#fizzi writes fic

[fizzigigsimmer]

That spring, Steve’s mom finally gets tired of getting cheated on and files for divorce. His dad is a dick about it and hires a bunch of lawyers to ensure that she basically leaves with nothing. Worse, he fights her for custody of Steve and taunts her with the fact she’ll never see him again - because why would any teenager want to give up everything, just to rough it out with their train-wreck of a mother? But jokes on him cause the judge basically leaves it up to Steve, and Steve would rather stomp on his own balls than get stuck with that asshole. Even if it means having to leave the big house and his car and starting over in a new place where nobody knows him.

Steve never met his mother’s side of the family in California. All he really knows is that the family disapproved of her marriage. There’s a story about his aunt coming to visit once on his birthday when he was like five, but she got in a fight with mom and she’s never been back. So Steve doesn’t even think about them when he tries to imagine what he and his mom are going to do on their own. He imagines her selling her car and the other gifts dad put in her name over the years to rent a decent apartment somewhere, maybe in Indianapolis or Chicago.

He’s really shocked one night when she announces that she’s been in touch with her family, and she she asks him about how he feels about moving to California to some sleepy little town called Moonwood. She tries to enthuse him about it by going on about how beautiful it is there, right at the edge of the national forest, but Steve’s more concerned with the fact that they’ll be living with people who hate them - and in the sticks too! Its two hours to the nearest mall! How’s he gonna find a job in this place? And what about school?

But Steve looks around at the hotel they’ve been staying in and the paper thin smile she fixes on her face to try and hide her broken heart from him and how fucked everything is, and he just wants her to be okay.

They move to California, and the one bright side is the relatives turn out to be not all that hateful. There’s awkward tension and a shit load of history there for sure, but from the minute they pull up to his grandparents house the door is thrown open and they’re welcomed with open arms. His grandpa seems a little stiff at first, but Steve gets the impression its because he doesn’t know what to do with himself as Steve’s mom and his grandma hug each other and cry. The weirdest part is when they start speaking in a language Steve’s never heard his mother use before.

Later his aunt tells him it’s lythan, but she just laughs when Steve asks if that means they’re from Lithuania. Apparently lythan is a very old language that started in romania and is only spoken today in two places. Here, and some village in romania that an ancestor immigrated from.

None of this is making sense to him but he’s just happy his mother seems happier and that he has help taking care of her, since she’s still pretty broken up about the divorce. She’s always been a passionate woman his mom. The kind of person who believes in soulmates and love at first sight. She’s always told him that when he meets the one for him he’ll know it in an instant and that he should hang on to that person with his whole heart. Which sounded great and all when he was a kid, but honestly just makes him sad now when he looks at how things turned out with her and his dad.

The first week after they get there, Steve cant sleep and catches his mother, his grandmother and his aunt talking in the kitchen late one night. He overhears her say that she knew it was a risk being with his dad, but that she’d have regretted it more if she didn’t follow her heart. Even if she wasn’t the one for Steve’s dad the way he was for her, she’d always be grateful because she has Steve. But she doesn’t want him to grow up feeling like he has to change who he is and like he always has to be the one giving to someone else just to be loved.

For the first time since the divorce Steve is almost mad at her - wants to shout it’s too late mom! - but the feeling passes as quickly as it comes. He’s just sad, for them both. But he hopes things will be okay here and that this can be a new start. It could be worse right? At least he gets a room to himself. Yeah it’s kinda weird that his aunt still lives at home and nobody seems to have a problem with that, or is talking about what his moms plans are like they expect that she’ll just be there forever now. But he figures they’re all just focused on making up for lost time right now.

And his grandma says that people in Moonwood stay close to home anway, and that most of them spend their whole lives there without leaving. It shocks him to learn that she’s never been further outside of town than to the edge of the national forest.

His second worry, about finding a job, gets resolved by his his grandfather - who runs a soda shop on the beach. There’s not much traffic durring the off season, but in summertime the redwoods draw a fair number of tourists. Steve’s kept very busy scooping up ice cream and making root beer floats while he flirts with the gap year girls who come through in groups, to backpack through the forest. He’s just turned eighteen and he’s never had much of a problem picking up girls so he has a few flings. He gets invited to parties on the beach and ends up doing a lot of hiking that summer in his downtime. But then fall rolls around and with fewer and fewer groups of tourists passing through Steve finds himself at loose ends.

School starts up again and he realizes that maybe it was a mistake not to put more of an effort into meeting local kids and making a few connections beforehand. Schiller High is over in the next district, and Moonwood is so far out the kids have to be bussed in. Steve’s a little nervous about starting a new school in his senior year but he tells himself it’s just one year. One year and then he has no idea what to do with himself after that, but at least he won’t be forced to attend school anymore. Still, he begs his mom to let him take their car to school the first day so that he doesn’t have to be the oldest kid on the bus. He’s pretty sure that’s a social constant even out here in the middle of nowhere.

Schiller seems pretty normal at first. It’s about the same size as his school back in Hawkins was. The school receptionist calls in some guy named Tim to show him around his first day and make sure he gets to all his classes. Tim’s alright, but Steve can see the neon nerd sign blinking above his head and plays it cool. He’s not an asshole or anything, he just doesn’t want to close any doors before getting the lay of the land. Steve just wants an easy year and he’s not gonna get that if he’s hanging out with a bully magnet - sorry Tim. Plus, Steve’s not exactly thrilled about the way Tim talks about ‘moonies’ - which is apparently what other people call people from Moonwood, instead of hicks or whatever. Steve doesn’t bother telling Tim that he’s technically a moonie now too.

His aspirations to plant himself firmly in the middle of the student social hierarchy and go unnoticed for the next ten months involve finding a group - or a pack as his grandfather weirdly put it when he assured Steve he’d find his in no time and start to feel more at home once school started. He asks Tim about the school’s athletic teams because being on a team with a bunch of other guys will basically do the work for him. There’s a swim team that Steve is definitely going to try out for. He’s not sure about basketball. He only got started back in Hawkins because his dad thought it was manlier than ‘playing’ in the pool. But he likes it okay, and Tim says the Schiller team has actually won a few regional titles.

Even though it’s his last year Steve figures it can’t hurt his college applications to be on a winning team for once. He probably won’t to start or anything but he thinks he has a good shot of seeing some playing time.

“I would stick with swimming if I were you. There’s no way you’re getting on the team.” Tim laughs. “The head coach is a moonie and he only ever picks guys from Moonwood.”

That doesn’t seem very legal, but that’s not Steve’s problem. He figures Tim is probably exaggerating anyway, just salty that the coach is giving a little extra focus to the guys from the less privileged side of the tracks.

Until Steve actually sees Billy and some of the other guys from the team.

It’s just before lunch when Steve and Tim have stopped by Steve’s locker. A blond kid in a red and white letterman jacket appears at the mouth of the hall, flanked by two other guys. It’s like something out of a movie the way the hallway clears for them and the other students gaze at them with awe filled expressions as if they’re watching a parade of olympians pass through.

“That’s Billy Hargrove. He’s captain of the basketball team.” Tim answers the unspoken question in Steve’s glance. “Don’t get on his bad side. He’s pretty much the top dog around here.”

Steve doesn’t need Tim to tell him Billy runs things around here. The guy is built like the terminator. Like someone who has ascended above mere mortals and wouldn’t be out of place among the gods. He’s built like a man, Steve finally settles on with an prickle of embarrassment hot in his chest. Steve’s a guy and he doesn’t go out of his way to look at other guys a lot, but he appreciates the things about them that are enviable.

Only envy is the furthest thing from Steve’s mind when he first sees Billy. It’s like time slows for Steve. His mouth gets dry, and he thinks to himself that Billy Hargrove is beautiful, and he wonders what that’s like. Steve knows he’s good looking. This isn’t some self depreciation bullshit, it’s just inexplicably different somehow the way he looks at Billy and thinks he finally understands what real beauty is. The way he instantly wants to get closer to him, reach out and touch. Billy has none of the unfinished awkwardness of a teenager. He’s a poster child for physical perfection that Steve is convinced walked off of a poster taped up on somebody’s wall, and has no business walking down the halls of an American high school. Seriously. How is this guy real?

He spares a quick glance for the other two guys with Billy - Dave & Chet - just long enough to confirm that he’s fucked. If these are the kinds of guys they’ve got on the team, Steve has no chance of seeing anything but a bench all year.

Billy and the other two stop at a locker not far from Steve’s on the other side of the hall, but not before Billy’s gaze does a casual sweep around the hall - very much a king surveying his kingdom. Steve fully expects that gaze to pass right over him just as unimpressed as it does everyone else, but to his surprise Billy’s gaze locks with his and sticks.

A little tingle dances up Steve’s spine and he sucks in a breath. He can’t tell what color Billy’s eyes are from this distance - at first he thinks they are something light, like a blue or grey, but then the corner of Billy’s mouth tilts up in a smirk and the light hits them a certain way and they look almost gold as he runs his tongue over some very white fangy teeth. Jesus the guy has some chompers on him.

Steve’s not afraid of a fight but it’s profoundly unsettling to have some dude literally licking his chops at him like he can’t wait to take a bite of the fresh meat. He’s pretty sure he just landed himself on Billy Hargrove’s shit list and he has no idea why. Fuck his life.

But he figures there’s nothing he can do about it but ignore it and hope that Billy decides he’s not worth the trouble. Steve turns to shut his locker, sending the message with his back that he doesn’t care about the dude giving him the crazy eyes and that Billy doesn’t intimidate him. His sweaty palms tell a different story, but that’s for Steve and only Steve to know.

As he leaves, he can feel Billy’s eyes burning into his back like lasers.

So much for going unnoticed for the year.

Now with Part 2

[fizziepopangel]

"Ain't the Romantic Type"

* Author's note: Heyyyyyy everyone! I'm back with another fic, and let me just say that I'm really excited about this one because I'm honestly pretty proud of it. I hope everyone enjoys it as much as I do!

p.s. As always, you can always use the Fic Request Form to request something specific, and be sure to keep an eye out for part two of this fic since it'll be coming soon!😋❤️

“He just ain't the romantic type….” The words rang in Husk's mind as he stood in front of the mirror in Angel's room, adjusting his jacket for what he knew must've been the millionth time. He felt ridiculous; he hadn't been dressed up like this since he sold his soul, and after having gotten used to his usual attire, it felt wrong for him to be all dressed up.

Lost in his reflection, he almost hadn’t noticed Fat Nuggets by his feet with a worried expression. “Oink!" Fat Nuggets bumped his head gently against the hell cat's leg.

"What's wrong?” Husk stared at the pig, who didn't do much but stare back at him. "Don't look at me like that! You think I don't know I look fuckin’ ridiculous. I know it!” The pig snorted softly, bumping Husk’s leg again. " Look, I ain't got time for your pig crap right now, Angel’s gonna be back soon and I gotta make sure everything is perfect so… I don't know, go do whatever it is pigs do.”

Rather than leaving, the little pig sat down, oinking and snorting again. Husk groaned, annoyed as he leaned down to look at the little creature.  “Look, I’m gonna level with you, Nuggets, I gotta do this for Angel. Ok, so I need you to shut up and be supportive.” When the pig just stared at him, oinking in a way that sounded like he was almost annoyed himself. “He deserves this, right? You know he deserves this so just behave yourself tonight.”

Before the pig could make his oink-y little argument, the pair heard the keys jingle in the door. Husk immediately straightened up, fixing his nice jacket again and grabbing the bouquet of flowers he’d left on the coffee table beside the nice meal he had prepared for them, taking his place in front of the door quickly and putting on a smile just in time to see Angel open his door.

Angel steps into his room looking ragged, his bag from the club in his hand. It had been a shitm night, filled with more abuse from Valentino than usual, and a mess of men who did horrible things to him. He just wanted to go home and wash off the blur of the night before curling up in bed and hopefully getting some sleep… But as he turned around, he was met with Husk, smiling in his dress jacket with a bouquet of pink red and pink roses as he stood in front of a nice little candlelit meal on the coffee table. Angel stared at the sight in front of him, his lip trembling before tears began streaming down his face.

Husk was thrilled at first, his pride swelling until he realized that those tears were turning to sobs as he watched as his boyfriend sank to his knees in front of him. The proud smile he wore just moments before quickly turned to a look of horror.

 

“Angel? Babe, what’s wrong?” Husk did his best to keep the panic out of his voice, but he was terrified. He had talked to the sappiest person he knew (Charlie of course), and he had done hours of research online to make this night as romantic and perfect as he could, and as he glanced back at the scene he had set behind him, worried. “Did I do something wrong? Is…is this not romantic enough?”

Sobbing was the only response Husk got.

Fat Nuggets squealed and oinked, running to his owner and nuzzling into him in an attempt to comfort him.

“I can’t do this!” Angel sobbed raggedly. “I can’t, I can’t, I cant!”

Husk’s heart nearly stopped at the words. He and Angel had been dating for nearly a year and a half and he had thought everything was going well; decent dates, good sex, and amazing conversations and he had been trying his damndest not to fuck this up because he always seemed to fuck up the good relationships he landed himself in; always ended up hurting good people…. He took a breath, trying to keep himself from sinking deeper into that pit of panic. He knew he wouldn’t be any good to Angel if he started spiraling too.

“Angelcakes?” Husk’s gruff voice is gentler than he usually spoke, though it still shook slightly as he took a step toward his sobbing partner, a hand outstretched in an offering of comfort. “Angelcakes, baby, can you–”

“Don’t fucking touch me!” The scream that ripped from Angel’s throat was almost guttural and he scrambled away from his boyfriend’s touch, recoiling as if he were disgusted by the thought of being in his arms despite the spider demon’s usual love for physical affection. 

In an act of defense, Fat Nuggets placed himself in front of his beloved owner, staring at Husk as if daring him to come closer… But Husk just stood there, frozen as his boyfriend cowered away from him, trembling and sobbing so hard he could hardly breath. And that the scene everyone walked into when Vaggie slammed the door open….

Read the next part here: Part 2

[fizzytoo]

can’t stop thinking about them <3

[lesbicosmos]

so i seem to be on a spree of rewriting all my old fics that have never seen the light of day

first chapter of this is kinda short but it gets better i promise

summary:

merlin is beginning to give up any hope of arthur ever returning, when on one seemingly average day, he hears a familiar voice calling to him from the lake

[fizziepopangel]

Me currently

[encasedinobsidian]

smalltown shit

Charlie Swan x fem!reader [explicit, 18+]

Summary: "You’re a little young, aren’t you?” he asks, and it isn’t with a scowl but it’s something of the sort, a narrowing of his eyes and a dryness to his voice. It’s no better than a scowl anyway, his skepticism like a concrete wall between the two of you under the dim lights of the bar where Charlie is stuck with you, just where you want him. Warnings: 3.4k ish words. Porn with minimal plot, implied age gap, unprotected PIV, oral sex, truck sex, alcohol, pining, no use of y/n. This was written a bit fast lmfao A/N: This is my first ever Charlie Swan fic! It started as a joke (just like they all do), but I thought it might be fun to do something different. In case you enjoy my writing and want to see more, here are links to my ao3 and to a heavily Charlie inspired Narcos fanfic I wrote recently :)

Wearing a man down takes a while. It takes patience, a steady effort, bit by bit, like the thick clouds covering the sky above the evergreens only letting down a single drop of rain at a time. Charlie doesn’t notice them at first — the little droplets of water he’s too used to from living in Forks, rain that might let up for a little while in July but comes back every time, like something he can count on if nothing else in this world.

They land on his jacket, on his badges, on his nametag — C. Swan in yellow lettering — on the black strands of his hair. One by one, they seep in, quickly forgotten, followed by more until the windshield wipers on his police cruiser push away the onslaught of rain that’s inevitable at this time of year, on a foggy, hazy October evening when the headlights of the car light the way to his house, and he’s already drenched when he makes his way inside and changes out of his uniform.

They land on the thick flannel of a jacket that always hangs in his hallway, the house empty when he locks the door behind him and runs to his truck. The rain gets on his jeans, on his hair, it gets on the Mariners sweater underneath his jacket. The lettering across his chest reveals itself when he takes off the flannel and hangs it over the back of the chair he sits down on, nodding towards his friend at the bar. 

His eyes scan the room from corner to corner, lazily combing through the other patrons of the bar until he spots you and you lock eyes. And you’re frozen, your friends’ voices becoming a buzzing murmur next to you as you try not to move, try not to startle the man whose attention you’ve pathetically yearned for, for so long, longer than you’ll ever admit to the girls at your table, or even to yourself. 

You have it now, for a moment that stretches like a ring in your ear, long enough for your lips to part, for you to swallow tightly around the fizzy, sweet sip in your mouth, to lick the drop that slides down your bottom lip. His gaze is as intense as it is dark, piercing through the crowd of people in a small bar in a place that nobody can place on a map, where you think it must just be a hallucination or that he’s looking at someone behind you. 

But behind you is a window, and behind the window is nothing but a cover of trees, and his eyes flash open for a split second before they narrow, then trace down, only a quick glance at your torso before they slide back up. He clears his throat, swallows, and averts his eyes, attention caught by the beer set down in front of him. He nods and says something, then takes a sip, a little hastily, inhaling deeply before he leans back. 

And then, there is nothing to do but to look and to wait. 

Nothing to do but wait until he begins to feel those drops of attention, of glances and gazes from your end of the room. He’s not chief Swan under this roof — he’s Charlie, he’s a man in his early forties, he’s a single dad whose daughter came to stay with him recently. He’s a man with dark eyes and dark eyebrows, with a thick mustache and a gorgeous smile you know he hides. Maybe it’s rude to spy, but you’ve had no other real option — a chronically good girl from the start, never acknowledged by any of the Forks PD officers, scurrying away from house parties at the first flash of a blue light, out through the yard and home to your parents’ house. 

You haven’t gotten any attention from him since returning to your hometown either, coming back after nearly a decade away, still a goody two shoes through and through who doesn’t leave the house after darkness settles in the streets. So all you have is random encounters, one-sided as they’ve all been, random sightings in bars and across the street, at a restaurant next to his daughter. And he’s always quiet, always observing his environment without interaction. 

Until now, when it all seems to shatter in an instant, and his usual, calm demeanor is replaced by something flustered, maybe even nervous if you dare to think so. He takes to laughter a little too quickly, he smiles too much, nods along too enthusiastically when Billy speaks to him on his left.  

You can’t hear anything, regretfully — the rain drums on the window beside you and slides down to obscure the view of the forest that the bar is situated on the outskirts of. Your friends talk about something, something about nothing about guys or work or God knows what it is this time. Your elbows rest on the table and the top of a plastic straw sits between your lips as you slowly sip your drink. 

Sometimes he looks over, following the same routine every time as the hour passes; a lull in the conversation, a polite smile, his eyes sliding down to the table, a glance up, and then his head turning slightly, eyes shifting in your direction until they meet yours and he quickly dodges the attention, straightening his back and clearing his throat. 

Once, and only once, he lingers. 

He lets his eyes narrow, focusing on you while you pretend to look away. And he shouldn’t fall for little tricks like this, silly little girl tricks meant to dupe men much younger and dumber than himself, but he’s only a man, isn’t he? 

So it shouldn’t be surprising that, when his friends excuse themselves to go outside for a smoke or to the bar for another round, he leans back and remains seated. And there is no other time but the present, so without excusing yourself, you suck down the rest of your drink, let the bottom of the glass slam against the tabletop, stand up and walk over to him. 

You take a seat across from him and hold out your hand, your name the first thing out of your mouth and a firm handshake given when he reaches out. 

“Charlie,” he says, and the nervousness you saw earlier must be nothing but an illusion. 

“Charlie,” you repeat, a little softer and a little sweeter, “How’s your night going?” 

“It’s alright.” God, he’s dry. If you were drunk, you’d make a joke about how wet it makes you. “And yours?” he asks. 

“Pretty good. Better now.” 

He breathes a laugh and looks around, presumably trying to figure out where you came from, but there are no answers in a bar full of people looking the other way. 

“Haven’t seen you around,” he says, “Are you from out of town?” 

“Nope, from here. I was gone for, say, eight years getting my degrees, though.”

“Oh?” he raises an eyebrow, and you indulge him for a little while, answering questions you can’t tell if he’s asking as a father or a man, questions that come from the same place anyway, things he’d ask a young lady as you bet he’d say, to make small talk when he’s forced to. 

It’s not very interesting, but you can’t scare him off either, can’t plop down into his lap and touch his hair and beg for it. It’s a slow process with a man like him, one that takes patience, and little droplets of attention, a splash of flirting here and there, every question back and forth, about school and work and yada yada smalltown shit. It’s like the raindrops seeping into the fabric of his jacket, unnoticeable until it reaches his skin and he’s soaked, a humidity that clings to him, and fog he disappears in. 

You glance up at the door and see his friends at a different table. 

Time ticks by, and Charlie is dry as ever, regardless of how pathetically you try to squeeze your chest together and lean onto the table between you, regardless of how you try to nudge him with the glossy, heeled boot on your foot. He doesn’t budge, he might offer you a smile in response to a fun story but it’s not getting you anywhere. 

It’s time to be aggressive, and when there’s a lull between you, when the bar is still buzzing with chit chat and the lights are still low, you pounce. 

“Are you seeing anyone these days?” you ask. 

The man looks like he wants to laugh. “Uh—” he clears his throat, “No, not right now.”

“Interesting,” you purr, tilting your head to the side and flashing him a smile. “Best news I’ve gotten all day.”

He huffs. “You’re a little young, aren’t you?” he asks, and it isn’t with a scowl but it’s something of the sort, a narrowing of his eyes and a dryness to his voice. It’s no better than a scowl anyway, his skepticism like a concrete wall between the two of you under the dim lights of the bar, and Charlie is stuck with you, just where you want him. 

So you shrug one shoulder and smile, pushing your lips together before they separate, and his eyes are on them so fast that it’s not even funny. “I wouldn’t say so,” you say as you shake your head. 

He almost seems humored, huffing a laugh as he looks around the room and shakes his head. “What about your friends?” he asks, “They don’t miss ya?” 

“Probably not,” you whisper, scrunching your nose at him. “Does it look like they do?” 

You nod towards the table by the windows and his eyes follow, a quick look over at a group of girls all leaning in towards each other in conversation. 

“Guess not,” he says, in the same flat tone of voice. 

He clears his throat again, and his rejection is imminent, you think, so you try again, one last time. 

“You’re very handsome, Charlie.” Your chin rests on your knuckles, head tilted, eyes sweeping over his face like you have nothing to lose, and he might be able to hide his thoughts, but he can’t hide his fluster. 

“Thanks,” he mutters and averts his eyes, looking at nothing in the corner of the room. “You’re not, uh—” He looks up and spins his mostly-empty glass around, “Not too bad yourself.” 

It’s a little bit like pulling teeth. 

“Thank you,” you say, then chew on the inside of your cheek while you try to think up a way to get him out of where he’s stuck, unwilling to make a move. “Could you— could you give me a ride home?”

He rolls his eyes and nods, downing the last of his beer, and he absolutely thinks he has you figured out. His expression seems to default to a scowl, and it’s only then that you realize how cheerful he looked a moment ago. “Alright,” he groans, then mutters something under his breath while he grabs his jacket. “Let’s go.” 

“Thank you, officer,” you beam, jumping up and following him through the bar, heading towards the exit. 

He opens the door and lifts up his jacket to hold it above you, shielding you from the onslaught of rain pouring down when you step away from the awning outside the bar. Golden light shines out from the stained glass window in the door, bathing him in it as he waits for you to take the step you don’t take. 

“I don’t actually need a ride home,” you admit shyly, looking up at him, “I’m just messing with you.” 

He blinks a few times and his eyes shift around as he breathes. “Alright, why did you get me out here then?” 

A laugh breaks out of you as you ask, “It’s not obvious?”

His brows pull together and he begins to shake his head when you roll your eyes, grab the back of his neck and pull him into a kiss. And it could be a mistake, but it doesn’t quite feel like it when his hand finds your hip and he pulls you a little closer, reciprocating the kiss and carefully giving you his tongue. 

He pulls back quickly, looking side to side, “Let’s—” 

“Your truck?”

“Sure, yeah,” he mumbles, and you hurry towards the only red vehicle at the far end of the lot, with Charlie on your heels and the rain beating down on his jacket above you, on his hair and his shoulders, soaking him by the time he steps in front of you and pulls open the passenger door. 

He barely gets inside before you grab the collar of his sweater and pull him in, spit smearing and groans swallowed as you climb onto his lap. He’s hard already, you can feel the thick of his zipper pushing up between your legs, before he even gets his hands on the bunched up fabric of your skirt piled onto your hips, kissing you again. And he lets his palms slide down over it, onto your ass, giving you a tentative squeeze with firm hands, while he grows thicker, harder, little grunts slipping out of him when you roll your hips over that firm bulk, every pass over it smearing wetness into your panties.

Until it’s too much, and the truck is too hot, too humid. You throw off your jacket, toss it into the passenger seat and pull away from him, climbing back into your seat, only on your knees, and begin to work at his belt.

You feel a hand at your shoulder, pushing gently. “You don’t—” he inhales deeply as he shakes his head, “You don’t have to do—” 

Your hands pause at the top of his pants and you peer up at him with a pout. “But I want to,” you say, “Can I?” 

His head hits the back of his seat with a sigh, his eyes closing as he breathes in again and nods. “Yeah,” he whispers, “Yeah.”

He helps you with his belt then, undoing it with unsteady hands and lifting his hips when you pull the bunch of his pants and boxers down to reveal his cock, to see the thick length of it, the hair at his base and below his navel. You take it into your hand before he has the chance to say much of anything, and you feel his hand at the back of your neck, brushing your hair away — nothing obstructing his view as you drag the flat of your tongue up his shaft, all the way up to the tip where a bead of precome spills onto your lips. 

He groans then, pushes down the top of his pants a little more and lets you take him into your mouth, his cockhead sliding into the back of your throat while he curses under his breath. Your spit smears over his crown and runs down his length, into the curve of your hand to let you stroke him, and every lick, every pull of your lips, makes him sigh and groan, makes more of his precome seep out onto your tongue for you to taste it, for you to swallow and let the soft wet of your mouth massage him. 

And you think it must have been a while, because you suck and stroke his cock slowly for only a little while before he begins to mumble. “I’m getting, uh— I’m pretty close,” he says, and you pull off of him, still slipping your hand up and down his wet cock while you raise up and kiss the side of his neck. 

He groans then too, grimacing a little. 

“You want to fuck me, Charlie?” you purr, “You want me to ride you?”

He huffs a laugh like he’s surprised. “I don’t have any condoms on me,” he says, his voice flat and dry as it ever was, but a little deeper, raspier, rougher-edged. 

“You could just pull out?” you suggest, licking a stripe up his neck just to feel the goosebumps chasing your tongue on his skin, “I could just swallow it instead.” 

“Jesus,” he breathes, “Yeah... Alright.” 

You pull off one boot and begin to yank at the waistband of your leggings, but he pats his thigh and pulls you back onto his lap. 

“Let me,” he says, pushing his thumb under the soft fabric and the strap of your panties, pulling them down over your leg, only bothering with one and not the other, while the rain hammers down on the windshield and it’s silent for a moment, his hands steady and his gaze focused. His cock is still hard too, heavy as it lays against his stomach. 

You stabilize above him, hovering over where he grabs the root of himself and glides his tip through your folds until he reaches your opening. 

“Down,” he says, and you do as he tells you to, sinking onto his cock with a deep breath, pressing your lips to his so that your sigh is shared, letting the whole thing split you open, taking more and more until your hips are flush with his and he grunts, his cock pulses, you lean back and carefully lift up, then roll back down, slowly riding him, half kissing, half panting into him. 

It’s all slow, deep, squeezing around him, letting him slide out until only his tip stays within, and then taking him back inside and he pushes into your cervix, sure to leave you sore tomorrow. Everything is wet between you, smeared warm and sticky over your inner thighs, his groin, dripping down his shaft and over his balls, soaking into the top of his jeans. 

His cock pushes into the most sensitive, soft part inside of you, over and over, rubbing over it while you reach down to massage your clit, still swapping spit like you’re teenagers and he doesn’t have a decade on you. He twitches inside when you moan for him, groans low and rough when you begin to come and you ride him a little harder, faster.

He grabs your ass, lifts you just enough to get leverage, and starts to fuck you, pushing his face into the side of your neck and grunting into your skin, hot and sweaty at the roots of his hair when your run your fingers through it, trying to find something to hold onto, to stabilize when he hits just the right spot and you feel seconds away from unraveling. And the truck must be shaking, the sounds of your moans are only stifled by the sound of the rain tapping on the roof and sliding down the windows, the dark surroundings of a wet parking lot, the two of you tucked away at the very back while you feel every inch of him filling you, rubbing you, making you come once more. 

Until he grunts a little louder, until he pants, “Fuck, I’m about to come—”

You let your orgasm wane with a few slow rolls, savoring them, so few drags of his length inside that you can count them on one hand, and you lift off, climb over on shaking legs, sticking your bare ass up towards the foggy window and slip his wet cock into your mouth. A firm hand around his base, your tongue licking over his head, you suck him until his breath stutters and he releases hot spurts of come that you swallow while you stroke and tease and take every drop he gives you. 

He’s quiet after that, a careful hand on your back while you lick up the last smears of his orgasm and lay your cheek on his thigh, looking up at him. 

“Did you like it?” you ask. 

“Of course I liked it. Did you like it?” 

“Yeah.” 

He looks out of the window, his cock softening against him while he runs a hand over your hair. “Let me take you to dinner or something,” he says after a minute, “Make me feel less… I don’t know, sleazy?” 

You bite your lip and smile. "Will you drive me home after?”

He rolls his eyes and takes in a deep breath, catching your gaze with a smirk on his lips and something a little softer in his expression. "I was gonna do that anyway."

[drowning-in-paragraphs]

hii! could you write a fic where you and kids are at the club with friends and some guy is bothering you and jude steps in being all protective🤭

maybe some of the other boys like trent can be there too helping the reader out!

a/n: there you go! I didn't know what you meant by kids and I think I wrote something different, but I hope you like it! (I don't know why, but I really enjoyed writing this story)

SAVIOR

jude bellingham x reader

warnings: a creepy man who makes unwanted touching and may contain some mistakes.

summary: A fun night out with friends takes an unsettling turn when a drunk man repeatedly tries to approach you. But don't worry—Jude and your friends step in to ensure you're safe and sound.

The neon lights of the club pulsed rhythmically, casting a wash of color over the buzzing crowd. You were tucked into a plush VIP booth with the England squad, or at least part of, celebrating after a week of intense matches. The night had been perfect so far—filled with laughter, dancing, and a few too many drinks passed around. The music was loud, but the familiar rhythm had everyone swaying, lost in the moment.

You glanced around the table, a smile tugging at your lips as you watched your friends enjoying themselves. Jude Bellingham was seated across from you, his signature playful grin never far from his face as he bantered with Trent Alexander-Arnold, who was lounging next to him with his drink in hand. Next to you, Bukayo Saka was trying to pull Tolami Benson, his girlfriend, onto the dance floor, but she was having none of it, shaking her head and laughing at his enthusiasm.

You had been friends with these guys for what felt like forever. You met them through Trent, whom you had known since you were little. They always made you feel like part of the crew—especially Jude. There had always been something a little different with him, though neither of you had ever talked about it. There was an unspoken closeness between you two, a connection that felt deeper than friendship, though it remained undefined. Tonight was no different; his gaze would occasionally flicker to you through the crowd, and whenever it did, your heart would skip just a bit faster.

“Come on, dance with me!” Bukayo was still pleading with Tolami, tugging at her arm while she shot you a look of mock desperation.

“Help me out here,” Tolami leaned into you, her dark eyes sparkling with amusement. “Can you tell him he needs to stop embarrassing himself?”

You chuckled, leaning back in the booth, your drink cool in your hand. “You might as well give in. Your man’s relentless.”

“No chance,” Tolami replied, shaking her head firmly, but her grin betrayed her affection for Saka. She finally relented and stood, leading him onto the dance floor as he grinned triumphantly and you laughed loudly over the music.

Everything was perfect, and the night was exactly what you needed—a break from life’s stresses, surrounded by people who made you feel at home.

You leaned forward, your elbow resting on the sleek table as you took another sip of your drink, enjoying the fizzy, sweet burn on your tongue. Trent was next to you, casually talking, but your focus kept slipping, drifting to Jude seated across from you. Every now and then, his knee would brush against yours under the table, just enough to make you wonder if it was on purpose. Each time, he’d flash you that familiar grin, the one that always seemed to say more than his words ever did.

That beautiful grin softened, and he raised his glass in your direction, a silent toast, though the meaning felt deeper. You smiled back, a little more knowingly this time, wondering if he felt the same unspoken bond that lingered between the two of you. Trent interrupted your thoughts, nudging Jude’s arm, clearly telling some joke that you couldn't hear over the music but that made Jude throw his head back in laughter.

However, the looks you gave the Real Madrid player, made Trent aware of the tension, because after a while, his eyes flicked between the two of you, amusement tugging at his lips. He smirked, raising his drink. “You know, I think I’ll hit the dance floor—gotta show these amateurs how it’s done.”

He winked, pushing himself off the booth, giving you a knowing look before heading toward the thrumming mass of bodies. You laughed, watching him go, but the air between you and Jude immediately shifted once Trent was gone.

Jude leaned in slightly, his shoulder brushing against yours, his voice a little lower than before. “Tolami is going to hate us when she sees herself in the middle of Trents and Bukayos dance moves. Maybe we should go…”

You smirked, rolling your eyes at him. “Maybe we should later. Can’t a girl have a peaceful night?”

Jude chuckled, his arm resting casually along the back of the booth, fingers brushing the side of your shoulder. The simple contact sent a jolt of electricity through you, and you couldn’t help but glance at him. His eyes locked onto yours, lingering for a second too long. There was that look again—the one that made your heart race, the one that always hinted at more than either of you ever said.

“Peaceful?” Jude leaned in, his voice smooth and low, the kind that sent shivers down your spine. “You? I don’t believe it.”

You laughed softly, raising a brow at him. “Perhaps you’re just not paying attention.”

“Oh, I’m paying attention,” he said with a smirk, his hand subtly grazing your arm, playful but enough to send a ripple of excitement through you.

But your good mood faltered when you felt it again. That strange sense of being watched, of someone’s gaze—not Jude’s—looking at you. You glanced over your shoulder, and there he was—the same guy who had tried to approach you earlier in the night. He was standing by the bar now, staring at you. You had brushed him off twice already, but it seemed like he wasn’t getting the hint.

“Earth to Y/N…?” Jude brought you back to the conversation, his breath warm against your cheek.

You laughed, but the way the man stared made you feel unsettled. Without missing a beat, you forced a smile to hide your discomfort. “You were right, let’s dance,” you said suddenly, standing up and grabbing his hand.

Jude’s brows raised, surprised but pleased as he followed you onto the crowded dance floor, his grip tightening slightly as if sensing your shift in mood. You didn’t look back toward the bar, instead focusing on the music, the flashing lights, and Jude, who was now right in front of you, close enough to chase away any lingering unease.

The music pulsed through the dance floor, a heavy beat vibrating in your chest as you and Jude found a rhythm together. His hands rested on your waist, fingers lightly pressing into the fabric of your dress, guiding you closer with each step. You could feel his breath against your neck, his movements smooth, matching yours effortlessly. Every subtle touch, every brush of his hand sent warmth rippling through you, and you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips as you let yourself get lost in the moment.

Around you, Bukayo was spinning Tolami in a playful circle, both of them laughing as Trent danced nearby, his usual smooth moves showing off. It was a perfect, carefree moment shared with your friends, yet your earlier unease still nagged at the back of your mind.

As Jude leaned in to whisper something teasing, his lips dangerously close to your ear, your eyes caught movement near the bar.

The man’s presence unsettled you, and his persistent attention kept your nerves on high alert. You tried to brush it off, focusing on enjoying yourself and ignoring him. But each time you glanced away, there he was—eyes locked on you. His gaze followed your every move, every part of your body, a silent weight that sent chills racing down your spine, the kind that only faded after another sip of your overly sweet drink.

Rolling your eyes, you turned back to your friends, trying to shake off the unease creeping up your spine. Maybe he’d finally give up and move on, you hoped. But even as you laughed along with the others, you couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that he was still there, hovering just out of sight.

Trying not to draw attention, you leaned over to Tolami when she passed by you, her hand brushing yours as you quickly whispered, “That guy from earlier—he’s still watching me.”

Tolami’s smile faltered slightly as she shot a glance toward the bar, immediately spotting him. Her expression tightened, protective and concerned.

“Want me to deal with that git?”

You smiled at her fierce loyalty, even though part of you felt bad for involving her. “Nah, I think he’ll get bored eventually.”

Tolami didn’t look convinced, but she nodded, squeezing your hand reassuringly before returning to Bukayo. You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the feeling. Jude’s hand slid around your waist again, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin, pulling your focus back to him. He didn’t seem to have noticed what was happening.

As the night carried on, you found it harder to stay focused on the music and laughter around you. Your gaze kept darting toward the bar, each time hoping the man had moved on, but he hadn’t. He was still there, staring, an unsettling smile playing on his lips that disappeared when he took another sip of his drink. Despite your efforts to shake off the discomfort, the weight of his deep eyes made it impossible to fully enjoy the moment.

Jude’s strong arm remained securely around your waist as you danced, his touch gentle, comforting. Yet, he seemed to sense something was off, his eyes flicking to your face, a crease forming between his brows. Without saying a word, he glanced toward Trent, tilting his head slightly in your direction. Trent caught the gesture, raising an eyebrow as if to say, what’s up?

Jude mouthed, “She’s off,” while giving a subtle nod toward you.

Trent’s eyes narrowed with concern as he looked between the two of you, clearly picking up on Jude’s silent observation. He didn’t say anything, but his lips pressed into a thin line, like he was filing away the information for later.

The persistent feeling of being watched gnawed at you, and despite the music thumping in your ears, that man’s smile kept cutting through the sound. It was unnerving, and even though Jude’s presence was reassuring, it wasn’t enough to push the discomfort away.

After a while, Trent, Jude, and Bukayo decided they had enough of the dance floor, pulling away to head back to the plush VIP booth. Jude shot you a glance as if silently asking if you were okay to stay, but you gave him a nod and a forced smile, not wanting to ruin the vibe for anyone else.

“Come on, Tolami, let’s stay a bit longer,” you said lightly, holding onto her hand. She smiled and agreed, both of you swaying to the beat as the boys returned to the reserved area. It was nice to have a moment with her, and for a second, you managed to relax.

But the moment was short-lived.

The man saw his chance. With the boys no longer close by, he pushed off from the bar and began walking toward you. His eyes never left yours, that unsettling smile still fixed on his face. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end as he approached, weaving through the crowd with a clear, unwelcome intent.

The man moved closer, his steps slow and deliberate as he navigated the crowded dance floor. Your heart raced, your body instinctively tensing as he approached. Tolami was by your side, but you felt exposed without the group nearby. You exchanged a quick, uneasy glance with her, and her smile immediately faltered as she caught sight of the guy coming toward you.

Before you could react, he was standing right in front of you, much closer than he had any right to be. His presence was invasive, and the smell of alcohol clung to his breath as he leaned in, brushing against your shoulder. His hand grazed your arm, sending a wave of disgust through you.

“I told you earlier,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the nerves twisting in your stomach. “I don’t want a drink. I don’t want anything from you.”

He ignored your words, a sleazy grin spreading across his face. “Come on, don’t be like that. Just one dance,” he slurred, his hand lingering on your arm as he moved closer, his body pressing against yours.

Tolami stepped in quickly, trying to push him away. “She said no, git. Get lost,” she demanded, her tone firm but her smaller frame struggling against his weight. The guy didn’t budge, his attention entirely focused on you, his hand gripping your waist now, tighter than you wanted.

“Get off me,” you said, panic rising in your voice as you tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened. Tolami tried again, pushing harder against him, but he swatted her arm away with a dismissive laugh.

Fear surged in your chest as you looked around for help, the crowd oblivious to what was happening. It felt like everything slowed down in that moment—until you caught a glimpse of someone moving quickly through the mass of people.

Jude.

At first, he was calm, trying not to make a scene, his presence almost casual as he slid between you and the man, his signature grin in place, though there was a dangerous edge to his voice. He took the guy´s hand out of your waist before he said, “Mate, she’s not interested. No need to ruin a good night.”

The man glared at Jude, clearly not willing to give up, his smile turning into an annoyed grin. “Relax, dude. We’re just having a little fun. Why don’t you go find a girl for yourself? This one’s already taken.”

He grabbed your arm again, and squeezed possessively, making you whimper.

And that’s when Jude’s demeanor shifted entirely.

His polite tone dropped, replaced by something cold and unyielding. His eyes hardened, his jaw clenched as he took a step closer, his voice low and dangerous. “Let go of her. Now.”

For a moment, the man hesitated, sensing the change in Jude’s energy. But when he still didn’t back down, Jude’s temper flared. “I’m not gonna say it again, you fucking idiot. Let. Her. Go.”

By then, Bukayo and Trent had noticed the situation, quickly making their way over. Bukayo’s face was tight with anger, and Trent didn’t bother hiding his irritation either. They flanked Jude, their presence a clear warning. Tolami moved beside you, standing protectively in front as Jude glared down the man who still hadn’t released you.

The guy’s eyes flicked between the group, realizing he was outnumbered and had no chance of winning this. His grip on your arm finally loosened, and he took a step back, muttering something under his breath. Jude didn’t take his eyes off him.

"Walk away," Trent said, his voice cold. "Now."

The man faltered, his cocky demeanor faded as he looked around, clearly second-guessing his decision to push his luck.

But Jude had already ran out of patience. He stepped closer, his eyes locked on the man, and when he spoke again, his voice was dangerous. “I’m not going to ask again. Get the fuck out of here, or we’ll make you.”

That did it.

The man’s bravado crumbled under the combined weight of their stares, and he finally took a step back, muttering something under his breath as he retreated into the crowd. You watched as he disappeared into the sea of people, the tension in your chest finally easing.

Jude turned to you immediately, his expression softening as he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You alright?” he asked, his voice gentle now, the anger from moments ago completely gone.

You nodded, though your heart was still racing. “Yeah… thanks. I didn’t think he’d actually… you know.”

Jude’s hand slid down to your back, pulling you into a reassuring side hug and kissed your temple. “I’ve got you.”

Tolami gave you a tight smile, clearly relieved the situation hadn’t escalated further. “That guy was a total creep. You alright?”

“Yes, now I am, thank you guys,” you said, though the lingering unease hadn’t quite left. You glanced around the group, grateful for their support. Bukayo gave you a small nod, his arms crossed but his expression soft, and Trent offered a light pat on your back, his usual teasing grin reappearing as the tension faded.

“Guess that’s one way to end the night,” Trent joked, though his eyes still held concern.

Jude kept you close as the group slowly made their way back to the VIP booth, his arm still around you as if he wasn’t willing to let go just yet. The warmth of his presence, the security of having him there, chased away the last traces of fear.

As you settled back into the booth, Jude leaned in, his voice soft and only for you. “Next time, just say the word, and I’ll deal with it sooner.”

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling with gratitude. “I know. Thanks, Jude. Really.”

[papaya-twinks]

Frankie, my dear

Could you please write a fic of Lando and reader where Lando is at home on vacation or day off, wearing just sweatpants (yes, no underwear) and that drives the reader crazy (the way his member is marked on his pants)

Obviously Lando notices and provokes the reader by asking her to grind him dressed

Warnings: smut, 18+, thigh riding, hand job

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fem!reader

Today was Monday, the Grand Prix had ended with vivid celebrations into the night, and you awoke, seeing the empty spot in the bed beside you. You mumbled something incoherent to yourself, realising Lando was probably downstairs as you stood up to change. You settled on one of Lando’s hoodies and a white tennis skirt, tying your hair up and walking down the stairs. 

“Hey baby,” Lando said, sitting on the sofa, his legs parted slightly, scrolling through his phone. He was shirtless as he usually was when he couldn’t be bothered after partying, wearing nothing but grey joggers. And when you said ‘nothing but’, you meant nothing nothing. As in just joggers. No boxers. Nothing. 

“Morning,” you grinned, diverting your gaze from the painfully obvious shape of his member. You moved to place one band over his chin, moving round the back of the sofa to press a delicate kiss to his lips. “Just Gonny chill today, yeah?” he asked, his hand still enveloping yours. 

You nodded, moving to stand back up straight. “Just gonna get some snacks,” you pressed another kiss to his jaw as he hummed, picking the remote up to put on some random show. You returned with a few bowls balanced on your arms and hands - crisps, sweets, fruit and more, with two bottles of fizzy drink in your arms. 

“Mmm, love you,” Lando mumbled, helping take a few bowls and placing them on the table in front of the sofa, putting the drinks down. “Love you too,” you grinned as he pressed a kiss to your cheek, pulling you onto his lap. You were now painfully, aware of his dick, though not hard, beneath you, the way it was outlined underneath his joggers doing things to you. 

“You good?” Lando raised a brow at your expression, “you keep wriggling an pulling faces,” he pushed a slice of apple to your lips as you scrunched your nose. “Mm fine,” you said, shrugging and taking a bite of the slice. “Alright you muppet,” he said, “watch the show,”. You did what he said, trying to fill your mind with other thoughts, the very feel of his dick beneath you sending your brain to filthy places. 

“You even watching?” Lando asked, seeing your dazed expression. “Yeah,” you lied coolly, though Lando saw right through it. “Yeah yeah, don’t give me that,” he said, his lips tugging into a smirk at the way your gaze fell to his lap ever few seconds. “Eyes up here, love,” he said, tapping your cheek softly as you blushed furiously.

“Too cold to strip,” he mumbled, catching onto your desires as you blushed, the heat of your core very nearly painful. “Get off on my thigh, Y/N,” Lando grinned, his usual lopsided grin, “do it yourself,”. You inhaled sharply, moving onto his left thigh as he watched the show over your shoulder. 

It wasn’t to say the lack of attention he gave you wasn’t annoying, but in reality, he wasn’t even watching, his brain focused on your wriggling as you rode your skirt up. You moved your body, grinding onto his thigh for a few seconds as your jaw dropped, your eyes wide at the feeling. It was good, not as good as having his dick in you, but you could feel his dick slowly begin to harden as you moved your panties out the way, grinding faster. 

Your moans were unfiltered and dirty, your eyes rolling at the feeling as Lando grunted. “Fuck, Y/N,” he said, going back on his words of not removing his clothes and pulling his joggers down, his cock springing against your thigh. “No going in,” he said warningly as your hand wrapped round his length, your hands bobbing in time with each grind against his thigh. 

His thigh became slick with each movement, your core sliding easily along him as he gasped, his hand coming to your hair. “Fuck, Y/N,” Lando hissed, pushing his hand onto your core, your jaw dropping as he rubbed your clit softly, before pulling back and allowing you to resume your grinding. 

He used the slickness of your juices to coat his dick, mixed with his pre-cum, your hand sliding up and down his length easier. You felt yourself orgasm as your body shook slightly on his thigh, his own cum spilling into your hand as you squeezed his length. “Fuck, Y/N,” he gasped, his eyes still on the show behind you.

 “The dude just died, what the fuck?” he muttered, his eyes on the scene as you snorted - Lando was acting as if hadn’t just bust on your hand. 

[fizzigigsimmer]

To B, With Love: 32

Moodboard by @prettyboylikeyousteve

Genre: A/B/O Mail Order Bride Au!

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Harringrove

Summary: Steve, a society omega, puts out an add in the paper looking for an alpha among the lonely hearts expanding the west. He’s answered by Billy, a lonely cowboy living in a growing settlement in California rich in just about everything but available omegas. He seems like the perfect choice, but there’s one problem. It’s not Billy who has been writing Steve but his little sister Max, who is determined to find a good match for him. The real Billy is the single most rude and uncouth creature to ever walk the planet and there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, on God’s green earth that could ever convince Steve to marry him.

The blissful ignorance of Steve & Billy's bonding retreat comes to a close while back home the kids decide it's time to take on a new adventure.

[fizziepopangel]

Hi, I was searching for a huskerdust angsty fic... I read the one you wrote, called "ain't the romantic type". I was searching for the part 2, but I could't find any. Do you plan on writing a second part? (Sorry if you already wrote it or if you already answered the question)☆

Hey! I am so sorry for the delay, my health has been up and down lately so I've mostly been working on headcanons and reblogging others posts since they're a little easier when my brain is kinda foggy, but here is part 2! Though this was mean to be a two part fic, it will enf up being three😅Part 3 will be the final installation, and it should be up in a much more timely manner!

For anyone who missed it, you can read part 1 here

"Ain't the Romantic Type" Pt2

“What’s going on?” Vaggie asked, her face set in a hard stare as she clutched her spear, ready

for a fight the second she burst through the door. “We heard yelling.”

Charlie came in behind her girlfriend, her horns on full display and her eyes red as she prepared to face whatever threat was in her hotel…. But it all faded when she saw the scene in front of her. Angel, sobbing and trembling on the ground and Husk standing over him….

Charlie pushed past her girlfriend, dropping to her knees beside Angel and immediately trying to comfort the spider demon. “Oh! Angel!” 

Vaggie’s eyes scanned the room one last time before she finally let herself lower her spear. She looked between where her other half sat on the ground attempting to calm their friend, and where Husk stood in front of them, Fat Nuggets still stood between him and where his boyfriend sat in a sobbing mess…. Her mouth hung open after a moment of staring at what they had walked into. “Did you… hit him?”

Husk’s head snapped in her direction, his mouth falling open. He knew he wasn’t the best man; he was in hell after all, but he wasn’t that type of man. The words stuck in his throat as he tried to find something, anything, to say to tell her that it was just a misunderstanding and that he would never…..

“Vaggie!” Charlie scolded, cutting off the hell cat’s thoughts. “Husk would never…. Right?”

Husk’s heart nearly stopped when Charlie’s confident tone turned questioning as she looked up at him. He looked at the princess, his boyfriend curled up in her arms sobbing and clinging to her as if she were his lifeline; as if he needed her to protect him.

“I…” Husk felt bile rising in his throat as tears began to blur the edges of his vision. He wanted so badly to defend himself, defend the situation… But before he could say anything, his body was moving. He was on autopilot and suddenly he had shoved past Vaggie and was halfway down the hall, ignoring the shouts coming from behind him as his hand outstretched for his door.

The door slammed shut behind him and he shot to his bathroom just in time to empty the meager contents of his stomach into the sink. 

As he wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his nice jacket, he caught a glimpse of himself in the broken mirror and the tears that had once blurred just the edges of his vision suddenly began to pour over. His shattered reflection looked pathetic.

“Fuck.” He grumbled, staring at the man in the mirror and wondering how everything had gone so wrong, wondering why he had even tried. 

“Fuck!” With one swipe, Husk sent everything from his bathroom counter crashing to the floor…. But it didn’t make him feel any better… It didn’t change anything that happened; didn’t change the way Charlie and Vaggie had assumed he’d hit Angel, didn’t change the way his boyfriend looked at him….

A hand flew to his mouth as he tried to muffle the end of the almost primal sob that tore out of him as he sank to his knees in front of the bathroom counter. He was trembling, his heart raced, his world seemed to be crumbling and the old demon wasn’t sure he could take it this time.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump, but he couldn’t bring himself to move from where he sat on the floor or even turn to face whoever was touching him as the tears fell down his cheeks. He felt the space beside him empty for a few moments before he felt someone place a bottle of whiskey in his hand. Though he still couldn’t bring himself to look at whoever was there, he took it and took a long swig before leaning his head back against the wall and just letting the tears fall.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there before the words came to him. “I didn’t hit him.” He muttered, his voice still thick with emotions he had wanted to keep contained. “I… I didn’t…”

“I know.” Husk looked up with tired, red eyes, finding an unusually calm and quiet Niffty standing at his side with an innocent, worried expression. “You’re not like the bad people. You don’t hurt the people you love… And you love Angel.”

His breath caught in his throat as he nodded. “Yeah…” Before he could say anything more, he felt the smaller demon wrap her arms around him, and although he had never been one for hugs or any of that touchy feely crap, he sank into the gentle hug, unable to keep himself from breaking again.

The Next Morning

Angel woke up in Charlie and Vaggie’s room, still wearing the clothes he came home from the studio in, Fat Nuggets snoring softly beside him. The spider demon sat up slowly, his body still feeling the aftermath of the night before, and his head was killing him after all the crying he had done… His heart sank as the events of the past 24 hours came flooding back.

“Ah fuck.” He sighed, his head falling into his hands. A fresh round of tears threatened to spill as he tried to take a deep breath, flashes of Husk’s face playing in his mind on loop. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” 

A soft oink pulls him from his thoughts as Fat Nuggets bumped his snout against his owner’s arm. Angel looked down to see the little pig staring up at him with a worried expression. Angel sighs, shaking his head a bit and running a hand down his face. “I’m ok, Nuggs….”

Angel felt a few tears slide down his cheeks as he looked at his sweet little friend. “I-Ijust… i think I fucked up.” He sniffled as the pig climbed into his lap. “I fucked up…. God, I fucked up. Fuck!” 

After a few moments of wrestling with the tears, Angel managed to swallow them and put on his usual mask before getting out of bed and grabbing Fat Nuggets before making his way out the door. 

Fat Nuggets didn’t question where he was being taken, though part of him worried as he watched his owner walk down the corridor and pass their room completely…. Although the pig hoped they would go to Husk’s room, a place his owner always seemed to smile and laugh, his worry grew as they approached the end of the hall and Angel set him down, staring at the air conditioning vent intently. He watched his beloved owner wrestle with the idea for a moment before reaching up and popping the vent open.

“Come on, Nuggs.” The spider demon said quietly as he pulled a small, powder filled baggie and tucked it into the inner pocket of his jacket.

Fat Nuggets followed behind him, memories of the last time his friend brought one of those little bags home flooding his memories. The little creature wasn’t quite sure what it was, but he knew that whenever he brought one home, the owner he loved was…. different somehow. He didn’t like it.

As the pair reached the door to their room, Angel hesitated as his hand hovered over the door knob. Part of him was terrified that Husk would be there. He wasn’t afraid of his boyfriend, but after what happened the night before, he worried that Husk would decide he wasn’t worth the effort; he worried that he would open the door to find the Hellcat waiting to tell him that it was over… Angel wasn’t sure he could handle that.

After a deep breath, Angel opened the door.

The room seemed… bigger somehow…. Or maybe Angel felt smaller than he normally did as he stepped inside his room. He wasn’t sure what felt so different until the smell hit him; vanilla…

Angel  looked over to the coffee table where the sweet smell wafted from the smoke of the burnt out candles, mixing in the air with the savory smell of cold steak and the lingering scent of Husk’s cologne. The events of the previous night were still so fresh in his mind as he walked over to the little dinner his boyfriend had made.

“Candles…. Steak?” Angel felt tears brimming in his eyes. “He… he really went all out… And I… I ruined it.”

Turning away, he made his way toward his bathroom, baggie in hand.

Fat Nuggets watched from the doorway as Angel took the bag and poured some of the powder out on the counter, not sure how he could help his owner at this point when his squeals and oinks fell on deaf ears.

As Angel lined up the powder, his stomach twisted. He hadn’t used in quite a while, between Charlie’s therapy and redemption training, and his relationship with Husk, he hadn’t even really thought about using in months, but he needed…. He needed something to numb his senses, something to make him forget, something to make him feel good after everything that happened last night.

Angel looked from the line he had just set up to his own reflection. He hated what the mirror showed; the deep circles beneath his red rimmed eyes, the unkempt state of his hair, the torn fishnets from work the night before. “Pathetic.” He muttered at the man looking back at him from the mirror. “You fucked this up just like you fucked everything else up.”

Looking down at the line, he sighed before his head dipped down to the counter and he inhaled deeply, the powder burning his nose as the high hit him….

[nrvcntr]

My Lover is Like

hey remember how i said i'd write that fic about tav coming from a noble background and having a riddle that someone has to answer to date her and no one ever gets it right and then years later she tells gale and he knows immediately? anyway here it is

There are certain scents that bring back memories - warm grass on a summer’s day, fresh linens placed on a bed, and of course, the sickly sticky burn of a bottle of plum fizz, shared among friends. Astarion recoiled after he sniffed the open bottle, his nose scrunched in horror.

“You can’t be serious,” He said.

“You’re being dramatic. It isn’t that bad,” You replied.

You had found a crate full of bottles on your last trek and dragged it back to the campsite, anticipating a heroic welcome at your generous haul. It was nearing sunset and it seemed as good of a time as any to see what the contents of the crate were. Upon cracking the crate open, your eyes lit up at the sight of bottles on bottles of plum fizz. This had been the drink that defined your adolescence as a noble in Baldur’s Gate. It immediately brought back memories of revelry, singing songs next to bonfires, and a young Wyll Ravengard throwing up in the street. You pulled out a bottle and handed it to Astarion, who had reacted like a man who never knew the joys of noble debauchery.

“It smells like it could raise something from the dead and then kill it again,” He said, handing the bottle back to you.

“Look, we used to drink this all the time when we were kids. It’s like a rite of passage among children of nobility in Baldur’s Gate.”

Wyll, overhearing the conversation, came over to see what you were so impassioned about. At the sight of the bottle in your hand, he recoiled like someone had just smacked him upside the head.

“No. Get that thing away!” He shouted, shaking his hands.

“Oh, stop it. I remember you used to beg to play fizzy hands when we were younger,” You said.

“Fizzy hands.” Astarion said flatly, “What sort of braindead activity is fizzy hands?”

You raised your brow to Wyll, who explained that “fizzy hands” was the beloved drinking game of your youth, where a small magical seal was applied to two bottles of plum fizz, which an individual would hold. The seal wouldn’t break until both bottles were consumed.

“Fizzy hands leads to fizzy guts, which leads to…a fizzy mess, in the street. You couldn’t pay me to take a sip of that now.” Wyll said.

You looked around the campsite and gestured to Gale, who had been beginning the preparations for dinner so intently that he hadn’t noticed the failing case you were trying to make in favor of plum fizz.

“It’s nice to know that your taste in wine is nearly as bad as your taste in men,” Astarion mused, causing you to shoot him a farcefully menacing look. Your affections for Gale were no secret, and the two of you had shared an intimate moment in the Weave, but you were unsure of your current status, or even whether he really returned your feelings. You had begun to write it off as a passing fancy, something to daydream about during long days of traveling. Though, there was no hiding how much you enjoyed being around the man, your conversations often dragging well into the night after everyone else had fallen asleep. You had never met anyone else who seemed to understand you the way that Gale did, or whose company you enjoyed nearly half as much.

“You’re a man of taste, and you’re knowledgeable about wine. Can you settle a debate for us?” You asked Gale when he walked over.

“A glass of wine sounds delightful this evening. What’s the topic of debate?” He asked.

“Astarion and Wyll may not be as cultured as you and I. Just tell them about the fine properties of this blend,” You said, trying to communicate ‘please, say this tastes good’ in your expression as you poured a glass and handed it over.

Gale swirled the glass and his eyes widened at the scent. To his credit, he took an honest sip and racked his brain for something kind to say about it. “It has notes of…berry. And cinnamon. And…” He couldn’t do it. “Acid. It tastes like it would eat a hole through a table if you spilled some on it. Do the youth of Baldur’s Gate really ingest this willingly?” He asked.

You threw your hands up.

“Poor taste, the lot of you. It cannot be helped.”

After dinner, Astarion sauntered over to you, two glasses of plum fizz in hand.

“A drink together. Sort of a truce,” He said.

You were suspicious, but took the glass in hand. The spicy, bitter, sweet, and confusing concoction ran down your throat and made your stomach feel hot. Astarion’s glass was already empty, and he poured you both another. By the time you realized that Astarion had been pouring his drinks out to get you to continue drinking, you were drunk enough to begin telling stories of your youth in Baldur’s Gate.

“So, after Wyll threw up in the street -”

“Can you please stop talking about that. I have plenty of embarrassing stories I could tell at your expense, you know. Lock.” Wyll said pointedly.

“Lock?” Shadowheart asked.

You covered your face, feeling a burning sensation creep up your cheeks.

“What none of you realize is that our beloved companion here was once the most eligible bachelorette in Baldur’s Gate nobility. Her family was wealthy and she was beautiful, intelligent, and charming…”

“Whatever happened?” You asked, making yourself laugh.

“However, she never took a partner. Singles of all creeds, genders, and races tried, but no one could get through to her. So, she began to be known as ‘the lock of Baldur’s Gate’. And, what opens a lock but a key? And the key to her heart was to answer a riddle,” Wyll explained with a dramatic flourish.

“A riddle? How droll. That’s a little…presumptuous, don’t you think?” Astarion asked. You shrugged.

“Why a riddle?” Karlach asked.

“I didn’t want to end up with someone who was a complete dunce,” You joked. It was a half-truth, since the whole truth would have disrupted the mood of revelry among your companions.

“Well, do we get to hear it?” Shadowheart asked.

You leaned back and looked at the faces of your companions. Wyll shook his head, having heard this question lamented among the singles of Baldur’s Gate throughout his youth.

“What is loving Taglath like?” You asked, the question rolling off of your tongue like a well-rehearsed line.

“What a stupid question!” Astarion huffed, rolling his eyes. He had no idea what the answer could be.

“Oh, do you know the answer, then? Since it’s so stupid,” You said, unable to wipe the smirk off of your face. It always delighted you to stump someone with the riddle, and it delighted you even more to watch them struggle with it.

“What is loving like?” You repeated, prodding Astarion for the answer.

“Darling, loving you is like poison seeping through my veins,” Astarion said, pretending to be a romantic poet, his hand gripping his chest, “- and it kills me to be parted from you,” He added, taking your hand in his icy cold grasp.

“Very sweet, but no,” You responded.

Everyone laughed, getting a little chuckle out of Astarion’s foolishness.

“Oh come on, it’s not like any of you geniuses know the answer,” Astarion said, raising a brow to the group. He looked around at their curious faces and wonders aloud, “Do you?”

“Uh, I don’t remember my childhood. Much less silly poems,” Shadowheart said, but thought about it for a moment. “Is it like a rose? Something beautiful out of the dirt?”

You shook your head.

“Chk. This is a waste of time,” Lae’zel said..

“C’mon, Lae’zel, what do you think loving is like?” Wyll probed, the githyanki rolling her eyes at him.

Lae’zel replied, “Like a well-won battle, your enemies dead at your feet.” There is a pause before she asked, “Did I answer correctly?”

“No,” You replied.

Karlach wiped her hands on her pants, not waiting to be asked. “You’re barking up the wrong tree if you ask me, solider,” She said, “But I’ll give it a try. Is it like a cool drink of water on a hot night?”

“That’s sweet, Karlach. It’s own little poem, even. But no,” You said.

“Well what’s the answer?” Astarion huffed, getting frustrated at this little display of ignorance.

“Salamander!” Wyll interjected, snapping his fingers like he cracked the code. This made everyone crack up, to his dismay. “No, because - I mean, uh - well, it’s better than corpses!” He insisted. This only made everyone laugh more.

In this revelry, no one even thought to glance at Gale, who had been watching the scene with a bemused little smile on his face.

There was a lull when the laughter died down, the silence of everyone taking a breath after a hearty laugh.

Through the silence, two words cut through the air like a knife directly to your heart.

“The Sun.”

You gasped (a reaction that, in retrospect, embarrassed you with how dramatic it was). You stared at the speaker, Gale’s dark eyes glinting in the firelight. You felt you must have looked ridiculous, your jaw agape.

In all of the years of telling the riddle, no one had ever known the answer. The key to your heart, you joked. But it had been more serious than you ever let on. As each suitor fumbled through wrong answers, it had only solidified your belief that true love would never be yours. That you would eventually have to settle for someone who couldn’t really understand you.

It was like time stopped, the visions of your companions becoming a blur as Gale came into focus.

Gale, meanwhile, appeared to be blissfully unaware that he had just broken your brain (what was left of it, at least).

“That’s…right. How did you know?” You choked out, hardly above a whisper.

“It’s a very clever riddle. See, most would probably assume that the riddle is about the works of Taglath, whom is renowned as an iconic romantic poet. His works adorn his lover with brilliant metaphors that have captured readers since their inception,” Gale explained to the group, lecturing his never-be students.

“That’s probably why Gef Deldus spent one summer immersed in Taglath’s works,” Wyll recalled, chuckling, “He told everyone that he had solved the riddle. He was convinced you would be his bride by the end of the season. What was his answer?” He asked.

“Love is like a poem,” You replied, still dumbfounded by Gale’s answer.

“The education in Baldur’s Gate leaves much to be desired,” Gale snarked, then continued, “What most people don’t know is that Taglath’s most prominent muse was another poet named Alanis. Unfortunately, most of her work has been lost to history. Almost no complete works remain, and only fragments have been collected for publication. But in her most complete work, she compares her lover to the Sun. It’s a gorgeous poem about loving someone who burns brightly and the fears associated with taking a lover of prominence. Loving despite fear,” He said.

You wondered how it was possible that your body felt like it was on fire but also like someone had thrown a bucket of ice water on you. Did none of your companions notice that you were going insane? The realization rocked you like an earthquake.

Gale Dekarios was not a passing fancy, someone to think about kissing when the option presented itself. He was neither a daydream nor a wet dream to pass the time at different hours. He was not the greatest friend you had ever had, the person who you most looked forward to speaking to each morning after you woke and each night before you went to bed. The person who you spoke about nothing and everything with, played games with, or just enjoyed a comfortable silence with. He was not your traveling companion, nor even an ally who had risked his life for you as you had done for him. It was impossible for Gale to be any one of those things because he was all of them all at once and so much more.

Oh, fuck, you realized, your knees ready to give way.

You were in love with him.

The sound of your companions laughing and chattering together mixed together and sounded like ocean waves. If anyone turned to ask you anything you probably would have just stared at them blankly. You attempted to take a step toward Gale and the drinks you had earlier in the night went to your head, sending you tumbling forward and onto the ground.

“Looks like the plum fizz kicked in. ‘Key’, maybe you should take the ‘lock’ to bed,” Shadowheart said to Gale.

You thought that if you closed your eyes, maybe the ground would swallow you up and you would never have to look at Gale again. Instead, you felt him help you to your feet, allowing you to lean against him as he walked you to your tent. You were desperate to know what was going through his mind - did he realize the gravity that he answer had?

“Easy now,” Gale said, helping you down onto your bedroll. He treated you gently, helping you to unlace your boots and get settled in under the blanket. You were sick to your stomach at being doted on by him and kept quiet, trying to focus on anything but the way he looked at you. He left for a moment and came back to bring you some water.

“Is there anything you need?” He asked.

You were quiet for a moment, then spoke.

“Gale?”

“Yes?”

“After we had that moment in the Weave…you mentioned that we shouldn’t talk about it then, with the orb being unstable and everything going on,” You said, then allowed yourself to lean into your own intoxication, asking what was truly on your mind. “Was that really the reason? Because if you don’t see me that way, you can tell me. It won’t hurt my feelings.” The words poured out of you too quickly for you to worry about sounding insecure. It was a lie, of course, that it wouldn’t hurt your feelings. Being rejected by Gale would be devastating.

Gale looked thoughtful, then recited the end of Alanis’s fragments of her poem about her lover.

“My lover is like the Sun, Brilliant and bright He eclipses me And yet I yearn

My lover is like the Sun Blinding and unyielding When he touches me I burn”

He placed his hand on your cheek, his gaze looking through you and into your soul. The two of you could say so much without a single word.

“Am I the Sun, or are you?” You asked.

Gale had loved the poem when he read it as a boy, and later thought of it often when he was with Mystra, trying to make sense of the reality of having a goddess for a lover. He had often wondered if he would ever have an identity outside of being Mystra’s chosen, or whether he would forever be tied to the Goddess. And if that was the case, why did the idea of it make him burn with jealousy?

However, the poem had taken on new meaning since he met you. He felt like the Sun, a ball of fire ready to explode in his chest at any moment. As badly as he wanted to hold you close, he knew that doing so would destroy you. Still, he wondered, might it be worth it to burn if he could have one moment of knowing what it was like to be yours entirely?

Or rather, were you the Sun? He was certainly transfixed by you, drawn to your brilliance. You, a mortal who dared to be more brilliant and enticing than his Goddess. Would following you lead him down the path to certain doom - or worse, would getting close to you lead you to your own demise? It was that thought that kept him up at night, wondering if he should escape in the night. To save you from himself, or at least get you as far away from the danger as possible.

Gale contemplated your question.

“I’m not sure,” He finally replied.

“I don’t know, either.”

You placed your hand on Gale’s, your gaze fixed on each other, searching for an answer in each other’s eyes. Neither of you could find it.

However, there was one thing that was clear to both of you: whether through flames of salvation or damnation, you would burn for each other.

[totally-average-kid]

I but am a simple man

I see a Bunny lore animatic, and i go insane

If bunny and Mr. Chaos have 1000 fans, one of them is me

If bunny and Mr. Chaos have 100 fans, im part of the hundred

If they only have 10 fans, I am just one of the ten

If there’s only one fan, its me

If there’s no fans, im dead

Made an animatic about by YHS character teehee

[prettyoatmeal]

can i request konig angst and fluff fic plss like an argument etc i love your work so much 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Apology Accepted

1 order of Angst coming right up!

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Everything had gone wrong today, all you wanted to do was forget about what had happened and move past it, the very very very last thing you needed was König having a go at you. But when he finds you having a few drinks after you've missed his calls and messages, he isn't happy.

Warnings: Arguing (sorry, I'm not good at writing conflict), angst, slight mentions of alcohol addiction.

Word Count: 1856

Masterlist here!

***************

It seemed nothing had wanted to go right today.

Waking up was a disaster. You had accidentally set an alarm for 6 pm rather than 6 am. Curse 12-hour time. Waking up late with such little time to get ready and leave, you couldn't have your usual morning sit down with König. Or really talk to him all that much really. A simple ‘Goodbye’ and a kiss had been exchanged between you two before you had to leave to make it in time for the train. It was understandable, you were in a rush.

When walking to the train station, it had suddenly begun raining, causing you to have to run to the station with your work clothes to get soaked.

Even though you left the house late, you found yourself arriving to the station couple minutes earlier than you normally would have, so you took that extra time to fix yourself in the bathrooms. Unfortunately you had misread the time and took too long in the bathroom, missing the train to the city, ultimately making you an hour late to your job. Your boss was understanding, though it didn’t mean you were completely off the hook. You agreed to stay an extra hour in the office in compensation for your tardiness.

That was until you realised you were in such a rush in the morning that you had completely forgotten the paperwork you were required to bring back that day. Maybe it was for the best, it would’ve gotten soaked. You’re lucky you kept your work laptop in your desk the day before otherwise that also would have gotten soaked. So you’d stayed back even longer to make up for the lost paperwork, working yourself half to death out of guilt, promising to bring it in tomorrow and take an umbrella with you next time. 

The stress of the day was taking a toll on you by the time you had been taking the train back. You were so awfully tired, practically half asleep on the ride back, completely ready to call it a night the moment you get home. You were so out of it by the time, you hadn’t noticed your phone buzzing in your pocket.

Unlocking the front door and walking in, you were greeted to the warm lights of the kitchen shining in your eyes. 

“I’m home!” you called out, kicking your shoes off before closing the door once more. Walking to the kitchen, you washed your hands before immediately pouring yourself a shot of Scotch straight from your liquor cabinet. Feeling yourself getting restless, you pinched your nose before letting all the liquid run down your throat at once, coughing at the burn in your throat. You poured another glass and filling the rest with coke. Letting out a sigh, you took a sip and leaned back against the counter, letting your muscles relax. Small sips turned to swigs, swigs turned to drinking the glass in a single go again, earning another cough from the fizziness and burn. This only resulted in you pouring yourself a third glass. You didn’t want to think about today. Today was filled with nothing but humiliation and disappointment. But the disappointment wouldn’t end there.

Hearing his heavy footsteps approaching, you look up at him with half lidded eyes, feeling a little hazy from your sleepiness. 

“Schatz! You’re home so late. You haven’t responded to my messages.”

He was fresh out of the shower, his hair damp from what looked like a quick attempt at drying it with a towel. His voice was filled with concern, worry. You quickly took your phone out only to see missed calls and unread texts from Köing.

19:20

Missed Call

Missed Call

‘Hey, you missed my calls. Where are you? You don’t normally stay out this late.’

‘Hello hello?’

‘You there?’

‘I hope you’re safe. Please call me back. Love you.’

20:12

‘I’m getting worried. Please reply.’

‘Hello’

‘Hello’

Missed Call

‘:(’

‘I hope everything is okay, hope you get home safe. Love you.’

The guilt had begun to set in again, frowning at the phone you’re holding in front of you. How could you have not noticed your phone buzzing so much? It’s not like it was on silent either. Maybe the buzzing was lost to the loud noises on the train.

“I’m sorry, I mustn’t have noticed.”

“So you come home and immediately start drinking?” Your stomach dropped. “Where were you? It’s almost 8:30, you finish at 5.”

König had always been protective over you, especially in a world like today. He hated it when you wouldn’t respond to his messages or calls, it would always make him extremely anxious. What you’re doing, who you’re with, what if you’re in trouble and he wasn’t there to help you. With a heavy shame flowing over you as you take a look at your glass, you placed it down after swallowing your last sip and slid it across the bench out of your reach.

“I got to work late and forgot some important files, so I stayed back.” 

“So you couldn’t have called me to tell me you won’t be home on time? That you’ll be hours late and I’ll be stuck worrying about where you are. You couldn’t just send me back a text saying when you got off the train? For heaven’s sake, you’re walking home. Walking home alone in the dark, anything could happen.”

You looked down with a frown. You’d left in the morning with barely any words said and hadn’t heard anything else from you until you’d arrived hours later than you normally would, he had every reason to be upset.

“Honestly, I expected better from you, (Y/N).”

But not to scold you like if you were an incompetent teen.

“Excuse me? I am fully capable of protecting myself. Quit trying to treat me like a child!” You snapped back, looking back up at him, only to see disappointment in his eyes. Disappointment. You’d already gotten soaking wet in the morning, missed your train, was late to work, and had to stay back for hours after. You didn’t need to take this. It wasn’t very often you’d see that look from him, and definitely not directed at you. It only made your stomach drop more.

“I’m not, but you know how worrying it is when you don’t communicate these things with me.” He groaned, “just... go upstairs and take a shower. You smell of alcohol and rainwater. I don’t want to start arguing with you about this.”

And so you did just that, chucking your keys down to the kitchen counter and making your way upstairs. It was probably for the best, the stress from today had finally caught up to you causing tears to well up in the corners of your eyes as you made your way upstairs. König didn’t follow you, but you couldn’t care less at that point, you didn’t want to see him right now, you needed that space. Finally stripping yourself from your terribly uncomfortable clothing in front of the bathroom mirror, you finally felt a small sense of relief.

After brushing away the alcohol from your teeth and dressing yourself in something warm and comfortable, you had finally collapsed into your shared bed. After holding it in for so long, tears couldn’t help but fall from your eyes as a tsunami of emotions washed over you. Everything from today that could have gone wrong went wrong, you thought you could’ve at least relaxed at home, but you couldn’t. All you could do was think back over the day, the goddamn Scotch hadn’t done its thing. Not to mention how König looked down on you, those dark eyes he’d only ever really use on the battlefield. Looking down on you like one would with a child. The alcohol wasn’t helping either. You felt upset with yourself, you felt shame, you felt humiliation. You couldn’t help but sob into your pillow, holding it to your face as tightly as you can to muffle the sounds you were making. It wasn’t even 5 minutes before you felt yourself drifting off to sleep, ready to put this day behind you.

You slowly awaken to the sound of porcelain being placed on top of the wooden bedside table with a small clang of metal, as well as a particularly nice smell. Something warm and homey. You feel a dip in the mattress as König sits down next to you. Opening your eyes, you pry your face away from the pillow and you glance over to the table. Goulash. It’d smelt wonderful, but you couldn’t bring yourself to eat.

“Schatz,” he whispered out, “warmed up dinner for you.”

His voice was soothing, calming. Nothing like how it sounded before. You’d glanced up at him a few times before finally shaking your head ‘no’ in response. You weren’t hungry, quite the opposite of it. It felt as if you were to put anything in your mouth, food or not, you’d throw up. You knew he could tell you’d been crying, your cheeks still warm and streaky, your eyes still puffy and red. Each glance you took at him with your glassy eyes shattered his heart a bit more. König’s figure blurred in front of you, whether it been from your drunken state or the dried-up tears in your eyes from earlier, you weren’t sure.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered out sincerely as one of his rough, calloused hands made its way up to your tear-stained cheek. His hands were large against your face, caressing the plush skin of your cheeks. They may have been rough, but they were also gentle, soothing, calming. Your blinking became slower as you leaned into his warm palms.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like I was disappointed in you. I was just so worried… today was rough for you, I should have been more… kind when choosing what to say.”

His words brought tears to your eyes once more. You didn’t want to talk about this. Not right now at least. You may not have wanted to, but you knew you needed to. Confrontation was always a heavy topic, didn’t matter who was in the wrong. His calm expression turned to concern once more as he noticed how your eyes welled up from his apology. You leaned into his hand more, as if you were trying to cover your flushed face with it, his palm catching the stream of your tears.

Apology accepted.

Sitting up finally, you wrapped your arms around him as tightly as you could manage with König doing the same. It felt like home. You hadn’t realised how homesick you’ve felt until he’d pulled you into him so tightly. He felt like home. You felt yourself melting into his chest as you let out a long sigh you didn’t know you were holding in.

“I’m glad you’re home safe, I’m sorry I hadn’t said that earlier, Liebling.”

All you could respond with was a small whimper.

“I know, I know, ” he whispered back, placing a small kiss on top of your head, “I love you, Mous. I need to work on showing that more often.”

***************

I'm sorry, this isn't proof read 😭😭 please dont mind any gramatical errors or just bad story building in general

Goodnight <3

[itsmarsss]

early bird

request: hii i love scandalous and was if would you ever write a poly ozzie/fizz/reader fic?? no pressure or anything, i really love how you write and after the angst (and the more to come from future chapters) something cute and soft would be needed lol (also fizz in suspenders💞💞 😔)

You jolt awake at the sound of a horn. That fucking horn. No matter how many times you throw it away, Fizz, somehow, finds some way to have another one the next morning. You don’t think it’s too far-off to suspect he hides a secret stash of them somewhere in the house. 

You groan, shoving a pillow over your head to conceal the noise, but it’s to no avail as Fizz pulls it from you. 

Ozzie stirs, and he gently pulls your head off his chest so he can sit up just to glare at Fizz. “Could you not?” 

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“Why’d you wake us up so early?” You question. “None of us has to be up until 9 today.”

“And how do you know it’s not 9?”

“The sun is literally still rising,” you tell him, pointing at the big window across the room. 

“Well I woke up and I had to go to the bathroom and then I couldn’t sleep again and I tried! But I couldn’t. And I don’t wanna be the only one awake…” he pouts, and he’s obviously trying to get pity points with that so as to not get further complaints about the horn thing. 

It gets Ozzie immediately. “Oh don’t make that face you know I can’t resist it.”

“Uh-huh, that’s why I make it,” he crosses his arms over his chest and smiles, tongue poking out a corner of his mouth. 

You roll your eyes and suppress a smile of your own. Can’t argue with that flawless logic. “What do you even wanna do so early?”

Fizz moves his body towards you by extending his legs, getting his face impossibly close to yours as he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. You get the hint, and laugh before planting a kiss on his forehead. “You’re cute. But no way. Still too tired.”

He exaggerates  an eye roll. “So lame!”

“And yet! You still love me.”

“Barely.”

“HA!” Ozzie laughs at him sarcastically.

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a simp, Froggie.”

“Am not!”

“S-I-M-P. Simp.”

“So are you!”

“Never said I wasn’t,” Ozzie defends himself, putting his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay, everyone’s a simp. Now can we go get some breakfast or what?”

“Thought you said you were too tired.”

“I’m never too tired for breakfast, Froggie,” you pinch his cheek.

“Hey!” Ozzie complains, pretending to take offense to you making fun of his nickname for Fizz, despite it being a routinely occurrence since forever, and pulling him in a tight embrace.

Fizz squeezes himself out of Ozzie’s embrace, laughing, and you all get up off the bed. “Soooo what are we having?” He asks as the three of you exit the bedroom, and you both look up at Ozzie, expectantly. 

“Why am I the one who has to make it?”

“I mean, I can make it if you want,” Fizz says, and the three of you laugh at the absurdity of the suggestion.

“Yeah, no.” Ozzie affirms, serious, before looking at you with a raised brow. “How ‘bout you?”

“I’m just soo, soo tired, baby, look,” you pretend to yawn, and Fizz tries (and fails) not to laugh at it.

“You help me or no deal.”

“No fair! And Fizzy just watches?”

“Thought you liked it when I… watched… you two.”

“Your charm can’t get you out of everything, you know that?”

“It’s been working so far.”

“You’re too smug sometimes, Froggie,” Ozzie comments as he crosses the kitchen to get something, not turning around to say it.

“I already said I can cook if you really want me to!”

“Not after last time!”

“See?” Fizz tells you. “He won’t let me!”

“Oh and you’re obviously sooo bummed about it.”

He smiles, and Ozzie nudges you with a pink spatula. “Here.”

You realize he’s put on his frilly, tiny baby blue apron, and smile at the sight. “You’re so cute.”

“I’m thousands of years old and, like, three times bigger than you.”

“And so what do we say?”

Ozzie lets out a giggle. “Thank you, babe,” he pulls you towards him by your waist, placing a quick kiss on your cheek.

“Okay, so what are we making? What do I do with this?” You wave the spatula he handed you around.

“What do you wanna eat?”

“Waffles!” Fizz yells out.

“Ohhh, yes!” You agree.

“I could eat some waffles,” Ozzie decides.

“Hell yeah!” Both you and Fizz exclaim at the same time, high-fiving each other. 

You didn’t care about being woken up so early anymore.

[physics-of-one-piece]

Physics of One Piece

Hello, and welcome to my sideblog!

You can call me Phys, Physics or Fizzy!

Main Blog: @physics-of-op-main

I follow and like from this main blog so you all know I'm following you 😊

This blog is focused on using physics to explain & analyze the characters of One Piece from a physics point of view, such as their flying speed, how much force they use in their attacks, how much they weigh, even the length of the tall characters' unproportional exaggerated limbs! A One Piece sideblog where I analyze the physics of One Piece, mostly its characters, making calculations & formulas for how their powers work.Assistants: Luffy & Chopper

This blog is also a writing blog, mostly focusing on x Reader stories, with the most focused character being Doflamingo. I love Doflamingo, so expect me to send a lot of Doflamingo content, too!

The ask box is open, so send your questions in!

I'll try my best to answer any questions you send my way. It might take me a bit, so please be patient. I'm human, so I sometimes make mistakes in calculations or I use the wrong formula for sth when another formula is better. Every single human being on the planet learns every day, and nobody knows everything from physics. I'm not perfect at physics, but I do understand it enough to recognise its principles in the anime.

I'll also try to give some manga or anime screenshots for the scene I'm using to explain what's happening as well as some handwritten notes/sketches if I have the time. For now, my biggest passion are Doflamingo & Luffy from a physics point of view, because their powers are interesting and can be explained by a lot of physics theorems.

Also, since this is a sideblog, according to google, I'm not able to follow anyone which is stupid as hell, but know I see you all and I love you and you are all my moots.

Looking forward to meeting everyone and let's have fun!

Character Masterlist:

🍖 Luffy

🦩 Doflamingo

💉 Law

🐊 Sir Crocodile

💜 Rosinante (Corazon)

🔥 Ace

One Piece World Analasys:

Timezones in One Piece World

Timezones in One Piece World (Fixed)

Fics Masterlist:

Doflamingo x Reader Headcanons (SFW)

Sugary Secret (Doflamingo x Reader)

I Take Care of You Now (Doflamingo x Reader)

Asks:

Donquixote Brothers Dick Size

Tags for Physics:

#op physics

#one piece physics

#physics of one piece

#pop

Tags for reblogging art, moots' posts etc:

#reblog

#fanart reblog

#fic rec

[iheartcake123]

☁️stay -seo moon-jo☁️

a/n: im finally updating this fic😭😭 im so sorry it took so long, life has been CRAZY and then i got sidetracked with other fics lol. ive made this longer than what i usually write so i hope this makes up for the lack of updates😭

warnings: blood, kidnapping, it’s a strangers from hell fic so you probably know what to expect lol

Masterlist

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4, Part 5

Part 6

-3rd person p.o.v-

the next morning, y/n didn’t want to leave her room. she couldn’t possibly face moon-jo. not after walking in on him in the bathroom and not after having a not so innocent dream about him.

yes, he was an attractive man.

but she didn’t like him like that. right?

that’s what she told herself.

after building up the courage to leave her room, she rushed to the bathroom to freshen up. she needed to go to work so that’s what she did. she got herself ready and slipped out the residence.

the whole day while she was at work, she found her mind wandering to one specific person. she couldn’t understand why.

“you don’t seem as focused today y/n, is everything okay?” her boss questioned as it brought the girl back to reality.

“huh? oh- sorry, i just haven’t been sleeping well.” she apologised immediately.

as the day soon came to an end, a pit of nerves filled her. she didn’t want to go back to the residence. she didn’t want to see moon-jo.

y/n found herself wandering the streets, going in circles trying to kill as much time as possible. it was a good time waster and it soon became dark. as much as she’d like to avoid it, she’d have to go back sooner or later.

as she slowly approached the residence she stopped at the convenience store first, grabbing herself her favourite fizzy drink. she knew she shouldn’t have been drinking anything sweet since her tooth still killed but that was the least of her worries.

the can of drink remained closed as her fingers nervously played with it. she stared up at the building in front of her, it gave her the same feeling that she had when she first moved in. it drove her crazy.

“y/n” a voice suddenly startled her and she jumped, causing her to drop her drink.

the contents of the can started to spill as soon as it hit the ground and y/n cursed under her breath.

when she looked to see who it was , she saw moon-jo. he watched her intently as she then quickly went to pick the can up.

“hello” y/n then greeted him. hoping he wouldn’t speak to her some more.

“sorry, i must’ve given you a fright” he then apologised and she shook her head.

“oh no, not really” she quickly said before she started to make her way to the building’s entrance.

“let me walk you in, it’s the least that i can do” moon-jo suddenly reached his hand to grab the door before y/n could.

“sure, thanks” y/n sent a quick nod before the pair walked into the residence together.

“you still haven’t come back for your tooth extraction” moon-jo commented as she turned to look at him briefly.

“oh, i’ve just been busy recently. i’ll try to swing by one of the days”

moon-jo hummed in response, it was like he wanted to say more but wasn’t.

when they finally reached the main hallway and y/n caught a glimpse of seok-yun about to enter his room.

“seok-yun!” y/n called out to him louder than she expected and his head turned to face her.

seok-yun let out a small smile to greet the girl but the smile soon faded as he noticed moon-jo standing not too far behind y/n.

a dark expression was on his face as he glared at seok-yun.

seok-yun then rushed into his room. slamming the door shut and locking it.

y/n couldn’t believe it. had he just ignored her?

“oh, did seok-yun not see you?” moon-jo asked and she turned around with a forced smile.

“i guess not” she then took her key out her pocket and turned to her door since it was opposite seok-yun’.

she slowly unlocked her door and was just about to enter when she suddenly turned to moon-jo.

“goodnight” she waved goodbye before going into her room.

shs spent some time organising some things before preparing for bed but once she was actually in bed. she kept tossing and turning.

unable to get comfortable.

when she checked her phone it was creeping up to 3am.

with a sigh she got out of bed and headed out her room and up to the rooftop. as soon as the cold air hit her face, she took ina deep breath. the city view at night was pretty. street lights lit up many areas and a lot of the other tall building had lights on.

“what was i thinking moving here?” she whispered looking down at her fingers. she was leaning up against the ledge of the rooftop terrace.

she felt tears begin to swell in her eyes as she thought about everything.

was she really living her dream?

sure she was doing her dream job but everything else wasn’t going to plan.

she never expected to live in a place like she was. she didn’t expect to feel so outcast and lonely.

her hands became shaky as she attempted calling her sister. she couldn’t do this.

of course there wasn’t an answer. it was past 3am in the morning.

“i have to get out of here” y/n slipped her phone into her pyjama pocket and turned on a heel to head back down.

what she didn’t expect was to see a figure stood in the doorway where she wanted to go.

she blinked her eyes and realised who the figure was and sighed.

she couldn’t deal with this.

not paying attention to the figure, y/n walked straight past determined to go back to her room. however, as soon as she walked past, a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

“y/n, are you okay?” moon-jo’ voice was firm as he stared at the girl in front of him. with the dim lights, y/n could still see all of moon-jo’ features.

his furrowed eyebrows, his defined cheek bones and his lips pursed as he waited for an answer.

“im fine” y/n pulled her hand to get out of his grip.

“are you thinking of leaving?” he then out of no where asked and y/n thought about what answer to give.

“i dont- i don’t know” she finally said after a long pause.

moon-jo let out a chuckle”don’t lie to me y/n. you know i prefer when you’re honest honey”

the nickname he gave y/n took her aback. he’d never called her that before and it caused flutters in her stomach more than it should’ve. y/n was about to say something else but suddenly her phone began to ring. she reached her hand into her pocket and then answered the call.

it was her sister calling her back.

“y/n are you okay?! why are you calling me so late at night? you’re not hurt are you?” her sisters voice was laced with panic and urgency.

“don’t worry im fine, i just-“ y/n began but soon stopped speaking as she didn’t want moon-jo to know her plans “i just wanted to talk because i couldn’t sleep. sorry, i didn’t mean to worry you. i’ll call you back in the morning”

without letting her sister respond y/n cut the call.

moon-jo tutted. shaking his head in disappointment.

“you didn’t have to lie to your sister” he brushed a piece of y/n’ hair out of her face “you could’ve been honest”

“i uh was honest” y/n nervously replied.

“you don’t need to lie to me either honey” moon-jo whispered into her ear.

her breath hitched slightly as she felt her heart beating fast.

there was that nickname again.

she felt like she should’ve been scared but she wasn’t.

more than ever before, she felt an attraction towards moon-jo.

moon-jo could tell the effect he was having on y/n so, without another word he then walked back down the stairs to go back to his room leaving her stunned.

________________________________________________________

y/n changed her mind and stayed on the rooftop for a little longer. she couldn’t understand her interactions with moon-jo. she should’ve been repulsed by him, right?

he was anti social, always lurking and would stare at y/n with this one look that he always did.

yet, she found herself feeling the exact opposite.

she spent a good 15 minutes more outside before heading back to her room. she dragged her feet across the floor, trying to be a silent as possible but with every step the floor creaked.

when she passed moon-jo’ room, she saw his door slightly ajar, yellow light peeking through. hesitantly, y/n gently pushed the door open. it revealed moon-jo’ room.

what surprised her was that there wasn’t a bed in the room. just a single person sofa, a small coffee table and a lamp looming over the sofa and table.

why didn’t he have a bed? or other belongings? it didn’t make sense.

y/n stepped into the room, on the coffee table was a small piece of paper facing downwards. her hand slowly reached for it and when she brought it up so that she could see it. her heart dropped into her stomach.

it was a picture of her, from the night someone was following her.

“oh my god” she managed to say, dropping the picture on the floor rushing to her room.

she definitely had to leave now.

she didn’t care if it was the middle of the night. all on her mind was getting out of that place. luckily, she didn’t own much so it really didn’t take her long to get packed up.

“answer the phone” she urgently said into the phone as she tried to get through to her sister.

there was no answer.

she’d have to just try again later so instead, she put her phone away and went to exit her room.

as soon as she opened her door, miss.eom and all the residents except for moon-jo were stood in front. blocking her from leaving.

“wh-what are you all doing?” she exclaimed trying to be brave but it was failing miserably.

the other residents smirked as y/n felt herself getting angry.

“i need to leave!” she tried pushing past them but nam-bok suddenly grabbed her.

his hands reached in her pocket while the other held her.

she felt disgusted.

“let me go!” her voice became a scream as she tried pushing him off her but it was of no use.

her screams continued all the while they dragged y/n to the 4th floor. the floor where no one was supposedly allowed.

with a loud thud, nam-bok threw y/n onto the cold floor and she winced in pain as her shoulder hit the floor first. she shuffled to sit up and the door to the room she was thrown into closed.

her eyes scanned the rest of the room and it soon fell onto seok-yun all bloody, unconscious and tied to a chair. she knew something was going on with everyone who lived here, she just didn’t realise how sick they all were.

“why are you doing this?” she screamed loudly before rushing to check on her friend.

“seok-yun” her voice then became soft.

his face was bruised and bleeding and his legs had been cut so blood was leaking everywhere. his mouth leaked blood too.

“you’re going to be okay” she gently stroked his head, trying to comfort him even if he wasn’t conscious.

he wasn’t responding but she could see his chest slowly rising up and down so, she knew he wasn’t yet dead.

after a while, miss.eom entered the room and y/n watched as she had a can of coke and some meat on a paper plate.

“eat” she threw it onto the floor and she glared at the women.

as if she was going to eat anything they gave her.

“people are going to realise im missing. my sister, my work colleagues too. you won’t get away with this!” y/n spoke up and miss.eom let out a taunting laugh.

“hee-joong said the same thing” miss.eom watched as y/n’ face dropped.

miss.eom laughed loudly as she left the room, making sure to lock the door behind her.

y/n couldn’t believe it.

she was trapped.