close it. Fuck.

Sejeong stands up, wading in the silence towards you. You can't help but take a step backwards. In that split second, you're sure she knows—and yet you cannot tell.

"Have you ever loved anyone?" Sejeong demands to know.

Your heartbeat roars in your ears. "I don't understand why you're asking me this," you choke out. A part of you wishes you were back there on the cliff. At least then you could've jumped off of your own accord, with a little dignity left intact.

"I need to know," is all Sejeong says. Her gaze is relentless. You hate it. It makes you want to claw your own skin off—and there are truths under there that you plan to take to the grave.

"Why?"

"Because I need to know if what I'm going to do next is the right thing."

She stands beside you now. On the edge of that cliff, though it's starting to feel more like you're on the roof of your car. Staring up at the stars on some forgotten summer night. The jump seems more like a flight.

"I have," you admit. Somehow it seems easier than to try and fight whatever force is controlling the both of you. It feels strangely liberating.

"But you won't allow yourself to do anything about it." You know her well enough to discern a question from a statement, no matter how carefully she might try to veil them as the latter.

"It's complicated," you say quietly. She's so close to you now that you can hear the hitch in her breath. Why is she pushing this? "Why are you doing this?"

Her eyes flit from yours to your lips, then back again. So quickly. One, two. But you saw it. And your entire body tingles in anticipation. You'll dare move away—not now, not when the leap of faith feels more like a hop.

She doesn't say anything else. One more small step and her body collides with yours. Lips press against lips and suddenly, all thought scatters. Sejeong tangles her fingers through your hair and pulls. A gasp escapes you before you regain control and kiss her properly. It's frantic, rushed. Years of pining bleed out with every touch. You grab her, pull her as close to your body as possible, and lose yourself completely. Something is swelling inside you. A feeling so large and uncontainable that you think your chest is going to explode any second.

It is indescribable.

All of it—the sensation of kissing her, holding her—surpasses description. You're falling from that cliff, but she's holding you, and before you can hit the rocks she's dragging you to the couch and climbing on top of you.

It feels unreal. The entire world disappears as your lips find hers again and again and again. You don't care to question what happens after. This moment is yours, forever branded in your memories, and nothing can take that away from you. Even if it ends here—even if she were to walk away now—it would've been worth it. Completely and irrevocably.

When you finally part to catch your breath, you can't help but stare at her in awe. She's so beautiful. A masterpiece. Your hand moves to her cheek almost automatically. Sejeong lets her head fall against it with a soft sigh.

"Wow," she whispers.

"Yeah," you croak.

"Please don't regret this in the morning." Her voice is so quiet, filled with so much pain, that it breaks your heart. Your own fears are secondary.

"I never could," you breathe. Then you lean in to kiss her again, slower this time, savouring every sensation as if it might be the last. By some miracle she responds eagerly, fingers wrapping around the collar of your shirt as she holds you steady. You have no idea where this leaves the two of you, but you want her closer—now. You reach around and slide your hands under her thighs, pulling gently upwards. She follows your lead, settling against your lap in a way that makes the situation undeniably real.

As you kiss, her hips start moving back and forth. Soft, shallow movements. Little whimpers escape her throat and fall directly into your mouth. Fuck. She moans—actually moans—into the kiss and a violent shiver travels through your whole body. You break away momentarily to look at her face, flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes staring back at you.

"Do that again," you whisper against her lips.

"Make me," she pants.

The next kiss is searing, open-mouthed, and accompanied by Sejeong grinding her hips against you. Harder now. Unrelenting. Your hands travel up her waist, slipping beneath her blouse to feel warm skin underneath. You feel every tremble of her body when your fingernails drag lightly across her flesh. A gasp—then she leans backwards, with her arms outstretched and clinging behind your neck, to look you dead in the eye as she continues moving her hips against you.

"Sejeong... What are we—"

"Shh."

Your hands snake further up her shirt. Her back arches in response as she grinds down hard, moaning loudly. Your eyes flutter shut briefly to enjoy the sensations—the sounds—coming from her. You force them open once more because you can't miss this show for anything. You push the shirt up and over her chest. Her hands slip from behind your neck momentarily so that you can get the garment over her head. And then she is there before you, bra and sweatpants-clad, panting softly and waiting.

"Sejeong—"

"Fuck me." It is barely more than a whimper, but it rattles the very core of your being.

"What?"

She lunges forward and kisses you forcefully. There are tears in her eyes—tears you didn't notice until now. Her desperation bleeds through.

"Please," she whispers into your mouth, her voice breaking slightly. "Please."

You can't deny her. How could you? You're unfastening the clasp of her bra and your hands are everywhere on her. Pulling her closer, exploring every inch of bare skin you can get your hands on. Her fingers start unbuttoning your shirt—clumsily, but getting the job done. Once open, her nails dig into your bare shoulders, as if testing out whether you're really here, tangible and real. As if you could disappear at any moment and leave her stranded. A loud groan escapes her when your fingers brush against her nipples.

"You're so fucking beautiful," you murmur into her ear. She whines at the words, nails digging deeper into your skin.

The friction between your legs is driving you mad. You've got the burning urge to pick her up and slam her into the nearest wall, but you savour what you have. First, you kiss her neck, then it's a trail down her collarbones. Your teeth nibble playfully at the skin until she moans, begging you to do something. You obey, leaning in to flick your tongue across a nipple before swirling it around the bud. Her fingers fly into your hair and hold you against her breast.

"Holy shit."

Your mouth latches on tighter. Sucking. Biting. The heat pooling between you grows more intense. Eventually, you detach and move on to the next, eliciting more delicious sounds from the girl above you. All those nights spent fantasising about exactly this don't come close to the real experience. You're supporting her, around the waist and the small of her back, while she leans back in your lap, presenting herself to you.

You appreciate every inch of her slender figure. By eye and then by tongue. You draw constellations along her skin, your touch is feather-light. Across her toned stomach to her hips, then right up the side of her body. She throws an arm above her head and giggles lightly as you lick all the way up underneath it. You follow a path to her armpit. Sejeong giggles more when you begin to nibble there too. When you raise your eyes to meet hers she blushes fiercely.

"Weirdo."

"Just appreciating you," you murmur, pressing soft kisses against her shoulder and up to her neck.

"Mm. I like it," she replies hoarsely.

So you spend some time like this. Appreciating her bare body and making her squirm. Kissing, licking, and biting everything that you can possibly reach until her writhing becomes borderline violent. Then she grabs a hold of your jaw, looks you deep in the eyes, and utters the most sinful words you've ever heard her say.

"Enough teasing. I want to ride your cock now."

Every inch of you lights on fire. From your forehead to the tips of your toes, you feel flames lick at your insides. Sejeong climbs off you without another word and starts pushing her sweats from her hips. You watch, spellbound, as she wiggles out of them. Her panties follow suit.

Then she turns to face you. Standing fully nude, absolutely breathtaking in every sense of the word. A goddess. Every bit as perfect as you had imagined. Even your fantasies weren't this good; nowhere near as intoxicating as this moment right now.

"You have ten seconds before I sit on your face instead," she deadpans, you both laugh. At least she hasn't lost her humour.

You unbuckle your belt and shuffle them down as best you can while still seated. Enough that she can reach down and pull your cock free from its confines. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull when she wraps her slim fingers around it. Pumping up and down. You're hard already, unbelievably so, and when she drags her thumb across the head of your dick it actually twitches. You suck in a deep breath, willing yourself to focus.

And then she sits on your lap, sliding along the length of your cock. Fuck. She repeats it a few times. Back and forth, slicking your cock with her wetness.

"I always pictured this," she admits.

"Really?" you croak.

"God yeah, I remember back in college. I must have rubbed one out to you more times than I can count." She smirks at you then—a wicked smirk that makes your entire body shiver. A filthy admission to you and you only. She does it again, drags her wetness along you. How on earth are you supposed to remain composed when she says things like that and does things like this? You wrap an arm around her back and pull her closer, staring at her as if seeing her for the very first time.

"You can't say things like that, I'm gonna—"

She cuts you off with her tongue in your mouth. Kissing you like it's the last thing she'll ever do, and your lips the only form of sustenance she'll ever need. It gives way to her frantic little moan, desperate and unrestrained. For the life of you you can't comprehend what is happening, only react, and fuck if it isn't the most incredible experience you've ever had. Her skin is burning against yours, hungry and yielding to your every touch.

Sejeong shifts slightly and grabs a hold of you properly. Your eyes widen when the tip of your dick brushes against something wet, warm, and soft. The very centre of her. She repositions herself, now holding you carefully against her, and then... slides down the length of your cock, pausing halfway down. The pleasure is so acute that you cannot control the way your back arches off the couch, and neither do you control the profanities that spill out from your lips.

A sinful grin spreads across her face. As her legs are pinned around your waist, you cannot move, but Sejeong certainly can. And boy, does she know how. She starts bouncing herself up and down, riding you so expertly and looking so good doing it. You've thought of this so many times—having sex with your best friend, of all people—but you did not picture it like this.

"This okay?" she murmurs in your ear. You hear the smile in her voice.

You utter the only word you can muster: "Yes."

She laughs airily, placing a kiss on your temple as she continues her rhythm. When she moans—a long, drawn-out moan, half-pained, half-pleasured—and throws her head back, you stare up at her, eyes drinking in the beauty that is in a position so incredibly vulnerable yet completely in control. How you long to capture this moment and keep it somewhere safe forever. She looks down at you now. Her heavy-lidded eyes pin you to your spot as much as the physical manifestation of her pinned against your skin. She traces her fingers down your jaw, your neck, and the top of your chest.

"I wish he could see me now," Sejeong hisses, anguish evident in her voice.

"You look so fucking good."

"He doesn't know what he had," she laughs bitterly. "Fuck him."

"Fuck him," you echo. Sejeong smirks and moves her hips more fluidly. Goddamn. Her tight little cunt feels so perfect clenched around your cock.

She watches your face closely as she keeps riding you. As you keep clutching her hips and help her along, grinding deeper. Groaning when she throws her hips forward faster and faster. Her cunt is so hot and tight. She sucks at the life seeping out of your pulsating cock and squeezes it with her inner muscles in ways that no one has ever done before. Sometimes she pulls completely off you, her breath shuddering as you twitch, only to take you deep inside her again.

Your hands have a mind of their own, sneaking upwards to grip her neck. You give it a gentle squeeze, just enough to get her attention. All the while you're staring intensely into her eyes. They've become glassy, intoxicated, more than just wanting but longing for it. Her voice is hoarse, strained, as she says, "How have I been so stupid? All this time—you're right here, and I never—"

"It doesn't matter. None of that matters."

"You're so—fuck."

Her body trembles and she falls forward onto you. She's gripping your arms, nails sinking into your flesh. Sejeong's breath grows increasingly laboured. After a long string of expletives, she lets her head rest on your shoulder as you snake an arm around her back and support her. Her whole body is rigid, teetering on the edge of an orgasm.

"Never felt this good," she forces the words out amid moans as you buck your hips up into her, picking up the slack as she begins to falter. The rhythm is quick now, urgent, filled with unbridled passion and everything left unspoken for too long.

When Sejeong cums, you feel it all around you—her pussy quivering, leaking her arousal around you, dripping down your thighs and saturating you, almost drowning in the intensity. It makes her moan into the crook of your neck and rock her hips, fucking herself while trying desperately to quiet the sounds of her ecstasy against your body. But that is unthinkable, to silence someone like that, and you tell her so. Whispering the filthiest things in her ear as she throbs around your cock, dragging out the last tremors of pleasure of her orgasm as much as you possibly can. She spills everything out into your shoulder, every word, every whimper. Until at last, you can feel her sagging in your lap, breathing heavily and spent.

"Keep going," she pants, tightening her grip on your arm. "Don't stop."

She throws herself to the side, pulling you with her, and somehow lands flat on her back with your body on top of her. You wince at the sudden shift. But not for long. Because Sejeong opens her legs wide, hooks her calves around your hips, and tells you again not to stop.

You smirk and lean forward, trapping her beneath your body and capturing her lips in a sensual kiss. It is deliberate, lingering. Her arms fly up and tangle themselves through your hair, locking you together. When your tongues meet, you sigh deeply against her. There is a warmth settling over you. Languid, dream-like. Like you're both floating through clouds, carried away by the sweetest of breezes.

There is nowhere else in the world that you would rather be than right here, between her legs.

You rock into her, once, then twice, each time more intense than the last. The angle is entirely different. You grab a hold of one of her legs and hitch it up a bit, allowing yourself to thrust deeper inside her.

"Are you okay?"

"Mm. Move slower. Nice and slow," she instructs.

And you do. Eventually, a hand comes up to cup the nape of your neck. Sejeong stares into your eyes and your breath catches. Then you're kissing, again and again, but there is not so much desperation and anger anymore, but something else. It is the feel of her hips meeting yours, the way you press your bodies together, the softness of her lips and the taste of her mouth. Her breaths rush from her lips to yours, from hers into you.

Sweat starts to bead at your temples as you rock into her. Slow, deep, patient strokes. It is not desperate fucking anymore, or an attempt to pour all of your heartbreak into some meaningless action. It's almost reverential—the way you're holding each other, soft and sure. A sweet torture, a sublime suffering, for as long as time allows.

You don't talk. Your mouths say nothing, at least. With your bodies, however, your fingertips whisper praise against her skin. Spirits float free and serenade each other. Sounds escape her that you haven't even dreamed of. Broken, wanton, as if wrenched out of her. They rise above and meet in a higher plane of reality, where two minds are one.

It takes time. A slow build to the crescendo. You know when you've struck the final note by the way she cries out, over and over again, her pretty little hole convulsing, spasming around your cock. She wants to squirm away but has nowhere to go. You refuse to let her. You smile against her neck and sink your teeth into the skin there.

Soon you follow, groaning her name into the warm flesh. It's a flood—your insides are melting, pouring out from your loins and into her heat, her insides contracting, trapping every ounce inside. Hot, sticky, yours. This feeling. It is as if your heart has grown wings, a phoenix born anew from the ashes of who you used to be. You don't have to be lost anymore. She will carry you, always, her fingernails tracing patterns in your damp skin. There is nothing to fear.

Sejeong whines and moans softly as you fill her. One more careful thrust and you still, collapsing on top of her as the waves subside. All the while she is there, stroking the back of your neck and quietly reciting every piece of filth that she can think of.

You wonder whether this will last longer than the night.

God. Would you be okay with that?

When you eventually move back to look at her, to make sure she's okay, there are tears in her eyes. Uncertainty overwhelms you. Before you can react, before you can ask what is wrong, Sejeong cups your cheek. "Thank you," she whispers, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. This girl. All these years. All the wasted time. It feels right being with her; everything is finally where it should have been all along.

"You were worth the wait," you breathe. You place a kiss against her brow before rolling off and settling next to her.

"Do you..." Her voice fades. She runs a finger along your collarbone, eyes anywhere but yours. "Do you want this to be a one-time thing?

"No," you answer without hesitation. You catch her hand in yours, entangling your fingers, willing her to understand everything that you're unable to tell her.

Sejeong smiles. Genuine, unapologetic. For the first time in months, she looks happy. Fuck him, indeed. "Good," she says with a soft laugh that evaporates any of her lingering doubts. Her eyes flick to your lips and she whispers, "So, uh, we've got some lost time to make up for."

"Yeah?" you whisper while rolling her back over and climbing over her. "If there's a debt to be paid..." You start trailing kisses down her neck, down her sternum, grinning at the tiny shivers it elicits. "What better time than now?"

Your kisses lead you over her toned stomach. Once you reach the juncture between her thighs, you pick up her leg and set it over your shoulder. Sejeong is already squirming, anticipating what is to come. You take a look at her—mussed hair and flushed cheeks, mouth slightly open, beautiful, tempting. It feels almost gratuitous—that you're able to see her like this. It makes you pull her even closer, and stick your tongue into her center. Her upper body lifts almost immediately and her eyes fly open. A shaky whimper leaves her lips.

She's right. There is a lot of catching up to do. Luckily for her, there's still the whole night ahead of you and a lot more you'd like to show her.

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley/female reader

"Simon?"

Your voice wavers, rich with uncertainty, and he's around the corner into the kitchen before you can blink. "What is it?"

"I... do we still have the large blue mixing bowls?" Orion is between your legs, arms curled around each knee. He's been doing this since you got home, positioning himself so he's almost always touching you, a tether desperate to remain unbroken.

His nightmares are back, too. And yours are worse. Only Nix sleeps soundly, Simon hardly sleeps at all.

"I wanted to make muffins." He finds them in the top cabinet, and then shifts his attention to his boy who clings to you.

"Want to go outside for a bit Ry? Let mama make you some muffins for later?" Orion shakes his head, fingers tightening on your sweatpants. You give Simon a pained expression, and he crouches to be eye level with his son, knees cracking. "She'll be right here when you're done, little man, and I'm here, remember? We have to share." Share. It's the only concept he's managed to come up with that makes sense after Orion tearfully confessed he has to be able to see his mum in order to 'save' her.

So now they share the responsibility. Two men of the house. Two of Mama's protectors.

Simon doesn't know what else to do. He put him in therapy months ago, but his son is slow to trust now, fear and danger lurking around every corner in his mind.

"I'll push you on the swing. Want to get your jacket?" You pet his head soothingly.

"It's okay Ry. Go play for a little bit and when you're done you can have a muffin, how's that sound?" He shrugs, but finally unglues himself and toddles to the door to get his coat on.

Simon takes the opportunity to pull you into his chest. "She's due to get up soon," he murmurs, tracing your spine, "just yell and I'll-"

"I can- I'll get her."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah... I want to." You've been locked in a delicate dance with the baby. A slow, unsteady, hesitant dance. Sometimes, you hold her, you rock her, you change her. Sometimes, she's crying in her crib, and you're standing in the doorway of her room, frozen, eyes wide and wet. He catches you studying your body in the mirror when you think he's not looking, hand pressed to your belly, thumb stroking your scar.

"I can come back in." He presses a slow kiss to your forehead.

"It's okay. If I need you, I'll let you know."

You're tired by the time evening rolls around, and once the kids are down, he settles you beneath the covers beside him, enjoying the heat of your body, the way you fit to him. It doesn't take much to exhaust you, but the doctors assure it's normal, you're recovering well, you'll be okay.

It's a funny thing, to be told you'll be well, that you'll recover. He remembers it, how the words were so confusing when a war was raging in his mind, when he was being torn to pieces over and over again every time he closed his eyes.

"Do you think she knows who I am?" He does. The hospital encouraged as much skin to skin as possible, going as far as letting Nix live in your room for weeks just so she could sleep on your chest, and it soothed her like nothing else.

Those things don't matter. What matters is the reality of the situation, your losses. The loss of her first cry, her breath on this earth. The loss of watching her roll over for the first time, her first smile, her first giggle. All of these moments have been stolen from you, and there's no way to give them back, no matter how hard he tries.

"Yeah, mama. I think she knows." You lapse into silence, breaths slowing, limbs relaxing, and he thinks you might be asleep when you whisper into his skin.

"Does it ever go away?"

"No." He croaks. He can't lie, not to you. "No, it doesn't, but it does change. Eventually, it's not a wound, it's a layer. The pain becomes something else, but it never goes away." You sniffle, but don't respond.

It's the last thing he says to you before you fall asleep.

He wakes instinctively to an empty bed. Cold sweat immediately breaks out across his skin, stomach churning in a storm of panic.

Lightning rarely strikes twice, but that doesn't mean it couldn't. 

But before he can fully start calculating and preparing a plan, he hears your voice down the hall.

You're in Nix's room, in the rocking chair, baby tucked against your chest, cradled in your arms. You rub her back, twirl her hair, kiss her cheek, all while cooing into her ear, and when you catch his eye, he sees a well of emotion, love, longing, sadness. Grief. So much grief.

"Y'alright?" He whispers from the edge of the room, and you nod. It feels like a moment he shouldn't intrude on, a sacred, special thing not meant for him.

And that's good. 

"I'm okay." You reassure him, trying to imbue your words with strength. It's enough for him.

He takes one last look at his girls before he closes door.

And then he smiles.

[disasterofastory]

Ache [poly!141 x reader]

It’s an urge you can’t ignore anymore. It gnaws at your mind and burrows deep into your bones until they ache. It claws at your skin, making it feel too tight and too foreign; like an armor you've outgrown but can't shed. Your body has forgotten how to rest, and your soul is just as restless, pacing circles inside you, searching for escape.

So when you can't bear it anymore, the vast emptiness of your chest, you strip your life down to its bare skeleton. All the things that once defined you are reduced to whatever fits in the trunk of your car. And you don’t look back, not even once, because looking back might undo you.

That’s how you find yourself here, standing on the porch of a farm you only found by chance, thanks to a snippet of conversation overheard at a gas station miles away. The air smells of earth and hay, carried on a soft breeze that nudges the creaking rocking chairs into motion. In front of one of them, they are all mismatched, there is an old coffee mug, chipped and stained, serving as an ashtray.

You knock, loud and desperate. The sound shatters the quiet like a stone thrown into the still water. For a moment, nothing happens, and you are left staring at the peeling paint on the door, almost starting to wonder if this is a mistake.

Then it opens.

You become face-to-face with a man who is broad-shouldered and sun-weathered. His presence is as solid as the land around you. His funny hat is slightly askew over his face framed by an impressive beard. He blinks at you. “Can I help you, miss?”

And then, it all spills out. Words tumble from your lips, frantic and jagged. Each one is sharp with the frustration and exhaustion that have been festering inside you for years. You talk and talk, unable to stop because you don’t know how to hold it back anymore, or how to describe the burning ache that feels like it’s eating you alive. You tell him how your life doesn’t feel like your own anymore, how it itches and stings like a poorly healed wound. You confess the tiredness, that bone-deep, soul-deep weariness that presses on you heavier with every passing second. And you admit that you don’t know the first thing about farming, but the world, too loud and too fast, beyond this porch is drowning you and you can’t keep up anymore.

Your words are met with a heavy silence. You stop, your hands twisting nervously at your sides, the weight of everything you’ve just confessed sinking in. When you finally look up, you are no longer facing just one man but four. They stand there, still as statues, eyes wide as if you’ve just dropped a live grenade at their feet.

And, somehow, they let you stay.

Kyle’s the first to agree. He’s got a soft spot for women in distress. Always has. It doesn’t matter if this life isn’t for you in the end; he won’t let you leave until he knows you are steady enough to stand on your own.

Johnny adopts strays without thinking anyway. They already have too many cats, dogs, and more than a few animals that no one else wants. What’s one more?

Simon, sharp-eyed and quiet, sees the desperation burning in you, the same raw, untamed fire that once drove him to join the army. The way you claw at yourself as if trying to peel away layers of your existence to become something, anything, new. It hits too close to home. Letting you walk away would feel like turning his back on the version of himself he barely survived.

And John? John doesn’t say much, but then, he doesn’t need to. He just knows. His eyes hold an understanding as if he’s seen this kind of desperation before (ghost). He sees the quiet fire behind your exhaustion, the need to start over because continuing as you were is no longer an option. He knows you will fit here, in a way you can't even explain yet.

“Guess you’d better come in,” he finally says, stepping aside to make room.

For the first time in what feels like forever, you breathe.

[jweekgoji]

can you make a 3 part of d-16 of pleasuring him with a spike instead of fingering

Yandere!D-16/Reader

tw: NSF///W (minors don't read), jealousy, possessive behavior, unhealthy attachment, insecurity (D-16's side), yandere themes. word count: additional tags: gender neutral!reader, reader has a spike, D-16 has spike and valve, cybertronian!reader, idol!reader, power bottom!D-16, top!reader a/n: there's so many different continuations of the original posts so that even I can't keep track of it, haha. the previous chapter for this would be >this.

You're so fond of your little devoted fan, it's hard not to find D-16 at least a little cute.

If any of your coworkers heard your thoughts, oh, you would hear their taunts for cycles.

“That's so weird, what do you even see in him?”

“He's half your size, how do you do...well, you know. 'That stuff'.”

“You're definitely a pervert.”

Of course, none of your friends took your interest seriously. It's just a one-night stand; as they say, you will grow tired of that needy little thing and move on. At least, you should.

You're too good for him, too beautiful for everyone's standards, there's plenty of other mechs and femmes showing their desire for you, the ones that can provide you with everything you need.

Chromia, despite your pretend rivalry during the races, seems like paying too much interest in you, and Hot Rod can't stop asking you out on dates, each time you beat him. So many options...and yet, out of all the Iaconians, a miner? Seriously?

Maybe you actually need a little break from everything. If anyone finds out what you two do behind everyone's back, a cogless bot slacking off instead of working tirelessly in search of energon...that information will definitely screw off his chances at getting a better, higher position in the future. With how little respect most Iaconians have for the cogless part of cybertronians, you can only fear of what else the higher-ups can do to him. Not to mention...what will the others tell about you?

And still... Why, why, why were you like this?

D-16 couldn't comprehend in his head why all of a sudden you started to avoid him.

Are you embarrassed of him? He totally understands that; he learned his place in this society for a long time ago; it's not like he will blame you for it.

Maybe he's been too much for you lately? Yes...yes, definitely, isn't it? He's been so demanding the last time, craving your touch and your praise; everything will be good enough for him if only it comes from you.

Every new reason he comes up with for you as an excuse for you to ignore him, leaves a suffocating feeling of fear inside his processor.

'You've lost interest in him, that's all' is constantly ringing in his head. But that can't be true, can it?

You're perfect; you've said you love him and dedicated some of your time to him specifically, even though you could have run away as soon as you had some pleasure.

He must be the reason.

The look of disappointment was etched on D-16's face. Every single time he cheered for you from the crowd, waving his servo in hopeless need for you to spare him at least a single glance.

You pose next to Chromia, your servo on her waist, as one of the photographers approaches you to take a photo together. First and second prize winners, you can't ignore so many questions from the local sports reporters who are trying to get some answers about your relationship with the blue bot.

Playfully, you deny every rumor, but the slight smirk on Chromia's face only encourages the audience more.

“Yes, we're just coworkers,” she gives you a brief glance, winking at you before looking back at the camera again. “Right, partner?”

The sight alone makes D-16 clench his teeth. The large, flat screen projecting the post-race broadcast seems to mock him.

Here on the screen, you seem much closer to him than you have in the last few days of your stubborn silence. He wonders, when you look at the camera, do you think about him? 

Are you even aware that he is, once again, focused only on you, rewatching the broadcast over and over again, just because you appear on the screen?

Primus, he feels so pathetic. Hiding behind one of the few quiet corners, he sighs, servo resting over his optics.

How long has this been going on now? A week? Two? He's so tired of waiting.

D-16 is patient; he really tries to give you as much personal space as possible and as much time as he can give you, but it's so damn hard.

Before, it was easier to control. Before, at least, he didn't have hopeless dreams that you would ever know he existed. But no, now you know him. You know how much he's in love with you—that he's dedicated an entire chunk of his poems about you.

It's not hard for Orion to notice how much his best friend has changed recently. From being strong and determined, D-16 completely avoids any contact with him. Any mention of you only fuels the silver bot more, and it's not uncommon for him to push everyone around him away.

But unfortunately or luckily, Orion is too determined to get off his back so easily. The famous troublemaker won't so easily leave D alone. And as his only best friend, Orion offers him a solution.

“Just sneak into their room when they won't see you and ask them whatever is bothering you. They can't escape you when you corner them!”

Such a ridiculous idea. It annoys him that he's even considering doing it.

Where Orion even gets such ideas from...?

Standing in your room, all alone and surrounded in everything that reminds him of every single thing he adores in you. That alone makes his spark beat faster.

Can he touch that? Some framed photos were carefully placed all over the room. Some with your friends, some with your colleagues; he can recognize the names if he tries hard enough, but it isn't necessary for him when it's only your face he's focused on. You have so many statues after cycles of your career...

It's not like he hasn't been there before. If anything, he's been here plenty of times, but it was never just him in there. Something in this feels more intimate, for some reason, yet it is so, so wrong.

The thoughts about guilt still linger in the back of his mind. He shouldn't be here. That stupid idea Orion suggested him...! Oh great, now he feels wrong.

Can you blame him for it? You've been denying him for so long. It is only natural for him to get a little ahead of himself. He just needs a little taste, just to calm this nagging feeling down his waist. His servo hesitantly reaches for your berth, gently gripping the soft material of the sheets. He just wants to bury his face in it, wrap it around himself, maybe to imagine your gentle hold of him—

Until he hears noise from the outside and all his thoughts stop as he tries to quickly step back from it.

The door opens, revealing only your figure standing in the way. It takes a mere seconds for you to notice an intruder inside your quarters, and the look of surprise showed on your face as you finally realized who it is.

For a moment, none of you let out a single word. His optics wide, mouth slightly open, as if he tries to think of something, anything, but nothing will possibly explain it.

‘This is your chance,’ he quickly thinks, before he musters his courage to finally start to speak.

“...Why? Why were you avoiding me all this time?” D-16's voice quivers; his servo tightens on his own chassis.

The heavy gasps of his breathing are the only sound in the room. You still have no idea how to answer that.

You should have seen that coming. Leaving him alone without any explanation broke his mind, and now frustrated, almost on the edge of tears, you have no other choice but to face the consequences of your own negligence.

Gently closing the door of your room, you decide to continue.

“I was afraid that if someone catch us...they will do something to you.”

D-16's optics widened at your explanation. He expected anything but that. He stops, just staring as if a deer caught in headlights. Not only that, but he was so happy to finally hear that. That at least it's nothing he had thought about before. You care for him, and realizing that makes all his worries disappear for a moment.

But seriously...that's it?

Slowly, a confused look morphs into annoyance; he steps closer to you, grabbing on your wrists.

“You really think...that I care about what others will do to me?” his digits tightening on your frame, almost possessively. “Do you have any idea what I've been thinking all this time? When you kept ignoring me?”

D-16 huffs in frustration, shaking his helm in disbelief. He doesn't understand if he should be angry at you or himself at this moment. He's been overthinking every little thing he had done for the past months that could have possibly made you angry with him. Furthermore, he even broke into your own damn quarters to confront you about it, only to find out that you are just like him.

Thinking too much about small things when the most important person is right next to you.

Primus, you're making him so mad right now, but he lets himself forget about everything, just now.

You feel his servos gripping your face, pulling you towards him, only to meet into the harsh kiss. He cuts off whatever feeble attempt you tried to mutter in apology; no, for now, it all can wait.

He's been waiting for this moment as if for ages. Having you so close to him, his frame pressed against your own, the familiar, burning tingling makes his spike twitch in need.

He wants you; he wants you so much right now, that he barely recognizes himself.

Any other day he'd be too embarrassed to look up at you, too shy to let out a moan in fear that someone might hear.

When he presses you against berth, straddling your hips, he looks nothing like the shy bot you met many, many times before. It's only by one look in his optics, full of need and hunger, that you realize how badly you screwed up.

His inexperience is still so apparent. In a desperate attempt to get you to open your interface panel, he's practically bucking his hips against you, like an animal in heat.

You are so tempted to just watch him trying. Maybe after a good half an hour he'd eventually reach what he desires.

Not wanting to act cruel for now, you finally open your interface panel without a protest. Your own spike pressing between his silver thighs, small droplets of transfluid smearing over the smooth metal.

The sight alone makes D-16 shiver, almost from embarrassment at how fast his own panel opens after watching you.

Spike standing tall, already rock hard, and the wet mess from his valve makes him grind his thighs from impatience. You can only imagine what he'd try to do in your room if you were an hour later to find him.

You feel his servos holding a little tighter on your shoulders, his breathing a little shallow, as he guides himself on your spike. A little shudder runs down his spine at the sensation of you feeling him up, and he barely pays attention to others, making it possible to hear him.

He's been so patient and kind to you. It takes him a little less than a minute to get even more hungry, desperate for more.

“D—” you gasp, your own servo reaching for his waist to slow him down a little, only for him to grind himself on you harder.

He'd be lying if he said that it didn't hurt him a little. He tried to stretch himself every single day since the moment you started ignoring him, hoping not to forget that delicious feeling of you inside him.

Tears prickling in his optics as he stared down at you—oh, how much he dreamed for this moment to finally come true.

Another, loud, shameless moan escapes his lips as your spike hits deeper into him, his valve clenching around your length, begging for more. He feels so full right now.

If only this feeling never ended.

“Agh...frag, yes—” he cries out, arching his back to meet your thrusts.

He's so content with just having you underneath him, while his mind is clouded with nothing but lust and need for you. Optics rolling into the back of his helm, practically seeing stars.

You pant softly, only guiding his movements from time to time, not letting the poor little thing to accidentally hurt himself during such an intimate moment of connection between the two of you. You're barely even doing anything at this point, letting him set control over his own pace.

D-16 salivates at the thought. His inner walls clenching around your spike every so often, making him more aware of his building-up overload. He wants to last so, so much longer.

His spike throbs as your servo wraps around it, gently moving up and down over the sensitive length. You hear him whine, pushing his hips harder for more, more of the sweet friction.

He'd beg you to stop, to not push him over the edge so soon, and he almost wants to swat away your servo from him until he grits his teeth, stifling a groan. Hips moving more erratically, and with a heavy breath, he stutters your name as he finally reaches his release.

With a soft, satisfied hum, you pull your cogless miner closer, letting him rest against you. For a quick moment, you glance down, noticing your spike still buried deep inside him, your chassis painted in his transfluid.

D-16 clinges onto you, servos wrapped around you, as if seeking comfort. He still tries to catch his breath, panting next to your audio receptors, optics closed shut.

Well, Orion's dumb idea worked out...somehow.

[screwitbaby]

naive

hamzahthefantastic x reader (fic)

day 4/7

summary: part 4 of my short story naive! the four of you go to the club and while the couple are still fighting, you and hamzah act on your feelings a lil more. but it can only go so well for so long…

contains: SFW content, some kissing and touchy touchy ;)

w/c: 2.5k-ish

a/n: i couldn’t let you guys go into the new year without updating this story. im the worst but tysm for the support yall are so sweet i could cry xxxx enjoy!!!<3 read the a/n at the end if u care to know more

~

The couple's bad mood was not simply slept off and it's ruining your vibe.

You and Mandy are getting ready in their en suite bathroom while Hamzah and Martin speak in hushed tones in the bedroom. The bathroom door is open, and every so often you look at the space over your shoulder in the mirror and make eye contact with Martin from the bed. He looks away immediately, not at all subtle. It's like a game at this point, seeing how many times you can catch him in the act.

"Is he gonna do this all night," you mumble, applying your mascara after yet another match of eye-tag.

"We could just close the door," Mandy offers. She pays no mind to the childish behavior behind you, straightening her hair without sparing him a single glance.

"You're so right," you say and get up to shut it yourself.

Once your makeup is pretty much done, you decide to start getting dressed. You turn the music on her speaker up and give yourself a once-over in the mirror, holding different outfits beside your body to see what you want to wear for the night.

"I don't know what to wear. Wanna match?" you ask, placing your chin on top of her head to stop her movements. She nearly clamps your neck with the straightener. "Hey!"

"Sure," she laughs. "Grab my suitcase, please."

You put your clothes back down and step out of the bathroom to bring her suitcase in. You shimmy it out of its place by the TV stand, not missing the way the boys go completely silent until you're gone.

"Top zipper, the satin blue dress," Mandy instructs.

You hand it to her and sit by your own bag of clothes to rummage through it. You find a top and skirt set in a similar baby blue color then hold it up for her to see.

"Yes, no, yes?"

"Yes, definitely."

You apply your lip combo and take a few silly photos in the mirror with Mandy, your made up faces clashing with your baggy tees. One of the better photos are posted on your Instagram story for fun. When you finally get changed—you guys had a dance break to some y2k club classics—you put your heels on and realize you need a little pregame.

When you walk into the bedroom this time, the boys are leaned against the headboard and on their phones, mindlessly scrolling. You go by Martin's side of the bed and poke him repeatedly until he looks up.

"Do you happen to have the penjamin on you?"

"That depends," he says, putting his hand in his pocket. "What's the magic word?"

You roll your eyes. "Please?"

He pulls the little device out of his pocket and presents it to you in his palm. When you go to grab it, he makes a fist and holds it above his head.

"Please who?"

"I'm not calling you Daddy," you scoff, prying his fingers open and snatching the pen from his grasp. He barely puts up a fight. "That's Hamzah's job."

At the mention of his name, Hamzah looks up and seems like he's about to say something to retaliate but freezes. His gaze drags down your figure and you blush.

"Maybe it's not his job," Martin says smugly, "since you made him speechless."

Hamzah snaps out of it and elbows his friend in the side.

“It would be your girlfriend's job if you weren't being petty right now."

You wince at the sullen expression that washes over Martin's face.

"Right."

All you can do is watch as he clambers off the bed and walks out of the room. You lean against the wall and slide the balcony door open with a sigh.

"He can't seriously be that mad," Hamzah says. "I was kidding."

"He can dish it, but he can't take it," you say, too used to his behavior. "And he's extra sensitive right now, so."

"Well, they better not ruin our night with that stuff." Hamzah crosses his arms.

"I won't let them."

"Yeah?" Hamzah snorts. "What're you gonna do about it?"

"Um." You take a hit and blow the smoke outside. "I'll think of something if I need to step in."

Hamzah laughs at your empty threat and you smile. You take another hit before offering the dab pen to him.

"I have a feeling I should be sober for tonight."

"Boring," you sing out. "It'll be fine. C'mon, feel my peer pressure."

You wiggle your fingers at him and he shakes his head, laughing lightly. When he silently puts his hand out a few seconds later, you cheer. The room fills with the loud music from Mandy's speaker as he takes his first hit.

"So," you begin, already feeling slightly heady. "What were you guys whispering about earlier?"

"I shouldn't say."

"Really?"

He nods. "It was partly about their fight. Partly the trip. And you."

"Me?" You point at yourself with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah." He shrugs. "I can't divulge the details."

"That's bullshit."

"I never ask what you guys say about me."

"Hey—I don't—what?" you stutter, unable to come up with a defense.

"C'mon," he says, tilting his head. "I'm not that oblivious."

Your eyes narrow. You've never once considered that this cupid thing Martin was pulling on you could have gone both ways. You don't know if you're relieved for him stepping in to push his friend closer to you, or annoyed that he's even meddling in this whole thing. It makes you wonder if Martin knows what happened by the time he and Mandy returned to the beach last night.

"Speaking of details." You clear your throat. "Do you even know what club we're going to?"

Your attempt at changing the topic is weak, but as per usual, Hamzah rolls with it to save you any embarrassment.

"No clue. Martin keeps his trip itinerary locked in his notes."

The conversation devolves into a bunch of what if's about the night and jokes that are only funny because you guys are high. When Mandy finally comes to join and sees the state of you two, you offer her a hit.

"What? No drinks?" She frowns.

"Hotel alcohol is like twenty bucks a pop! This is the next best thing."

"Ugh, fine. Give it."

With the three of you thoroughly blitzed, you collect Martin from the living room couch and make your way out of the hotel. He doesn't speak for a majority of the walk, and you think that's the longest you've ever heard him be quiet in a group setting.

Despite it being nearly 10 P.M., the air is pretty humid and forgiving on your exposed skin. The other thing about it being so late already, is that the club is absolutely chock-full of people when you enter. The dance floor of strangers are nearly toe to toe in proximity, and you wrap your arm with Mandy's to avoid getting separated in the crowd. The boys immediately beeline to the bar for drinks, but you don't let that stop your journey. You maneuver your way to the front of the stage and only let go of each other once you've found a bit of space to dance in.

The DJ nods at the two of you and you turn to raise your eyebrows suggestively at Mandy, who pushes your shoulder and continues dancing. You get lost in the beat, swaying and bouncing with the vibrations traveling through your limbs. The strobe lights illuminate your sweaty skin and you swear the energy in the room has you feeling higher. You begin grinding on each other and throw your heads back to laugh, trying to catch your breaths in between a multitude of bodies.

"Hey!" Mandy places her arms around your shoulders to catch your attention and you take it as a sign to grind on her. "I'm going to grab drinks.”

"No!" You turn and put your hands over hers. "Don't go!"

"I'll be right back!" She grins and squeezes you before letting go to disappear into the crowd.

Alone, you turn back to the stage and throw your hands in the air. You close your eyes for a moment, the pounding beats making a home in your brain. You're sure your ears will be ringing when you leave.

You wonder if Martin's drunk himself into a coma yet and knowing him, you know how easy that could be. You only hope this outing tonight doesn't make him do anything he regrets. Then you remember he’s a twenty-five year old man and you’re worrying about him while you’re supposed to be having fun. So, you shut your brain off and let the beat carry you.

When Mandy's back, she has two drinks in hand and Hamzah in tow. She hands you a cocktail and you graciously sip from your first alcoholic drink of the night.

"Where's Martin?" you ask.

"Bar!" she shouts over the music.

You shake your head. "Make up and make out already!"

She jabs your side and you giggle, swatting her hand away. Hamzah's doing something reminiscent of a frat flick, looking slightly out of it. You assume he's already done some shots and is way more intoxicated. So, being an empath, you finish your drink to get closer to his level. When you're done, you hand the empty cup to Mandy and wink at her. Your hand envelops Hamzah's and you pull him deeper in the crowd so you can dance together.

"I don't—I can't dance," he complains, nearly tripping over his own feet.

"C'mon, it's easy!"

You begin by swaying your hips, raising his hand in yours to guide him into a rhythm. He tries to follow along, shuffling around like a newborn deer. It's a funny sight, but you don't want him to stop if you tease him, so you bite back your amused smile. He slowly gets less self-conscious and continues on in his own way with the flow of the music, even twirling you around once or twice, laughing all the way as you narrowly avoid knocking into people. His eyes never leave you, like he's constantly thinking of his next move to impress you.

After letting him freestyle some more, you pull him close and wrap your arms around his shoulders. He falters at the change in pace and his hands fall at your hips. Your hands rest at the nape of his neck and he shivers at the way your fingertips grace his skin. The rapid strobe lights nearly blind you, but you hold eye contact.

"Was that so bad?" you ask, tilting your head to the side.

"Yes," he says sarcastically. "I hate dancing."

"But I like your dancing."

You sway with him, careful not to step on his toes in your heels. Close up, you can nearly feel his breath on your face. You take a moment to admire his eyelashes and the way his eyes are slightly bloodshot, willing him to break the eye contact. He leans in closer.

"I like your dancing more."

You can't help but grin. His expression mimics yours.

"Yeah, well," you start, bringing your thumb up to trace the side of his jaw, "I like you."

He ducks down and captures your lips in a kiss. It takes you by surprise. You hadn't spoken a word about your kiss since last night, and you were beginning to think you made a mistake by acting on your impulses. Evidently, he doesn't seem to mind it as much as you'd worried.

The tip of his nose presses against your cheek as he shifts his head to deepen the kiss. Though the room is warm, this makes you hotter than any amount of dancing could've done. His palms squeeze your hips and your fingers rise to play with his curls. They're soft to the touch, just as you suspected. You tug lightly as the kiss gets more insatiable.

"Ouch," he mumbles against your lips, barely loud enough to hear. You snicker and tug it again, making him pull away. "I said ouch."

"I know," you laugh out. "Sorry."

"That funny?" he questions. You nod, grinning at his playful irritation. "See how you like it."

His hand trails up your back until his fingers are at your scalp and he gently pulls on your roots. Your head moves back with his action and your lips part, exhaling a shaky breath. His eyes widen. He does it again. You reach up to kiss him again.

It's hotter this time, in both senses of the word. Your skin goes alight with a blaze even the coldest shower couldn't reduce. You drape your wrists over his shoulders, your beaded bracelet pressing into him the same way his is imprinting into the sliver of bare skin below your top.

Realizing you’re standing in place in the midst of a lively dance floor, you break from the kiss and turn so your back is against his front. You pull his arms around your shoulders and sway, deliberately pressing yourself against him. You enjoy hearing the way his breath hitches next to your ear, always needing to find a new way to tease him. You know if you could have it your way without seeming too desperate too soon, you’d be doing more than just dancing.

“I like you, too,” he says, clutching you closer to him. “I forgot to say.”

You turn your head and nearly kiss his cheek because of how cute he is. “Thanks for clearing that up.”

“And I really like your dancing.”

His suggestive words spur you into grinding on him more, anything to get a reaction out of him, and it works every time. The two of you keep going this way until your thighs are burning and you’re out of breath. If it weren’t for the visual reminder, you would’ve forgotten that you came here with other people.

A couple feet away, you spot two familiar heads weeding through the crowd and slowly drawing nearer. You step away from Hamzah, who looks at you with an unreadable expression on his face. Before you can explain yourself, you come face-to-face with Mandy. Martin stops a bit away.

“Can we leave?” she rushes out.

Her mascara is running and her nose is red. Martin looks disgruntled, his eyes never staying in one place as he scans through the crowd. You grab her hand and nod. The four of you spot the nearest exit and leave promptly.

“What happened?” you ask once you’re out in the open. “Are you okay?”

“Can I stay in your room tonight?” Her eyes stay on the ground.

Your heart drops. “Of course.”

The walk back to the hotel is uneasy and fast-paced. The boys walk behind the two of you and you can hear Martin’s one word answers to everything Hamzah says to him. Your heels click and clack, barely providing a distraction from the hundreds of questions swarming your mind.

~

a/n: ooo we’re getting angsty. im so sorry this took so long and if u feel that it wasn’t worth the wait, the truth is ive been so sick recently like never before in my life and i haven’t felt a lick of motivation to write. ive had to rewrite these chapters so many times that its actually affecting me mentally because i wanna make u guys happy while actually enjoying writing. i promise u won’t have to wait this long ever again, but doing this story is making me realize i prefer writing short form stuff way more than stories like this because it’s simply less stress and fits my writing style more. thanks again for all the support and kind words, u guys have really warmed my heart and i hope u know that even tho this is fanfiction and it may seem silly, it’s really a labor of love and im so grateful that u actually like what i put out there. im so so so touched and i rlly love u guys, even if i don’t know u. parasocial virtual hugs to u all xoxoxo tysm. <3

[ldrfanatic]

oh AND if thats not too much, from a different angle, can i also request, also for theodore nott, prompts f12 and l13? 🌟🌟 im all for mirrorball the archer reader hehe and i looove this whole lyric prompt idea!! 🤍

all i do is try, try, try

theodore nott x fem!reader

f12 - "I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me"

l13 - "Who could ever leave me darling, but who could stay?"

p.s. i'm adding the following line - "i've never been a natural, all i do is try, try, try."

synopsis - when you start to push theodore away, he knows something is wrong. but maybe he'll be the first one to fight for you.

my bookcase slytherin boys masterpost

theodore didn't confuse easily. sure, he was no hermione granger, but he liked to at least think that he was the smartest of his friend group. still, he couldn't for the life of him figure out why you seemed to be avoiding him the past few weeks.

your relationship was finally starting to get serious. so why now of all times would you possibly be avoiding him.

a dramatic huff left mattheo. "stop moping aurelius." his words were followed by a surprised yelp as pansy smacked him upside the head. "shut the hell up riddle. theo, if you're worried she's avoiding you, just ask her."

"i can't. every time i try to talk to her, she runs away from me."

pansy sighed. an internal battle was raging within her. she wanted to honor the girl code. and it was definitively not girl code to tell your homegirl's boyfriend when and where you'd be somewhere when he was precisely the bloke you were avoiding.

but she knew you. and she knew how good theo was to you. how good you were together. and it certainly had to be girl code to look out for your best friend's heart when she was too blindsided to do it herself, right?

"she'll be in the potions section of the library in..." she trailed off and took a quick glance at the clock. "exactly nine minutes. she asked me to meet her there at 7:30 but maybe..."

pansy didn't have to finish. theo had already jumped to his feet and was pulling his forest green jumper over his head. he had one shot to confront you. if this didn't work... who knows, really.

pansy parkinson was dead fucking meat.

when you'd arrived the potions section at 7:30, at your usual study table, you'd expected to see the familiar dark hair and resting bitch face of your closest friend.

you had not expected to see your very handsome boyfriend who you were very much so avoiding. and you were most certain the only person who knew of your session tonight was pansy, thus she was the only person who could've mentioned anything to theo.

an internal sigh rolled through your being. it was going to be really fucking inconvenient to have to kill your favorite friend.

it wasn't that you were unhappy to see theo. in fact, in the days you'd been ignoring him, you'd missed him. significantly. but you were a fake. you had to try so hard at everything that should come naturally to you. being in slytherin, being a good student, hell even just being a fucking person felt like a never ending battle.

you couldn't stand the thought that one day theo might really look at you and burst his illusion of you. the thought that one day he may stop looking at you altogether? terrifying. it was easier for things to end this way, now.

one thing you hadn't anticipated is that theo is a true slytherin. when a slytherin wants something, they will stop at nothing to get it. there was nothing that could deter them. nothing that could stand in their way. and right now, what theo wanted more than anything, was you. ill conceived notions and insecurities be damned.

"you've been avoiding me, dolcezza."

theo's voice was deep and commanding. he really wanted to be soft and gentle with you, but your little disappearing act had scared the snake right out of his skin. and for that, he had to punish you at least a little.

"i haven't--"

"you have." theo stood abruptly and took a few strides towards you until your back was pressed against the bookcase behind you. "but that ends now."

shit.

shit.

theo was really close now. he had a certain look in his eyes, too. like he was a king cobra, and you a field mouse. theo was looking at you like he might consume you whole in one bite.

"i'm only going to ask you one more time." a large hand came up to palm at the back of your neck and your brain short-circuited. this man could have anything, anyone he wanted. and here he was with you. "why are you avoiding me?"

you wanted to be angry. to match his fire with fire. but you'd grown so tired of always pretending. all you could do now was cry. tears welled in your eyes and theo's demeanor changed very quickly.

"no, no, no. calma, baby." he cooed softly into your ear. his large arms circled around you in a rather warm bear hug. "don't cry."

"i'm so tired of pretending. and i'm sorry i can't be the smart popular cool girl that someone like you should be going out with."

theo's brows drew together in confusion. what on earth were you talking about? but when he really thought to himself, he saw it. the fake laughter and forced smiles in the great hall. the way that sometimes you had to try a little harder at certain assignments. you felt out of place.

at once, theo felt like a complete tosser. the one person that you should feel most at peace with was theo. and this whole time, he'd been oblivious to your internal plight. his heart broke a litte. how long had you been fighting this war against who you thought you should be, and who you really were?

"stop it." your tearful mumbling came to an end and theo could see in your eyes that you had all the wrong thoughts running through your pretty little head.

"you don't have to pretend with me. you don't have to fake anything. and there's nothing wrong with you for not being like everyone else. i was drawn to you because you're different." his words were thick with emotion, and you thought you saw his eyes get a little glassy. "it tears me up that you've been battling with yourself this whole time. i'm here to love you, y/n. please let me do that."

your mouth dropped open in shock. pushing people away had always been easy in the past. but theo wasn't finished with you.

"you can push and shove and scream at me to leave. you can argue with me, and we can fight, and you'll be right every time and you can call me names. and it's okay because i will still love you. but you don't get to turn away from something so perfect because you're afraid of the flaws that i already adore."

you stood there in his arms, tears slowly subsiding as you processed his words. every single one of them felt like they were reaching into the very core of you, unraveling the carefully constructed walls you had built. You could feel his warmth, his heartbeat, and suddenly, you weren’t so sure why you had been running. theo was here. Right in front of you. not just physically, but emotionally, too—offering something you didn’t even realize you wanted.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking once more. “i didn’t think… i didn’t think anyone could love me like that. like you do.”

theo’s arms tightened around you, pulling you closer, as if to make sure you could feel his unwavering presence. “don’t apologize.” his voice was so soft now, the commanding tone from earlier gone, replaced with something much gentler. “you’ve always been more than enough for me.”

your heart raced as you looked up at him, his eyes filled with an earnestness that sent a shiver down your spine. you had spent so long doubting yourself, so long convincing yourself that you were unworthy of something like this. but here he was, offering you everything. love. acceptance. patience.

and for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel like you had to run. the fight had left you. all that was left now was to surrender to him, to this love that you had been too afraid to fully embrace. you took a shaky breath, your hands gently curling into the fabric of his jumper as you leaned into him.

“i'm scared,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “i’m scared you’ll see all of me, and you won’t want to stay.”

theo cupped your face, his thumbs gently brushing away the remnants of your tears. “i’ve already seen you, dolcezza. all of you. and I’m not going anywhere.” his lips brushed against your forehead, a sweet, quiet promise.

you let out a shaky laugh, the weight in your chest beginning to lift. “i don’t know what i did to deserve you, theo.”

his response was simple, but it felt like everything: “you don’t have to deserve it. you just have to let me love you.”

you kissed him then, soft and slow, as if to seal the promise he’d just made. the kiss wasn’t a grand declaration, but a quiet, intimate thing—an understanding between the two of you that this was real, and it was enough.

theo wasn’t going anywhere. and neither were you.

maybe pansy parkinson could live.

[silliest-sideblog]

New Years Kiss

Pairing: Etho/Tango

Length: 1k words

A/N: It's technically New Years here already and I wanted to post this before people are heading out. So here's another little Slabtek fic, this time for new years eve!

Technically it's set after my other fic "Just a little distraction" but it's not relevant. I just wanted to write something indulgent for the holidays.

Happy New Years everyone, hope I can get even more writing done next year!

Etho and Tango sit in the reiling of the steampunk blimp that looms above Tango's still unfinished factory, looking towards where Cub is hosting a large fireworks show with the help of some of the others. There's food and people are talking and laughing.

Almost everyone is there, but not these two.

Of course they love their friends and enjoy spending time with them but it's already so noisy and crowded at times and right now they prefer the quiet of it all. Plus Tango insists the view from up here is so much better than being up close.

They sit, legs dangling, and just watch over the server for a while. It's a comfortable silence around them, without the need to fill it.

Tango got out his notepad occasionally to write down some idea or another that went through his head, telling Etho about it as he writes.

Neither of them has a clock on them and they don't know how late it is.

Eventually, Etho breaks the silence."So when do we get sappy and talk about the past year?"

The smile is audible in his voice and Tango doesn't even need to look up to see the way his eyes crinkle slightly alongside it.

"We don't have to if you don't wanna" he just offers in return. Neither of them is the type for this kind of stuff anyway.

Etho shrug and they sit in silence once more but now that Etho mentioned it once, Tango is of course thinking about it anyway.

"It sure was a year. Thought I would've gotten more done" Tango sighs. He's now looking down at his unfinished factory. "Thought I'd at least have that thing done a bit more done by now. Instead I spent half the year in a hole and the other half fixing this mess." he laughs sorely.

Etho gently kicks against his boot.

"You got everyone addicted to your game. Again." he throws in and Tango knows that it's not just to cheer him up.

"Only took me what? 5 months? And even then it was kind of a mess. All the bugs and so much that went wrong..."

A beat later, "Sorry. Didn't want to spend the last few minutes of the year being miserable" Tango says but he can't help the slight smile in his voice because Etho knows how he is. And Tango knows that Etho doesn't mind; that sometimes Tango needs to talk himself down, let out an annoyed sigh at himself and get to it. But there's not really a getting to it now on New Year's now, is there?

But the sigh already helps enough.

"What about you? Happy with this one?" Tango asks, changing the subject away from himself. Funny thing how neither of them can stand bring the focus for too long.

"Sure, could say that." Etho says but doesn't really elaborate.

Many good things have happened for the both of them. They made games for their friends and had the joy of watching them play and laugh. Struggle and get better.

Etho got over himself and built a roof for his house, something he's at least decently happy with.

Tangos factory is, despite the flaws he's deeply unhappy with, quite the impressive piece of redstone work.

The time they spent with everyone, laughing and learning from each other, watching their friends grow and live alongside them.

Neither of them says it out loud but that's what's been filling this year for them.

Another thing they don't say out loud, not earlier, not right now, is them. For a few months now they have been closer than ever before and since that one afternoon in the redstone of Hungry Hermits...

Things have changed between them, kisses have been stolen away, nights spent at the others, mostly Etho's, base; Tango's starter house being mostly unused at this point.

Still they haven't talked about it. Why would they? It's not like that would change anything.

Or it would. It would put expectations up, and Tango doesn't know if he's ready for that.

What would Etho even expect from him? Dates? Kissing? To tell other people?

Tango is lost in his own thoughts, he barely hears Etho's question.

"How long do you think we still have till midnight?"

"Huh?" Tango looks up at him, taking a moment to register the question and as his brain catches up and he wants to reply, the fireworks are beginning to light up the night sky.

And Tango can't take his eyes off Etho, his face illuminated by the flickering lights all over the night sky.

What would be expected of them? Shouldn't they kiss now?

Does it matter what's expected of them?

"Happy new year, Etho" Tango says with a bright smile as he realizes it doesn't matter.

He can see Etho return the expression, see it in his eyes, his eyebrows, the way his cheeks move under the mask.

Carefully, Tango reaches out and pulls on the fabric and Etho doesn't stop him. He never has.

Slowly their lips meet, as if they're making this something special.

Tango smiles into the kiss. He wouldn't have expected to be the type of person who enjoys something as dumb as a kiss on new years but here he is. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

Of course it feels silly and cheesy and neither of them really need it. But maybe that is part of the charm.

Once Tango pulls back he cant stop grinning at Etho. And that grin doesn't vanish when the taller one starts leaning his head on Tango's shoulder, slouching slightly to get comfortable.

Tango's tail wraps around his waist affectionately and he hears Etho say quietly, "Happy New Year, Tango."

[demonic0angel]

Random idea of Jazz and Jason living on a farm in the country together. Caring for the animals, making their own food, domestic sunsets on the porch.

(*starts tap dancing in joy* this got very long lmaooo)

Jason stared into the horizon, as the sun began to set, casting the world into golden yellow and fire red hues. He was still standing, just holding his scythe in one hand as he heard the rustle of wheat behind him.

Jazz stood next to him, watching the sky alongside him before she turned and leaned against his shoulder. "You shouldn't stare into the sun."

Jason hummed. He wrapped an arm around her and finally peeled his eyes away from the approaching nightfall. He kissed her forehead and said, "I know. Shall we go inside?"

She nodded and they walked together back to their home, a little farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. A barn and a mill were also nearby, providing them with more food. They were surrounded by fields on two sides, a large stretch of forest on the other, and a river weaving in between. Shadow was waiting for them at the door, their tail wagging as it watched them approach.

Jason closed the door when they were all inside, locking the several chains and deadbolt locks. Jazz closed all of their windows and blinds. Shadow disappeared in and out of their namesake, hopping in every dark corner of their home before coming back, confirming that it was safe and locked tight.

When they were done, Jazz pushed him to his seat and began dishing out food. He smiled at the sight of her bringing out the pheasant he had hunted on a plate, before she brought bowls of soup and bread over.

"Has anything happened while I was taking care of the fields?" He asked.

Jazz paused and then nodded. "Yes. I saw a straggler, so I killed them before anything could happen. They were in the woods, and I think they were alone, but I can't guarantee it."

Jason's heart sped up a beat at the thought of Jazz being alone while a straggler had been far too close to them, before he took a deep breath and calmed down.

"Alright. If that's true, we should comb through the woods one more time to make sure it's clean. I don't want anything to ambush us."

Jazz nodded. He reached over to brush her hair from her face and lay a kiss on her forehead. She smiled and he relaxed at the happiness on her face before they both went back to eating.

"What about you?" She asked. "How's the fields? And livestock?"

"Our chickens are doing well," he said thoughtfully. He looked down at his food and praised, "You've outdone yourself again, princess. This tastes amazing."

Jazz beamed again. Jason continued, "I think we have enough food to last us awhile. I'm not sure what winter is going to look like, but when we investigate the woods, we can look into the nearby towns and see if there's anything left to salvage."

Jazz nodded. Then she began slowly, "By the way... about Alfred..."

Jason paused, eyes wide. He looked at her and her expression was worried. "What about him? Did he get out? Did he do something to you?"

Jazz looked at her soup, mostly watery with carrots and potatoes and the barest amounts of herbs. "... he spoke to me today. He called me Miss Gordon."

Jason couldn't help his intake of breath and the hand reaching out to cover his mouth. "What?! But— But isn't he supposed to be..?!"

She nodded quickly. "That's what I thought too. But I think, he's either starting to remember things and might've recognized my hair or... or he's learning to imitate human speech." She winced from her words, but Jason didn't really notice.

He was thinking of the possibilities.

Ever since that faithful day, it had only been him, Jazz, and Shadow all on their own. Shadow had helped them both get away from the chaos and deaths, but they were pretty much isolated. All they knew was that the entire world had gone to shit and no one could reach them.

He had no idea if his family or friends were okay. Not even Jazz could reach out to her own family. She had no idea what was happening, and all they had was each other.

Things hadn't really changed even when Alfred had stumbled onto the slice of paradise and peace Jason had carved out for himself and Jazz. They had to lock him in the basement, but since there was nothing they could do about his condition, this was their only way of handling it without killing him for good.

Jason focused back on Jazz, who was nearly wilting from some misplaced sense of guilt. He reached out again to hold her hand, squeezing as he said, "I don't blame you for anything, Jazz. No matter what he says... protect yourself first, okay? Your safety matters most to me. I think for now, let's just continue observing him."

She nodded. Jason turned to Shadow and asked, "Hey, could you keep an eye on Alfred for me? If he does anything or gets out, wake us up."

The ancient looked up and nodded, and that was settled. Dinner continued in quiet chatter as the tension eased, and eventually they prepared for bed.

Jason had never expected to live such a strange life of domesticity.

As night fell and Jazz slept in his arms with her long limbs wrapped around him like an octopus, Jason could not help but marvel at the situation, in a house with the woman he loved, peaceful and without any heroics, with his grandfather in the house somewhere too (although Alfred was not really the same.)

Even if the world was ending, with the people he loved most around him, Jason did not feel worried.

His eyes began to droop.

Soon, he too fell asleep. As the world around them continued to move, Jason felt secure in his bed with Jazz in his arms and Shadow curled up by their feet.

The earth would continue spinning.

[harzilla]

Happy new years, your present this year is some Floyd x Reader!

Warning: Violence(not against reader, Floyd loves you to much, threats(because it's Floyd), is it yandere, or is it just Floyd?

Floyd loves you so much, he'd kill for you, if you gave him permission that is.

Floyd really really loves you, you know that right?

Man, this bottom feeder really didn't deserve how nice you had been. Always politely turning him down, but he always came back like an annoying parasite. What did he expect to happen after you kept turning him down?

But that's okay, because Floyd's feeling in the mood to rough up somebody.

Floyd who tracked this guy down and started knocking the crap out of him. God he went down so fast too. This is actually kind of boring. All that bravado and he went down easy. At least it was a little fun to chase him when he tried to run.

Floyd just throws this guy around, grabbing him by his hair as he lay on the ground and telling him he's lucky that Floyd's not doing worse to him.

After all, he promised Shrimpy he wouldn't hurt him to badly. Not to bad if the guy is still in one piece right?

Floyd picks the guy up and stands him on his feet, battered but actually manages to hold himself up.

See, you're standing! Just like Shrimpy asked! Floyd dusts the guy down, even straightening out his jacket. Isn't that nice of him?

Floyd places his hand on his shoulder, shakes the guys shoulder in a playful way.

Isn't Shrimpy great? Shrimpy was all "Don't get to reckless Floyd, I know you're tough but I still don't want you getting in trouble."

If it were anybody else Floyd might think they were telling him what to do, but not shrimpy! Shrimpy says it because they care about Floyd.

Isn't that the sweetest? Doesn't want him to get in trouble. First time he doesn't want to just break this guy on half, but he really doesn't wanna disappoint his Shrimpy.

He squeezes the guys shoulder and leans in closer.

You see bottom feeder, Shrimpy is really nice, too nice in fact sometimes. Not like sea otter who's way to nice that it gets annoying. But sometimes Shrimpy cares to much about other people, especially real assholes, this school is full of them. Shrimpy is real nice and sometimes the school minnows think it means Shrimpy is weak.

Shrimpy's not weak. Shrimpy's just patient that's all. Nothin wrong with that, right?

The thing is however, no matter how nice Shrimpy is, even Shrimpy's patience wears out and Floyd doesn't like to lose his prey a second time.

He pats the guy causing him to stumble forward. "So the next time you think about going anywhere near Shrimpy, just remember, Shrimpy is the reason you're still standing."

"Now.... Bye!" Giving him a wide toothy grin and a wave.

The guy stumbles away but he's on own two feet at least. Look at that, the guy even walked away on his own. See, Floyd can show restrain if he wants to!

He does wish Shrimpy let him break the guys legs though, can't bug Shrimpy if you can't even walk up to them.

But oh well, he'll just have to go find his Shrimpy and get praised for being such a good eel. Shrimpy will be happy knowing the barnacle won't come back to bug them.

Won't you give your favorite eel a squeeze?

[renren-006]

Emporor Lucius | Lucius Verus x fem reader

plot: old friends and Lucius coming back into your life as the emperor after being a gladiator. (has a tad bit of similar plot to my other story)

a/n: i wanted another old freinds to lovers story so here it is! please enjoy! let me know of any other story ideas! also thank you so much for the love on my first lucius story> Familiar eyes

The halls of the emperors glowed in the sunlight. They came through the windows and open archways, spilling golden rays onto the marble flooring. Lucius walked the halls like he had done for the past few days, bathing in the light and the revelations of power. He never wanted to be here again, in this position, yet here he was. The events after his fight in Rime and the killing of Macranis led to the people wanting him in power to have a slower position of power in the senate. The issues with the Senate were evident, and Lucius had to fix them before he could trust the people. 

His head hung low as he walked towards those inner gardens. He watched from the corner of the open room as you strolled in. You were doing your duties like you had for the last 20 years, tending to the gardens and animals and small, tedious things that needed care. You knew a new emperor was in the place now, but you had not met him. Lucius purposefully kept it that way once he knew you were still where he had left you. Your life had always been to serve, and Lucious was just happy you had not been harmed. You had the same spirit and carefree smile as he remembered. He left before you could even see his shadow.

You turned once you heard the shuffling of feet, yet Lucius had already gone. The other maids and servants in the palace didn't speak of the new emperor, leaving you wondering who exactly roamed these halls. Since childhood, you had seen many people come and go from these halls; this time, you hoped whoever it was had a kind soul. Those days of your youth were always filled with smiles, running around these exact gardens and through the halls playing with the prince of Rome. How far off those memories felt now, a feeling of emptiness surrounded you again, the suffocating feeling of knowing you'll never be that child and that boy won't be the cause of your smiles anymore. You stood fast, breathing slowly. “Damn you, Lucius,” you spoke before you grabbed your things and left to do another job far from the gardens. 

Lucius plans to prevent you from working for a few weeks, but he can't control everything. It was another day of him roaming the halls and venturing into the gardens. However, this time, you had become more aware of the presence of someone while you were there. As you tended to the flowers in the center bed, you spoke up.

“You know it is creepy to stand in the shadow and watch a girl work,” you said to the air. You waited a while before he stepped further into the room.

“My apologies,” he spoke. The words he said sent shivers down your spine; the embers of something familiar filled your stomach. You turned slowly to see a man standing in a white tunic and many Roman emblems adorning his chest.

“I did not realize you were the emperor,” you said, shocked. “I should not have spoken the way I did”

“No, you had a right I was…I have been standing in these dark corners while you work,” he told you honestly, “Only fair you figured it out”

“Still, I spoke rather harshly,” you told him. As he ventured further into the room, you stood slightly, realizing there was a slight height difference between the two of you. While the revelation was fleeting, one of the most essential things caught your eye. Those eyes that looked towards you stuck another ember of familiarity. “I…have I met you before?”

“You always were too smart for your own good,” he said, laughing a little. “Me and my theatrics of keeping out of your way were pointless if you were to realize who I was anyways”

“You can not be,” you said, walking closer to the man before you. “Lucius?” “Hello, my darling,” he answered. Tears were fast to fall from your eyes as you threw yourself into his arms. The man you thought was dead stood here in your presence once more. Older, wiser, and more handsome than that little boy you knew. 

“Your back,” you said in his arms. He held you close, letting you hold him. You pulled back and looked up at him. “And you grew”

“That was the first thing you noticed?” “No,” you answered horribly. Lucius laughed, knowing you were lying. He nodded his head and stood tall for you. “I can not believe you came back”

“Not my original plan…” he told you, “Had other plans to leave Rome, but it seems I am needed.”

“Hm. Guess we all dream of leaving at one point or another,” you told him. “That was you, right? The gladiator that caused a stir from the people?” “Guilty,” he spoke, “I am like my father in that way.” “Seems your wish of finding out who your father was came true…Maximus," Lucius humped while looking towards the sky above you. You looked u,p seeing some clouds rolling in. “Let us head inside”

Those following weeks or months were filled with Lucius joining you in your morning routine of tending to the garden. Always brings a new story of his life away to tell you, filling your time in the garden with a magical life. Some stories were sad, but you knew he did what he could to tell them to overcome the grief. Lucius found a way to make your simple life filled with life and meaning. He sparked those embers in you that you desperately hoped could be fueled. You looked forward to those moments spent with him, making your day go by and making you excited for the next day to see him again. As more and more time went by, Lucius joined you for other tasks. It was joyous having him around, but sometimes you forgot about your job in favor of admiring the man before you and listening to whatever story about himself or Rome he was telling you. Sometimes, he would find you after senate meetings just to talk to you about how conniving the men in the room are. 

“They undermine me, and whatever I say, some of them look as if my words mean nothing,” he told you as you were in the library working on the catalog. “They…they even insist I must marry to secure Rome even further,” you nodded along.

“Maybe you should,” you spoke absently, “Look at how the emperors did when they did not marry, especially the brothers. Security for Rome is not a bad thing, Lucius.”  The silence after your words grew so intolerable that you were forced to put the book down and look behind you. Lucius' eyes were already in yours. “I say something to upset you? I truly did not mean to”

“Marry me.” Lucious' words did not fully register to you until you had the entire stack of books fall from the table behind you. Somehow, you had stepped back at his words and caused the table to shake. 

“Lucius”

“I am thinking rationally before you tell me I am not,” he said. A few moments passed as he tried to gather his words. “I have come to realize I can not live without you in my life anymore, I need you, y/n”

“Lucius,” you warned, “You realize I have no…prospects. I am nothing in the eyes of the empire; I am a maid to the palace.” “You think I care what Rome thinks of you. I do not. My thoughts and feelings are the only ones that matter,” he told you, stepping closer to you and finally able to grab your hand. “I have not felt love and comfort until I was with you again.”

“I am scared if you choose me, you will realize there are better women to marry.” “Lies,” he said smiling, “You are the only woman in Rome for me.” he leaned down to you, inching closer and closer to you. You stalled momentarily before closing the space, meeting his lips with yours. Those embers inside you turned into a fire. He was for you, and you for him.

[eldritch-spouse]

I would absolutely mistake Mooncalf 's small form as a pillow and hump it 😔

What would he do in that scenario? 👀

TW: Mutual nonconsensual acts.

Quite bold of you to not only find it harmless that there's a brand new unidentified object in your bedroom, but also seek to hump it at the slightest confirmation that it might be a pillow.

In this form, he may be ever so slightly pillow-shaped, but Mooncalf certainly doesn't feel like one. Not only is he more dense, he exudes the warmth of a mammalian living creature.

Mooncalf will admit he knows anything could happen when he helps himself into the homes of strangers. But most of the populations he finds nowadays don't even truly recall what his kind is, let alone ward their homes or set up any sort of boundary mark- You cannot expect Mooncalf to resist what amounts to a slightly ajar door. Point is, he feels safe enough to doze off in the homes of strangers entirely uninvited, because he's sure that almost no one can be a figment of a threat to him.

Besides, it's always fun to see how people react to his presence, in whatever form he chooses to manifest.

The world is full of whimsy indeed, and sometimes, it still manages to shock the fey.

He'll concede he didn't know what to think when you just... Started grinding on him. Mooncalf wanted to startle you, initially. Though he hardly thinks it would have garnered as interesting a reaction as simply playing dead already did.

Who are you...? Who are you to hump him like a dog? To huff and pant and get yourself off with his body?

Freak! Weirdo! Unnatural fool!

What fun!

He's not ashamed to say that he simply let you. Giggled silently to himself as you used him like a fucktoy, rubbing a slick and warm cunt over the length of his rather small form until your breath began to catch and he could sense the muscles of your thighs tense with desperation. So entranced with your own climb to the peak, you could never have noticed the way your little doll warmed as well, the way he made but the smallest noises of surprise whenever you jostled him particularly hard.

It's not every day Mooncalf allows himself to get used like this. He supposes his time asleep has left him needy enough to enjoy such a thing. Again, he takes no shame from it.

When the naughty deed is over, you pick him up like any other dirty used cushion, throwing the monster into what he presumes is some kind of used laundry basket. Certainly stinks of it.

Rude!

Nasty!

That is no way to treat a guest like him.

Your insult, as humorous as it was to the fey, shall be met with consequences...

Coming home from your day, a number of things likely running through your mind, no one would ever blame you for not noticing a missing pillow on the laundry pile. After all, what you need right now is a meal and proper rest, ensuring you'll be functional tomorrow.

Nothing is amiss. You eat to the sound of your favorite content creator's newest upload and prepare everything to settle down for the night.

Pajamas on, bed arranged, you can only think, sadly, that you'd like to snuggle that new pillow tonight. Unfortunately, you got hasty with it that morning.

It's really not your fault it's shaped so conveniently...

You can always wash it tomorrow.

The thoughts swirling through your mind rapidly fizz into a peaceful quiet, allowing you to drift off under the cozy covers, breathing softly and silently.

...

You can't be sure of how long it's been when you awaken with a jolt.

The first thing your panicked brain signals is that something is on top of you.

Dark as it is, you can't see a thing, but you feel the presence of something humanoid under the covers, slumped atop you like a heavy weight keeping you trapped to the mattress. Fabric, skin and rough talons make contact with you.

It takes a second before you register the rocking.

The hairs on your neck stand on end when this stranger breathes on it, his hips rolling against your ass lazily, something much too large pulsing eagerly with each self-gratifying roll.

He seems to be taking enjoyment out of doing this to you, soft yet low, distinctly pleased hums muffled against you.

By the time it all clicks, the danger you're in, a strangely-shaped hand has already snaked its way up to keep your jaw clamped shut.

Something like a distorted giggle rings under the covers, and suddenly, two pools of orange-ish yellow look down at you, the pupils of an entertained predator fixing you into place.

" Wakey wakey! " He murmurs pervertedly, never stopping his constant humping. The shiver that courses through you certainly doesn't go unnoticed. " Why so shaky? "

You're not meant to answer, of course.

Instead, his hips pick up the pace, thighs brushing harder against yours while he readjusts, well and truly wedging his cock between the globes of your ass, treating you no better than you had... That pillow.

That pillow. What have you gotten yourself into?

As the bedframe creaks and your vision blurs with the force of the monster's lewd movements, you can only flush furiously and watch him moan in impish delight.

" I'll have you know- " He throbs. " Rude awakenings have consequences. "

A spare hand tickles its way down your side, hooking onto the waistband of your pajama pants.

" I hope this brings you to your senses. "

[sweetheartbitesb4ck]

`` the things we love the most hurt us the most ``

cw: mentions of alcohol, angst

words: 5.3k

You knew Simon loved you… heck, sometimes he would take his mask off around you, but you couldn't help but worry about him.

Of course you worried about his deployments; you would spend hours rotting in bed, allowing your fears to crash over you like waves, flooding your mind with worst case scenarios. Your friend would have to drag you up and out, much to your unwillingness. "But what if there's a letter… or a call.." You would murmur, your face plastered with anxiety and dread. Once he was home, or you had received a letter from him, your body could finally breath, your tense posture softening and the storm in your mind calming down.

However, you still worried when he was home. You would watch as your partner would drink away his trauma in the evening, sitting on the sofa with a stoic expression. The glass of whiskey in his hand never seemed to empty, what with him constantly refilling it. You would try to comfort him- cuddle him or gently probe him to talk, but Ghost would shut you out. Yeah, it upset you, but most of all it made you feel sick with nerves… What if he leaves me, or does something to himself... What if he can't stop. It was what seemed like an endless spiral of what ifs and overthinking. Maybe you just cared too much.

You shake yourself up from your seat (perched on the edge of the mattress, head in hands as you spiral) as you hear the door twist open and shut. Glancing at the clock, you frown. [01:32] "Shit.." You whisper as thuds rattle through the flat… probably Simon taking off his heavy combat boots after a night out at the pub, his drunkenness making him clumsier than ever.

✧.* Creeping into the hallway, you take a deep breath, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of Simon. "Hey," You say, voice soft. He looks up at you, his eyes hollow beneath the mask. "Don't be angry," He slurs, face scrunching up as he wobbles towards you. You grab hold of his huge frame, wrapping an arm around his waste and guiding him to the sofa. Your heart breaks at his words… Am I being overbearing…. or rude? You think, rubbing your eyes and blinking the thoughts away. "I'm not angry," You whisper, walking from the living room into the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the shelf and filling it up with water before carrying it through to Ghost, your hands trembling slightly. You sit down next to him, lifting the mask slightly and putting the glass to his lips, waiting till he takes it in his own hands and starts to gulp down the water. "You're okay," You note, your voice hushed as you watch Simon, who was normally so loving and brave, cry silently, his huge frame jolting with each sob.

"I'm not…" He chokes, looking away. God how you wished you could make it all go away for him. "Talk to me, Simon," You turn him towards you, trying to mask the pained look on your face. "Please, love." you mumble. He shakes his head, his expression strained. "I need a drink." He grunts, trying to stand up but failing and falling back onto the sofa.

Something about his words just made you snap. You weren't pissed off, well at least not directly at Simon, but at yourself for letting it get like this. Standing up, you shake your head, trying to ignore the tears that had started to tease at the corners of your eyes. "No." You say bluntly, stomping to the kitchen and emptying the contents of the booze cupboard, unscrewing caps, opening bottles and cans and pouring them all down the sink, the stench of liquor and beer making you slightly queasy. You go back into the living room, wrapping your arms around Simon and helping him up, guiding him to your shared bedroom and into the bed. He falls asleep instantly, probably passed out from the copious amounts of alcohol he had drunk earlier. You turn of the light and sigh, your movements slow and tired, but you can't sleep, your mind crawling with guilt and fear about things you never even did.

✧.*

You wake up to the racket of Simon clanking around in the kitchen and you squint from the light streaming through the curtains. Standing up, you yawn and rub your eyes before traipsing into the kitchen. Ghost turns at hearing your footsteps, raising his eyebrows slightly. His mask was off, dark shadows circling under his eyes. "Morning," He nods at you, squeezing your shoulder casually. He was far too nonchalant, what with the incident from the night before. It was just enough to tick you off.

You exhale and tilt your head, crossing your arms over your chest. "Can we just talk?" You ask, your tone hard and unreadable. Simon shrugs, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "There's really nothing to say." You bite down on the inside of your cheek as he says this, obviously annoyed. "Yes there is," You urge, voice worn. "Please just talk to me... Simon I want to help you," He rubs his temples, shaking his head.

"Love, I appreciate it but I-" You shake your head, your manner obviously shifting. "No. Just- no, Si- I can't sit here and watch you drink your life away. It's not fair on you or on me!"

Stepping back slightly, Simon lowers his voice. "I want to get sober, I really do, but I can't burden you with all my... shit," He pauses for a moment, looking away. "I was born broken, you know it, I know it, we all fucking know it. If you can't deal with it then... I dunno. I really don't."

thank you for reading! I'm thinking this is gonna be part of an angsty series? I just felt like writing something a bit grumpy before I post something else. anyways, hope you enjoyed and are having a good day/night!! any support appreciated!

-sweetie

[n0tamused]

Hello, can I ask you about Wuwa men with a reader similar to Acheron from HSR? I mean also suffering from such a blessing, loss of taste, colors and memory 🥹

A/n: Sorry for the small wait! I do hope you enjoy this mixed bag of everything lol, I was a bit around the place and yapping. I haven't been able to play WuWa since this summer due to storage problems so these were written with the knowledge I have from the older versions lol.

Contents: Jiyan/Aalto/Xiangli Yao/Mortefi/Calcharo x GN!Reader(separate) that is like Acheron, fluff, comfort, a bit of angst, not proof-read, some of these are shorter than the others as I wasn't feeling particularly motivated for them all equally, sorry

Ko-fi

Jiyan

-It does not take too long for the General of the Midnight Rangers to catch on to your odd persona, “odd” is not the word he’d use, but with the lack of a proper terminology to describe his feeling with the initial encounter he has not much choice but to use it

-He is wary of you, but not unkind, as he usually is with newcomers that seemingly do not visibly come in blazing and wishing to oppose him and all he stands for

-There is a sense of understanding about him when it comes to you, he can practically sense the emptiness that surrounds you and that deep look in your eyes tells him that there is much more to you, something both dangerous and intriguing. Some time may pass before it becomes a routine of sorts to converse with you on a regular basis, and when it also becomes a habit for you despite your fading memory.

-Jiyan never held your weak memory against you, it was one of the things that pointed to something else that he wished to uncover through your blossoming relationship. Even if that thing stood alone as a characteristic of your, he was already enraptured by you, he wanted to help you where he could

-In private and with intimate relationships, Jiyan can be a man of fewer words than when he is on the battlefield with so many eyes on him. Being General means being a performer to a certain extent as well, but with you he can just leave that stage and be himself

-With someone who has lost the sense of taste and the eye for color he tends to hold onto some thread of hope that you’ll be cured of it, be it by his hand or someone else’s. He watches your movements and your mannerisms for any sign of improvement and gets rather excited if he ever spots some, even if it may not be a really big deal to you or anyone else. 

-Jiyan doesn’t share the same condition as you, but he understands the feeling of losing something and someone. He knows what it feels like to be adrift without a clear direction. So, he might silently mourn the fact that you can no longer enjoy the small things like colors, tastes, or memories, because he’s had his own form of loss and he felt the pain on his own skin. What he can do is try and dull any pain you might feel, or distract you from it, although he genuinely hopes you are not in pain at all.

-While you may forget past conversations  or dates, forgetting such things for Jiyan is a scarce event. He holds every memory close to him,  especially if he finds himself far away from you, on distant battlefields where he can only hope you haven’t forgotten about him. But there is also a poetic way to his thinking when it comes to this - if you do, in fact, forget him, he can always start again. He’d never tire, and he’d keep doing it all as long as you’d let him. 

-He does leave notes for you around the house that can be quite detailed depending on the context, hoping to help you with the daily routine even while he is away from you. 

-Though your memories are gone or fading and your senses have all but dulled, Jiyan would help you rediscover joy in small, often overlooked things. While you can't taste food anymore, he might make it a habit to cook you a meal, hoping that somehow you can still feel the texture or the warmth of the food, and there’s of course the health aspect to it too. And while you can't see colors, he might describe the world in such detail that you feel as though you're experiencing it through his eyes. He also helps you with your outfits if you ask him to! He may not be some fashionista but he can be of good help. In winter he does tend to mother you a bit, telling you to always dress warmly even if you may not feel as cold.

-If he ever came to see you use your “blessing” in combat, he’d be shocked, then in cautious awe. If anyone understands that great power comes with a great cost - it is him.

-You may hold power to move mountains, but Jiyan would always be there to jump in first and protect you.

Aalto

-Aalto would have come to know you through all the various branches of information he perches on, he knew you before had met you in person, but that does not erase his unending curiosity and skepticism

-He is tactical yet unassuming in his approach to you, stepping carefully to see where you stand with him. He is quick to adjust if need be, as in the end, the last thing he needs to happen is you marking him as your enemy and possibly wiping the floor with him

-As mentioned, he does approach you with a certain curiosity, he is guarded and cautious. He has heard and read so much about you but to him this concept of being “blessed” in such a way by an entity unheard of in the whole world is strange at best. There was so much yet so little, at times he was unsure what to think

-Aalto is a whimsical fellow, as we all know, but that is a part of his own public persona. No one would really suspect such a guy of any ulterior motive, and it is a character that has bought him a way into so many places

-It comes as a bit of a surprise to him when he meets you next time and you don’t seem to remember him or parts of your prior conversation. He is questioning whether this is done on purpose to send him a signal you are not interested, but soon he does realize that it is really something serious and not done of your own violation

-Aalto is used to navigating difficult situations with tactical precision, and he prides himself on his ability to control and influence outcomes. However, when faced with someone like you- someone whose condition is so profound and deeply entrenched- he might feel a sense of helplessness. His usual methods of fixing things or controlling situations wouldn’t work on you. He might even feel frustrated by his inability to do anything tangible to heal or help you reclaim you’ve already lost

-But with that being said, Aalto would definitely try and help you in the later stages of your relationship to look for some cure, or at least something to lessen this curse. Even at the start he may point to some cures you can try out. It is not an easy thing to live with and it certainly is not comfortable either. He may not completely understand it, even with the abundance of information he has, it is still unknown territory, but that doesn’t stop him from trying. He never appears too stoic however, and likes to keep a lighthearted tone around you in hopes that at least his jokes and laid back demeanor can keep you calm and entertained, even if for a while, even if you’ll forget eventually

-Aalto would want to bring you “back to life” in some way, but his methods might be a bit unconventional and rather bold when it comes to it. Rather than using gentle persuasion like Jiyan, Aalto might  try pushing you more directly, testing your limits, teasing, and seeing how far he can go to provoke a reaction.  He may put salt instead of sugar in your food and hope you notice and scold him for it.

-This could come across as both intense and a bit intrusive at times, like a water that’s just about to burst with a boil, but it’s never done out of malice. He’d never do something that would cause you harm. He’d  just want to know if there’s any spark left in you, any piece of yourself that could be awakened, and if there’s even a small sand-sized spark, he is more than willing to put all his efforts out to make it shine brighter

-While initially, Aalto might be driven by curiosity and perhaps a need for control, over time he might develop a deeper, more nuanced understanding of your condition. He would begin to realize that there’s no quick fix, no immediate solution or cure for you, and that the journey to healing is one that requires time and patience. This does make him soften, in a rather sad way in which he has to eventually accept this no matter how much he wants to keep fighting for you

-But he is more than willing to be patient, holding that hope at the back of his mind instead of making it his very sole goal. He understands that watching him jump from place to place can also be exhausting for you to see.

-In terms of your memory loss Aalto would take lots of pictures, although sadly not many would include him due to his work, but there would be his handwriting on the back of printed pictures and silly doodles as well, some also done by Encore who has grown quite fond of you

-He leaves flowers for you. After a time he also bought you a plastic potted plant, just so you can have something that lasts, as the last time he bought you a real potted plant it didn’t really live long

-He jokes about it, but he never took it to heart lol he is chill

Mortefi

-It is a bit of a lucky strike of fate that brought you two to meet, considering Mortefi doesn’t exactly go out of his way to meet new people. It would probably be Baizhi or some other that brings you to the Academy, and that is when he’d first get a sense of something different, that void that followed you like a shadow

-It is unclear to him whether this is something he is imagining or if it was something real, but as it is not exactly his field of research, he does not pursue his twinge of intrigue from there

-That is until Baizhi brings it up in conversation at a later date, something about this anomaly in your being, something that went beyond simple ailment of health. It puzzled her. And that conversation with Baizhi did leave a lasting taste in his mouth for days to come, even if Baizhi did not reveal anything confidential to him or anything concrete. 

-When he meets you eye to eye he does question you a little bit about what you’re doing at the Academy again, and a conversion flows from there on out as you wait for Baizhi to come and check on you again. He wasn’t the warmest of people to converse with, but he was cordial and didn’t leave you alone in the middle of the Academy. He could tell from your mannerisms and from what you told him in the conversation that you didn’t exactly.. know what’s going on, and by that he also figured out your memory wasn’t the strongest. You made mention of getting a message from Baizhi that very morning, a reminder for you to come in, and he may have snuck a peak at your phone and saw there was more than one reminder before that one. It was a brief glance

-After your checkup, he does coincidentally meet you in the halls again and asks you about it, seemingly a little more softer but still blunt and hardy on the outside 

-Mortefi wouldn’t be the type to offer overly emotional comfort. His understanding of loss or suffering would be intellectual rather than empathetic. He has lost a lot in his life as well, but he has always been forced to suppress his feelings, which led to outbursts somewhere later down the line.  However, his form of sympathy wouldn’t  be wholly detached but rather perceptive. He would sense that your condition is more than just a physical or psychological issue- it’s a fundamental disconnect from the world and your own spirit

- He might not express his sympathy outwardly, but there would be moments when his cold demeanor falters, and he would quietly acknowledge the sadness of your condition, even if he doesn’t directly verbalize it. He grows fond of you, and he takes a while to realize it too. He doesn’t want to believe it at first either - it is simply not logical to him, it doesn’t make sense, and intimate relationships always came hard to him anyway

-Mortefi would offer to make something for you that would help you with remembering things, he would even try to craft a special pair of glasses that would allow you to see colors, a special candy that would allow you to taste certain things..etc. He would try whatever his imagination would bring up, and it wouldn’t be rare to catch him staying up at night, trying to realize this idea into reality

-The loss of memory might fascinate Mortefi the most. He would be intrigued by how a person can live without the things that form their identity. If you think about it, everyone is just a well of memories which form not only their person, but their approach to the world around them. That includes Mortefi as well.  If you don’t remember your past, it could mean you’re an empty vessel- a blank slate and therefore easily impressionable, in some way or another. He sees this as risky, so Mortefi may become rather easily irritated, or even anxious in some way, if you stop responding to his messages or if he hasn’t seen you in some time. 

-Could be that you just forgot to text him… but that doesn’t stop him from worrying 

-He may get a little irritated at you forgetting certain things or being late to appointments and such, but he understands this isn't done by your own choosing, so his anger is redirected at things that actually deserve his anger

Xiangli Yao

-Sweet Xiangli Yao, although when he meets you, and you're no more than another stranger to him, he still feels a sense of empathy for you. However threatening and dark that sense of emptiness that surrounds you is, it is just that which draws him in. Could he make it disappear? 

-Xiangli Yao’s first reaction would be one of deep empathy. He is someone who feels others' pain deeply and would immediately recognize the gravity of your suffering. The loss of your senses and memory would weigh heavily on him.

-Of course, at the start he does not know all the details of you situation, he is quite hopeful and eager to help in whatever way he can, so when he finds out this was put upon you by a power higher even than of the sentinel, it is safe to say he feels a bit hopeless. His mind comes at a stop, like rusted cogwheels that he desperately tries to get moving again. Creaks and squeaks are all he gets in return for a while

- His first instinct would be to reach out to you, not just to understand your condition but also to offer support, even if he doesn't know how to fix things right away

-Unlike other people who might approach your condition with curiosity or detachment to satisfy their own curiosity, Xiangli Yao would actively search for ways to help you heal or regain some semblance of the things you've lost. He would likely spend time learning about your condition, asking you about how you feel or what you remember, even if your memory doesn’t work the same way. His compassionate nature would drive him to research ways to restore or help you find balance in a world without your senses and memories

-Given his ability to read people and understand emotions on a deeper level, and with him being made of a rather soft and nurturing nature, Xiangli Yao would be sensitive to how you’re feeling. He’d be able to pick up small cues and mannerisms you may display, reading you like an open book

-Even if you don't express your emotions outwardly due to your condition, he would be able to sense the subtle cues - whether it’s the way you carry yourself or even your tone of voice when you speak. This is even more amplified the more time you spend together with each other. In either case, Xiangli Yao would adapt his approach accordingly, offering emotional support without pushing you to confront anything you're not ready for 

-Xiangli Yao's sense of duty and his protective nature would kick in when he realizes the extent of your condition. He would be willing to make sacrifices to help you - whether it’s giving up his time, his resources, or even putting himself in danger to find a cure for you. You may be able to protect yourself, but if he can avoid putting you in a situation where you're forced to do so, he'd do just that. He'd rather be the one fighting than let you fight 

-His deep belief in looking out for others, especially those who are vulnerable or hurting, would mean that he would go to great lengths to make sure you’re taken care of, even if it means putting his own needs aside

-Xiangli Yao’s care for you is gentle and affectionate in subtle yet really warm ways, but he would respect your boundaries. He wouldn’t overwhelm you with his affections, but he would express his care in small, meaningful gestures like sending you sweet messages through the little robot he makes for you, and in the same manner he’d send you voice messages too. Similarly to Jiyan he might take to a habit of leaving notes around the house and little treats as well. Even if you can’t taste them, he hopes you’ve enjoyed the little game of hunt for them

-If you'd allow him, he'd hold your hand as you walk around as he tells you about streets you've passed through before if you've forgotten. He'd quietly remind you of the names of others if you need the help and he'd never put you in a situation that would be embarrassing for you, that's the last thing he wants you to feel, especially since this curse is not something you would've wished for if it was up to you. Sure, it gives you great power, but at what cost..? Is it really worth it?

Calcharo

-When first learning of your suffering, he might simply nod, his face calm but with a subtle furrow in his brow. He wouldn’t rush to comfort you or find out more immediately, but instead, he would want to assess whether your condition is something that can be cured or if it's just part of who you are now, or if it something that threatens his work. His mind would be working quickly, formulating potential ways to help, but he would remain quiet, choosing his words carefully

-Despite his stoic nature, Calcharo would feel a strong sense of responsibility toward you, especially if he perceives you as vulnerable. He might not openly show his concern, but he would take steps to ensure that you are protected and taken care of

-Calcharo's emotional distance doesn't mean he’s cold or indifferent to your suffering. He’s simply more reserved and slow to let his guard down. However, as he sees your struggle, a quiet protectiveness would begin to form. He is not emotionless, he’s just buried his hard deep into his duty and deeper still

- He would keep his distance in terms of expressing emotions, but he would become more protective of you, watching your movements, ensuring that you don’t push yourself too far, and subtly stepping in when you need help. He does have eyes and ears everywhere, and may give some of them the task of keeping an eye out for you if he is in a situation where he can’t lend you his supports, due to his missions and duty

-While he may understand quite early on that the power you possess may go over the limit of his own imagination, he would step in to take over instead, telling you to go and wait for him elsewhere. He is rather gruff yet coldly calm in his command to you, he does not play around with work, and especially when it comes to you

-Seeing as he has a..demon of his own, he would come to compare your two conditions over time and correlate them as well, growing a greater understanding of you even if the two conditions don’t equal one another. He can only use his own knowledge to try and understand your experience, and that is the only way he knows

-As mentioned, Calcharo is quite stumped emotionally, he has a hard time expressing himself, so vocally you shouldn’t expect much from him, but if you need any work done, he is your guy

-If he doesn’t know how to do xyz, he most definitely knows another guy that does! Must be magic/j. That being said,his love language is definitely acts of service 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Walter hale 50 covering their mouth to shut them up. 😏

Hungry

A/N: Well this was fun. Any excuse to get dirty with Walter.

Pairing: Walter Hale x reader

Word count: Just a smidge over 1K

TWs: This is a smutfest. Walter is a soft dom, praise kink and some really dirty stuff with panties. Maybe the tiniest hint of orgasm denial.

You're the piano lady at the Chautauqua - you do all the accompaniment for the children’s singing during the daytime. You have no idea what Walter sees in you, when he has his pick of all the singers and dancers in every town. Not that you're under any illusion that you're the only woman he's sleeping with, that would be ridiculous. But he has been spending a lot of time with you lately. You run your fingers over the piano keys, doing a few scales absent-mindedly as you wait for the next kid. It's almost lunchtime. You can't wait for a break from this. 

Walter wanders into the tent where you're playing, eyes roving until they finally land on your figure, sitting behind the piano, just as he expected. He likes you a lot. You've got a little extra padding, in that kind of mid-thirties way, and he’s really been enjoying the effect it has on you. There’s a point that women hit at that age where they stop caring about what other people think of them and start caring about having a good time instead. He can’t understand why you haven’t been snapped up by someone already, but then maybe you’d never have got to this stage. You love sex, and he loves doing it with you.

He stands at the side of the stage until someone shouts something about lunch, and then you feel his presence behind you. 

“Hungry, honey?”

You somehow find yourselves in a walk-in linen closet, which would be spacious if it wasn’t for the shelves of linen, you and Walter all being in there. The shelves dig into your back and Walter, pressed against you, digs into your front. Your arms are around his neck and he’s kissing you passionately, grinding against you just a little. You let out a little pleasured noise as he moves from your mouth to your neck. 

“Still hungry?” He asks, with a raised eyebrow and a smile playing on his lips. 

You don’t need to be asked twice, nodding and getting onto your knees as best you can in the cramped space. Freeing his dick from the confines of his pants, you set to work licking and sucking, and he bites his fist to stay quiet. It’s hard not to make a noise when you’re so good at this, but he doesn’t want to be found. Eventually he decides you’re getting him dangerously close with your mouth and he wants to finish somewhere else. He taps your cheek and you let him slide out again, and stand up, obediently. He pulls your long skirt up around your waist and your panties to one side, and then he’s inside you in one quick movement. Grunting, his cheek pressed against yours as he rolls his hips into you again and again. 

“Oh, Walter! It feels so good.” You can’t help yourself, something just makes you want to tell him how his dick makes you feel. How much you love it. 

He moves his head just enough so you can see the smirk spreading across his face. 

“Is that so, honey?”

You nod quickly, and then the moaning starts. You don’t mean to moan, but every time he fucks you it drives you crazy and the noises just pour out of you. He’s still smirking, because he can’t help loving hearing you like this, but he starts to shake his head just a little too. 

“Uh-uh. You’ve gotta be quiet, honey.”

“Mmmm. I… I c-can’t…” you stumble over the words, brain feeling like mush. “...’s too good…”

He’s still slowly rolling himself into you, and he shakes his head a little more as he presses his hand over your mouth. 

“Gotta be quiet,” he says again, and then he starts to really fuck you. 

Your eyes roll back in your head as he thrusts harder and faster, his fingers pressing against your soft lips, fingertips digging into your cheek. 

“Good girl,” he mumbles, knowing he’s getting close and thinking you probably are too. But he doesn’t want you squeezing him and tipping him over the edge right now. 

Keeping his hand over your mouth, he slows down and pulls out, and you stare at him in gasping surprise. Not that it’s very easy to gasp with your mouth clamped shut, a snort of air rushing out of your nose instead. 

“Shhh,” he reiterates, before moving his hand. He needs both of them for this. 

Jerking himself with one hand, he pulls the top of your panties down with the other and rubs his dick through your folds, struggling to hold back a moan as he feels his release growing closer and closer. You look down at what he’s doing, dazed, and gasp as he cums all over your pussy and in your panties, making a mess in your underwear. Putting your own hand over your mouth instinctively, you watch as he moves back, letting your skirt fall back down to hide what he’s just done. Taking a few steadying breaths, he puts himself away again and then looks at you. You’re completely dumbfounded, and really, really horny. 

The smirk is back when he sees the look on your face. He puts his hand back over your mouth, and his lips to your ear. 

“Want ya to sit and think about me for the rest of the day now, honey.”

You groan into his palm. As if you were going to do anything else after that. 

“Then tonight I might give ya what ya want.”

He moves his hand and looks at you. 

“Yes, Walter,” you breathe. 

Another little smirk. “But no takin’ those panties off. Want you in ‘em all day.”

You accidentally moan out loud again and he tuts, clamping his hand back over your mouth. 

“What did I tell ya? Shhh.” He softens then, smiling down at you. “Not that I don’t love those pretty little noises of yours. But save them for tonight, hm?”

“Yes, Mr Hale,” you tell him, when he moves his hand again. 

He hums approvingly. “Good girl. And keep those panties on. I’ll be checking.”

***

Taglist:

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas @pocketfulofpresley @dkayfixates @iloveelvisss @kxnnxy

[cjlouwho]

hey cj, it's bisexualbrainrots again, and damn you've rotten my brain with kidnapped tommy so i made this. beware i listened to "only love can hurt like this" on loop while writing. big cw though, it's... quite something.

The air is wet, it's always wet down here.

It makes his nose tickle sometimes, and he has to fight every urge not to sneeze, otherwise he gets reprimanded, again and again.

He knows it's stupid to hope, it's been so long he can't even think what day it is. It feels like it's been years though.

But it's okay, nobody's looking for him anyway. 

Nobody is. 

And yet, he still holds onto his memories, at least for a while before the tears form for reasons other than the constant beating and burning of his skin. He can hold onto that, onto the drinks, the pick-up games, the karaoke trivia nights.

He can hold onto those blue eyes and that birthmark. 

He can hold onto someone's who's forgotten him by now. 

He stares into the line of light that comes out of the frames of the door, and thinks for one second that he could try and get up, that he could escape. 

Except he's so tired, he can barely squirm without shockwaves of pain flowing through his body, it doesn't help that he's barely fed throughout the day. But he's gotten used to that, to that hunger.

He still isn't used to the broken bones though.

Maybe his leg is finally going to heal, or has, he hasn't tried to put his weight on it yet. He's too scared. 

He's always been scared.

Maybe that's why he's sabotaged every good thing in his life, maybe… maybe that's why he'll die alone. 

Like he was always meant to. 

He thinks back to when this started, when he woke up, his hands tied and his body resting on a chair, a chair that soon would fall along with him. He used to scream so loudly, begging for somebody to listen, to find him. 

He lost that will a while ago. 

He frowns when he hears noises, it's not him though, he's learned to pick up the signs, this is… this is different. 

It gets louder and louder. Steps, people talking, they're approaching. 

And suddenly, the door breaks and at least five people get inside the room, he has to adjust himself, shutting his eyes from the light that's almost blinding him. It's not like there wasn't any light in here, there is a lamp above him, but it was always warm and low. 

This… this was too much. 

“Tommy… Tommy!” he feels a hand touch his shoulder, and as his eyes flutter open he sees her. 

Athena. 

“W-what…?” his jaw hurts, he's still recovering from the hit he took yesterday, and he remembers the sting when he had to chew that stale bread. He refocuses on the woman in front of him, the woman he hasn't seen in months.

Her brows are furrowed, but it doesn't look angry or confused she's… worried. 

And it hits something inside his chest. 

“You’re okay now, we’ve–we’ve found you Tommy” she looks at him fondly before she stands up, while the rest of the people search things around the room. 

One of the kneels, and asks if he can stand, offers him to lift him. But he just shakes his head to both questions, and tells them, in an extremely weak voice, that he just wants to rest. 

His hands are freed, and it's weird, not having those ropes on them anymore. 

The group tries to give him small talk, but he's still so tired, he just wants to sleep. 

All he wanted was to sleep. 

Until he heard him. 

“Tommy!”

It was gutural, like he was desperate. 

In less than a second he had those blue eyes way too close to his, and he didn't know what to think, or feel.

He lifted his hand, searching for his face, and smiled weakly when he got to touch his cheeks. His wet cheeks. 

“You’re not a dream…”

Evan chuckled “Of course I'm not a dream… God, Tommy” he felt his upper body being lifted and winced, hissing at the pain still very much alive “Shh s-sorry baby… I'm so sorry” 

He looked up. His head was resting in Evan's lap, and Evan was holding— clinging onto his shoulders, like he was about to disappear if his hands weren't touching him. 

He smiled at him “D-don’t be sorry… I’m okay now”

He blinked when he felt something wet hit his face, and when he looked well he say it.

Evan was crying, or well, sobbing, his speech were hard to understand too. But he could follow.

“S-something was wrong and I didn't know, I'm sorry Tommy I didn't know, I didn't know” 

There's nothing he wanted more than to lean in and kiss the tears away, but he was so comfortable right now, he was about to fall asleep. 

But he had to say something before. 

So he shakes his head, giving him a comforting smile “It-it’s okay… I never… expected anyone to look for me anyways”

And he gave in to his slumber. 

At least if he died he wasn't alone anymore.

Praying with everything I have that I don’t plagiarize when I eventually write my fic but this was too good to avoid reading 😭 😭 😭