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obbystars · 3 months ago

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Safe Haven

Synopsis: It’s not like he minds if you use his hideout as a safe spot. Just be sure to leave at the earliest convenience before they get suspicious.

Notes: Sebastian Solace x GN!Reader / just a bunch of scenarios / not exactly romantic lol / practicing third person in this one. you’re not named and only referred to as expendable. / reader repeated deaths, mentions of blood and teethmarks

Credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

(got some dialogue that triggered when you hide in Sebastian’s shop as an angler passes by. obviously that inspired me lol. and yes this was being made while the update came out, i finally got the stupid we outta wall dwellers badge because of it. also sebastian can win against pandemonium apparently)

Sebastian was just looking through some of the documents he’s received from some of the EXR-P teams. He only just recently moved his shop so he figured it should be quiet for a while, but just as he thought of that, the lights had flickered. Not once, but twice. It was then followed up by the sound of someone running and crawling through the vent. Just a single, and familiar expendable.

They only just managed to make it inside his shop before an angler dashed by with a loud shriek. It was gone in an instant.

“A second later and I would’ve had to start cleaning out that vent,” he smirked, “Welcome back, friend,”

“Hi!” They waved as they stood up.

The one who just can’t stay dead. Of course it’s them. He’s not sure if they’re just stupid to not have reached the crystal yet despite his reluctant assist, or they have some other reason he doesn’t know about. They seemed oddly happy to see him almost every time, and they love to annoy him.

Once he started resorting to shooting them for using their flash beacon on him, they suddenly stopped and only teased him with it. They like to leave and re-enter his shop too just for the fun of it. There were times where they came in and left without buying anything but then came back and bought something.

On the bright side, they keep their distance which he’s actually glad for. They never got too close for comfort. They stay relatively near the vent when they talk to him and only approach him to grab items off his tail. As for the other teams who went much further, he should’ve just shot them.

At this point, Sebastian’s thoughts and gaze drift off elsewhere. The radio still spewing garbage noise, the piles of documents on the desk, his tail feeling awfully lighter now.

Absence of shuffling and footsteps. They’re being awfully quiet.

His fins twitch and he turns his attention back to the expendable. They got the stuff they wanted, but they’re sitting by the boxes in the far corner. They’re tired. They look like they’re dozing. It’s nothing new with them, but considering their circumstances, he thinks he’d be just as exhausted as they are. Being sent down here, dying, and doing everything all over again until they get that crystal. He wonders how they haven’t gone insane yet, or maybe they already were and they stay down here for no apparent reason.

Now that Sebastian thinks about it, a lot of the teams see his shop as a breath of fresh air from the things they had to endure. Some didn’t stay too long, while others had to be ushered out. His shop isn’t 100% safe, and they certainly aren’t safe with him. Sure it keeps them out of sight from the anglers, but he swears one of them got dragged out of the vent by a wall dweller.

Sebastian lets out a sigh and decides to go back to looking over the documents, especially the ones you placed on the desk in a separate pile. He’ll go over the flash drives with Painter if time allows it. Maybe he’ll finally have something that’ll get Urbanshade’s rivals to come over and him out of here in exchange for the assets here. Innovation hopefully.

After some time, he sees that you’re still here and closes the document he was just reading through.

“Hey, stay any longer and Urbanshade might get suspicious that they’ve lost your signal. Better get running,”

They hummed and quickly stretched out their legs and arms. They were about to leave, but he blocks the exit with his tail and clears his throat.

“I think you’re forgetting something. On the table,”

“Oh,” they laughed, “Thanks,”

He moved his tail away to let them leave, and they did just that but now without saying bye. He sighs. He’ll never understand them and their odd behavior towards him.

Sebastian had already moved shop after a few hours and along the way, found a few bodies to loot. He even found them. He took any and all he could take with him and made sure they were all fully powered with fresh new batteries. He takes one final look at them. Looks like something caught them off guard, and seeing the teeth marks over their neck, he can guess what exactly it was. He wasn’t sure if they didn’t look back on purpose or not. Part of him does want to know why they haven’t gotten to the crystal yet.

It was strange though. Usually those things leave nothing behind, but maybe they just didn’t have the chance as someone else might’ve been with them. Maybe they crossed paths at some point and decided to continue on together. It was a rare occurrence, but not impossible. There’s only so many ways to get to the crystal, after all. Seeing as the power’s still up, that other person probably didn’t get too far.

Once he found a new place that seemed good, and one that would be in the path the EXR-P would take, he organized everything and put some items on his tail. He turns off his lure for the time being. It’s not like he absolutely needs it, especially in the dark. His eyes grew accustomed to it, quite literally too.

After a few hours, he can hear the door on the other side of the vent open. One thing he’s also picked up on is that he can tell whether it’s them or not if they’re not rushing through like last time. He already knows it’s them.

“Oh hey! Get this. I found your corpse a bit ago, great haul by the way, lots of goods to pillage, took your items, replaced the batteries and voila! Good as new! Don’t worry, you can have them back for a price of course,”

They smiled as they looked up at him, “I’ve got a good haul this time. Think I’ll have those stuff back now,”

Sebastian watches them pick up the items that were originally in their possession before they died. He already noticed the flash beacon on their belt.

He can faintly hear footsteps coming from outside followed up with something crawling through the vent. He assumed at first that they didn’t come alone this time, but upon seeing the armless figure emerge, he unholstered his shotgun and didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger. The expendable almost jumped as they turned around.

“Disgusting things…”

“Oh wow, thanks for that,” they looked up at him.

“You’re seriously going to miss the fact there’s footsteps approaching again?” He gives them a smile, “Don’t worry, you’re safe in here with me. I’m joking, you’re not,”

They suddenly twirl the flash beacon in their hand and pointed it at him. He grits his teeth and points his gun to them this time.

“I dare you,”

They only laughed and stored it away on their belt, “Nah, I’ll pass. The first time was enough,”

Sebastian scoffed and holstered his gun. Before they left, they bought some batteries and refilled their flashlight and flash beacon and they remembered to pick up the key card this time. They even went out of their way to drag the wall dweller out of the shop and do god knows what with it. Hopefully dump it out into a hole or maybe even burn it. That just means less work for him.

Sebastian goes to grab the documents they left for him, but just as he did, the lights flickered and he hears them running back.

“Back so soon?” He teases.

They shrugged with a smile, but it quickly fades as the familiar sound of a broken chorus is heard. Instinctively, his hand reached for his gun as his tail covered the vent. They even moved back towards him.

This wasn’t the first time that thing passed by, and one of those times, he ran into it and managed to escape from it. No doubt that the others it consumed since then had healed the wounds he gave it, and right now, this is a bad spot to be fighting it in. It’s way too cramped and the only way out is up. It’s still narrow and doesn’t make the situation any better.

Luckily, the creature passes by without noticing. The expendable turns to him with a grin, “So. I’m not safe in here with you?”

“Not. At. All,” he points his gun to them, “I would’ve left you here if that thing saw us,”

They laughed, “Yup, I know,”

“You are shockingly okay with that, which is mildly concerning,”

“You’re not the first person to leave me behind to die, so…”

“Looks like somebody needs to find better friends,”

They shrugged and hung around the shop for a little bit longer, checking the things they just bought. Once they were done, they waved to him and leaves.

“Try not to ruin the merchandise, yeah?” He calls out.

Sebastian wonders if he’d find their body again when he moves shop again. Will it be an angler this time? Or will nothing be left to find? Now that’d be a waste. That blacklight you had could fetch him more data.

One good thing about being able to get to places Sebastian wouldn’t have originally is that he can move place to place without having to worry about Urbanshade’s guardsmen too much. The tunnels he found were always nice but navigation can be a little difficult if you don’t know where you’re going. He’s not too worried about that, however. As long as it leads him away from trouble, he’ll go with it.

Sebastian was about to drop down into the room just below until he spotted a familiar expendable crawl through the vent. He paused and watched them with a grin.

“Huh… He’s not here,” they looked around for a bit as they continued to mutter to themself, “Am I late or is he late?”

Slowly and quietly, Sebastian climbed down towards them. He was careful to not make any sound while he was at it, and he only hoped you didn’t look up. They were just within arm’s reach now. Sebastian slowly reaches out, then grabs them by the back of their neck and pulls them up to him. They let out a yelp and started squirming but stopped once they saw it was him.

“You REALLY suck at watching out for monsters, huh?”

They sighed, “Yeah yeah, you’re very funny Sebastian. Now put me down!”

“Oh sure,” instead of gently placing them back down, he dropped them from that height and they fell right on their bottom.

With the crystal container they were provided, it didn’t help cushion their fall at all. In fact, it may have made it worse. Sebastian drops down in front of them and chuckled as they groaned.

“Maybe be careful with what you wish for,”

“Ow…”

“Anyway, onto business,” he moves on, “I’ve got quite a selection for you this time,”

They push themself up, still slightly rubbing their bottom, and eventually turned to Sebastian. There was the usual light sources, black light included shockingly enough, a medkit, and… Huh.

They pointed to the flesh of a wall dweller’s jaw, “How much for that?”

Sebastian in turn gives them a very odd look, “Out of all the things I have available, you want THAT?”

“Hey, you put it on sale. Unless maybe you had an empty slot and the empty slot bothered you that much, so you put wall dweller flesh on your tail,”

He stares at them and groans, “500 worth of data,”

“Done deal,”

And the moment the expendable paid for it, they plopped it in their mouth. Sebastian feels as if they’re long gone at this point, though anyone stupid enough to actually accept to come down here probably already were.

Wait, that time where he shot the wall dweller… Don’t tell him…

He stopped thinking about it, “You’re so disgusting…”

“Helps me whenever that shark fries my brain a little. Or Painter manages to hit me,”

“What are you even talking about?”

They looked up at him with wide eyes, “Hm? Well, eating their flesh gives me a nice regeneration perk. Dying gets rid of it, obviously,”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah! You didn’t know? Shockingly, they taste a little like chicken,”

They did. They absolutely did.

“So… You’re telling me that eating a piece of them gives you, what? Regenerative abilities?”

They nodded, “Yup! It’s pretty convenient,”

“And that’s not in their document because…?” He muttered to himself this time.

“Who knows? Anyway, see you in my next life!”

Yeah, they’ve lost it. Definitely.

#🌑 // the moon provides #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace #roblox pressure sebastian #pressure roblox #roblox pressure #roblox #pressure #pressure sebastian #sebastian x reader

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rryylleer · 8 months ago

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This is gonna get a little conspiracy-y so hold on to your tinfoil hat but I feel so sad bc in some ways it feels like Dead Boy Detectives was set up to fail from the start.

First there's the time it was released. Idk about other counties but in the U.S. rn its finals season in school, meaning the bulk of the people who would watch this show (teens and young adults) are busy trying to get through final exams. I have a feeling if the show was released in the summer it would be doing better numbers than it is right now. Hopefully viewship picks up as we move towards summer but I also know shows that don't do well in the first week tend to get the ax.

The other thing is that I think DBD is becoming an innocent victim of a self fulfilling prophecy that is entirely Netflix's fault. Literally everywhere I look that has anything to do with DBD someone is complaining about Lockwood and Co. getting cancelled and/or refusing to watch DBD because they don't want to get invested in another show just for it to get cancelled after one season. This is the part that will likely get DBD cancelled (God I hope not) and it is heartbreaking bc it is an incredible show that doesn't deserve a boycott bc of Netflix's past bullshit.

So if you are one of the people who are refusing to watch bc your a Lockwood and Co. fan PLEASE WATCH IT. I get it, it sucks that your show got cancelled, but boycotting DBD will not make Netflix change their minds. If you loved Lockwood and Co. You will almost certainly enjoy Dead Boy Detectives. So please give it a try bc if this show gets cancelled bc of low viewership I will literally go insane :)

#dead boy detectives #pls save DBD #im literally begging lol #stream Dead Boy Detectives #lockwood and co

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easy-there-leftovers · 1 year ago

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I See You, Darling (4)

[Astarion x reader] A little longer than usual, I hope that’s fine for all of you :,DDD I didn't want to cram too much into the post though, so the segment at the end might be continued in full detail, or maybe not! Let's see.|Word count: 2.9k.|

Content Warnings: Mentions of cooking, handling knives, blood, allusions to sex, a few ooc characters, reader being a dumbass and wahtnot.

Part 3 here!!

Masterlist here!!

A party is being held at the camp in the heroes’ honor, which greets you with a lively crowd that you’ll hopefully meet again soon. And with a gathering this large, you’re bound to garner attention. But with a constitution as poor as yours from the night before, a round of drinks is the last thing you want.

Alternatively: A bloodless human tries to balance respectfully participating in a drinking party, while also not drinking at all.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

The sun rises, the warmth of its rays gently waking you in the absence of the campfire’s flames. The soft chirping of the birds greet you a good morning as your eyes slowly open, ready to greet the day as a new opportunity arises.

Is what would have happened in a more idyllic scenario. Instead, you bolt awake with a pounding headache, worse than any hangover could possibly feel like, and quickly rush to get up. By the sheer brightness of the light that burns your newly opened corneas, it is far later than when you usually wake. And breakfast still hasn’t been made.

“Well, good morning sleepy head.” One of your companions, Gale, says as he fixes his belongings. Readying himself for the skirmish that was about to take hold later on in the day.

“I’m very sorry for waking up late. It won’t happen again.” You bow your head low for a moment before he waves you off.

“Oh come now, we all have our off days. Besides, I think the rest would agree with me when I say what you made for us last night was more than enough to last us ‘til morning.” His statement is punctuated by the lively sounds of the others training. Ready and well rested for whatever may come.

You look around. None have seemed to mind your temporary absence, so you endeavor to double check with everyone leaving and ensure that they had a sound strategy with the necessary materials and weapons should there be a need for failsafes. You remind them of certain notes that some of them have informed you about but failed to share with the rest of the group.

‘While goblins typically go down faster than other opponents, they have no sense of honor nor pride which gives way for them the opportunity to use more underhanded tactics. But they also aren’t very bright, so you can convince the others to let them infiltrate the camp and eradicate them from the inside out.’

As the rest disperse, finalize their plans and check their supplies, your favorite character approaches you much like he usually does every morning. Only this time, you see that he looks very pleased. A more vibrant spark in his eyes as he opens his mouth to speak.

“Thank goodness you’ve finally woken up.” He looks at you, in the same way an old friend of yours would when they’re seconds away from telling a joke.

The look fades soon enough though as he breathes out. You wonder if it’s because the joke isn't funny anymore, or if he never had a punchline to begin with.

“You looked a little ill last night, but you’ve certainly recovered.” Recovered isn’t the word you would use to describe your current state of feeling almost half dead, but you don’t bother correcting the details.

“And you look particularly vibrant today, Astarion.” The itch of your neck intensifies as you return a pointed look at him as he frowns.

“Oh, of course! Now, don’t be so upset. I will admit that I got a little carried away, I apologize.” He pauses. The frown remains on his face for a while before it is erased with his usual expression of confidence.

“But let’s not fall out over this.” He moves to stand closer to you, taking your hand to his as he nears it to his lips as he continues.

“We need each other.”

And whether its done purposefully or not, you see his fangs peek out from his mouth and a shiver courses through your body.

You slip your hand out of his own in a panic and interject.

“I know that much already, and I trust you not to let what happened last night happen again. I also apologize for not noticing sooner and dealing with the situation better.” You hold your head down a bit to apologize but quickly meet his gaze gain. “But I do need to know what we’ll have to feed you from now on.”

The look of confusion, and perhaps even shock that was once swimming in his eyes dissipates before you can notice them when he swears upon his resolve. “No innocents, you have my word. After all, you know what I am now. I can fight with all my weapons–” He grins, allowing you a clearer view than what you had earlier. “Teeth included.”

“And if I happen to drain the occasional bandit during a fight, what's the harm? They’re just as dead.” He makes a very compelling argument, at least to your standards.

You sigh, satisfied for now. You’re confident that none of your party members would end up at the mercy of his fangs, and you’re more than sure they would be able to overpower him more than your attempts did. But the same sentiment cannot be shared for possibly important, plot driving, characters that you might meet later on.

So you propose something to strengthen your trust that the unlikely will stay the unlikely.

“Look, I’m–” You breathe in, almost as if you're trying to suck back whatever courage washed over you back in as you steeled yourself for what you were about to say next.

“I’m not against you feeding from me, but!” You punctuate the last syllable as you see his grin growing wider. “We need to discuss things beforehand. No prowling over me while waiting for me to wake up or to sink your teeth into.”

The proposal greatly delights him, as is evident in his response. “Of course! That sounds eminently reasonable. I shall wait patiently until you suggest we… dine together. But until then: no more late-night surprises. You have my word on that.”

After that, he makes a joke about feeling ‘peckish already,’ and quickly gathers the rest of the party to leave on their adventure.

You promise them a feast when they came back as the victors that they are. What you forgot, after what felt like weeks in the real world, was the crowd that would come filtering in to celebrate their heroes’ achievements as well.

————————————

When you saw the tieflings from the grove traveling alongside your companions, you knew they had come to celebrate. And you blanched at the thought of the provisions they’d be seeking to pair with their drinking. It’s been so long since you went through this event, and you no longer recall if they even ate anything during the party.

You look at your bubbling cauldron–– a bigger one as you had anticipated a few acquaintances accompanying them–– but you wager that at least a little extra things to nibble on won’t hurt to have. You still have quite the amount of camp supplies in the trunk, but you keep it reserved for the camp’s use only. So you smile at your returning comrades and alert the others that stayed behind for your reason to leave and that they can begin eating dinner.

While others told you it wasn’t necessary, the rest just nodded with a smile and yelled that they’d wait for you to return. You return quite too quickly though, all the while informing them why you’re keeping the communal chest in your tent as you spy the child that tried to steal and swindle the group a few days prior approaching with the rest.

They have a laugh and you quickly proceed with your plan to find at least a few consumable berries and nuts or seeds to accompany the drinks later on.

But foraging for said consumables near dark is a choice not for the faint-hearted. You came to realize this when you heard the low grumble of a large animal, thankfully far from your form. You turn to look behind you, taking great care to do so as slowly as possible so as to not alert the mysterious creature.

In the clearing, you spot a rather dark looking bear and you feel a cold sweat begin to form on your temple. Hands, growing wet in the dangerous situation you’ve placed yourself in. This wasn’t the same as being drained to death by a vampire, that, you could at least reason with. But a wild animal? With your lack of magical prowess and lesser knowledge of connecting with nature and the wild, you would be finished if it were to follow you.

The small pouch of nuts and wild berries stayed holstered on your waist, but the bear’s eyes that were previously low on the ground are now trained on you. Almost as if it were caught doing something it wasn’t supposed to be.

You freeze. You forgot what the basic policy was around brown or black bears and therefore couldn’t do much about your current predicament. There shouldn’t be a bear around this area, not unless they had traveled from far away, or that this bear was one of your future companions.

And while the latter isn’t impossible, you most certainly did not want to gamble your life on a possibility. So you tried to compose yourself, returned the gaze of the bear with a shaky and careful nod, and turned back to return to camp. Figuring that the amount of tidbits you gathered would have to suffice.

When you return, the company you shared seems to be in high spirits. Some more than others. But conversation was plentiful and you smiled as the tieflings cheered for your comrades. You quickly got to work and began to chop the nuts into thinner pieces. Something you learned to make the appearance of something look more abundant than it really is.

While you were chopping away unfortunately, you nick your finger along the way and silently curse. Unfortunate, but not an unforeseeable outcome given the booming drums of the bard that plays oh so nicely with your bloodless state. You quickly, but neatly, arrange the provisions on two small platters, and position them near the larger gatherings.

“Flitting around like a hummingbird as always, I see.” A familiar, but not immediately recognizable voice greets you as you pass them. You turn and you see an unexpected acquaintance with a bottle in their hand and an incredibly charming grin.

“Dammon! How lucky of me to run into you.” You genuinely were elated to see him. You didn’t see much of him later on in the game, and being able to interact with him beyond the opportunities given to you was certainly nice.

“I could say the same. Though you’re as lively as you usually are.” There’s no malice in his tone, only an innocent observation, yet you feel embarrassed to have been seen scuttling about like a bug.

“I– promise I’m more organized. I just didn’t expect us to be having any guests.” He takes notice of how you push your fingers into your palms repetitively, a small action that soothes you.

“I think you’ve done more than a fine job already. The celebration is for you all, and it was us who planned to come and might’ve put your friends on the spot.” He later takes notice of the cut on your finger as well.

“Speaking of,” He gingerly grasps your hand, looking to you for permission, but you’re too confused to respond with anything he can understand. “Shouldn’t you be taking it easy for the night? You’ve done enough. And if what happened at the grove tells me anything about you, I’m sure they’ll survive even if you settle. Just for a bit.”

He leads you nearer to the water and produces a small washcloth to clean a bit of your finger as you respond. “The grove? They did that on their own. I just um, take notes.” You sit on a fallen tree, your head still fuzzy, as you observe his crouched form. Inspecting the cut as he cleans it.

A curious interaction. Not one that you’d expect from an non-romanceable NPC, but an interesting one nonetheless. And it would seem that someone had found it equally as interesting, if the way he scrutinizes you had anything to do about it.

He chuckles in turn. “If modesty is how you like to live, then I won’t impose.” He smiles and gets up as you continue your conversation. You don’t recall if the tiefling has ever had this much screen time, but his voice is rather lovely so you don’t complain about it.

You end up discussing quite a bit, but you focus on what can be done about your party. Specifically Karlach as you worry for the future and you’d like to have answers for her when he isn’t around during your journey. He doesn’t have much idea of what else can be done, but he does mention that he should have something by the time you meet him again in Baldur’s Gate.

You do remember that you might meet him a lot sooner, but you don’t mention it explicitly. You do, however, advise him to be extra careful around the oxen as they can be rather unpredictable this time of year.

As you continue, you notice his eyes flit up every now and then. Like something was catching his attention ever so often. You ask him about it and he actually laughs at your genuine inquiry. “It looks like I was wrong. Your friend there looks like he’d like his turn for your company.”

You turn around and you don’t immediately eye anyone looking in your direction. You were never the subtle type, so you looked around, blatantly searching for someone. It was a bit odd to see.

Your eyes do eventually train on his, but he doesn’t necessarily look like he wants to talk to you. Sure, he’s scowling away, though that’s not out of the ordinary at all. Besides, he has a bottle of something that you hope is helping him relax.

Still, perhaps Dammon saw something you didn’t so you politely thank him for his company and excuse yourself.

You greet the others that regard you as you walk past them. Declining the offers to drink and excusing yourself politely when you were asked to stay a bit.

As you approach him, a tiefling tries to strike up a conversation with him. With a bored look, he dismisses them and turns to look at you. He takes a sip, sneers, and begins his rant now that you’re situated in front of him.

“I hate it. This is awful.”

“The…wine?” He looks at you as if he should be mad, but a hint of amusement surfaces past the expression anyway.

“There’s that, but I’m talking about the tieflings. We killed some goblins to save the others. The tally of lives didn’t change much. But what do I get for my hard work? A pat on the head, and vinegar for wine.” He looks down the neck of the bottle, swirling its contents before handing it out for you to take.

You look at the bottle, then him, warily. Modern alcohol is already a wonder to you, and this medieval mead could only do so much worse. Still, you take the bottle, and take a very small sip.

It’s a heavy, rich, red. Dry and sharp. You make a small sound of shock as you keep the liquid in your mouth. Offering him an awkward smile and a nod as you do.

“Ugh, see what I mean? Awful.”

“All I want is a little fun. Is that so much to ask?” You would think that after an entire day of fighting whatever was out there he’d be tired. Apparently not.

You sigh, ready to reprimand him and that he should just enjoy the night, but you stop when you feel his unburdened hand reach out to you. Eyes, boring into your own as he propositions you.

You’re here. Face in the grasp of a character you’ve longed to romance with what little time you’ve had away from your scholarly pursuits. Yet meeting him in strange, yet not all too unfamiliar, territory stirs uncertainty within you. Because while he doesn't have a knife at your throat like he did when your character first met him, it certainly does evoke the same sentiment.

‘To, “make me his”, is that right?’ While the idea is tempting, that statement alone can have various interpretations. And you didn’t want to hedge your bets on the one that made your heart race for all the wrong reasons.

Thankfully, he releases his hold on your visage. Only the gods know how much his touch alone can influence you, and you struggle to stand upright.

“I’m– very,-- truly, sorry, but don’t you think you have the wrong person? I mean,” You gesture to yourself with both hands, a cut visible from the labor in the few hours prior to the large festivities going on.. “Uh…in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly in a position to make any um, lucrative offers.”

He looks at you, a familiar expression graces his face. He leans his weight on one leg, and you struggle to recognize what his body language is conveying. This is one of those instances you wished you had the dice roll mechanic of the game at your disposal.

“Why, that hardly matters, darling. What matters is that you’re here.” He takes a sip from his bottle, the very same that he allowed you to partake from moments prior. Only this time, without the sneer at the aftertaste as he continues.

“But then again, what’s a sinner to do when faced with the very embodiment of chastity?” A smile graces his face, but it’s one that is all too perfect. As if he’s rehearsed the same song and dance enough to save him lifetimes.

“Let’s wait until things quieten down. Once the others are asleep we’ll find each other.”

You have no idea what to expect. Well, you do, but you’re not very sure if this is necessary. You’ll just have to find a way to continue the story without having to go through with this. For now, at least.

“We’ll see about that, Astarion.”

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Thank you to @rey26, @shyminnie07, @lynnloveshobi, @iggee-rose, @automnepoet, @tiannamortis, @aoirohi, @sarkara211, @jane-3043, @h3110-dar1in9, @h3ll0k1ttyl0ver333, @mimziethealien, @squichymochi, @sharabay, @furblrwurblr, @dork-of-the-universe, @thedevilssinner, @fuckalrighty, @queenofthespacesquids, @perseny, @goldenplutus, @h4nluv, @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer, @auszimbo, @maruichio, @iamsexytrash, @craig-mywifeisdead-boone, @grimissleepy, @fandomsfanman, @bitchyzombienacho, @r1kk, @ancuninstar, @izuoyarmin, @gracemisconduct, @kiinokochii, @marina-and-the-memes, and @life-is-hard-m8 for asking to be tagged!!

#astarion ancunin x reader #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion x mc #aware!astarion #baldur's gate 3 x reader #astarion x you #bg3 x reader #bg3 x reader isekai(?)#possibly also a Dammon x reader?#slight!!#Slight Dammon x reader

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paleprincessturtle · 1 year ago

Note

Could you write a Harvey x reader being in a secret relationship because she's Mike's younger sister? Maybe she works at the firm as a paralegal or just likes to swing by to annoy her older brother from time to time.

Hey! Thanks for the request anon. Hopefully, I can capture your vision in my writings.

Feel free to send more requests.

Enjoy!

Bagels

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Female Reader

If anyone is more important to Mike Ross than Rachel Zane, right now breathing on the face of the earth, it will be his sister. His baby sister. After the death of their parents, Mike always vowed to protect his sister. That was why Mike took it without hesitation when he got the chance to do an (almost) honest job with the firm. Mike admitted that maybe he got way too protective over her sister. She's 5 years younger than her, certainly an adult now. But in his eyes, she'll always be the little girl with teary eyes asking for their dead parents.

Unlike Mike, his sister wasn't gifted with a super brain. But she was gifted with super hands. She never took any culinary schools or any baking courses but she could bake anything and would taste heavenly. 6 months after his time at the firm, Mike could finally afford to help his sister build her own bakery. Conveniently, only around 15 minutes from the firm. Give or take.

When Jessica found out about Mike, his sister was the first person he confided in. They were pretty much sure that Mike would just be a cashier at her bakery. But when Jessica let it slide, his sister met with Jessica. Dressed as best as she could, she came to the office, asking for a Jessica Pearson. She wasn't there empty-handed, she brought with her a dozen eclairs and quiche. She didn't know whether Jessica was a sweet or a savory person, so she brought one for each possibility. Jessica wasn't necessarily happy when she saw her come into her office. But Jessica has seen tons of people, and she knew when one is genuine. So Jessica thanked her and upon tasting her baked goods, Jessica had an idea for her to take several of her products from her bakery every morning to the firm. Boy, was everyone happy when they saw fresh baked goods in the lounge.

That day was also the first time Harvey Specter laid eyes on Mike Ross' sister.

It was just like any other morning, Mike was sitting in his office when her sister came and threw a pebble to his head. "Bullseye!" she giggled and entered his office. Mike rubbed his forehead. "If I bleed, I'll sue you for violence." Mike leaned back in his chair as he observed his sister. "And I'll scream in the lobby that you're a..." she paused then took a deep breath, "FRAAAAUD!!!" Mike stood so fast from his chair about to catch his sister but she ran away and laughed.

She finally finished dropping everything in both lounges. But she made it a ritual to always drop some extras for everyone who know the truth about Mike. She dropped some in Jessica's office, Louis' office, now off to Donna, then Harvey's.

"Donna, you looked exceptionally gorgeous today. Is that a new dress?" she leaned over as she placed a small jar of pistachio cookies on her desk. Donna smirked and nodded towards Harvey's office, "he won't have any meeting for another hour. And Mike shouldn't be around too." She leaned even more forward to give Donna a kiss on the cheek. Donna also leaned forward to meet her halfway and let her kiss her cheek. She smiled and marched inside. "Sunshine," Harvey greeted her with a wide grin. He stood up from his chair and kissed her lips. "Hello, Mr. Handsome," she looked up at him as she admired his clean-shaven face. She turned her back and walked to take another small basket she brought with her. "Everyone got pistachio cookies today, but I made you bagels." Harvey's eyes got as big as the moon. "Aren't you the best. Now, I don't have to spend any lunch money."

Mike walked briskly towards Harvey's office with a stack of files. His findings were brilliant, he thought to himself. As he got closer to Harvey's office, he heard a muffled laugh. Not just any muffled laugh, his sister's muffled laugh. He glanced at Donna's desk and found it empty. So he invited himself in.

"Well, aren't you two cozy," Mike asked in a thick sarcastic tone. Harvey who was trying to take one of his signed basketballs back for Mike's sister stopped laughing and turned to see the intruder in his office. She also looked at where Harvey looking at. "Mike, catch!" she threw one of Harvey's PRECIOUS signed basketballs toward Mike. Mike dropped every file in his hands to catch the basketballs. Harvey smirked, while his sister almost exploded from laughing. What was on Mike's mind wasn't the now important files on the floor, which created a mess. But the fact that Harvey didn't even get mad when she touched one of his precious basketballs. Not only did she touch it, she threw it. Mike looked bewildered between the two important people in front of him right now. Ball still firmly in hands, he looked around. He saw no little jar filled with cookies. He found a little basket instead, filled with bagels and various spreads. Home-made spreads. Mike calmed himself as he walked and put the ball on its throne. "Bagels for Harvey? You know he likes bagels?" Mike pointedly looked at his sister, arms folded. "Who doesn't know what Harvey likes?" she tried to laugh it off. "Nice spending times with you guys, but not only you guys who have an empire to run, but so do I. Ciao!" She was about to go when Mike called out for her. "Sit," Mike ordered her. All these years being his sister, it was the first time she ever heard him using that tone on her. She obeyed. He observed the two of them. Harvey looked calm, much in contrast to his sister who looked like she was about to get busted for bringing a ton of cocaine. "You two are together?" Mike questioned. No one answered. "You two are together!" Mike gasped. "I thought she always brought you different things from her bakery because she ran out and had to give you leftovers. She always gave you your favorites. And you didn't get pissed at her touching your basketballs! Because you like her!" She was confused about what to do. Mike looked like he was about to lunge at Harvey but looked very much bamboozled. "Look," Harvey said as he walked past Mike to sit beside her. "We've been together, for the past 4 months." Another gasp from Mike. Harvey took her hand in his, waited for Mike's reaction. "Of all girls you could have.. It has to be my sister.." Mike said slowly. He looked at you, asked for an explanation. "He made me so happy, Mike. Really happy." Mike softened at his sister's response. When Mike looked at Harvey, he caught Harvey smiling down at his sister. It looked, genuine. As if he... "I'm not happy that you two kept it from me for months but I'm happy you two are happy, but," Mike stood in front of her and offered her his hand. "I need to talk to you," Mike said all serious. She nodded and squeezed Harvey's hand before she stood up. "And I have to talk to you after this," Mike said as he pointed his finger at Harvey. Harvey nodded, stood up, and patted Mike on the shoulder, before walking back to his desk. "Come," Mike rushed her outside. But before she left Harvey's office, she looked back at him and smiled. Harvey winked at her and she giggled. "DON'T WINK AT MY SISTER HARVEY!" Mike said without even looking as he rushed you out even more.

MASTERLIST

#harvey specter #harvey specter fanfic #harvey specter imagines #suits harvey specter #harvey specter x reader #suits tv #harvey specter imagine #harvey specter fan fiction

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beyondthesefourwalls · 11 months ago

Text

An Aviation Special

Summary: You had always wanted to experience Mardi Gras in New Orleans, but when it starts to go sideways thanks to your travel companions, you fear the whole trip, maybe even the whole city, has been ruined for you. But then a handsome stranger swoops in when some drunk idiot gets too handsy, and your night takes an unexpected turn for the better.

Pairing: Javy Machado x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Fluff galore, language, drunk idiots and handsy men, mentions of flashing.

Notes: Written for @thedroneranger's pick your poison challenge, with a Mardi Gras board of my dreams.

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You were doing your best not to panic, choosing instead to focus on the annoyance coursing through your body instead. Your sister and her friends, her stupid, reckless friends, had done what they always did and got a little too wild, and while you had slipped away to the bathroom, they thought it would be a great idea to switch bars. Instead of waiting for you, they had shot a text to the Bachelorette Bead Bash group chat that you had created, telling you where to meet them. Only now you were there, and they were nowhere to be found. And to top it all off, your phone was dead.

“Stupid, stupid bridesmaids,” you muttered under your breath, pushing through the rowdy crowd of people none-too-gently to get to the bar. You tried not to cringe when you felt how sticky it was, immediately withdrawing your hands. “Excuse me,” you said, speaking a little louder when at first you didn’t get the bartender’s attention. He turned to you with a bored, exasperated look on his face, clearly annoyed with all the drunk tourists taking up space. “Do you happen to have a phone charger? I just need it for long enough to make one phone call, I promise.”

“No, sorry.”

You groaned as he walked away without another word, resisting the urge to stomp your foot in frustration. This was just your luck.

“I don’t have a charger, but flash your tits for me, gorgeous, and I’ll give you some of these beads.”

You turned your head to the drunk idiot standing far too close to you, a scowl on your deep purple painted lips as he shook the aforementioned colorful beads in your face. He reeked of sweat and cheap liquor and his eyes were glazed over as he leered at you.

“How about you take those beads and strangle yourself with them instead?” you snarked back, and to your disgust, the guy and his buddies only laughed. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, turning away from him and taking a step to start forcing yourself through the throngs of bodies that were almost certainly violating some sort of fire code. You didn’t get far before a hand was grabbing your arm, jolting you back.

“Come on, baby, you know you want to.”

The panic was trying its best to creep up again, but the annoyance was also morphing into anger as you narrowed your eyes. You were contemplating the risk of slapping him across the face when a voice spoke up from beside you.

“I think she said no, man. But those girls over there look pretty eager.”

The guy almost stumbled in his intoxication when he turned to see where the newcomer was indicating, shouting in excitement at the view of three women standing on a table pulling their shirts up as plastic flung in their direction. Him and his friends moved in that direction without another glance at you. The bouncer of the bar was also heading their way, and you breathed a sigh of relief that not only were the guys leaving you alone, but hopefully those women would make it out of here safely, too.

“Pawning my problem off on other women goes against every feminist bone in my body,” you said, turning for the first time to put a face to the voice who had come to your rescue. You’re met with a startling pair of dark eyes and a jawline that should be illegal. His smile was warm and amused, and despite all the irritation you were feeling, you couldn’t help but take a moment and think damn.

“It seemed like they would welcome the attention a lot more than you were,” he justified, and his voice was as smooth this time as it was the first time he spoke. You gave a noncommittal hum in response, and he raised a thick eyebrow as his smile grew. “You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t say thank you.”

“Were you planning to?” he challenged, and you felt a fluttering in your stomach at his playful tone. You contemplated for a moment, eyes narrowed and colorful lips pursed. You could see the amusement dancing in his gaze as he stared back at you, waiting.

“Thank you,” you finally said, only a little bit begrudgingly, and the stranger nodded in satisfaction.

“You’re welcome,” he repeated. “Also, there’s a place a few bars down that has a charging station. I overheard you asking the bartender.”

"Oh my god," you groaned in relief, "are you serious?"

He laughed, the sound washing over you. He motioned for you to follow him through the crowd toward the exit. You hesitated for a moment, remembering that you were in a city you had never been in before during their busiest tourist week of the year, and you didn't know this man. But then a cheer came from the corner, and when you glanced over, one of the guys from earlier had climbed on the table and taken off his shirt, plastic beads flying everywhere. You winced and turned back, nodding once. As you made your way out of the bar and onto the bustling street, you couldn't help but notice how effortlessly he navigated through the chaos.

"I'm Javy, by the way," he offered once you made it onto the sidewalk.

"Nice to meet you," you replied, offering up your name in return. He stuck close to you as he guided you down the overly crowded streets. You tried your best to ignore the lingering unease that clung to the back of your mind, but you found that his confident demeanor made it easy. "Are you a local?" you asked.

He flashed you a charming smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I used to be," he explained. "I grew up here, but I live in California currently. But New Orleans will always be home in a lot of ways. I take it you're not?"

"No," you snorted, narrowly avoiding running into someone running in the opposite direction. Your arm brushed against Javy's as you pushed slightly closer to him, and you tried to ignore the heat that the slight touch caused. "I'm here for my sister's bachelorette party. The city had always been on our bucket list to travel to together, but then her friends decided they wanted to overtake the whole trip and make it Mardi Gras of all times."

"I take it you don't like these friends?" he asked, a hint of humor in his voice.

You gave him the biggest smile you had since you met him a few minutes ago, and he was laughing before you even spoke the words. "Understatement of the century."

You go on to tell him about how they had pretty much blown the itinerary you had carefully crafted as maid of honor, including how they left to go to the next bar without you, and then not been there when you showed up. You weren't sure why you were telling a man you didn't know all of this, but it felt good to say it out loud nonetheless.

"They sound like they suck," he said plainly once you were done explaining. You let out a very unladylike snort as you agreed.

"What about you?" you asked, "what brings you back?"

"Ironically enough, I'm here for my best friend's bachelor party. There may have been an incident with a few of the groomsmen getting drinks thrown on them, and I ran into one of my cousins at the bar we were just at, so I told them I'd meet up with them once they came back out from going back to the hotel to change." He flashed you another smile, his eyes shining with a genuine warmth. "I suppose everything happens for a reason, though."

You chuckled, and he winked as you arrived at what you guessed was your destination. Javy held the door open for you, gesturing for you to enter first. Inside, the bar was as lively as the others you had been to, but the atmosphere was strangely inviting. You followed as he led you to the back corner where a row of charging stations lined the wall. You tried not to groan when you saw all of them were in use.

“Clearly I’m not the only one in New Orleans who went out without a fully charged phone tonight,” you muttered under your breath. A gentle hand on your arm had you turning your gaze to the man who had led you here, his dark, kind eyes meeting yours.

“Let me buy you a drink while you wait for one to open up.”

You hesitated for a moment, weighing your options. There was something about Javy that intrigued you, a magnetic pull that you hadn't felt in a very long time that made you want to spend more time in his company. You desperately needed to charge your phone and get in touch with your sister and her friends, so you'd be waiting here no matter what anyway...there was no harm in a drink, you rationalized.

"Sure," you finally said, unable to resist his charming smile. "A drink sounds great."

You followed him to the bar, squeezing through the crowd until you found a spot where you could lean against the counter.

As you waited for someone behind the bar to notice you, Javy leaned in closer, his warm breath brushing against your ear. "What would you like?" he asked, his voice tinged with what you thought was anticipation.

You turned to face him, feeling a jolt of electricity shoot through your veins as your eyes met. His gaze was intense, yet inviting, pulling you into a world of possibilities. "Surprise me," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the clamor of the bar.

With a mischievous grin, Javy flagged down the bartender. You couldn't hear what it was that he ordered, but before long, two stemmed cocktail glasses filled with a vibrant purple liquid garnished with a lemon peel and a deep red cherry were set down in front of you. "Mardi Gras special?" you asked with an eyebrow raise. He laughed as he grabbed both drinks and then nodded his head toward one of the barstools at the very end of the charging station that had just opened up. You hurried over to it before someone else could, sliding onto the barstool almost clumsily. Javy made himself comfortable leaning against the counter beside your stool, facing you. He handed you one of the drinks after you had plugged your dead phone in. Making the conscious decision to enjoy your time with him as much as you could, you placed the screen face down.

"It's called an Aviation, actually."

He looked almost amused as he brought the drink to his lips. You studied him closely as you did the same, letting the flavors of the gin and lemon dance on your tastebuds.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"It's delicious."

"I'm glad you like it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He watched you intently, and you didn't miss the way his eyes flickered to your lips when you licked away a stray drop of the liquid when you took another sip. The air crackled with tension, and you had to fight the urge to lean closer to him. He cleared his throat, looking away momentarily. You tampered down the shiver that threatened to run through you.

"So why'd you leave New Orleans?" you asked, breaking the silence.

"Work," he explained."I'm in the Navy, so I've lived all over the place."

"The Navy, huh?"

He hummed in confirmation.That glint in his eyes that made you feel like you were missing something was back, and your eyes narrowed in curiosity. "And what do you do in the Navy?"

A smirk played on his lips. He tried to cover it by taking another sip of his drink, but you saw right through it. He set the glass down, folding his hands together as he stared at you. "I'm an aviator."

You paused for a beat, looking down at the purple drink before looking back at him, the joke you had been missing clicking into place in your head.

"Okay," you said slowly, and Javy was already chuckling from his spot beside you. "I see what you did here."

His laughter was loud, but not obnoxiously so, instead surrounding you like a comforting warmth. You couldn't help but join in with him, your giggles blending seamlessly with his.

The atmosphere around you seemed to fade into the background as the two of you talked, the conversation flowing easily between you. The more you learned about Javy, the more intrigued you became. His passion for flying was evident in every word he spoke, and it was contagious. You found yourself hanging onto his every word, mesmerized by his experiences and adventures. And when you spoke, he listened with genuine interest, occasionally interjecting with laughter or witty remarks. The more you talked, the more drawn you felt to him. There was something about his easy charm and attentive nature that made you feel seen and understood.

Eventually, your phone buzzed with a notification, indicating that it had finally regained some charge. Reluctantly, you flipped it over and glanced at the screen. Reading through the few messages that you missed in the chat, you snorted in disbelief. "My sister and three of her bridesmaids started throwing up at the last bar they went to."

"Yikes," Javy winced. "Are they okay?"

Your heart fluttered at the concern he showed for people he didn't even know. Damn damn damn.

"They're fine," you assured him with a small smile. "The other two have already dragged them back to the hotel to sleep it off. Guess the night is over."

You felt sad as you said the words. The night had started a shit show, but talking to Javy had turned it around. You weren't really ready for it to come to an end just yet.

As you reached to unplug your phone, Javy's hand gently clasped yours, halting your movement. "You don't need to rush off just yet," he said softly, his warm gaze holding yours. "Why don't you come hang out with me and my friends instead?"

You looked at him in surprise, shocked by the offer.

"Don't you think your best friend will be mad that I'm crashing his bachelor party?"

"Not even a little bit," he assured you. "They're all good guys, I promise."

You chewed on your bottom lip as you contemplated.

You knew that you should decline. Going off with a group of strangers in a city you barely knew didn't exactly scream "intelligent decision." Still, you found that you wanted to take him up on it.

Reading the apprehension on your face, Javy continued on, more eager now as he tried to convince you. "Look, as a Louisiana boy, I can't bring myself to allow you to leave New Orleans without actually enjoying yourself. You deserve to have a good time." His hand settled on yours again and squeezed gently. When he spoke, he was shyer than he had been all night. "And if I'm being honest with myself...the last thirty minutes with you have been the highlight of my trip home, and that's saying something. I'm not really ready for it to end yet."

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You gazed into his eyes, searching for any hint of deceit or ulterior motive. But all you found was sincerity and an excitement that you felt flicker in you, too. Against your better judgment, you nodded. You were tired of playing by the rules, tired of always being the responsible one. Maybe tonight could be different.

"Alright," you conceded, unable to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Lead the way."

Javy's grin widened, and he intertwined his fingers with yours before guiding you out of the crowded bar. The night air hit you with a welcome change as you followed him through the lively streets.

His friends waited at a bar just a few blocks away. As you approached, their laughter and boisterous conversation spilled onto the sidewalk. When they saw Javy walking hand in hand with you, their eyes widened with surprise. Almost instantly, the cat calls started.

Javy rolled his eyes, and you couldn't help but laugh lightly as you leant against him. "Yeah, yeah. Knock it off."

He introduced you to each of his friends amongst their teasing. They were a rowdy group, and it wasn't hard to see how much they cared for each other. The camaraderie instantly calmed you.

It was surprisingly easy, letting yourself have fun with this group of strangers. They accepted your presence like it was nothing, involving you in every conversation and debate they had, and within a few hours, you felt like you had known them for a lot longer than you really had. The night continued on, a whirlwind of pretty purple drinks and colorful masks and exuberant laughter. Vibrant jazz music reverberated through the air, the streets full of purple, gold and green chaos. You could feel the pulsating energy of the city surging through you, and this is exactly why you had always wanted to come here.

At some point, Javy grabbed your hand, beckoning you to dance with him. You giggled happily as he twirled you. The world around you melted away, leaving only the pulsating music and the warmth of his touch. You were tipsy from all the alcohol and the thrill of an unexpected night with a man who made you feel something no one else ever has. You wished it wouldn’t have to end.

“Me either,” he said, making you realize you had said that out loud. But instead of feeling embarrassed at your slip, you giggled and leant into him further.

“I mean it,” you insisted. Javy’s smile had become familiar to you tonight, and the butterflies erupted in your stomach just as they had the last few hours when he flashed it in your direction. “You know, you’d make the perfect wedding date, if only you didn’t live so far away.”

He hummed in what you thought was agreement, but didn’t say anything. The look he gave you was contemplative, like there was something he was trying to figure out. “What?” you asked.

“When’s the wedding?”

You threw your head back in laughter, realizing what he was getting at. “Still a few months away. You’ll have completely forgotten about me by then, I’m sure.”

Javy's eyes sparkled as he pulled you even closer, his hand still holding yours tightly. "Oh, I highly doubt that," he replied, and the way his voice dropped sent shivers down your spine. "Seriously. When's the wedding?"

"The second weekend in May."

"If I'm not deployed, I'll be there."

You shook your head in disbelief as more giggles escaped, completely enraptured by this man. "Sure, Javy."

His smile softened and he raised a hand to cup your face, and you couldn't help but instinctively lean into his touch as his thumb brushed your skin. "I mean it. I want to be there. With you." You searched his eyes for a long moment, searching for anything other than the sincerity and tenderness staring back at you. You felt a rush of emotions when you found none. In that moment, looking at you the way that he was, he felt like so much more than just a stranger you met on a wild night out in New Orleans.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you raised on your toes and pressed your lips against his.

The kiss was soft at first, gentle and sweet, but it quickly deepened into something more passionate. For a moment, you hesitated, wondering if this was the right thing to do, but then you realized that you didn't care. You found yourself lost in him, and everything else faded away. All of the tension that had been building between the two of you that night was pushed into this one moment. You nearly stumbled at the intensity, but Javy just pulled you closer and kissed you harder. He tasted like gin and lemons and cherry from the purple drink you both had been drinking all night, and you realized it tasted even better from him.

Finally, the two of you broke apart, both panting heavily. You gazed at each other as you tried to catch your breath. Your heart was pounding in your chest as he brushed some of your hair out of your face.

You swallowed thickly before speaking, your voice trembling just slightly. "I want you there, too," you said, and you knew it was crazy, but you also knew you meant it.

A slow grin spread across his face, and before you could say anything else, Javy's lips were back on yours.

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Main Masterlist

Notes: I'm kind of feeling a part two? Maybe? I'm actually so in love with this man, it's unreal.

Thanks to @thedroneranger for the incredible banner, and to @roosterforme @mak-32 for their help, and to @sylviebell for catching an embarrassing amount of typos after I thought I was already done editing

#alli writes #javy coyote machado x reader #javy machado #javy machado imagine #javy machado x reader #javy coyote machado #javy machado fic #javy machado x you #javy coyote machado x you #javy coyote machado x oc #coyote x you #coyote x reader #javy machado appreciation

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cozy-cinnamon-roll · 8 months ago

Text

Stitches (Part II)

(Read Part I Here! used to be We Interrupt This Broadcast... changed the name because I feel like this fits better 😅)

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Ler!Rosie, Ler!OC, Lee!Alastor (strictly platonic)

Content/Trigger Warnings: tickling, very brief blood mention, medical themes (non-graphic & painless). And again, this is set right after Alastor gets his ass handed to him by Adam, so you can expect some angst (don't worry, he gets better).

If there are any trigger warnings you'd like me to add in the future (and/or to this fic), PLEASE let me know! I am always happy to oblige. 💕

This is a ticklefic! If that's not your cup of tea, kindly move along.

"Almost ready" I said. "Basically finished" I said. Sorry y'all, the Chronic Illness Fairy struck. 😅 I will say this was my favorite part to write, but also the one I'm most uncertain about... bit more angst in this installment and I'm not much of an angst writer lol... but with Rosie in the mix (especially as a ler), angst never lasts long. 🥰

Also I changed the title. Hopefully it's not confusing that way... cuz without Part 1 this fic makes zero sense 😅

One last thing... I'm so happy y'all like Trudy! Was thinking about posting a lil sketch of her at some point (I need a new insomnia project now that this fic is done 😅). I've been having a truly awful few weeks on the anxiety front, so all the positive feedback on Part I has been quite literally making my days 💕

Hope you enjoy!!

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"Ooh, you stubborn little bastard. You're still gonna refuse to laugh?" Rosie mutters.

Alastor doesn't dare try to speak. All he can manage is a defiant shake of his head.

"Look, my friend. If you 'don't mind a little tickling,' and getting all giggly is your specialty…" Rosie tweaks his bottom rib, eliciting a noise that comes just short of a squeak. "What, exactly, is the problem here?"

"I'm supposed to be in control!" he grinds out through his twitching grin.

"You are in control, sir." Trudy abruptly withdraws her hands, holding them up innocently. "You can tell me to stop at any time."

Alastor cringes. He was sorta hoping no one would point that out.

"Which is why I find it so fascinating that you haven't yet." A sly smirk creeps across Rosie's face.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

"I- I'm humoring you!"

"Humoring me?" Rosie tilts her head. "My dear, I hope you're not doing this just for my sake. If you don't want Trudy to check for further injury-"

"No, I do! O-on my terms!"

"This is on your terms."

"Yes, but-"

"In fact, you insisted."

He stumbles again, before mumbling another meager, "…to humor you!"

Trudy shoots her boss a disoriented look - but Rosie, as usual, is hearing her friend loud and clear.

"Alastor." Rosie rolls her eyes, gestures for Trudy to step aside, and scoots over to place a hand on his knee. "Adam is dead. Everyone in hell thinks you're either succumbing to your wounds in some remote gutter or hiding in whatever alternate dimension you just spent the last seven years. You're not even 'on air'." She leans in. "You can drop the act for a moment, if it's what you need."

That certainly hits the mark. For the first time, Alastor's smile falters - not completely dropping, but certainly losing much of the strained quality it's had since he arrived.

"I wish I could, my dear."

Encouraged, Rosie continues. "Well, what's stopping ya? As much as I love spending time with Alastor the Radio Demon… if you wanna take this opportunity to let out whoever's underneath that effervescent grin of yours, you know we wouldn't mind."

Alastor swallows - and for the first time in a decades, Rosie finds his expression difficult to read. "Rosie, I'm afraid I can't really..."

"I mean, you've been holding that same silly show-host-smile for years! Don't tell me you've never gotten tired of it!"

"It's sewn on, Rosie."

"…What?"

He hesitates. "Let's just say today wasn't the first time I've been, ah... stitched up." As he speaks, he gestures to his toothy grin. And for once, there's not a trace of distortion in his voice.

Rosie's dark eyes go wide when she realizes what he means. The cannibal overlord just stands there for a beat, in an uncharacteristic moment of shock.

But, being Rosie, she quickly recovers. "Well, so what?"

"I'm just saying, I'm afraid I can't really drop the act."

"Nonsense! Since when has your act had anything to do with your face?" Rosie flicks her hand, as if brushing the thought aside. "Who cares if you can't show genuine Alastor. I wanna hear him."

"But my microphone..."

"You're doing just fine without it."

Once again, this attempt at reassurance only makes Alastor look more disturbed. "Th-this can't be me!"

"...Well, no. This right here sure isn't the Alastor I know. But…"

Alastor is barely listening to her anymore. His broadcast persona has been his sole identity since he was alive. Now his radio tower has been reduced to rubble, his microphone snapped clean in half, even his carefully-styled clothing left in tatters…

If this is the Genuine Alastor he's now stuck with - panicked, stuttering, weak - he can't imagine how he'll ever be able to face the rest of hell…

But these racing thoughts are once again interrupted by nails tracing up his sides. A sharp yelp cuts the air as poor Alastor just about jumps out of his skin.

"…Perhaps I can offer a little help?" Rosie suggests gently, once she has his undivided (and adorably flustered) attention. "On your terms, of course?"

Alastor just gazes back at her for a long moment. "What do you have in mind?"

"I happen to know something about you that even you can't fake."

The radio demon hesitates… before heaving a sigh and, to Rosie's surprise, giving a small nod of consent.

She breaks into a brilliant (and frankly terrifying) smile.

Before Alastor can brace himself, Rosie's hands have both found his sides and begun working into his waist. Having just watched him squirm around under Trudy's thorough probing twice (and adored every second of it), she already has a pretty good idea of where his worst spots are.

Which is made abundantly clear by Alastor's reaction. Within seconds he's gone from still trying to hold it all in by habit, to giggling into his hands, to cackling hysterically.

And it's the kind of laughter she's spent the last seven years missing. This isn't the confident, taunting chuckle he brings out for battles or brushing off rivals; this is bright, helpless, occasionally hiccuping laughter, the kind that is nearly impossible for him to stop once he starts - and the kind she only has the privilege of hearing when something truly amuses him.

"You can't sew your laughter on," Rosie reminds him. "This is all yours."

Rosie's fingers creep up under his shirt to scribble on bare tummy, adding a couple new sweet spots to her mental catalogue. This technique brings out even more of her favorite little quirks: the way he bats playfully (and completely ineffectually) at her wrists; his repeated attempts to speak around his laughter that only result in frantic spurts of incomprehensible, giggle-laced gibberish.

As she traces her nails across his lower belly she also finds a tiiiny layer of unexpected pudge. Which probably shouldn't surprise her - he's been out of the battle scene for seven years, after all. All those deer carcasses have to go somewhere.

Regardless, she finds it terribly endearing for some reason... and the surge of affection translates into a corresponding surge in the intensity of Rosie's tickles.

"AHaha! Ro- Rosie!" he blurts, his voice jumping a full octave higher than normal. "Stop!!"

Rosie removes her hands immediately. "Stop?"

"Aha- ah- well- I mean, er…" He stumbles breathlessly, and gives a sheepish cough.

"You didn't really want me to stop, did you?"

Rosie resumes with a chuckle, reeling herself in just a little. "How 'bout we say... oh... 'enough,' if you really want me to quit?"

Of course, she has to go and say it out loud.

"M-more of a reflehex..." he admits reluctantly.

Alastor tosses a shaky thumbs-up at her, already too lost in his own giggles to manage a verbal reply.

And he's gotta admit… Rosie was absolutely right. He wouldn't stop her right now for all the souls in hell. There's a reason Alastor has the most recognizable evil cackle of any other overlord. He can't help but find dissolving into laughter as cathartic and exhilarating as always - even if this time, it's not at some poor soul's misfortune. It's a result of his best friend's affection for her darling deer demon.

"As fun as getting your soft little belly is," Rosie muses, pausing to let Alastor catch his breath for a moment, "I can't help but wonder if you're ticklish anywhere else…"

Alastor may be off the air, but Rosie can practically hear the screech of microphone feedback just by the look on his face. "….I plead the fifth."

"Have you considered his ears?" Trudy pipes up shyly. While she'd managed to restrain herself behind an impeccably professional bedside manner earlier, it had taken everything in her power not to stroke Alastor's ears when she'd been close enough to do so. They were just. so. fluffy.

"Ohhh, heavens…" Alastor, for his part, curls in on himself at the mere suggestion.

Rosie grins. "Hey, 'no' is always an option."

A long pause. Alastor can't believe he's considering this. But the sensation of being tickled, as unbearable as it is, does feel awfully pleasant… and it's been so long since anyone has dared to touch him…

And what else does he have to lose at this point, anyway?

"I suppose if you're… very gentle…"

"Are you aware that your ears are the softest thing in the nine circles?"

This stipulation ends up backfiring. When it comes to his ears, gentle is worse. So, so much worse.

Poor Alastor is too busy clutching his stomach and snickering madly into his sleeve to reply.

"I should know, I work in retail. These right here-" Rosie traces her fingers down the feathery-soft edges, sending the radio demon into a new round of hysterics. "-Would fetch a pretty penny."

"They're nohot for saHA-ale!!"

"Nooo, I should say not." Rosie's hapless victim lurches back into the cushions as her fingers find the fluffy region at the base of his ears. Even without the microphone, his cackles have no problem filling the room. "You're the only demon classy enough to wear them."

"And don' you - GAHaha! - f-forget it!" He's so drunk on laughter now that he's beginning to slur his words. His careful elocution has gone the same place as his steady tone, and lack of stutter.

Luckily, he's also far too drunk on laughter to care.

...Right about there, Rosie notices that the faint hum of radio static in the air is no longer just in her head.

He is laughing his heart out for the first time in weeks. Genuinely laughing for the first time in decades. And laughing completely for himself, for his own enjoyment, without need for intimidation or control or image or audience, for the first time since long before he died.

While Trudy typically can't say much for her self-preservation instinct, she's got enough of one to feel hesitant joining her boss in tickling the most powerful overlord in hell (outside the pretense of medical intervention, at least). So she just stands back, watching fondly as The Most Dangerous Overlord This Side of the Pentagram utterly destroys the deer demon.

...At least, until she notices a flicker of green light out of the corner of her eye. Lying forgotten on the end table, the splintered ends of Alastor's microphone are sparking and crackling like live wires.

The surgeon creeps over for a closer look, staring in fascination. And then - just as Rosie gets poor Alastor behind the ears and delivers a scribble to his tummy at the same time - she ever-so-gently nudges the fractured ends closer to one another.

To her surprise, a bright green spark arcs clear across the gap. For a fraction of a second, the whole staff radiates a flash of a familiar green glow.

--------------------------------------------------------------

"Keep him laughing, Rosie," Trudy murmurs over her shoulder. It appears the Radio Demon's downfall will be nothing more than an intermission.

Thanks for being so patient with me y'all! Hope it was worth the wait 💕

💜- Cozy

#lee!alastor #ler!rosie #ticklish!alastor #oh deer he's ticklish #hazbin hotel tickling #hazbin hotel tickles #ticklefic #dr. trudy sawblade #my ocs

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rei-ismyname · 3 days ago

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Magneto joins the Young Avengers part 1

After House of M the Scarlet Witch was nowhere to be found, and her teammates weren't looking very hard (almost certainly a good thing.) After Wiccan was detained by the Avengers for having similar vibes to Wanda's powers, the rest of his team rescued him from Avengers Tower and Wolverine's claws.

The Young Avengers reasoned that this problem and many others could be solved by finding Wanda - Wiccan and Speed learning the truth of their heritage, Cassie getting her father back, and even hopefully changing 'no more mutants' to 'no, more mutants!' Seeing as he shares most of these goals, Magneto makes a stylish entrance and proposal, introducing himself as the boys' grandfather.

Mags acts a little too kidnappy for their liking, so he does what he should have done from the start and just asks for help. For some reason he has a bad reputation despite being quite well behaved of late. I find it irksome how black and white Marvel heroes can be, especially where reform is concerned. They often shoot themselves in the foot by meeting good faith acts with hostility. Then again, they are kids, and they have not reached consensus.

Naturally, the oafish Avengers come in swinging, doing the worst possible job of convincing the kids they have their wellbeing in mind. They don't listen well and try to bull right over them. They should know that if Magneto wanted them dead they'd be dead. They keep bringing up House of M, too, as if there isn't a lot of blame to spread around with that one. Do they not remember Magneto also objecting to House of M, or the whole thing happening because they planned to kill Wanda?

No, it seems, and Wolverine plays his only card by trying to kill Billy. Lucky Magneto knows how he operates and shields Billy. If Billy is so dangerous like Wanda, why the fuck are they backing him into a corner and threatening him with death? Wanda didn't respond well to that either. As usual, their plan is 'we know best, do what we say or else.' Huge cop energy.

Mags is repelling them non-lethally while this argument rages and eventually Billy realises that Earth's Mightiest are not willing or able to help.

He uses magic to go somewhere the Avengers aren't, yet the argument continues. Their complete lack of plan is obvious, and for some reason they don't bench Wolverine. His solution for a lot of problems is 'kill women' and not once has it worked out well for anyone. This time it's 'kill a woman and her child' - solid personal growth there. Cap's protestations are lukewarm yet none of them reflect on why these kids plus Magneto might have fled.

Good questions I guess. Definitely a more productive discussion now the Avengers aren't around.

Turns out Mags is happy to follow their lead and listen to them. Maybe he's Earth's Mightiest conversationalist. Billy magics them into the Uncanny Von Trapps and the quest begins!

#children's crusade #x comics #young avengers #magneto #wiccan #speed #patriot #hawkeye #scarlet witch #the avengers #captain america #spider man #iron man #vision #hulkling #Logan Behavior #wolverine #Wundagore mountain

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eboni-napalm · 2 months ago

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𝒦𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓉𝑜𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦 - 𝒟𝒶𝓎 𝒯𝓌𝑜 | 𝒯𝒽𝒾𝑔𝒽 𝑅𝒾𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 - 𝒜𝒾𝓃𝓏 𝒪𝑜𝒶𝓁 𝒢𝑜𝓌𝓃

Ainz Ooal Gown/Momonga (Overlord) X Reader

Summary: Your current relationship with your Guild Leader is already playfully flirtatious, if not mostly in a platonic manner, mainly to keep secrecy intact as Players- but one accidental slip-up during another one of your secret meetups leads to a scenario neither of you expected in the slightest- but certainly won't say no to.

Word Count: 3,247

Warnings: Non-penatrative smut, monster fucking, throne room/throne chair sex, momentary power dynamic, begging, MAJOR swearing/cursing. Reader is written as female with female anatomy/genitalia. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Bone Daddy. Stupid Sexy Lich. Sorry not sorry, I have a thing for hot skeleton men now and he's the fucking reason for it. Also, we all know this man(?) is actually an anxious mess underneath the physical form he has, but he deserves to have one moment where we can imagine him as a temporary Power Top. Eat up, ladies.

You already had a gut feeling that it was incredibly grand and massive, that much was for certain- but somehow, finally seeing it for yourself, seeing the actual, real thing- still made your jaw lightly fall open in pure, utter awe.

The royal hall of the Great Tomb of Nazarick was quite possibly one of the most beautiful sights you had ever laid your eyes upon.

But in all reality, it wasn't all because of the vast array of emblem laden banners, the plush, velvet carpeting of deep crimson that lay beneath your feet, or the gargantuan, looming chandeliers- no, far from it. Your main focus was drawn to the glistening gold throne chair at the very end of the hall, resting dead center against a wall of champagne-colored organ pipes, nestled within the remains of overgrown sapphire crystal.

Or rather, the creature occupying said throne.

Momonga- Lord Momonga- or as he had more recently started to refer to himself as- Ainz Ooal Gown, sat upon the glistening royal cathedra with his usual aura of intimidation and authority, tall and proud as always. Unlike before, he was without the staff of the guild's (and by temporary proxy, his) namesake, his deft, slender fingers instead splayed along the edge of one of the armrests. He'd changed out of his thick gold and red robes from earlier's meetings, now back in his usual deep violet hooded cloak and headdress. You could definitely tell he felt much more comfortable in this attire; his body language while confined in the heavier attires was very stiff in comparison.

You also weren't complaining that the violet robes always gave you a better look at his broad shoulders and ribcage. The very sight of them always made your cheeks warm, though you would never admit it out loud- mostly for fear of Albedo violently murdering you for even voicing the thought of it.

Even so... you couldn't blame her for her attraction to the Lich.

You were drawn to Ainz as well, but unlike her, you never purposefully overstepped your boundaries with him or openly declared that level of adoration for him at the top of your lungs. That, and you were also a Player of Yggdrasil who became trapped when the game's systems went offline, so you had that very special, almost intimate lifeline in common with him that allowed you two to bond almost instantly when you met.

"I apologize that this morning's meetings took longer than expected," the Overlord's voice, deep and oddly soothing to your ears, echoed softly through the hall as you resumed your approach. "Hopefully you weren't waiting too long for me."

You shook your head, a smile on your face as you reached the end of the long carpet and briefly bowed your head in a proper greeting. "I kept myself busy in the meantime," you replied. "Pray tell, though, what did keep you?"

At your question, he visibly straightened, but only for a moment- he leaned forward with a soft groan, running a hand down his jaw before it dropped to his side. "You'd find it more amusing than an actual issue, as it sounds as such, but..." A long, bony finger tapped against the solid gold of the throne chair. "Albedo and Aura ended up getting into a little bit of a confrontation- mind you, it was more of a childish spat than anything. It mostly stemmed from both of them wanting to sit in my lap."

The ends of your lips couldn't stop themselves from upturning to nearly reach your ears in good-natured amusement. You could only imagine what that scene looked like- Aura made sense; she more than likely saw the Lich as a parental figure and picturing her perched on his legs was understandably adorable. Albedo, on the other hand? No doubt any outbursts from her relating to that spawned from unbridled jealousy, which was odd since Aura showed no form of romantic attraction for Ainz (and therefore, might have made herself look a bit like an idiot in the process).

Then again, Albedo would threaten anyone who even looked at the Overlord for more than two seconds in any form of positive light that wasn't related to fear or obedience. The only reason you even remotely got a pass in that regard was because you were a Player, and by extension, a Supreme Being- basically a God to the NPC's and everyone else in this new world- and therefore, by technicality, had a rank of superiority. Even to the denizens of Nazarick.

"You were popular today, huh?" You responded, eyes crinkling as you smiled. "Regular ladies' man, it seems. I don't suppose you've got time or energy for one more person?" Jokingly, you tilted your head up and batted your eyelashes at him in an over-the-top fashion, which allowed a chuckle to reach your ears as he extended a hand out to you.

"For you, my dear friend, I believe I can make an exception," You could hear the smile in his voice and see a brief twinkle in his glowing red eyes, and you strolled over towards him, up the three small steps that led to the throne, and proceeded to splay yourself across both his legs; your head rested on one armrest of the chair while your feet dangled over the other, your arms folded neatly across your stomach. Despite him being basically a skeleton, he was, oddly enough, quite comfortable; his robes certainly helped lessen any prominent protrusions that his bones would have normally presented.

Ainz peered down at you from your position across his legs, that same smile audible in his words as he spoke to you again. "Ah-ah, that's cheating," he chastised you playfully. "You're laying, not sitting."

Feigning offended innocence, you placed a hand over your chest and gasped. "What, I'm not allowed a little extra luxury as your most trusted and precious companion? I'm hurt, Lord Ainz," You drawled your words out in an exaggerated manner, which caused him to chuckle again as you tried and failed to hide a smile. "But if you so insist, I guess I can position myself properly."

With that sentence, you started to adjust yourself into a sitting position, but as you moved your hips to better situate yourself on his lap, you unconsciously ended up straddling him and your clothed core brushed against his leg at just the right spot- enough to make you stop dead in your tracks as a sharp inhale escaped your lips, the faintest hint of a soft moan accenting the sound of your hitched breathing.

Fuck.

The Overlord, too, froze in his place at that exact same moment, the glowing red dots of his eyes almost shrinking to pinpricks. “That-“ he paused before saying anything else, in fear of his voice cracking even more than it did with just that one single word. “That wasn’t meant to happen on purpose, was it?”

Briefly holding your breath, you exhaled slowly, biting your lip as your eyes closed in a mix of embarrassment and sheer want, one hand gripping at the armrest at your side for any means of support as you had to literally force yourself with every muscle in your body not to do what you just did a second time. “No, not on purpose,” you barely managed out in a whisper. “But..."

He turns his head in your direction to stare at you intently, almost nervously, as his gaze bores onto yours. "But...?" he pushes you slowly, not wanting to rush the answer he doesn't know whether or not you'll give him.

You inch your head up at a snail's pace, inch by inch, until your eyes lock onto his. Your pulse audibly thrums against your neck, and you swear you can feel it in your throat as your body trembles above him. "...I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to do it again."

The moment that sentence left your lips, the all-too familiar sound of Ainz's emotion inhibitor activated, his jaw visibly tightening to avoid going slack as a soothing green light washed over his form. You bit your bottom lip for a split second, trying and failing to hide the sheer embarrassment of your own- sure, the two of you had exchanged jokingly flirtatious comments in the past, but that was all in good fun. This? You'd been caught red-handed now, and there was no way out this time.

However, the low whisper that escaped him nearly made your legs collapse from underneath you.

"...I'd be lying myself if I said I wouldn't stop you."

May whoever was the closest thing to a god in this world that wasn't the Lich underneath you have mercy on your fucking soul.

Slowly- almost experimentally, so as to not rush him despite the permission given to you, you gently ground yourself against his leg once more, your lips parting slightly at the contact of the smoothness of his thigh that was still hidden by the robes. You were about to ask him if that was too much, if you needed to slow down before you did anything more, but his next actions surprised you so much to the point that your heartbeat nearly doubled in speed.

His hand tapped lightly against your waist, signaling for you to lift yourself off him- and just as you were about to whine in protest, he grabbed a handful of the violet silk that covered his lower body and brushed it almost violently to the side, allowing the stark white bone of his thigh to be fully accessible and visible to you- then, his index finger slowly slid past the waistband of your leggings to trace a line along your skin, gently digging into your hip. “It might be more enjoyable on both ends if these weren’t in the way.”

You didn’t have to be told twice at all- briefly standing back on your feet to all but rip the tight fabric down from your waist and legs, not even giving a second glance down as they bunched up at your lower calves, you mounted the Overlord’s lap again, now without any obstruction between either of you this time around. The moment your slit made proper contact with his thigh, you just about lost your mind right there, your entrance already slick from the intimate touch of skin on bone that made your head spin. One hand white-knuckle gripping the armrest of the throne as the other balled into a fist on top of your other leg, you finally began to set a rhythm, albeit a sloppy one; the sharp, yet still smooth ridges of his thigh rubbed so perfectly against your core that it caused you to fall forward, your forehead resting against his shoulder as shaky breaths fell from your lips, accented by hint of high-pitched moans that started out softly, just above a whisper, but steadily grew in volume as you rutted against him again, and again, and again- you were so caught up in the literal and metaphorical heat of the moment that you almost failed to remember that one of Ainz’s hands hadn’t left its place at your hip, having now wound itself around your waist to hold you firmly against him by the dip in your lower back, his large palm digging into your skin through the fabric of your- now seemingly unbearingly tight- underbust corset.

The low groan from the Lich almost made you slam your hips further down onto him in mindless desperation. “Falling apart like this… all because of me?” his baritone voice reached your ears, dripping like molten hot honey as you felt the hand that was on your back untying the ribbons on your corset. “If this is all it took to have you, my dear, I- we should have done something sooner.”

You were still in a prime position to watch the piece of black leather loosen and fall to one side of your stomach and waist, freeing the lower half of your off-the-shoulder blouse from its original confines of being trapped against your abdomen. Unconsciously, you attempted to shrug your upper body out of the blouse, which now felt almost suffocatingly hot against your skin. After one too many of your attempts failed, you finally decided to all but tear it up and above your shoulders and threw it over towards the arm rest on the other side of the throne chair, your now freely exposed breasts bouncing lightly at the action before relaxing against your chest.

“Nnngh, Ainz...” you settled for moaning out the name he’d given himself as opposed to his normal name- it rolled off the tongue easier.

Almost immediately after his name left your lips, you yelped quietly in shock as he lifted you off his lap again, only to place you back down in the other direction, your back now slumped against his ribcage. This almost allowed you a better angle to grind against his leg, which you were eternally thankful for- but you were met with another surprise that made the heat in your stomach pool even deeper than before. “That’s Lord Ainz to you,” he almost growled the words into your ear, one of his hands trailing slowly up from your waist to your stomach- too slowly. It was almost painful, the pace he was going at. “I’ll reward you if you say it correctly this time.”

Where the fuck did he get this wave of confidence from? And how the hell was it so fucking hot?

Your head fell back against his shoulder, breathing heavily against his neck. “My Lord- Lord Ainz,” the title sounded so good- far better than you thought it would- coming from your lips.

A dark chuckle disguised as a hum escaped him in response to your words. “Good girl,” your name accompanied the spoken praise in a low murmur, and you gasped as the hand that was on your stomach finally reached up to fully envelop one of your breasts in his palm, the sharp tips of his fingers skimming over the hardened peak of your nipple before pinching it in what was a feather-touch for him, but a stinging jolt of white-hot ecstasy for you- your folds sunk even further onto the edge of his thigh and your jaw fell open in response to the pleasure that shot through your core, your mouth brushing against the thick vertebrae of his neck in a wet, open-mouthed kiss. You were an absolute writhing, panting mess, almost close to drooling as a result, and this sudden burst of change from the normally anxious man you knew was not helping in that regard- but also very much helping in another.

“You’re getting so close, aren’t you, my dear?” he edged you further again, and you realized his other hand was now sneaking up to drag his nails along your inner thigh, leaving triangular-shaped indents as he dug into your skin. You knew exactly what he was doing, where that hand was going to go, but you also knew he was going to make you work for what you wanted- and that was what killed you the most. “Tell me how badly you want it.”

With your hips thrusting violently against his leg, coating his femur with your slick, you let out a cry of frustrated longing and want as your tongue nearly lolled out of your mouth. “Please let me cum, Lord Ainz,” the words fell from your mouth in a sobbing plea, your entire body now rocking in the same erratic rhythm; it allowed the palm still fully grasping at your breast to rub repeatedly across your stiff nipple, and you let a loud whine accent your cries. “Please, I’m so fucking close, I want to cum so bad, please, pleasepleasepleasepleeeeease-!”

Your state of absolute desperation seemed to answer all your prayers, and finally- fucking finally- his other hand was finally where you wanted it to go, a long, pointed finger rubbing swift, deft circles on and around your swollen bud, amplifying your already overstimulated sense of pleasure even higher as you thrusted up to meet his figners while still writhing against his thigh, and he only spoke his permission to you in two words. “You may.”

The volume of your moans climbed higher and higher, almost turning into screams as your words nearly slurred together into unintelligible cries. “FUCK- fuck, yes, right there, Lord Ainz, right fucking there, yes, fuck, don’t stop-” you couldn’t stop yourself; now almost babbling incoherently with your peak approaching faster, faster, faster- “Mmmmmmohhhh, yes, fuck, fuck, FUCK- oh, FUCK, I’m fucking cumming yesyesyesyesyesssssaaaahh-!”

All at once, you let out a near mirror-shattering scream as the knot in your core released, erupting violently as though it were an active volcano; you swore you actually felt yourself spill onto his thigh, the nectar from your sex coating his leg from underneath you as you continued to slowly rock against him a few more times to ride out your orgasm. Your breathing was heavy and labored, your head still resting languidly against his bare shoulder as he slowly withdrew his hand from your folds, his finger leaving a damp trail across your thigh.

Good god, did you really let yourself go that hard? For a second, you felt your cheeks burn up from the state you were previously in- it was almost embarrassing.

But fuck, did it feel so good.

Only when he was absolutely certain you were satiated and able to stand without falling over did he gently assist you with rising to your feet, delicately handing you your previously discarded blouse as you hoisted your leggings back up. You slowly pulled the garment back over your head, stopping only to turn back around and have Ainz relace and tighten the ribbons on your corset without him asking to do so. It was oddly sweet- and, in a way, very like him.

“If-” His voice cracked at the first word he tried to speak, and you couldn’t help but smile and let a soft chuckle fall from your lips before he cleared his throat and straightened himself. “If ever there comes a moment where you would, perhaps... want to do that again, at all- not that there’s anything wrong with that, but you know- I mean-” There he was, slightly stammering over trying to find the right words- he was back to his normal self again.

You cut him off, gently pressing a finger to his teeth with a soft smile. “You just give the word if you ever need an excuse to slip away from Albedo,” you hummed, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. “And next time- which there definitely will be-” you accented those words with a wink, which caused his eyes to shrink again. “We'll do it in my quarters. Because unlike with your room, she won’t come barging in on us unannounced.” Leaning in once more, you cupped a hand next where his ear would be and whispered softly to him. “...And personally, I don’t think you’d be a fan of a Succubus who’s madly infatuated with you finding out first-hand that you’re fucking the one other Supreme Being of Nazarick, would you?”

His jaw fell open as his emotion inhibitor lit up again in response, the bell-like sound of your laughter echoed off the walls of the royal hall, and just like that, all was normal once again.

#kinktober #kinktober 2024 #kinktober prompt #ainz ooal gown #momonga #overlord #ainz x reader #ainz ooal gown x reader

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wisteriagoesvroom · 10 months ago

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gax + corporate/law vibes + ‘The powerpoint was steadily taking over their relationship, something that Max was not willing to stand for.’

gax?? gax!!

power (you make some points): a gax ficlet

rated m, ~1.2k words now also readable on ao3

author babble:

bear in mind i wrote this before i knew more about the Gax Lore i.e. karting together, actually being nice to each other blablabla. you could also just retrofit the vibes and hopefully they still work. anyways!

will throw this up on ao3 when i’m not sitting bleary eyed in an airport

————

If there was one thing that Max Verstappen wouldn’t tolerate, it was George Russell having the monopoly on good PowerPoint presentations. Max had won all four years of debate in College, as well as the dubious title of “most radical deployment of Google Slides templates” at his MBA, and he was not about to be usurped by the other guy in his department who actually knew how to use an animate transition.

“You missed an indent there.” Max says, pointing at the monitor. Yellow and red lights wink at them from the outside, as if to say: you’re both in your mid-twenties, quit wasting it on a computer screen at 11pm on a Wednesday, maybe?

Max is not staring, very determined not to look at his teammate’s facial expression. But George is almost certainly rolling his eyes right now.

“Was coming back to that, alright?” George huffs back. Max is very professional most of the time. But something about how wound up George is, how insanely pedantic he is about everything from semicolons to coffee cup placement for the Directors to taking insanely detailed minutes that nobody except Max reads after the meetings – well. What is it that Nietschze once said? We hate in others what we most identify with about ourselves. Or was that from Twitter? Max does not really use Twitter except to look at Bloomberg News updates and cat videos, so he does not know. And anyway Nietzsche never made a six figure salary.

“It would just be easier if you would let me do it.” Max says.

“Fuck right off, mate.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like me to.”

“Not now.”

“Just share the link to this. I’ll do it.”

“We agreed to take turns on this.”

“Yes, Russell. But sometimes, the rules are meant to be bent.”

George swivels his chair to Max, then. Fully attempts to pin him with his gaze, commencing an awkward stare-off that lasts way too many seconds and makes Max once again realise that George’s eyes remind him of the expensive fish tank he saw at the Partners’ sushi dinner once. Max doesn’t think those same fish were the ones they ended up eating. But he does remember that dinner because it was the one where the Partners had dangled the promise of a huge promotion if they could help carry the company merger across the line successfully. The problem is, there was only one spot.

George’s distracting aquatic orbitals aside, fortunately, Max (i) never backs down, and (ii) has been told that he has the dead-eyed emotional stare of a robot missing an empathy software upgrade sometimes.

And clearly, the powerpoint was steadily taking over their relationship, something that Max was not willing to stand for.

Max leans back in his chair, stance all mock-relaxed. “Do you want to be out of here before midnight, or not?”

“We’re expensing the Ubers either way, so it doesn’t make a difference to me, mate.”

Fine. If George is so hyperfocused on The Tasks that he’s forgotten the fun part of being Questionably Close Coworkers, so be it.

Max deploys the nuclear option.

He sticks his leg out, nudging the toe of his Pradas onto George’s slacks. And strokes his foot halfway up to a sensitive point on George’s thigh. Max may even flutter his lashes a little.

To his credit, George does not react. Merely swings his eyes like a lamp to Max’s face again. His hand does, however, goes still on the mouse.

“What exactly are you doing?”

“I don’t know.” Max feigns. He knows that George hates, more than anything, anyone getting dirt on his precious Ralph Laurens. But at least he has his attention now. “Was hoping we could move onto the more fun part of the typical evening activities. Maybe.”

“We shouldn’t be doing that again anyway.”

“George.”

“What?”

“That is not what you said the last, hm, fourteen times that we have done this, eh?”

“Who’s counting?”

“I thought you were the most careful of rule followers and data analysis, knapperd.”

George is a human being, but Max is almost certain the other man shakes himself like he’s preening right now.

“Well. It’s what the team likes me for, and it’s what I’ll keep doing.”

“Oh yes. Surely we must keep in mind the team. And the shareholders. They are very important.”

“Quite.”

“But should we tell them that you like it so much, George. When I do this.” Max says. Rising up, fully crowding George in, hands gripping the cool handles of the computer chair. Leaning in to nibble the side of George’s neck.

George swallows. Max watches his throat move.

Next, Max mouths the words onto the side of George’s jaw, stubble prickling his mouth. “And this.”

The click of the mouse continues steadily as Max moves his mouth to the shell of George’s ear. “And let’s not forget. This.”

Max tilts George’s face up fully, then. George’s face is flushed, eyes sparkling, all surprise at the sudden change of pace, but eager, too.

When Max seals his lips over George’s, George groans, and his hands shoot up to Max’s waist immediately. It doesn’t feel quite like winning a deal or a pitch does for Max, but the completion comes pretty damn close.

Max sweeps his tongue into George’s mouth. George opens willingly, like he always does. In the back of Max’s logical brain, a warning sign blares that the computer chair may not be able to support the weight of them both – because they spend a lot of time pretending they don’t work out together at the gym but Max knows exactly what George’s deadlift PB is and it’s pretty damn high for a scrawny looking dude.

And despite the keening protest of said chair, the two of them are both lost to it now. Max jams one knee between George’s legs, George nibbles hungrily at Max’s lower lip, Max thrusts his hips all needy, and maybe if Max is nice about it George might suck him off under the table, and–

Outlook chimes again.

“Blasted piece of shit.” George says, breaking away. His hands go still at Max’s waist. “Why we’re using G-Suite and Microsoft Office at the same time I will never know.”

George squeezes his eyes shut, as if making himself stop this is causing him physical pain. Maybe it’s that or the workflow incompatibility when George tries to move his custom Excel-Trello gantts into a third party API.

And Max won’t lie. He kind of likes it when George gets so irritated about these things. When he cares a bit too much. Because what is Max but exactly like that, too.

“Hazards of a merger, I guess. But without that, I would never have met you, no?”

George makes a noise like he knows what Max means. The other man straightens his shirt collar, and Max runs a hand through his hair. He’s been growing it out lately, because George had made a passing comment at the bathroom sink once about it looking good.

Sleeping with the person competing for the same Chief of Staff position is possibly the worst decision he could’ve made, and Max once dyed his hair platinum blonde. But, they’re stuck here together. Hell is a slightly more tolerable place when Satan’s right hand man looks this good. And knows his coffee order without asking.

Besides. Max is not bothered. He knows that the promotion is his. This is just a minor plot inconvenience.

Later, they will expense the uber back to George’s place, where Max will put his mouth on George’s arse, and give him a practical demonstration of the three different ways he’s learned to elicit pleasure from the male prostate.

George will whimper and whine the whole way through it, and after they’re both sated, they’ll both roll over to check their emails, barely concealing their smiles. They will pretend that what’s happening between them could be as clean as their zero-email inboxes. As if their connection is not violently seeping through containment.

All in the name of team bonding. For the firm. Yes.

(Or this is what they tell themselves, to maintain the illusion, anyway.)

#gax #max verstappen #george russell #f1 rpf #3363 #6333 #max verstappen x george Russell #wiz.writing #if this feels out of character I am sorry simply LOOK AWAY #but I enjoyed it #snipey type A assholes #but they’re MY made up snipey type A assholes #prompt fill #THESE WERE MEANT TO BE DRABBLES 😭#anyway

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unfinishedslurs · 2 years ago

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stobin kidnapped- no upsidedown

Robin doesn’t know why she comes out to Steve Harrington of all people.

It could be the drugs. It could be the way he’s been pretty good-natured about her ribbing all summer. It could be the fact that they’ve bonded, painfully and irreversibly, in the last 24 hours in a way she never has with anyone else and hopefully never will. It could be that she’s almost certainly going to die in this tiny, awful basement, and Steve fucking Harrington’s shitty homophobic spiel won’t matter because they’ll be dead.

Tammy Thompson won’t matter, either. She’ll never, ever look at Robin now. Probably won’t even think about her as she cries over Steve Harrington’s tragic fate.

“Have you ever been in love?”

They’re pressed back to back next to the hole that serves as their toilet, even if they’re not tied together that way anymore. Something about being able to see from all angles is comforting. No surprises.

It also means she doesn’t have to see Steve’s face when he tells her how amazing this new girl is.

“Robin?” He asks when she doesn’t respond. “You OD on me?”

“I’m alive,” she confirms. Unfortunately.

Nope, too soon to be making jokes about wishing she were dead when there’s a high possibility she ends up dead before she gets out of here.

Steve’s presence leaves her back, and she almost panics before she realizes he’s scooting backwards until he can meet her eye. She scoots back until her back hits the wall, and he does the same.

“This floor’s disgusting.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve already got a bunch of blood and puke on my shirt, so…” he points out. “What do you think?”

“About?”

“This girl.” Why are his eyes so big? Is it the drugs in her system making her hallucinate again? Some great, cosmic consequence for being the kind of girl who can’t fall in love with this apparently amazing guy who protected her the best he could? She feels like she’s going to vomit again.

Eventually their singing dies down, and they exist in comfortable silence for a moment.

It’s Steve who breaks it. “You know Jonathan Byers?”

“Didn’t he punch you and steal your girl?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I lied.”

“About what?”

“Only ever having been in love with Nancy.”

She blinks at him, squinting in concentration until he shifts uncomfortably and she gasps. “No,” she says.

“‘No’ what?”

“You were not in love with Jonathan Byers.”

“Okay, yeah, I wasn’t in love with him,” he protests, squirming. “But, like, he’s cool, right?”

“No!” She exclaims. “No, he’s not cool, Steve. I can’t believe you made fun of me for Tammy, at least she didn’t give me a concussion!”

“I deserved that concussion,” he protests. “Besides, it was a tiny one! That was, like, nothing compared to what Billy gave me.” Or the one he probably has right now, but neither of them point that out.

“He stole your girlfriend.”

“Why do you keep saying that? There was no stealing anything. Nancy’s a human being, with, like, agency and shit.”

“Didn’t he take naked pictures of you guys?”

“What?” He sounds alarmed. “Is that what you heard?”

“Did he not?”

“Well…”

She laughs, disbelieving.

“He apologized!” He says. “And he’ll never do it again, and I broke his camera for it anyway, so I kind of got retribution. Maybe too much retribution. I cannot overstate how much I deserved that beat down, I was an asshole to him.”

“God, you are not helping your case at all,” she giggles. He pouts at her, until he starts giggling too, and then they’re both laughing their asses off on the shitty basement floor until they lose their breath.

They get lucky, she’s told while they’re in the hospital for smoke inhalation and a dozen other things. They were only in that basement for 24 hours until the police (re: Dustin and Erica) found them. It felt like a lifetime.

She gets to sign out after six hours. Steve has to stay for two days.

The nurses have to practically boot her out the door before she’ll leave his side.

“I’m fine, Rob,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I’ve had worse.”

“I sure hope not!” The nurse exclaims as she’s checking over the monitor. “Young man, you are suffering from a Grade 3 concussion, bruised and broken ribs, smoke inhalation, multiple lacerations—“

“Jesus, okay, we get it!”

She gives him a scathing look before sweeping out of the room. Robin raises her eyebrows. “You’re fine, huh?”

The look he gives her could kill a lesser man. “Go home, Robin.”

“I’m staying the night.”

“You’re definitely not doing that.”

#stobin #no upside down #stobin kidnapped-no upsidedown au #steve harrington #robin buckley #sorry to jonathan for the slander i promise i love you #jonathan was steve's bisexual awakening truthing #stranger things fanfic #season 3 au

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thevanillerose · 2 months ago

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MOTEL | JAMES SUNDERLAND x READER | SILENT HILL 2

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~ ~ NOVELS ~

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators.

A/N: Return of sad green jacket man. Compared to the last fic I uploaded about him, this one is written more with the new Jame/Game in mind. Who & which I also really like, even if the OG is still top. As soon as the characters were canonically hanging out in a motel my mind started whirring (surprisingly, SFW!).

It wasn’t your typical sort of place.

The last time you had been in Silent Hill, you’d stayed at the hotel by the lake. Your memories of that time were still fuzzy and hazy, in a way where you struggled to pin down what had been real or not. But you certainly remembered that place…you had gone there when you were very young.

The whole town was different now. Almost entirely different in some ways. Sad and ruined and…scary.

Real, true monsters lurked outside, stalking haphazardly in their rubbery skin suits, spitting up bile and acid in jets against the already filthy, broken sidewalks.

So the first opportunity for some rest, or something that at least came close to it, was a welcome one. A sleazy motel like this wouldn’t have usually been on your radar at all, but beggars really couldn’t be choosers when they ran the risk of being torn to shreds the very moment they stepped outside…

You weren’t alone though. As you stepped into the musty, abandoned room, bed still made, sheets still pressed, you felt his taller presence by your side, lingering near the door for a minute as he assessed the space.

“I don’t like the feeling here…we shouldn’t stay for long…”

James. He was the first person you had actually come across in hours of wandering this place. Usually, if you’d happened across such a tortured looking man on his own here, you’d have steered clear, leaving him to his business. But once again, with monsters around, you were left with fewer options.

Besides, he had protected you this far. He was better at staving off the enemies than you could ever hope to be, and at this stage you probably owed him your life. You hoped he wouldn’t ask anything of you though, particularly in a place like this.

However, when you looked at him, deliberately keeping his distance and just peering through the blinds now and then on the other side of the room, to check outside and see if there were still monsters around, you didn’t feel such a sense of danger. Maybe you were just being naïve but…he didn’t seem like a bad guy.

He just seemed lost, and sad. If you weren’t so baffled as to the real reason you had ended up here in the first place, you might have been sad too. Perhaps you had a reason to be. You only wished you knew for sure, you wished the fog in your mind would clear just as much as you wished it would dissipate from the ruined town that surrounded you.

He certainly had his own good reason though. His wife, already dead, had somehow sent him a letter. He had come here to find her, to find out the truth, ‘foolishly’ in some opinions, but ‘hopefully’ in yours. If monsters really existed (which they certainly seemed to, at this point), then was it really so far-fetched that ghosts could too?

“It’s okay, I won’t be long. I just needed to rest for a moment.” you told him, easing yourself onto the edge of the bed, feeling your fingertips brushing the thin layer of old dust that had settled atop the frayed, faded sheets.

James looked up at you, with those sad green eyes that made him look so much like a little puppy dog that had been caught in a rain shower. Those same eyes flickered down to your ankle, where the throbbing sensation lingered, and where the purplish blue bruise had already begun to form.

“Is your ankle doing okay?” he asked you, and with a sheepish nod, you reached down to pull off your shoe. But as soon as your digits brushed the skin, you winced and inhaled sharply, not quite able to pull your shoe off without some serious effort.

Hesitating momentarily, James then pulled away from the tattered wallpaper and approached you, crouching down so he was level with where you were sitting: “May I?” Eyes widening slightly, you nodded slowly again, and watched, feeling your heart pounding a little bit as he reached down and gently worked your shoe off, tugging your sock down. It made you cringe with pain again, gripping the sheets tightly. But you were mostly thinking about how hard your heart was hammering inside your ribcage.

Christ…he has a wife, for goodness’ sake…

You couldn’t help it though. As he examined your ankle, and helped you bring it up onto the mattress so you could prop it against a pillow and hopefully help the swelling go down, you were acutely aware of how this was a man who you were already quite attracted to.

Sure, maybe it was a desperation for any sort of human connection in this nightmare of a town that you felt like you could never leave. But perhaps too, it was genuine.

And, was it really such a sin? If Mary was really dead, then-

No. Don’t think like that, don’t disrespect her like that.

Anyway…he seemed to only really care about her. No use in getting your hopes up when it was already clear he had a woman he loved, and perhaps, a woman he would continue to love forever, regardless of whether she was really alive or not.

“We can stay here for a little bit, until the pain gets better. But I really don’t think we should stay too long.” James said, and walked back over to the window, peering through the blinds again with a narrowed gaze, “I wouldn’t put it past them to try and break in if they find out we’re here.”

And facing a bunch of those demons inside a cramped little motel room wouldn’t be ideal, he was certainly right to be anxious. Laying back against the pillows, you gave a hum of agreement. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. All I did was trip up a bit-” And almost plummet between two apartment buildings, mind you. “-I’ll be okay after a few minutes.”

You watched him, as he still seemed to be lingering quite deliberately at a distance from you. Now you were both grown adults, mature enough to understand that just because you had made a stop in a place like this, it didn’t mean it had to lead to anything. But James still seemed wary that he might frighten you into thinking that was something he wanted.

After all, neither of you really knew each other. You probably had plenty of reasons to be suspicious of him, and why he was really in this town. Hell, he somewhat wondered it himself. What was he really doing here?

It was funny though. You had already convinced yourself that James would never want anybody but his late wife, an assumption you’d understandably come to given his dedication to coming to this hellhole, trying to find a woman who was meant to be dead already, putting himself through a literal nightmare in the process. Yet, it wasn’t the case.

James was actually quite drawn to you himself. And while he didn’t want to push his luck in any regard, while he genuinely did want you to feel safe around him, he was just, well…very grateful for your company.

Of all the people he could have been shackled to, obliged to escort in a torturous place like this, it sure beat being stuck with someone like Angela or Eddie, by miles. He found them both to be pretty unpleasant, but you…you were anything but.

Sweet and shy and polite. Vulnerable in a way that made him want to make sure nothing bad could touch you. He’d certainly do his best to achieve that, for as long as you would allow him to be around you. Hopefully, until the end. Until he found what he came for.

…But. …That was just the thing…wasn’t it?

Until I find what I came for.

Mary. He knew he had to. Now that you were in the picture though, he worried that things had just become a lot more complicated. Yet, as he stole a glance at you laying there on the bed, staring up wearily at the cracked plaster of the ceiling, he wondered if maybe that really mattered.

You had called it ‘hopeful’, his reasoning for coming here. You hadn’t treated him like an idiot.

But perhaps what he was truly ‘hopeful’ for...had changed, as soon as he met you.

“...James?” You sat up a touch, closing one eye with the effort to avoid hurting your foot more as you propped your torso on your elbows. After a moment of contemplation, you pet the spot on the bed beside you a couple of times, seeing the surprise spread on his face. “It’s alright if you want to take a rest too, I…I don’t mind. Maybe you should.”

…Maybe I should…

James felt torn about it. He sincerely wondered if he wasn’t making a huge mistake right now.

Yet, he also wondered, if maybe he wasn’t worrying too much.

He was so tired. The spot beside you felt more inviting than anything he could recall.

It’s fine. We’re not going to do anything. Not even in a place like this.

After convincing himself internally, he walked over and slipped his military jacket off his shoulders, in only his gray shirt beneath it. Hanging it on the back of one of the dust-laden chairs in the old room, he tentatively took his spot next to you.

You felt his weight pressing on the bed, pulling you ever so slightly towards him. He was bigger and stronger than you, but you didn’t feel afraid of him. Only afraid of, well, making him afraid.

Because I don’t want him to think I… …I mean it’s not like that would ever happen anyway…

…Right?

As the man laid back against the bedding, and took in the same unsavory view of the ceiling as you were, the two of you were in silence.

Resting, but with so many unspoken words.

Like my writing? I can write for you! Check out my WRITING COMMISSIONS!

#silent hill #silent hill 2 #silent hill 2 remake #james sunderland #xreaderfanfic #xreader #romance #writing #writingcommissions #readerinsert #writing commissions #fanfic #x reader #horror #video game #vanilleworks #vanillerose #vanille

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