#guess it must've just been a bit weak

[kujiba]

【Go on and Love Me】

୨୧ — ꒰ male!reader | he/his prounouns | Sagau | Genshinimpact

୨୧ — ꒰ Streamer!Reader who gets sidetracked by people's donations/chats making the genshin characters feel jealous

Ft. Xiao, Wanderer, Kinich, Traveler

A/n: inspired by la2yn0va hsr fic

X I A O

(Name) happily smiled at another donation sent to him after recently completing a natlan quest

"Thanks for the 20 bits donation!"

He thanked the chat with a wide smile, the chat which was filled with people commenting every second flooding the entire screen making (Name) shift his focus to answer their questions about himself.

This cute interaction made (Name) feel warm and lovely in the inside, being able to interact with fans who admired him.

You know who wasn't happy? A dark headed male inside a screen wasn't that happy unlike (Name). Why were these people gifting you so low? Most of all why was (Name)'s attention not on him anymore?

He had to pull alot of strings to make his own crit rise up since (Name)'s luck on the Vermilion domain was absolutely dog shit.

(Name) — Hm? My favorite character in genshin?

Xiao — You called?

Xiao unintentionally blurted that out without any thoughts whatsoever, but when he did realize and saw (Name)'s confused face along with the chat going wild.

Without any choice Xiao did his idle animation to hide his face away from you, he used his mask so that Xiao won't face you for a while since he was in a very vulnerable state

(Name) — New mail? Sweet 300 primos!

(Chat) — Fr? I didn't get any new mail from hoyo yet.

(Name) — Well.. Free primos is free primos

If (Name)'s happy then he'll rest easy today. Hopefully no rumors circulate about what happened earlier.. Self aware fanfics are crazy these days.

W A N D E R E R

Wanderer stared at (Name) blankly, he was too busy thanking people with countless of donations to even realize they were still in a boss fight farming material's for upcoming characters.

Wanderer became (Name)'s fan ever since he saw him at that temporary event named 'Unreconciled Stars Event Quest The Crisis Deepens'.

Smug mf since he made (Name) hit hard pity for him. But was kind enough to give you his c1 after 140 wishes

(Chat) — Why don't you change your main (Streamer Name)?

An irk mark appears on Wanderer's face but wasn't that visible on screen.

Is this swine telling (Name) to replace him with someone else? Hard pass. He was already stolen from (Name)'s attention and now these nobody's are trying to persuade him into maining some other weak random than him.

Just so happen that (Name) spotted a chest nearby and happily went over to open it, Wanderer took this opportunity immediately

(Wanderer) — Unnecessary.

(Chat) — Is it just me or is his voice rougher than usual?

Damn right it's rougher since he just wanted to vent his anger out on any enemies on sight

The chat won't know but what he had said was directly targeted at them, if only he could say every insult known to man right now

So (Name), keep your eyes on him only and no one else, then maybe he'll make his attacks stronger if you comply

(Name) — Well to answer your question earlier chat, no I don't think I'll be changing my main anytime soon. Wanderer's pretty fun to play with.

After (Name) finished talking he took a closer look at Wanderer's face, but his eyes swore Wanderer had a tad bit of pink on his cheeks

His eyes must've been starting to break with the amount of streaming his doing

T R A V E L E R

(Name) had just began to prep for his stream of the week and now he was currently adjusting the Traveler's artifacts to try out a new build

You know what's crazy though? His builds are pretty shitty.

He has the absolute worst luck in artifacts plus in leveling up pieces, most of which usually goes to defense or HP%

But he still hits about 800k regularly with the Traveler! How could he do such thing with only 44.6% Crit rate!?

(Chat) — 1 MILLION?? (Name) are you doing hacks?

(Name) — What? No! Guess my Traveler's just really op

The Traveler is a smug motherfucker

Of course the Traveler wouldn't hit such high numbers without using a...slight adjustment to the system

Sure their pieces are pretty bad but they'll accept anything (Name) had given them! How could they just shake off his hard work on griding for their ascension and talents?

Whenever the Traveler sees (Name)'s shocked expression during the massive crit's appearing on his screen they are damn right happy and overjoyed they managed to satisfy their grace!

(Chat) — Your builds are bad af tho lolol

(Chat) — Why main the Traveler? They're a pretty bad character to main, you should go for Nuevillete or Alhaitham.

The Traveler's good mood immediately faded into dust once he saw the chats text

Are those no lifers saying that they're not fit to be (Name)'s vessel? They're the most perfect one!

What could Nuevillete or whatever character have that they don't? Could they switch elements? Don't think so

If they wanted bigger numbers, the Traveler will show them big numbers all right, if you want them to hit 10 million they're gonna make it happen with just one click

(Name) — Thanks for the suggestion chat but I'm going to stick with the Traveler, I'm already wayyy too attached

The Traveler's mood once again took a 360 and smiled softly at what (Name) said to them, their stomachs fluttering with delight

(Name) is attached to them? No other compliment or praise could ever reach what the Traveler was feeling at the very moment

Their grace! Oh their grace... If only they could just grab onto you and drag you here where you rightfully belong

K I N I C H

Kinich is an upcoming playable character but many in the genshin community have fallen head over heels for him

Yet he couldn't careless about them, after all just being near (Name)'s presence even though it's just by the Traveler's vessel already makes him nice and comfortable

(Name) — Day 10 of saving up for Kinich let's goo

(Chat) — Woah already 200 wishes? You're quick man

(Name) — Can't help it lmao, Kinich seems fun to play and he's really pretty!

(Chat) — He seem's boring though

(Chat) — Dude the dialouge is slightly glitching wtf

The dialouge's glitching is caused by Kinich's embarrassment and rage, he was previously just about to talk till he heard (Name) sing praises about him! How could he not accidentally stutter and mess up the dialouge!?

But on the other hand, the hell did that person meant by he was boring? He wasn't even released yet! This caused Kinich to panic mentally if whether or not you'll change your mind about pulling for him

He stared at you from the screen, clenching his fists tighter by the second. Just a small bit more... Just one more step and he'll be released, then he could really be by your side now.

(Name) — Aw man, hold on chat I gotta pause the stream to fix this glitching

(Name) eventually had to exit the game to try and see what the problem was with his device or if it was overheating again

Meanwhile Kinich was still standing there re-adjusting his thoughts about what just happened. His feelings were all a mixed bag at this point, he sighed rubbing his temples slowly

Ajaw eventually came to his side while looking at him weirdly like he had done something wrong

(Ajaw) — Wow.. Just wow

(Kinich) — Shut up...

To rightfully apologized the system eventually sent 10 wishes in (Name)'s game mail which he was confused at first but eh, more wishes for c6 knich!

Once he becomes playable Kinich would definitely spoil (Name) with high numbers and crit's. He would just have to deal with Ajaw's yapping in the meantime..

So don't get distracted over what those 'Chat' people say about him!

A/n: likes and reblogs are appreciated! Have a nice day(ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

[mead-iocre]

Housemates | Leah Williamson x Reader

synopsis: just platonic housemate things x

warnings: kind of suggestive

word count: 1.9k

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You couldn't sleep. 

You have been lying in bed, in the dark, for the past hour just staring up at the ceiling. You tried to distract yourself with your phone, scrolling through tiktok for a few minutes before you eventually got bored and decided the silence was better company. 

But now the silence was too much. 

Shaking off your duvet, you heft yourself out of bed, mentally cursing the cool rush of cold air. You debated slipping on a pair of pyjama pants, but decided against it. You only ever went to sleep with an oversized t-shirt. Braless, and pants-less. 

You don't even bother slipping on your slippers, opting to just tiptoe your way out of your own room. Feeling for the doorknob, you twist it open. 

A dull, gray light filters through the windows, a weak moon casting long shadows across the living room as you dart past, tiptoeing across marble floors. You regret not wearing your slippers.

You squint in the dark, recognising the faint outline of the sofa, its upholstery frayed in places. Next to it the dark wood surface of the coffee table is engulfed by lingering shadows. You couldn’t even guess the time— if it was late night, or early morning.

Your footsteps were unhurried and confident as you climb the stairs, step by step. It was almost like you were in a trance. The short journey was natural, instinctive— habitual, almost. 

There were definitely perks to having such a great housemate. When you first moved to London, you weren’t expecting to live with a footballer. Your older sister had told you that an old friend of hers from sixth-form had a spare room to rent out, and you immediately jumped at the chance to live in central London for a really, really good price. 

You certainly weren’t expecting the old friend to be Leah Williamson, captain of the women's national team.

Making your way to the only room in the second floor, you push the door open with zero hesitation, as if opening the pages of a well-worn book, already prepared for what you were about to see behind the doors. 

You see a mass of dark hair peaking out of the covers first, dark and inviting.

The only light that spills into the room is faint. Shadows of moonlight peek through the edges of the curtains. It enters the room, pooling into the corners, tracing the outlines of the furniture in ghostly, quiet silver. The streams of light touch the edges of the bedspread and trace the curves of the headboard, highlighting the subtle grain of the dark wood interior.

Tiptoeing over to one side of the bed, you clear your throat loudly before you shake the figure awake. 

“Wake up.”

A quiet moan sounds from beneath the covers. You roll your eyes, already annoyed at the extra company. You’ve done this routine far too many times at this point. You feel for a bony shoulder and nudge it again, a little harsher this time. 

“Oi. Up you get, c'mon” You raise your voice a little louder. Since when did scaring random women out of your housemates' bed become your part-time job?

The stranger finally wakes up. She opens her eyes, squinting up at you, a look of annoyance written all over her face.

Sadly for her, you could not find it in you to care one bit.

She was pretty, to be fair. Minus the smudged black eyeliner decorating her face and the pillow lines across her cheeks.

Must've been a wild night then.

You ignore the sudden twinge you felt in your chest.

The mystery woman speaks. “w-whats going on?”

Good thing she’s not a screamer like some of the others.

"Did you not hear me the first time? Get up and leave"

The woman turns to Leah who is still fast asleep and nudges her, as if asking for help. These woman are all the same. You couldn't help but roll your eyes, shifting on your feet. The floor was cold and you’d ideally like to be underneath warm covers right now.

"L-Leah..." All she gets is a groan of annoyance. The woman in question shifts further away from her bedmate until she is nearly at the end of the bed. You couldn't help but chuckle, quickly masking it with a hand over your mouth when a noise unintentionally escapes your lips.

Unfortunately for you, this one was stubborn and desperate.

She fishes her arm out from under the covers and shakes Leah’s shoulder even harder. When she realises that her one night stand wasn’t budging, she finally sits up against the headboard.

The blanket falls slightly off of her frame, exposing one bare shoulder.

There’s that weird tight feeling in your chest again.

You advert you eyes to the sleeping blonde with her back turned towards you. You were tempted to grab a pillow and start smacking her until she woke up. The annoying fucker.

"Who even are you?" The woman pipes up, her voice scratchy, like nails on a chalk board.

"Her fiancée."

You could've cackled straight to her face at the way the woman's eyes widen like saucers, looking back and fourth between you and the blonde’s back.

But then you hear a low chuckle from the other side of the bed.

Thank god.

“Leah, tell your little friend here to leave” 

The Lionesses captain rolls over to face you the both of you, still blinking the sleep out of her eyes. She raised her arms up to stretch, giving you a peak of a black Nike sports bra.

The small smile she gives you is full of Williamson snark, as if she fully anticipated the sight before her. You weren't new to kicking her one-night endeavours out of her bed, and it's almost as if she found some weird enjoyment out of this.

Finally she address her new buddy. “You should go”

“Excuse me?” The audacity of this woman.

“You heard my fiancée, get out.”

The woman doesn't wait a minute longer. She huffs, throwing off the blanket muttering under her breath. You swear you heard her utter “bastard” somewhere in there.

Luckily, she was semi-dressed, wearing a strapless bra and a pair of underwear. You had seen far too many naked bodies before and you would ideally like to not see any more.

She grabs her clothes littered all over the floor, half-assedly throwing them on as she fumbles with buttons and zippers. Her movements were sharp, impatient, as she darts all over the room. Without a glance back at the two of you, she scurries out, slamming the door behind her.

Turning back to the blonde, you find her sitting up and already staring at you. Seeing her one-night stands run around like headless chickens the morning after was the norm for the blonde. While she explicitly states that she’s in for a good time, not a long time, others do still like to push their luck.

Luckily, you’re there to snap them back to reality.

"Well...she seemed nice"

The England captain rolls her eyes, flopping back on the bed. "You scared her off"

Scoffing, peeling back the covers and slide in the now empty space beside her. The spot has been kindly warmed up for you, how nice. “Want me to call her back in here then—?”

You make a move to get back out of bed, but Leah grabs your wrist, tugging you down and draping the covers back over you.

“Nahh, I’ve got you now. Can’t sleep?”

“No.” You sit up, leaning half of your body up against the headboard. You’ve been in and out of sleep the past couple of hours. “That’s why I’m in your bed”

“To talk?”

You side-eye her, sensing an accusatory undertone. “Yeah. To talk”

“Besides,” You poke her on the arm. "I’ve got to keep my fiancée in check"

You share a laugh.

"Wasn't as bad as the time I called you my wife" Leah chuckles, low and breathy. She turns to you, sharing a smile as you both reminisce the pure look of horror on that poor woman's face.

Fun times.

Before you could say anything else, Leah moves over, laying her head on your chest and getting comfortable again. She had the worst case of bedhead, you think to yourself as you look down at the mess of blonde locks.

You smile as you run your fingers gently through the soft strands of blonde. 

She hums at the action, her body visibly relaxing. She seemed to take it as a sign to scoot closer to you, so she does. She drapes an arm across your waist, dragging you closer to her own body, snuggling further into your side. The blanket wasn't the only thing offering you warmth right now but you ignore that fact for now.

You both bask in the silence for a minute. While you were preoccupied, trying to comb through her hair, you failed to notice sly fingers curling under your oversized t-shirt.

Your breath hitches as a warm finger strokes the skin by your hip. For a split second you freeze, but then you remember it's just Leah. 

It’s just your housemate.

Her finger continues to caress the lace resting on your skin before she makes a humming sound again, to herself, as if in deep thought.

After a while, she speaks again. Her finger not having left your skin. "This is new”

You hum in agreement. It was indeed new. A cheeky little purchase from Agent Provocateur, a gift to yourself after the shitty week you’ve had.

“It's lace,” a finger hooks into the band, pulling it away from your skin briefly. "…and satin, huh"

Her fingers dance across the scallop lace details by your hips, caressing the material like this is a normal occurrence between housemates. The air between you is thick with the weight of what isn’t being said.

You let her, selfishly enjoying her delicate touch against your skin.

"yeah," clearing your throat, you squeeze your legs together for a moment, praying she didn't notice. But you doubt that when the gentle touches move down to your bare thigh, massaging the tense flesh.

You try to ignore the urge to keep your leg still instead of pressing it further into her palm, a greedy little thing. Her touch is soothing and natural. As if this is all a regular occurrence. You continue, "It's from their new collection— it’s pink”

You're not sure why you felt like you had to share that information. It's almost as if you were tongue-tied and can only focus on the fingers still tracing patterns on your skin.

Leah shifts slightly, squinting up at you. Pretty blue eyes meet yours, scanning, searching for something. The air between you thickens, charged.

"yeah?" she murmurs, her voice low and husky. Traces of sleep still linger in her voice and you find yourself oddly lulled by the sound of it.

You nod, adverting your gaze. Lately, you've found yourself unable to meet her eyes at times. You focus on combing her hair back, the bangs she had cut short a few months ago now long enough that it drapes over her eyes.

She continues to look up at you, cerulean blue eyes almost yearning for your attention again. You couldn't ignore them from your peripheral, so you will yourself to meet them with your own.

Whatever she sees in your eyes seem to dictate her next move. She drops her gaze to where her fingers are slowly pulling up your t-shirt, exposing bare skin, until they grant her a peek of magenta pink lace.

“oh yeah,” She agrees, more to herself. As if it was necessary for her to see it with her own to eyes.

She smirks that annoyingly attractive smile before she lets the shirt drop back down over your hips. You can almost taste the air she breathes, a sharp sweetness that clings to your tongue. “s’nice, baby.”

Leah runs her hands over your hips, above the shirt. She’ll keep the memory of pretty pink against your bare skin tucked safely in the back of her mind; cradled in the quiet, sacred corners of her thoughts, where nothing but longing stirs.

She then slides her fingers back under the material again, keeping them there, her touch less hesitant and firmer this time. You won’t be surprised if you find finger marks around your hips and thighs tomorrow morning.

You feel her thumb start to rub circles on your bare skin again, moving greedily against the lace. Her breath fans your neck, close enough that you could just about feel her lips, whispering a secret only meant for you. “I like those on you" 

oh to be platonic housemates with a hot football player (who also happens to notice when you’re wearing new underwear) x

・❥・- kisses, butter

*This work is my original creation. Please don’t copy, share, or translate it without asking for my permission first. Thanks for respecting that!

[wolfish-trickster]

Red eyes seeing green

Astarion x f!reader/Tav

Word count: 3.8K

Summary: A long time ago you've told Astarion what your ideal type is, which is an exact opposite of him. Since then he has won your heart and accidentally you've won his. All would be well if it wasn't for Halsin, a literal embodiment of all physical traits you like on men, joining your group.

Warnings: angst if you squint, pure fluff

A/N: i know the devs confirmed he's fine with you (tav) and Halsin but i really wanted to see him jealous. Also the plot may be all over the place since I took a break from it and finished it like three weeks later😅

Astarion POV

It's been couple of weeks since Astarion's been infected with a tadpole. A nuisance really, until he felt sun rays on his face for the first time in centuries. Only then did he see it as a blessing in disguise. Even more so after he has met you and you've recruited him into your little "fellowship".

In the begining he couldn't care less about anyone. They either distrussted him (understandably after threateing one of them with a dagger on their first meeting), ignored him or down right hated him. It took a while for them to simple be 'meh' about him, a welcome change. Afterwards he started observing everyone, looking for the leader. Karlach was his first guess. Strong, ferocious, not to mention the contrast with her personality. His second guess was Gale. Only because he overheard him mention how a certain event happened before Karlach joined. He seemed to be in the group the longest. His guess was only logical.

But not in a million years would he guess you as a leader. Kind, loving, certainly weak looking. If you told him birds braid your hair every morning he wouldn't even question you. And yet you were the head of this little group of weirdos.

Plan was simple. Seduce you. Make your heart beat only for him. Secure a safe existence by your love-blind self. Profit.

Well, almost.

Despite your sweet and almost innocent personality he had a hard time seducing you. It was fine, Astarion liked a good challenge and he has had harder nuts to crack before.

"You can recite flirty lines all night Astarion, none of them will work," you giggled.

"Oh really," he smirked. "How can you be so sure when I haven't even used my best lines yet?"

"It's not about what you say, but how you look like," you smiled sweetly at him, almost mocking him. "You may not have a physical type but most people still do."

Ah, an appearance. One of his weaknesses. He knew his eyes were red, and when his hair grew long enough to see he could observe snowy white locks. His face must've been attractive as well. Based on how successful he was when fulfilling Cazador's orders. Same could be said about his toned body.

"Are you suggesting my dashing self isn't to your taste?" He said half teasingly with his usual bravado. How could anyone look at him and turn him down?

"Exactly," you answered.

Oh. That's how.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, you look good, but," you looked to the side, a slight blush covering your pointy ears.

"If only you had dark hair, long enough to braid. I always loved men with long luscious hair. Bonus points if they style it half up half down. There's just something about that hairstyle," you bit your lower lip.

"But they had to be clean shaved. My friends used to tease me for being a hypocrite," you giggled, lost in memories of your youth. "I just don't want to feel like i'm kissing a hedgehog, you know? And scars," you sighed dreamily, "I once knew this one stable boy when I was just entering my teenagehood. He had this huge scar across his nose and cheek. From a stalion that kicked him. He looked so good," you almost moaned when memories of your first ever crush rushed through your mind.

Astarion listened to your ramblings and for some reason started to feel... uneasy? Anxious? Hard to name a feeling he hasn't felt in a long time. Could it be because he doesn't fit any of your 'requirements'? Or could it be because a certain wizard fit your describtion almost to a t? But Astarion relaxed, Gale would never shave that dead squirrel on his face.

He forced out a high pitched laugh. "Good luck finding anyone that fits all your describtions darling. I pity you though. Being this picky robs you of lots of fun."

You shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe," you stepped towards him, making his undead heart beat a bit faster, to his surprise. "Maybe I'll have way more fun with my dark-haired, half-updo having, clean-shaven, scar-faced future lover than with a horny vampire," you booped his nose and walked away, leaving him stunned.

How in the world will he ever fulfill his plan?

Turns out he didn't need to. For the first time in his life his body was totally useless to his plans. All he had to do to win your heart was couple of deep moments here, some nice deeds there, a cliche rose he saw you stare at a bit too long. Very romantic. Very normal. Very...innocent. And very time consuming as well.

But he couldn't say he minded. Quite the opposite, he enjoyed all the little moments he experienced with you. When you were by his side, talking about absolute nonsense under the starry night while the dying bonfire cracked and all your companions slept in their tents, in moments like that he felt normal again. Alive. He forgot about all he's been through in the past two centuries. For a short while, true, but even that was better than a blessing from any god, if any of them existed.

After another night like that he came to a realization: he loved you. Sincerely.

Which wasn't part of the plan. At all. Maybe it'll pass? Yeah. It will definitelly pass. He has concidered some of his past victims almost charming, but the feeling went away by the time they passed Cazador's palace gates. In this case it will take a day, maybe two.

A whole week passed and his heart only continued beating for you. He couldn't take it anymore. Lying was fun, but not to you. Not anymore.

He came clean. About everything. His manipulation, failed seduction. Everything. It happened on a type of night he has selfishly claimed as only his and yours. Fire cracked, companions slept, stars twinkled and you, just like always, stunned him by hugging him and confessing to him.

He hasn't stopped shoving your love for him in everyone's faces since, especially Gale's. He hasn't gotten to enjoying your body either, but he didn't really mind. You stayed with him despite his trauma, and that was enough for him. Besides, he doesn't want to mentally escape while making love to the only person who unconditionally cared for him. He wanted to be fully present, you deserved it. Who cares if his healing will take a month or a year, or several? You certainly didn't. You were just happy to be with him, and so was he.

His brand new plan of building his life with you, with a side quest of killing a certain bastard, fell apart when you met a druid.

Halsin.

Astarion didn't mind him at first. Even became somewhat fond of him. Until he started noticing the little things. Halsin's lingering looks. Your kind smile. The two of you fighting side by side more often then you fought by Astarion's side.

And then the memory of his first seduction fail came back. Your type. Long dark hair. Half updo. Shaved. Scarred. Halsin ticked every single box. Astarion mentally slapped himself. How could he even begin to think any of this would last? Everything was too good to be true, too dreamy to be exact. Like straight out of one of Wyll's stories.

It became clear to him. Halsin will want to bed you. And you would, understandably, accept. It was just a matter of days till you walk up to him and tell him about Halsin's great proposition. If you'd be generous enough to tell him beforehand, that is. If you were secretely rotten just like the rest of the world you'd tell him only after, either to boast or to rub salt in his wounds. Indirectly telling him you have needs he cannot fulfill.

He really hoped you wouldn't do the latter. Hells, he hoped you'd refuse Halsin altogether and stay loyal to what the two of you have. But what exactly is that? Just two people who cuddle a lot and kiss. A relationship no different from that formed by children.

Yeah. In the end he wouldn't blame you. He really wouldn't. The only thing he wishes for is your heart belonging to him, your love only being reserved for him. If sleeping with Halsin is what it takes for you to stay his than so be it. He's survived worse.

Days came and went. You still cuddled with him through every night. Astarion even started to have hopes he was making all of that up. He would never be happier to be wrong.

Until one day...

"Astarion," came your voice sweeter than honey. "You would not believe the conversation I just had with Halsin."

He laughed. Bitterly. "I was wondering when you were going to ask me about this," his voice was aloof, almost sort of cheerful. Disguising his disapointment. Not in you of course, in life itself.

"Did he talk to you about it?" You asked, a bit surprised.

"I guessed. The man can't stay quiet about 'enjoying the freedom of nature's gifts', ha," he mocked Halsin's deep voice. "He would outlaw clothing if he could."

"Aaaand what do you say?" You looked up at him with your bright eyes he loved getting lost in so much.

He gulped down a bitter set of words and put on his practiced smile. "I don't mind at all. Go on, have fun. As long as you return to me in the end."

He watched. Waited for your reaction. A happy squeel, a set of thank yous, a relief, an excitement your urges will be met after such a long time, anything really. But he didn't expect your smile to fall, your eyes darken with something. Anger? No, anger looks different on you. Disapointment? More likely, but not quite that either.

"Are you serious?" You asked, tone cold.

Your POV

You were never desired. Not by your peers, your crushes, random people, nobody. Not that you were ugly, you just blended into the background easily. Sure, after people got to know you they became rather fond, but it always took time. Very few people have that nowadays. If the cover doesn't interest them they won't even bother to read the book.

Then came the disaster, the mindflayers, the tadpole. It would be the most miserable time of your life, if you haven't met your companions. One by one they've made your dull life a bit lighter, livelier.

Especially Astarion. His appearance didn't interest you in the begining. Pale as a chalk, curly hair growing barely past his ears. He had no facial hair whatsoever which could be his saving feature but he was robbed of the hotness a scar could bring him.

However your feelings changed when you started talking with him, getting to know him. He had so much more to himself and his appearance became something that was just there and not the first thing you noticed every time you looked at him.

Funny enough, you've started to notice a slight change in his behaviour towards you. Touches lingered a bit too long, smile became a bit less perfect. And something in his eyes you couldn't really put a finger on.

He confessed to you one night. Not a confession you'd be thrilled to hear. He told you about his plan, his manipulation. It made your heart crack. Of course this would happen. Of course someone would be interested in you only if they could gain something from you. Were you cursed?

You wanted to be mad. You wanted to slap him and tell him to go to hells. But you couldn't. Not after the words that followed next.

He loved you. Even without outright saying it you could sense it. In that moment he was the most sincere he has ever been with you, most open. All his walls torn down, pouring his soul out for you. How could you do anything other than confess your own love for him?

The days that followed had been the best ones yet. No one has ever made you feel this desired. Astarion was still a flirty little goblin but when it was just the two of you late at night he became gentler, a bit more romantic. Well, not quite since he had a twisted view on romance after two hundred years under Cazador, but his efforts always made your heart melt.

Not for a second did you feel the need to do anything more with him besides cuddling. Your first time with him was great, ignoring his cocky and sassy personality he could be an exceptionally gentle lover. But you understood how he felt and respected him and his boundaries. Besides, his big hand wrapped around yours when you walked from town to town, his head laying on your chest listening to your heartbeat while your fingers gently played with the curls you started to love, all of these innocent touches outweigh any need for his body in a more mature way.

Thing have been good, until you met Halsin. Then things became even better. He brought this new atnosphere to your little group. Since he wasn't infected you tried so hard to make him feel welcomed. Not that he looked like he needed it, but old habits die hard.

However he must've misinterpreted your kindness. You tried to hold in your scoff as he proposed polygamy to you. You, the biggest hopeless romantic who has already gotten her prince charming. Not in a way she expected or dreamed about but still. But his words did give her an idea.

To make Astarion jealous. He never showed any signs of jealousy, you never gave him a reason. And yet you still wanted to know what it felt like. Remembering your childhood friends having boys and girls alike fight over them. No one has ever fought for you. No one has ever pulled you into their body and glared at anyone who flirted with you despite your discomfort. All of these scenarios you experienced only through heroines in your romance novels.

Halsin gave you a perfect opportunity to experience it now! It may sound cruel, but you couldn't wait. Astarion has always addressed you as my love, my sweet, my darling, my, my, my. Surely he would be the possessive type. What would he do first? Pull you into him and kiss your mind senseless to remind you who you belong to? Or would he talk you out of a night of passion with Halsin? He does talk a lot but you really hoped he would do what every guy in your novels did. Minus the steamy scenes that sometimes followed, of course.

Oh, how wrong you were.

"Are you serious?" You asked, heartbroken.

His confident mask fell, confusion replacing it. "Yes? Did I say otherwise?"

Tears stung in your eyes. Was he really serious? Did he not mind one bit if you slept with another man? Did he love you so little? Did he love you at all? You knew his thoughts on love and genuine care could be a bit twisted and wrong but to this extent? To just throw you at any man that asks you as if you meant nothing to him. As if your nights together in eachother's embrace meant nothing to him.

Apparently your quivering lip and teary eyes wasn't the reaction he expected. He cupped your left cheek. "Sweetheart, did I do anything wrong?"

You slapped his hand away. "You did everything wrong. I-," you looked away, hoping your tears of disapointment and anger wouldn't fall, "I thought we had something."

"We do! Of course we do. But I can't hold your hunger against you. Trust me, I understand what it feels like, to desire something and seldom acquire it."

"But it's you who I desire!" A tear fell. "And not in terms of sex. It's your care, teasing, love. All of that," you sniffled. "All of you."

Now Astarion was more confused than before. "But... your talk with the druid. You were happy about his proposition. Are you telling me you turned him down?"

You nodded. "I did. I'm not the kind of girl to sleep with people I don't trust. I trust you. I love you. Even without sleeping with you I want to stay by your side. Is that so hard to believe?"

"Well yes, concidering your type."

"My type?"

"Oh please," he sighed. "Look at him for goodness sake. Luscious brown hair reaching his shoulders, a huge scar, no facial hair. Features you were positively gushing about right infront of me."

Realization hit you just as hard as old memories. You remember that night. He has offered you some of his wine and some flirty lines as well. You humored him back then. "You... you remember that?"

He looked away, arms crossed, tips of his pointy ears flushed. "Of course I do. How could I forget the first person not falling for my charm? I simply made a mental note in case we ever come across some shape changing potion so I could fit your standards. It was purely for research."

You smirked. "Oooor, could it be," you took a step closer to him, hands clasped behind your back making you look innocent and almost childishly teasing, "that perhaps you've started liking me by that point?"

He groaned. "Hells woman, I don't know. I've stopped writing myself a diary since lomg ago."

"It's not a no," you said in a sing-song voice.

Before he could turn away you cupped his cheeks and made his pouty self face you. "Listen, if I didn't know either of you and you'd be walking down the street as complete strangers to me, true, I would ignore your pale vampiric ass over Halsin any time of the day."

Annoyed, Astarion rolled his eyes and went in to push your hands away from his face but you held still. You gently place couple of soft kisses over his cheekbones and continued. "But personality plays a big role in who my heart belongs to. If both of you walked down the street now I'd jump into your arms without a second thought. And not because of what either of you look like."

You stood on your tippy toes and kissed his forhead. "It's your sense sarcasm," kiss on the bridge of his nose, "dry and sometimes downright wrong sense of humor," you drag your lips gently along his nose, "your playfulness that keeps your old ass young," he scoffed but let you peck the tip of his nose, "your wit, your charm, your passion. And I do mean outside of the bed," you clarified as you kept giving his face little kisses.

His arms held onto your waist as you listed off all of the qualities he may or may not possess. If he physically could he would be purring like a cat right now. "Darling, you sure do know how to stroke my ego."

"Oh really? Maybe I should stop. I don't want you to become too spoiled after all," you teased but you both knew you didn't mean a single word.

He hummed, which almost did sound like a cat's purr. "Or maybe I should just tease out all the ways you wanted me to react out of you. Was it this?" Without a warning he yanked you into his chest, forcefully but not too violently. One of his hands slowly moved from your waist up between your shoulderblades, carressing your back with just his fingertips, making you shiver.

"Or this?" He leaned down, his nose brushing against yours, cold undead lips close enough to feel his breath on your mouth but too far away for an actual contact.

Despite his torturous teasing you giggled. "Actually, I already got my reaction."

"You did?" He dropped the sauve seductive act completely and pulled back anough to properly look you in the eyes.

"Yeah. I mean it wasn't the same as in my books, and definitely not what I expected. But it was better. It was real."

You snaked your arms around his neck. "Besides, if you did everything as I expect you to, it wouldn't be half as much fun with you now would it?"

Smiling he closed his eyed and rested his forhead on yours. "No, it definitelly wouldn't, darling. Although," his mouth twusted inti a devilish smirk. Oh no.

In one swift movement he scooped you up over his shoulder making his way towards your shared tent. A concept of secluded tents has gone out the window once Astarion realized how wonderful a warm body feels against his throughout the night.

"I'd love to know precisely what kind of books you've read before my glorious presense took over your love life."

You struggled against his grasp a bit but quickly gave up. Not because it was impossible to break free but because, as embarassing as it was to admit, you liked how he carried you. Being manhandled by him wasn't so bad from time to time.

"You'd be bored out of your mind. Most of them were cheesy novels for hopeless romantics."

He entered the tent and gently layed you down on your side of the bedroll. He turned to close the flaps to give the two of your desired alone time and said: "Well, to each their own I suppose. But who knows, maybe I can get an inspiration from some of them. Making your silly childhood dreams of knights in shining armors and princesses become a reality."

After he was done he layed down and assumed his favourite position. Head on your chest, ear right over your heart, arms holding you close to him. Instead of playing with his hair as always your hands cradled his head, thumb brushing his cheek.

"My love, you've already made so many of them a reality."

He chuckled into your chest, one hand coming up to angle your wrist so he could kiss your pulse. "Surely there must be some I haven't."

There were. Those where they lived happily ever after.

But those had time.

[bitchfitch]

Owen had sulked off to the seaside after his life fell apart to be reclusive and old and alone until death came for him. He knew about the sirens in the area and he knew that they were the death of many fishers because when the waters were empty they had no problem launching from the water to drag a man out of his boat and down too deep for him to have a chance at surfacing in time.

Owen knew they could mimic human voices and were uncannily good at guessing the voice of who you'd miss most and he knew they were vicious things that were self aware enough to know there was a distinction between murder and hunting and call them synonyms anyways. and he knew they loved and loved and loved to fake cry and act injured to lure soft hearts too close to the shore.

He knew all of that. He'd been living adjacent to them for years already when he found one on the scratch of rocky shoreline that was his. It's feathers a bloody mess, it's gangly limbs askew where it had washed up with the rest of the trash and muck.

He Knew it was faking. Still, he was an old man who had chosen to turn his nose up to those in need time after time. If death were to find him, where better than right there offering another kindness for the first time in his wasted life.

He walked to it, expecting it to jump up and lash out with those dagger claws. It didn't. It barely moved when he pet his hand over its feathers. He thought it dead until his fingers found the deep gashes through its back. It shrieked something awful its wings flapping and legs flailing. he had to grab it by the beak to stop it bashing its head on the stones.

Sirens were intelligent. They were people. This one was so close to death it may as well have been just another one of the fish in the harbor.

He picked it up, they were birds they weighed barely anything, and carried it inside the little ramshackle cabin he'd chosen to be his place of death.

It fought. it was scared. It knew it was weak and now on the table of something that could make a meal out of it. Murder and hunting were the same thing to it, after all.

Still, he cleaned the gashes and sewed them closed. Forced the beast to eat and drink what he could get down it's gullet and when it's fight finally ran out he pulled a blanket from his straw stuffed mattress and left the siren in his bed before settling on the half rotten bench by the table for the night.

He didn't intend to sleep a wink. He was too willful to let death find him like that. He was also old and tired from wrestling with a bird capable of killing a man far stronger and younger than him.

When he woke it was to an empty cabin and crusted blood on his table and sheets. No siren to be seen nor harm done to him.

After that night he'd see it rarely always far off in the water. Always ducking back under right as he turned to face it.

He had better luck when it was around. Fish longer than his arm with their spines ripped half from their bodies would be snagged on his hook when he reeled it in. His nets would come up fuller. Other sirens never looked his way. He stopped hearing voices of long gone friends on the air.

He left it portions, cooked and seasoned on his door step. it left stones and bits of glass found on the sea floor. Shells. Shiny bits of things lost to the water long ago. If he lost something overboard, it would find it and bring it back to him that night.

He wondered if they both thought they were being clever by avoiding interacting directly with the other. If it was just as wary of him as he was of it. If it thought, that like him, it had simply gotten lucky that night and never would they be so kind to eachother again if they came near enough to strike the other.

The shore froze when winter came. His siren disappeared with the first snowfall. They always did. The waters must've been too cold for their swims.

He still missed it. Not the gifts nor the help it offered, but it's presence just off to the side of his life. It's shadow under his boat, the sound of its claws on the stones outside his home when it came to leave this or that. The sweet trilling noise it made when other sirens drew too close for its liking.

He spent the entire winter wondering what it got up to. Where it went other than just "South".

If their truce would still be in place come spring. He saved it from a boat motor strike, but it had spared his life countless times in the months since. Murder and hunting were the same, sparing and saving might be too.

Surely by now it knew all it had to do was look hurt again. Surely it knew he wouldn't fight it. Feeding it would give his life meaning that it never had, in a way. He had decided he was ok with that.

it was longest winter he ever lived through. Not in the number of days it took to pass but in the number of solitary moments that he used to not mind at all.

He was pushing his little boat out into the bay when he saw it break the surface so far away he couldn't be sure it was really there. The warm water shell on his doorstep was what made him certain it had made it's return.

It was so cautious those first few weeks back. Never did it let him see it fully. Never did it let him hear it's sweet songs. While other fishers nets came up thin his always returned full.

The season was going to be lean, he knew that the moment he heard a siren had already pulled a fisherman under. They didn't like murder. They knew it was a gamble not usually worth taking. They stole from lines and nets and menaced those they didn't like, but rarely did they kill despite their reputation.

He made sure to leave his siren larger portions. Whole fish cooked the way it seemed to like best, whole and burnt with too much spice. It helped him, he would help it.

Another few drownings. Spring was always when the sirens were their most tenacious. They had chicks to feed this time of year.

He wondered if his did too. If up on the cliffs where they nested there was another of it's kind in a cave full of hungry little mouths it brought the fish they caught together too.

He didn't know if he loved the idea of it having a family or hated that it might. Hated that he didn't anymore. Loved the idea of downy chicks warm under its wings, hated he would never see them. Loved its soft, domestic happiness, hated that he wasn't part of it.

Sirens didn't involve men in their flocks. There wouldn't be a single book in the world that could tell him if they were the type of bird that mated for life or the type that ate their partners if they gave them too many weakling young.

He wanted to know. He wanted to know what it thought of during it's long dives deep in the harbor. If the seawater stung it's eyes. If it helped him out of pity for an old man or thanks to someone it couldn't tell a single thing about.

He liked the idea that he may be as much of a mystery to it as it was to him. The siren must at least know he had nothing other than it.

More drownings. the summer shoals didn't come. Word of fishing vessels larger than buildings drifted in on the backs of rumors about the bay's soon to be desolation.

The siren and him stayed working together. Quiet signals and the slow grown knowing of the others habits. They wouldn't starve. He hoped that if it did have a family, they wouldn't either.

Tension built. The sirens were so quick in their crimes that rarely did the survivors manage to make them pay.

Humans were almost as loathe to kill the sirens as the sirens were to kill them. No gun could be reloaded fast enough to save you from the fury of the next nearest bird and you were a fool if you thought you could get away with anything closer ranged.

That's what Owen thought, anyways. New ships. New guns that fired faster and further.

People were disgruntled after years and years and years of loosing their loved ones to feed the sirens.

Four were strung up in the town. their feathers bloody, their limbs askew.

His was not amongst them. He still saw it there, a fifth corpse being paraded every time he closed his eyes.

He sat on his step that night. His hands shaking with its plate beside him.

He just needed to see it. Whole. Alive.

He waited and waited and waited. The sky was pinking with sunrise.

it finally crept from the tide. The dark over it's glistening feathers making it look like a wave had simply stood up. It watched him with every step it took. its gold eyes full of nervous distrust.

He held its plate out to it before setting it at its feet.

He wondered if it knew what crying was. If it understood the relief and the grief for it that had already carved out a place in his soul.

It leaned in close, he barely heard its soft trilling through his sobbing, its raptor's beak tucking into his thin hair as it preened him. It settled beside him, it's legs tucking under itself, it's head resting on his shoulder, its wing rested across his lap as he pet through the dense feathers he'd only felt once before. It's meal forgotten.

He spoke to it until the sun was up. He didn't know if it knew a single word he said. Just that when it stood again it was to tug at the back of his shirt to make him stand and open his door.

It pressed its head to his shoulder and guided him to his own bed and made him lay. His exhaustion struck all at once even if his siren had seen it approaching long before. He grabbed it by a fist full of feathers at its hip, and it understood.

It settled on his small mattress for a second time, it's body warm next to his. And even if Owen knew nothing about it, he knew it would be there when he woke.

[hawkinsbnbg]

Steve was a good friend, so he decided to show Eddie—a virgin—the rope.

nsfw, edging, masturbation, voyeurism (not sure about this one but rather be safe than sorry)

It started out like this:

They were both smoking in Eddie's bed and talking about everything and nothing at all. Just a picture of two friends chilling out together.

But maybe something had gone sidetracked, because Steve had turned to look at him and asked calmly.

"Are you a virgin?"

There was no warning, nothing for Eddie to brace himself for that kind of question. So with a loose tongue and heavy eyelids, Eddie had nodded.

"Yeah, sex is overrated anyway, man."

And that was it. They moved on to different topics after Steve just hummed noncommittally in response.

A few days later, they were back in Eddie's bed again but before he could light his joint, he was asked to show Steve his cock.

As confused as Eddie was, he didn't ask any questions but complied because he was weak to doe-eyes and a pretty face.

And unfortunately, Steve was the combination of both.

So, he just put his joint away for later use, unbuckled his pants, and pulled his cock out, already half-hard just by the idea of Steve watching him.

"Fuck," Steve breathed out softly, eyes tracing the girth and length of Eddie without shame.

Eddie squirmed slightly, not knowing why Steve reacted like that.

"Uhm, is there a problem?" Eddie asked uncertainly.

"No," Steve finally met his gaze, dilated pupils almost eating up the hazel. "Just... I know you’re big, but not this big."

Eddie blushed. "Well, is that a thing?"

"Is that a thing?" Steve mimicked his perplexed tone and snorted. "Jesus. Yeah, Munson. You're fucking hung and girls really dig it."

Eddie wanted to ask, "Does it also include you?"

But he bit his tongue before he could blurt it out. Instead, he said, "So, what are we gonna do now?"

Steve smiled at him, pretty and a little mean, "We're gonna teach you how to not come prematurely so you won't be laughed at for it."

Eddie was quite sure he only complained to Steve about that problem one time. Like months ago when he had been high off his ass and unable to see straight.

He had assumed that Steve must've forgotten all about it by now. But apparently, the younger boy had a better memory than he thought.

"How?" Eddie frowned in bafflement, half anticipating and half afraid of what was to come.

"You're gonna jack off," Steve answered casually, as if the sky was blue and Eddie wasn’t having his cock out in the air. "And when you're close, I'll tell you to stop. We'll keep going until your endurance improves."

"Wait, isn't that–" Eddie spluttered.

He wasn't an idiot. He had read too many skin mag to not know what it was.

"Yeah," Steve nodded calmly. "I know, but edging does help cases like this. I've done my research, Munson."

There were too many things to unpack from that one sentence and Eddie certainly was too sober for it.

So he filed it away to the back of his mind to visit it later when he wasn't both turned on and embarrassed by Steve's insane proposal.

"Do you want me to help you or not?" Steve cocked his eyebrow when he remained silent too long.

And wasn't that a million-dollar question?

Because Steve was sitting on his bed, asking to watch him jerk off, and expecting his brain to not fucking combust.

"Okay," Eddie exhaled shakily and looked up to meet Steve's waiting gaze. "When do you want to do it?"

"Whenever convenient for you," Steve shrugged like he hadn't been eyeing Eddie's half-boner until it filled out and started leaking steadily between them.

Before Eddie could second guess himself, he shimmied out of his pants and boxers. Then, under Steve’s watchful gaze, he wrapped his hand around his cock and started pumping.

He closed his eyes, head knocking back and mouth dropping open in silent moans.

It didn't take long, much to his humiliation, when Eddie felt the telltale tingles prance down on his spine. He was gonna–

"Stop."

Eddie's hand fucking stopped and he had to yank it away from his cock or he was gonna spill just from a small contact.

He shook his head at Steve. "I can't–"

"It's alright," Steve grabbed his hand and guided it back to his throbbing cock. "I know you can do it, Eddie."

Jesus Fucking H. Christ.

The look Steve gave him was so different from before, so soft and so tender.

At that moment, Eddie knew he'd do anything Steve asked him to.

And he was also pushed closer to the edge because of it.

"I'm sorry–"

Steve acted too quickly. One second he was holding Eddie's wrist, one second later he was grabbing Eddie's balls.

"Wha–" Eddie groaned out loud when Steve squeezed them, causing his cock to wilt immediately.

"The fuck are you doing, Harrington?!" Eddie moaned and glared at Steve.

"I'm helping you," Steve answered matter-of-factly, but his eyes gleamed with mischief. "In case you forgot, Munson, we're training you to hold out longer than one minute. It'd be for naught if you come right now."

"You're evil," Eddie mumbled, but secretly hoped that Steve wouldn't stop holding his balls. He could already see himself jerking off to this very moment later.

"I'm just being a good friend," Steve snorted and retreated his hand. "Go on. Pick up from where you left off."

And Eddie obeyed.

He stroked his cock slower this time, hand moving with more purpose, teasing the sensitive slit, squeezing the flushed tip, spreading the slick along the rigid shaft.

He grunted, sighed, and moaned, letting out small noises that were just a bit more breathy.

He bucked his hips and started thrusting, wanting to show Steve that he had the potential, that he could fuck Steve the same way he was pistoning into the loose hole formed by his hand.

His performance was cut short, however, when he was close again, too keyed up to last more than a minute.

It was hard to ignore those hooded eyes when they felt like a physical touch on him.

As predicted, Eddie wasn't allowed to come.

Every time, Steve would tell him to stop again and again and again until he was desperate for relief. Every time Eddie failed to halt his movements in time, the younger boy would aid him by gripping his balls painfully.

It was a bittersweet torture.

Eventually, Eddie couldn't hold back anymore and shot despite Steve's order.

"Fuck, shit, m'sorry, m'sorry," Eddie babbled as he experienced the most intense orgasm in his life.

He convulsed and fisted his cock, seeing stars beneath his eyelids as he tried to drive out the high.

The overwhelming pleasure rendered him speechless, making his head spin and his body tremble. He felt like his brain had liquified and streamed out from his ears.

By the time Eddie regained his senses, he was handed tissues and a water bottle.

Once done with wiping himself down, he took a long gulp from his bottle before grinning at Steve, "That was really something, man."

"You tell me," Steve huffed out a laugh that echoed by Eddie.

They sat in companionable silence until Eddie cleared his throat slightly.

"So I finally lasted longer than one minute."

"Yeah," Steve patted his arm lightly. "Good job for that."

"Thanks," Eddie ducked his head to hide the blush on his cheeks.

"It's nothing," Steve smiled at him kindly. "You really outdid yourself, Eds."

Eddie's stomach felt warm and fuzzy at that. "So what's next now I passed your test?"

Moving closer, Steve hooked a finger under his chin to make him look into those hazel eyes.

"Next time, we're gonna do it with my hand."

Eddie took in a sharp inhale. "You're not joking, right?"

"No, not with you," Steve chuckled lowly.

The sound rattled Eddie down to his bones.

"And what's about next next time?" Eddie couldn't help himself. God dammit.

If all of this was just a dream, he was gonna rip God a new one. Because fucking Jesus.

"Eager, aren't we?" Steve arched his brow. "But I think you already figured it out by yourself."

Eddie groaned and reached down to squeeze the base of his cock. It seemed to be quite eager with what Steve suggested.

"Can we just do the second test right now?" Eddie licked his lips, knowing full well that he wouldn't last long, but he’d be damned if he didn't give it a shot.

Steve just laughed and patted his cheek lightly. "Nah, today's enough. We'll continue tomorrow."

"Promise?" Eddie asked hopefully.

"Yeah," Steve pecked the corner of his lips. "Promise."

And Eddie knew he was gonna set up a one-hundred-step plan to woo Steve Harrington however impossible it was.

[xxventiswindblumexx]

Hi there love! If you have time, could you write a Scaramouche x fem reader, where they hate each other so much, and then he fucks her till she can't speak anymore. W Dom Scara. Have a good day!

Of course! Trying to get back into writing after a long hiatus due to family and home issues!

Here's a hate fucking scara x fem reader NSFW!

Can't forget to tag my local scara simp @hitomisuzuya ❤

⚠WARNING:Hate fucking, harsh/rough love, scara being scara, breeding kink, pet kink⚠

It was late at night as the storm in Inazuma rolls, thunder strikes as the wrath of the Electro Archon could be felt in the air, even more so in the delusion factory where a certain harbinger resided. Scaramouche was appointed to watch over the factory, one of the very last things he wanted to be stuck with, maybe he should've been more.. friendly during the harbinger banquet, maybe then he couldn't gotten out of it, regardless he had a duty to uphold and another idea on his mind.

As the puppet thought he could hear the distant sound of fighting, great, the traveller Y/N arrived, how annoying. just what he needed, another annoyance, already had enough he had to work with the Doctor and Childe, now he must be rid of the traveller.

He waited for her to arrive to his domain, it was only a matter of time before she arrived and of course he would relish seeing her fall, but that's not what fate had in store for the two.

Y/N entered the room alone, she decided this was a fight even Paimon couldn't go with, a fight between her.. and the Balladeer.

"How dare you use people's lives for your profit!" she started, hand gripping her sword with nothing but vengeance for her dear friend. Scaramouche couldn't help but eat up the look, the anger, he loved it. wait.. loved it? no he can't get distracted.

"oh? did your pathetic friend die from it? must've been to weak.. like you" he laughed, only antagonizing the hero more, what he didn't expect was for her to attack already, coming at him with her sword he was able to grab her arm and deflect it, shoving her to the floor, he's much faster then her, with the power of electro he can move faster then she can blink. Once on the ground he stomped on her wrist making her drop the sword, hissing she clawed at his ankle but it was no use, he had her pinned.

His electric gaze sent shivers and strangely arousal through her as she gave him a scowl

"give up yet pest?" he hissed, arousal and anger was filling the air, "I can see you're ready to fight back and prove your worth" He continued his actions of stomping on her wrist again, "that means you have some backbone" he growled as Y/N struggled to get back into her feet

"What I have is not something I care to brag about" she said in return angerly, however when the two got close, scaramouche slamming her into the floor once more but this time holding her down with his hands, her legs on either side putting them in a situation, she could feel his hard on, something he tried to ignore, pathetic human emotions, he would say, but now its gotten him in a bind. "I wouldn't have guessed the Balladeer would get hard from this" she scowls causing his face to flush with both embarrassment and anger, but he couldn't deny the feeling, "or maybe I do know who you are, your true form" She snarls in disgust at him.

"And what might that be" he says with venom. Y/N smirks and sits herself straight up, she's getting more cocky now, and honestly it wasn't helping his already poor self control

"you're just a touch starved, horny angry man aren't you?" she remarks, snapping the last bit of restraint he had, growling he was determined to put this scum in her place

"I'll teach you to respect me, even if I have to break you over and over" he hissed beside her ear, biting harshly on her neck, his hips pushed forward causing her to gasp, a sharp moan leaving her throat as she squirmed in pleasure, she hated him and he hated her yet.. for that reason, they made each other stronger, the balladeers strength, their passion, they complemented and created each other.

Once started they knew they couldn't stop, his hands selfishly grabbing and pulling at her clothing, growls and groans filled the air as they moved around each other's bodies in a way they never thought possible. Her body was soft beneath his rough touches and gentle kisses, her breath coming in gasps and his lips on hers felt like heaven yet hell at the same time.

Once he pulled her clothing off he shoved her onto her stomach, taking control as the god he is, his cock throbbing against her wet pussy as he laughs at her submission, even if she was still struggling, he was the dominate one here, his tip flushed and leaking with precum as he pushed it against her entrance "fucking beg for me like the whore you are" he hissed, she resisted but she couldn't deny the throbbing need, weakly begging "please.. f-fuck! please just fuck me!" shamelessly begging before his thick cock slammed into her pussy, growling as his hands gripped her hips hard enough to cause his nails to scratch the skin, he thrusted hard and fast hitting her sweet spot, moaning loudly as her walls clenched around him, the feeling driving him insane. He pulled himself off from her slowly and threw away his discarded clothes, now fully naked he held her wrists above her head, assuming a new position before pressing his body onto hers, he thrusting hard and deep causing her to whimper, her pussy clenching around him as he mercilessly fucked into her, claiming her as his own.

"F-fuck! you're so damn tight, i-its like you want me to breed you don't you? " he hissed in a teasing tone, she groans as his hand tighten it's grip on her already sore wrists, his cock throbbed with need to release as she felt a knot began to tighten, causing her to cry out his name. He thrust harder until she cries with her orgasm, causing him to release his cum deep inside of her, she writhed under him, crying out in pain and pleasure as his cum filled her womb, his dick still buried within her pussy and balls.

"You're mine now little one, you belong to me and only me, " he murmured softly as she felt weak, he had almost forgotten his plan, nevertheless he had to make changes anyways, he can't just let her get in his way again.. maybe he can keep her as his pet.

[athanza]

Starlett - Part 3

Cooper Howard/fem!OC (not self-insert)

Tags: Hurt/comfort (sort of?), non-allowed romantic connection, lots of tention, pre and post war drama, some fluff

Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse (no graphic scenes or descriptions of that nature), angst, canon wasteland violence

This branches out from canon but I thought it was a cute story idea so I had to write it. Enjoy! ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 | Final part

2296

Suddenly Irene looked unsteady and she held a hand to the wound on her side.

"Fancy seein' you here." She chuckled painfully.

"I know, I haven't changed a bit."

She laughed but immediately regretted it, groaning in pain.

"You uh," she said, blood dripping down her leg. "you wouldn't happen to have a stimpak on you would ya? I'm uh...I'm not feelin' too hot."

He looked her over, the gash was deep, she'd need more than one stimpak. "Unfortunately I don't think I do."

Suddenly her legs gave out from underneath her and she collapsed.

"Whoa." He said, catching her before she hit the ground.

Irene woke up hours later, lying on her back in what looked like a small cave, her head resting on a saddle bag.

She didn't look any different than she did before the war, albeit a little dishevelled, Cooper figured that however Moldaver survived must've been how she did.

"Coop." Irene croaked.

He looked up from cleaning his revolver and saw her try to move.

"Easy there Starlett, you're pretty banged up."

She winced in pain again and lay back down. "I thought you were dead." She said, weak from the blood loss.

"I should be. So should you."

"Fate had other plans I guess."

Cooper scoffed quietly. She didn't press it, even though she wanted to know if Janey made it.

"You're gonna need some proper medical attention." He said. "Ain't much out here though."

"Eh, it's just a scratch." She joked, swallowing a mouth-full of blood.

Cooper got up and handed her a flask of water, half empty. She took a few sips and handed it back.

"I'm lookin' for Lee, you know where I can find 'er?

"I've been looking for her myself, I'm afraid I can't help you there, I've found nothing but dead ends. The bitch is hard to find even in a fucking desert."

He smiled a little at the very different tone coming out of her mouth than he remembered; she must've been in the wasteland for a little while, at least.

"I'm glad I found you cowboy. You're about the only fond memory I've got left. I needed that right about now."

"I'm not the man you remember."

"Doesn't matter. You've reminded me of something I haven't seen in years."

"And what's that?"

"Kindness."

2077

The doorbell rang and Cooper opened it to find Irene looking remarkably understated compared to her shows, but she still had that aire of grace that she always carried with her no matter where she was.

"Come on in." He smiled, stepping aside for her.

"I can't thank you enough for letting me stay, I know its a lot of ask of someone you just met."

"It's the least I can do."

He closed the door and took her suitcase for her.

Janey appeared with Roosevelt, having been playing in the backyard and Cooper gestured to her.

"Irene, this is my daughter Janey. Janey this is Irene, the friend from work I was telling you about."

"Irene Taylor!?" She said, her eyes sparkling. "I've seen you on TV! Your voice is sooo beautiful! You definitely should have won the award on last month's show."

Irene and Cooper both laughed.

"Looks like you have a fan."

"That's very kind of you." Irene smiled sweetly.

"Janey, why don't you watch some cartoons while I show Irene to her room?"

"Ok." She beamed and sat down with Roosevelt in front of the TV.

Irene followed Cooper to the back of the house where the guest room was and looked at all the family photos as they walked through. Wedding photos, Janey's baby photos, a puppy photo of Roosevelt. When they finally reached the room she felt even more uncomfortable.

"This is you." He said, placing her suitcase on the bed.

"I'm so sorry to put you in this position Mr. Howard, I do appreciate it very much. I didn't know who else to come to."

"Don't worry about it." He smiled warmly. "I'm just glad you decided to leave."

"So am I. You made me realise the cause wasn't worth the abuse, no matter how much I told myself it was. Lee won't be happy but it'll be worth it in the end."

"I'm sure it will."

She smiled softly at him. "I'll let you get back to your daughter. You'll barely know I'm here."

"Nonsense," he said. "You're joining us for dinner, plus I'm sure Janey would love to spend some time with you."

She got choked up a bit at that. Everything she had done since getting into show business had been for other people, someone doing something like this for her was something special.

"Thank you Mr. Howard."

"Cooper." He replied.

2296

Irene lay sleeping and Cooper sat wondering what to do with her.

He couldn't spare any resources, and he didn't need stimpaks, so he had none. Could he carry her to Filly and get her to a doctor? Sure, but that was in the opposite direction of where he was headed, where they were both headed.

It would be more humane to shoot her now to save her the pain, but he couldn't bring himself to do it and it angered him.

"Fuck." He said, getting to his feet and picking up his gun, walking out of the cave in search of supplies.

[mlmxreader]

Closed Curtains | Alfie Solomons x m!reader

『••✎••』

requested by anonymous

↳ ❝ Hi can I request Alfie with the prompts 300 and 301 please? ❞

: ̗̀➛ Alfie just wants a small excuse to get you alone and spend some time with you.

trigger warnings: ̗̀➛ trauma, vague description of war, vague mentions of hallucinations, swearing, smoking, vague mentions of secret relationships/homophobia

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

spotlight fundraiser : ̗̀➛ Help Shatha and her family evacuate to safety

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

"Oi!" Alfie huffed as he slammed a piece of paper down on your desk and glared at you, the light grey smoke from your cigarette infesting his beard. "I thought you fuckin' well knew that cosign got a 'g' in it."

You shrugged as you glanced at the paper, then smiled knowingly as you moved to hold the cigarette between your fingers. "My apologies, Mister Solomons, I guess I must've overlooked it."

Playfully, he narrowed his eyes, and tilted his head slightly to the left to gesture to his office. "With me. Now."

You rose from behind the dark wooden desk, your back ached slightly and your knees were slightly weak, but you still followed him; with every step, your heart seemed to get harder and harder until you felt the slight gust of wind as he closed the heavy door behind you.

"Alfie," you said softly, hardly loud enough for him to hear. "What's this about?"

"Just hang the fuck on," he told you gently, at least as gently as his voice would allow him. "C'mere, dance with me - there's a slow song on the radio."

You all but grinned as you placed one hand in his and allowed the other to sink to his waist; softly, he rested his heavy free hand on your shoulder, and began to move you around the dark, enclosed, office. He had kept the curtains shut - mostly because of the weather and to keep the sun out so he didn't overheat, partially to allow a little bit of extra privacy.

Ever since the... ever since the old days, it had been difficult for you and Alfie to find some time to yourselves, alone; even then, it had never been the same since those four years.

You pressed your head against his shoulder, and sighed heavily as you leaned into him as much as you could; things had never been the same since those years, and you often worried that it was too much for him. To put up with it.

The screaming in the middle of the night. The pains that left you gasping for air and writhing on the floor - the pains where there were no scars on your body, but the same couldn't be said for the... for the poor souls left out there.

Alfie didn't seem too bad. He had a few waking nightmares, but it was never the same as you. He would flinch if the kettle hissed as it cooled down, and would clench his jaw if he caught a whiff of pineapple and pepper - he never spoke about it. He didn't have to.

You swallowed thickly, and dared to look into his eyes as you pushed yourself away slightly. "We've changed..."

Alfie nodded as he grumbled. "Who didn't? C'mon, I missed feeling your hand in mine... don't run away from me now, Corporal."

You shook your head, daring to crack him a slight smile. "I'm not going anywhere, Captain."

He shot you a single look, and you knew everything that you needed to; Alfie wasn't going anywhere as long as you weren't, and he wasn't going to get rid of you, either. You changed, but so did he and he knew it.

Those four years had done a lot more than change the landscape; great open wounds still gaping and spewing up bones when it rained. You looked towards the curtains, and saw the sun fighting to push through the dense fabric.

It reminded you of those four years, but you wouldn't tell Alfie that; he didn't need to worry more than he already was, and he didn't need to hear more about shit that had been done all that time ago.

Everything had changed since then, but some things were still the same; you and Alfie kept things hush hush, only his family knew and his rabbi. No one else could ever know. That was still the same.

You let out a quiet yawn, and hummed as you nodded slowly. "I think I missed the 'g' because of lack of sleep..."

Alfie grumbled again, and held you against him as the song began to softly end, fading into the static and the crackling. "Right. Yeah... tell you what, say fuck it, and you stay in here for a few hours. I'll just say you're gonna help me with, I dunno, some fuckin' business bollocks or whatever... sound good?"

You couldn't deny that it did, and murmured a string of agreements under your breath before taking up Alfie's desk; you put your heavy boots on the hard wood, and leaned back in his chair as you pulled his blazer to your lap, and watched him for a moment.

"Alf?"

"Yeah?" He raised his brows slightly as he busied himself with gathering the papers that he was actually supposed to fill out. He set them up on the table on the other side of the room.

"Think we'll ever get rid of it?" You asked, and when he asked what you had meant, you rolled your eyes. "The war. Do you think it'll ever go away?"

For a moment, Alfie caught the scent of pineapple and pepper, and heard the whistling of mortars as he focused his breath, and shook his head. "Doubt it. War might be done, but it ain't through with us... don't mean it won't fuckin' get better, though, mind. We'll be alright, y'know, me and you. We'll always be alright."

You wanted to believe him, but couldn't as you clenched your jaw. "My sleep's getting worse."

"Yeah," he breathed out as he licked his lips. "I know, but... you fuckin' well know that I'll try everythin' I can to help it."

"I know," you whispered, letting your heavy gaze fall to the curtains. "Sometimes, nothing feels real..."

"I know," Alfie's voice broke slightly as he caught himself and cleared his throat. "But I love you, and I am gonna stay right the fuck here whilst you get some sleep, alright?"

"Thanks, Alf."

"Get some sleep," he rumbled. "You need it."

[stardustfables]

Late Night Talk

JayVik

Contains: Playful banters and cuddles

Rating: PG

Word count: 1468

~~~~ ⚙️ ~~~~

Viktor sighed softly. How long had he been working on the same stupid problem. He tried carrying over the six, even took the two away. But he just kept getting the same outcome. Failure. He finally groaned and leaned his head back running his hands over his face. He needed a break. Just as he grabbed his cane, he heard the door open.

“Hey,” a familiar voice spoke softly, “I got you some coffee.” Viktor looked over and relaxed with a smile, “I thought you forgot about me.” He teased the taller. Jayce chuckled and rolled his eyes, “How could I forget my partner?” Viktor shrugged with a grin, “Eh, I can be easily forgotten.”

Jayce laughed and sat in the empty chair next to him as he sat their cups down “Just so you know, I’ve tried. It doesn’t work.” Viktor laughed and grabbed his cup before raising a bit as a thanks and taking a sip. He shook his head and looked back at the papers. Viktor must've had an annoyed expression because Jayce spoke up, “You should take a break.” Viktor shook his head, “I’m okay.” Jayce sighed and stood up to step behind Viktor, “No, you’re not.” The smaller one shook his head and picked his pencil up, “I just needed some time to look away from it. I got that time, now I’m getting back to work.” Jayce rolled his eyes and started massaging Viktors shoulders. The other tensed under his hands and slowly relaxed with a sigh. Jayce hummed with amusement, “You didn’t look away long enough. Come on..” He pulled Viktor slowly back so he was leaning against his chair, “Take a break, for me. Please?”

Viktor tilted his head back and leaned his head on Jayce’s stomach. He gave a small grin, “You’re like a puppy, you know that?” The smile on Jayce had made the corner of his eyes crinkle, “Am I at least a cute puppy?” Viktor snorted and rolled his eyes, “Maybe you’re right. We should probably take a break. Go ahead and call it a night.” He leaned forward and Jayce tilted his head, “Really? How come you’re saying that now?” Viktor braced his hands on the table before standing up with a sigh, “You only ask questions like that when it’s late.”

Jayce laughed, “Oh? You think you have me pegged?” Viktor nodded and grabbed his cane and supported himself against it before looking up at Jayce, “I don’t think. I know. You asking if you’re ‘a cute puppy’ will then lean into a question of what breed of dog you are which then will lead into an argument of what type of dog ot animal I am. Before we know it, it’s five in the morning and we hadn’t even touched any of the project.” Jayce gave a warm smile, “Damn. I guess you do know what will happen.” He shrugged, “Alright. Lets get you to your room then.” Viktor nodded and started walking out of the lab. They walked in silence with one another, once at Viktors room, Viktor opened his door and went inside. He paused at his dresser and looked over his shoulder at Jayce. He turned slightly to look at him fully, “Well?” Jayce looked at him and gave a weak smile. He wasn’t too sure on what to say. Viktor raised his brows looking him over, “You coming in or leaving?” Jayce straightened up, “I mean, if you’re fine with me hanging out for a bit.” Viktor chuckled and shook his head turning back to his dresser. He leaned his cane against the wall between his dresser and bed as he spoke, “For a man who is smart, you can really be a dumbass.” Jayce gave a mock gasp, “Rude!” Viktor shrugged, “Don’t give dumbass responses and I won’t have to call you a dumbass.”

Jayce laughed and sat at the end of Viktors bed and shook his head looking down at his hands trying to give Viktor some privacy, “God, I forgot how mean you are when you’re tired!” Viktor started taking his vest off followed by his shirt, “Eh, you’ll get over it.” Viktor couldn’t help but chuckle at himself when he heard Jayce laugh a little. He got his shirt off and tossed them in the hamper that was on the other side of the dresser. He grabbed a random shirt before putting it on and went to sit on his own bed slowly. Jayce looked over at him, “Well..” Viktor raised a brow, “Well, what?” Jayce chuckled and slid his shoes off to sit criss cross on the bed, “What type of dog am I?” Viktor paused and then groaned as he started taking his own shoes off, “You aren’t going to let this question die off, are you?”

Jayce gave a grin and shook his head, “Not a chance.” Viktor sighed softly and leaned against the wall looking him over, “I would probably say a mix between golden retriever and a saint bernard.” Jayce tilted his head, “Interesting mix, but I’ll take it!” Viktor shook his head smiling as he got comfortable as he laid down and looked at Jayce, this was their regular. One night, Jayce bugged him so much to let Viktor let him hang out with him. Neither of them really remember when this started, but Jayce now will lay on Viktor while Viktor wraps his arms around him. To Viktor, Jayce is like a weighted blanket, to Jace VIktor is like a stuffed animal.

After a bit of silence and Viktor almost falling asleep while rubbing Jayce’s back, Jayce finally spoke up, “I can’t figure it out.” Viktor groaned softly, “What?” Jayce leaned up to hover of him, resting his forearms on the bed to get a better look at Viktor, “What type of dog you’d be.” Viktor sighed heavily not opening his eyes, “You seriously have been laying here this entire time trying to figure out my dog breed?” Jayce nodded, “Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t I? I had thought about so many breeds. There’s the high maintenance ones like a dalmatian for their stubbornness and sometimes aggression.” “I’m not aggressive,” Viktor retorted as he finally opened his eyes to look up at Jayce.

Jayce raised a brow with a smirk. Viktor rolled his eyes and Jayce continued, “Then I thought about specific breeds. For example, I kind of see you as a Saint Bernard as well. But, you’re small. I thought about a chihuahua, but you aren’t as energetic. Then there’s a pug-” Viktor was taken aback, “A pug? Seriously? Is it because of my health issues.” Jayce turned red, “What?! No! I think pugs are adorable.” Viktor groaned, “i can’t believe you’re comparing me to breed of dogs anyways.” “That’s it,” Jayce exclaimed. Viktor jumped slightly looking at him with surprise, “Oh, God. Don’t tell me you’re going to compare me to some other-” Jayce cut him off, “A cat.”

Viktor looked up at him with surprise and couldn’t help but to laugh, “A cat? Why a furball?” Jayce looked his over, “Think about it. You aren’t energetic like any dog. Dogs are very social, you aren’t. No offense!” Viktor shrugged, “Non-taken.” Jayce continued, “Cats also kind of just do their own thing without approval. Sounds like someone else I know who doesn’t ask for approval on our experiments.” Viktor grinned, “Guilty.” Jayce nodded, “You’re also cuddly like a cat when a cat is in the mood for them.” Viktor sighed, “I get it. I relate more towards them. Are you happy with your revelation?” Jayce gave a smug look while laying his head back down, “Yes.” Viktor sighed in relief, “Good.” He laid his head back and started rubbing Jayce’s back as he tried falling asleep again.

After another bit of silent, Jayce whispered softly, “I don’t know any cat breeds.” Viktor groaned, “Jayce. Respectfully. Shut up.” Jayce whined softly going to hover over him again, “But, I won’t be able to rest.” Viktor furrowed his brows looking up at him, “Then you can go do your research in your room while I sleep.” Jayce sighed heavily and laid back down. After a bit Viktor sighed heavily breaking the silence, “Get up.” Jayce mumbled, “What?” It was Jayces turn to be half asleep now. Viktor patted Jayces back, “Get up.” Jayce groaned, “Why?” Viktor pushed him so he rolled onto the bed as Viktor sat up, “You’re stupid revelation made me realize I don’t know a damn cat breed either and now I can’t sleep because of it. Stupid.” Jayce chuckled and dragged him back to lay down, he tangled their legs together as he wrapped an arm around Viktors waist, “Sleep. We cant do it later..” Viktor huffed as he was imprisoned by his partner, “Fine..”

~~~~ ⚙️ ~~~~

[swiftiewillwrite]

caramel iced coffee -

a spencer agnew fanfic

pairing - spencer agnew x reader

warnings - none! slight anxiety for like a paragraph :)

a/n - hello!!! ive written a ton of fanfics but only published two, and this is my first published on tumblr! hope yall enjoy !!

You stand behind the counter, muscle memory making your fifth pumpkin spice latte in a row. Oh, how you love fall. Even during your least busy time of day, you still get to spend what feels like forever on overly complicated drinks.

You hand the last one to a teenage girl, looking very apologetic. You give her a smile.

“Next!”

Woah. the man who now stands in front of you was definitely gonna fuck up your work day. He wore thinly framed round glasses and had messy curly hair, plus a beard that you found all too attractive. You attempted to compose yourself. “What can I get you?”

The man stared blankly for a moment, then responded. Must've not gotten a lot of sleep last night. “Uh.. what do you recommend?”

“Oh! I guess I'm kind of a sucker for anything caramel, do you want something hot or cold?”

“Really just make me your favorite, I haven't done this in a while.”

“What, ordered coffee?” you joked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“Ooh-kay, name for the order?”

“Spencer.” (god, why is it always the s names?)

“Alright Spencer, that will be 5 bucks, just tap or swipe or do whatever, and I'll have that ready for you in just a minute.” you smile, not letting the customer service voice falter, ignoring the unholy visions of what you wanted this man to do to you invading your mind.

You set to work on another overly complicated drink. Usually you would be complaining your ass off to yourself right now, but youre the one who subjected yourself to this. You're too weak when it comes to cute customers.

Working alone on slow days was your favorite kind of shift, because you got to play your own playlist. Today, that was a bit more of a curse as you notice Spencer humming along.

As you placed the lid on the cup, you looked up to the booth where he was waiting. He looked away immediately, as if he had already been staring. You hoped that he was.

Walking out from behind the counter, you set the cup on the table in front of him. “Here you go,”

He smiles softly, uttering a soft thanks. You made your way back to the counter, watching from a distance as he collected his things and walked out of the cafe.

God, you had never wanted a new regular more.

—

The next morning, he was back. Looking up at the door as the bell rang, you saw him once again. Spencer was wearing a graphic tee, revealing tattoos you hadn't seen yesterday. You felt a smile creep up your face, but a pit form in your stomach with no discernible cause. Before you could get too lost in thought, though, Spencer was at the counter, ready to order.

"Hey,” you smiled, “Are you ready to order for yourself today, or want another surprise?”

He let out a soft laugh, a sound that made your heart leap out of your chest. “If it isn't too much of a burden-,” he started, the last word dripping with sarcasm. “-I would enjoy a surprise drink.”

You sigh dramatically, “Fine,” drawing out the word with childlike brattiness. “Here or to go?”

Spencer said something he never could have if actual thoughts were going through his head:

“Here, but only if you sit with me while I drink,”

Holyshitholyshitholyshit- “Keep trying, maybe you'll get there eventually. Your total is 5.25.” You joked, a smile on your face covering your internal freak out over the fact that you just rejected the hottest guy you had ever seen.

And try he did. Every day, without fail, he came into your cafe, ordered his usual (your usual) and asked you to sit with him. And every day, you were too afraid to say yes.

"Are you sure that you don't want something new?”

“Give me the drink, please.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, but got to work making his drink. For the first time in three weeks, he stayed near the counter as you made it. As you let the coffee brew, you leaned on the counter, looking at him.

“So.. why are you always here so early? Like; this is earlier than all my other usuals,”

“You have other usuals? Wow, and I thought I was special,”

“Yes, I have other usuals. But you might be a favorite.” you smiled at him softly, and he returned the look. “Answer my question, though. Why are you here at like.. Six every day? How early do you work?”

Spencer looked slightly uncomfortable, then spoke. “I actually don't have to be there until 10 most days.”

“Hmm?”

“Well, I work at this Youtube comedy company, and so the first time I came here was a shoot week, so I did have to be at work by 7 to set up. It's just that when that week ended… I decided to just always get here early.”

“Wait, what company? Also, why? Why not just come later?” you questioned, trying to silence the hopeful voice in your head saying that you were the reason he kept coming back.

“It's less busy at this time. I get to actually talk to you.” What.

“Oh.. that's really sweet, man.” Man? Why would you say that- “I like talking to you too. So where do you work?”

Spencer looked slightly reluctant, but you tried to not read into it. “It's called Smosh,”

You perked up. “No shit? I was obsessed with Smosh when I was younger. Like- I got home from school every day and immediately pulled up whatever was posted that day,” you notice him looking down, and poke his arm, near a tattoo of a thwomp. “Why didn't you want to tell me?”

Spencer looks up at you. “Hmm?”

“You tried to change the topic. What's up?”

He purses his lips, then softly says “I didn't want that to be the only reason you like me. Or- like talking to me. Sorry.”

You open your mouth to respond, to tell him his worries were wrong, but are interrupted by the sound of the bell on the door. You look up and see your favorite coworker. “Hey Zoë! Can you watch the counter for like.. Two minutes for me?”

She raised an eyebrow at you and the man standing next to you. “It's about to get really busy.”

“I know, I know, just- please?” you looked at her, and she must've seen the desperation in your eyes, because she responded-

“Fine. Just be back soon. Love ya.”

You looked at her like she had just saved your life, and turned back to Spencer. “Wanna talk at a table?” Spencer just looked at you like you had grown a second head, but nodded. When you sat down, you started talking again. “I really like talking to you. And I did before you told me you have my childhood dream job. I like your humor and your laugh and your hair. I like your taste in music and movies and I like you.”

Spencer took a moment to collect his words. He couldn't find any, so he just leaned across the table and kissed you. A million thoughts raced through both of your heads, until you heard Zoë cough at you from behind the counter, and pulled away.

“Sorry.” Spencer apologized. You shook your head with a smile, and asked if you could put your number in his phone. He handed you the device, and you pondered for a moment before you put your name in as ‘beautiful sexy perfect human’. You texted yourself a “hey” from his phone, and added his name as ‘spenner’. He took his phone back, immediately letting out a “Shit! I have to get to work.” When he saw the time, and standing up to leave.

You frowned, but as he walked out and let the door close behind him, you sent him a simple two word text.

spenner

bye cutie

He was still close enough that you could see him smile through the window when he opened his phone. You turned to the counter to get back to work, when Zoë asked you:

“Was that Spencer Agnew?”

[unclewaynemunson]

'I don't even know anymore why I wanted to do this in the first place! What if I'm terrible at kissing, Nance? I've never kissed anyone, I have no idea how to do it! And Vickie had a boyfriend, a boyfriend who was in college, she must've gotten tons of practice, she'll definitely know what she's doing! She's gonna want to kiss me tomorrow, I'm sure! And it's not like I don't want to kiss her, I do, but what if I mess up? Or what if I'm spectacularly, irredeemably bad at it? What do I do? She'd never wanna see me again and I'd have to move states because she'll tell everyone how bad I am at kissing and nobody's ever gonna wanna date me again and –'

'Please stop talking,' Nancy finally says. This rant has been going on for over two minutes and she can't take any more of it. 'Sit down. Take a breath. You'll be fine.'

Robin does exactly what she says, flopping down on the edge of Nancy's bed while finally breathing again for what feels like the first time ever since the two of them walked into Nancy's room earlier.

'First of all, Vickie is clearly crazy about you, so it'll be very hard to mess this one up.' Nancy tries to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach when she says those words. All she wants to be is supportive of Robin, it doesn't make sense that she feels like smashing things every time she envisions her friend finding happiness with Vickie. She should be better than this.

'And second,' she continues, 'Nobody is irredeemably bad at kissing. That's not a thing. I'm sure you'll do great.'

'You can't know that!' Robin sputters. 'I might be the first person ever! Somebody's got to be!'

'Want me to teach you?'

'Wha- What?'

At least Robin is quiet now, but man, one look at her face tells Nancy that this was a terrible idea. There's no going back now, though.

'Me and Barb used to practice kissing all the time,' she says, trying to go for casual with a little shrug of her shoulders - no need for Robin to know that that's not exactly true.

Robin is still staring at her like she's just sprouted a second head.

'Nance,' is all she says, her voice all weak and quiet.

And something in the way she sounds is making Nancy forget entirely that this was a bad idea. It speeds up her heartbeat and makes her want nothing more than to be the one who gets to teach Robin how to kiss. That's what friends are for, right?

Nancy goes to sit down right next to Robin, their legs touching.

'We don't have to,' she says, giving Robin an easy out. 'I just thought it could ease your mind, knowing you won't mess up with Vickie.'

'You'd be okay with – kissing a lesbian?'

Nancy shrugs again, trying to feign the confidence she certainly doesn't feel in this moment. 'Yeah, why not?'

'Okay. Alright. Let's do this,' Robin says, sounding like she's gearing up for a big soccer match instead of practicing kissing. 'Teach me everything you know, master.' It sounds just a little bit jeering and she wiggles her eyebrows as she says it, and somehow, that makes Nancy oddly nervous.

Nancy swallows. It's definitely a bad idea. But then why does it feel like an undoubtedly good idea?

'Okay,' she starts to explain, 'It's all about patience. About build-up. If you were about to go on a date with a guy, my advice would be to wait. Always wait until he leans in, that's how it's supposed to go, right? But I guess with two girls, you'd both be waiting forever, so that'd be useless.'

'So... Don't wait?'

'See how it goes,' Nancy advises. 'If she's giving you a certain look... You go for it. Lean in. Slowly, you're gonna want to take your time, remember the build-up.' She starts leaning towards Robin, but Robin immediately leans back.

'Wait, wait, wait,' she blurts out. 'What do you mean by “look?” How do I know if she's giving me a “look”?' There's something bordering on panic in her eyes and Nancy automatically grabs her hand to calm her down.

'You'll recognize it when it's there, I promise,' she says. 'It's something like... Like she's expecting something from you. Something like this.' She widens her eyes a little bit and tilts her head upwards, closer to Robin's.

'Oh,' Robin breathes out. 'Yeah, I – I guess I'll recognize that. That's –' She clears her throat. 'So then I lean in?'

'Yes,' Nancy mumbles. 'You lean in, but not all the way, you gotta give her the opportunity to reciprocate. So you start leaning in, you wait until she does the same, and then you'll kiss her. And if she starts leaning in, you lean towards her, and then wait for her to cross the rest of the distance.'

'That's a lot of rules.'

'It's easier than it sounds. I swear. C'mon, lean in.'

Robin swallows visibly, and Nancy realizes that she never let go of Robin's hand when the place where their palms are touching is getting sweaty. It doesn't bother her enough to pull her hand back, though.

Before she starts leaning in, Robin licks her lips - and suddenly Nancy can't see anything else than that: she's wearing magenta colored lipstick and her tongue looks pink and soft, and the weird thought comes to Nancy that she wouldn't mind finding out what it feels like to have that tongue exploring her mouth. But before she can stop to unravel that thought, Robin leans a few inches closer and Nancy brings her focus back to the task at hand.

'Close your eyes,' she whispers as she answers by leaning into Robin's space, too.

Robin abruptly pulls back. 'Then how can I see if you're leaning back in?!'

Nancy can't stop a giggle escaping from her throat; Robin pulls her hand out of Nancy's to give her a painful jab between her ribs.

'Don't laugh at me!'

'Wait, no, I wasn't laughing at you!' Nancy rushes to say. 'I'm sorry. I won't laugh. It's just- you were kinda cute about it.'

The words leave her mouth before Nancy's brain can catch up. For a moment, she wonders if this is how Robin feels all the time around Vickie, blurting out things she doesn't want to say but can't seem to stop herself from doing.

'Okay.' Robin takes a deep breath, the rosy color fading from her cheeks again. 'Let's try again, then.'

'Just – close your eyes as soon as you see me leaning, alright?'

'Alright.' She nods. 'Here we go.' She shuffles on the bed, then catches Nancy by surprise when she rests a hand on Nancy's knee.

'I lean in,' she says softly before she starts doing just that.

'You don't have to announce it,' Nancy points out with a smile.

'Okay, alright.' Robin makes a dorky gesture like she zips up her mouth and clears her throat again. Then, she leans towards Nancy... Nancy lets herself be pulled towards Robin as if there's a magnet between their mouths... She watches Robin's eyes fall shut and follows her example...

And suddenly, Robin's lips are on hers. They're soft; it all feels much softer than when she'd kiss Steve or Jonathan...

It only takes a few seconds until Nancy pulls back. She gives Robin an encouraging smile.

'That's great,' she establishes. She somehow still feels the heat of Robin's mouth against her own, like a phantom touch lingering on her skin, something she can't quite shrug off. 'Perfect first kiss. You have nothing to worry about.'

'That's all?' Robin asks; it sounds confused.

'Oh no, this was just the beginning,' Nancy explains. 'Like I said, it's all about the build-up. For the first kiss, this is it. Then, if it's as good as this one, you'll both want more. So you'll give each other a smile and make sure your lips find each other again. You don't need all the steps of leaning in, you already know you want to kiss each other at this point – unless one of you takes a step back after you stop the first kiss, then you know that no second kiss is gonna follow.'

'So if I like it, don't take a step back.'

Nancy nods. 'Don't take a step back. Don't let go of the points where you're touching her.'

Robin's fingers twitch against Nancy's knee. It's very distracting, but Nancy tries her best to stay focused. She has a lesson to teach, after all.

'Okay. And then?'

'You both lean back in. And you...' Nancy pauses to think of a good way to describe it. 'You explore,' she settles on saying. 'You feel out each other's lips, and from there, you basically just go with what feels right. Get your tongues involved at some point – but not too much.' She adds that last part strictly. 'It should be... delicate. You start out soft, alright? Only when it starts to take longer, you can get more heated, take some more risks. Then you just feel out how she responds and you adjust to that.'

Robin is frowning, now. 'That sounds very complicated,' she remarks.

'Let's just try and see how it goes,' says Nancy in a reassuring voice.

They start from the top with Nancy's expectant gaze and taking their turns leaning in. Then, Robin's lips are against Nancy's again, just as soft as the first time.

When she pulls back, her eyes wander over Nancy's face like she's searching for something. It's a bit stilted, the way she's waiting for Nancy's body language to tell her if there's gonna be a second kiss.

'Should I go on?' Robin asks softly.

Nancy has to suppress another giggle while she nods.

'You don't have to ask that,' she whispers in the second it takes Robin to lean in again.

'Sorry,' Robin whispers back right before she presses her lips against Nancy's another time.

This time, her touch is firmer. Nancy can feel all kinds of little things, like the muscles built by years of playing trumpet and the way her breath ghosts against Nancy's cheek when she breathes out. She can taste the peppermints they'd been sharing earlier.

The bed creaks when one of them – Nancy doesn't even know who – shifts, and suddenly their bodies are pressed closer together, Robin's arms around her back and her own hands divided between Robin's shoulders and her waist. She can feel the shape of Robin's upper body where it's pressed against her own, so much softer than what she's used to feeling when kissing a boy, and she notices how they've unconsciously aligned their breathing. Their tongues find each other, gently, almost shy, and it oddly tastes like wanting more. It turns out Robin knows exactly how to suck on Nancy's lower lip just right, how to make heat course through her veins and get her hungry for –

Robin pulls back – and simultaneously pulls Nancy right back to earth. Her cheeks are bright red again and the look in her eyes is unsure.

'Was that okay?'

Nancy has to take a few seconds to blink, catch her breath and return to reality. The reality where they're friends, not lovers. The reality where they're two girls, practicing something that's not about them at all. The reality where she's helping Robin prepare for a date with Vickie, and very much not kissing her senseless or letting her explore every single inch of her mouth and possibly her body while sparks fly between them and every touch of Robin's fingers is setting Nancy on fire.

She nods.

'Yeah,' she manages to say. 'Yeah, that was – that was really good, Robin. Seriously, you're a total natural. If this isn't gonna blow Vickie's socks right off...'

Robin smiles. She gently bumps her shoulder against Nancy's. 'Thanks, Nance,' she says. 'I gotta admit: you've been a pretty okay teacher.'

Robin's lipstick has faded and there's a slight smudge of magenta in the corner of her mouth. Her hair is disheveled, just like the collar of her blouse, where Nancy apparently grabbed her without even noticing...

I did that, is the only feverish thought left in Nancy's brain. I made her look like that.

Read part 2 here

[moonflvver]

Drowning in You

character: Childe x Reader

warnings: angst (no comfort), nsfw(public-ish sex with no protection), Childe is kind of mean, mention of alcohol

a/n: This has been sitting in my drafts for an eternity and if I look it over one more time I might scream, enjoy.

w/c: 1935

The bar that you had entered was the only one open in Liyue this late. Getting a cold drink after you finally completed your commission had seemed like a good idea, but as you see a certain orange haired harbinger walk in you realize that you’ve made a mistake. How could you forget? This was Childe’s favorite haunt, one that he frequented after he spent hours completing paperwork at the northland bank. It must've slipped your mind, or maybe it was fate that brought the two of you back here tonight. It has been a year after all. A year since he ended things. Claiming that the two of you were incompatible, that he didn’t have time to waste on a relationship with you. He’d ripped your heart out and stomped on it. Leaving you in pieces. Nonetheless, it's not like you hadn’t seen this coming. A member of the fatui choosing you over the tsaritsa? The idea was borderline blasphemous and in the end of course he had chosen her over you. But there’s something so wrong with this picture. He looks…different. Like even more pieces of him have been lost to a darkness that you know nothing of. Childe has always been a master at crafting intricate masks to keep himself from being exposed and you recognize the remnants of the one he used to wear with you; but this new mask is shinier, more ornate. It has been polished to perfection and it reveals nothing that he doesn’t want it to. But beneath the surface, beneath the mask there’s something more. Underneath all of his posturing there exist multitudes, layers created by the years of trauma that he’s endured. Each one built over the other to create a skin so thick that nothing can pierce it. Nothing can reach his core. Not even you. No one gets to know who Ajax is. He isn’t willing to bare himself like that to anyone, he refuses to be made vulnerable. To be reduced to a naked, sniveling version of himself. Because he’s no longer that same weak boy. The child that once existed within him is gone, replaced only by an eerie darkness who’s battle-hungry soul cannot be satiated. He pushes down the parts of him that yell to be saved and instead turns his gaze on the next battle, the next game, the next slaughter for him to take part in. He craves the rush that the adrenaline provides for him. It's something akin to a drug and Tartaglia is nothing if not an addict. His recklessness is only spurred by this endless craving for more. More blood, more fights, more ways to put himself in danger. More ways for him to forget all that he is and always will be for just a moment. And that was the problem with your relationship.

You’d reach a hand out to him, desperately pleading. Begging him to accept your help and to allow you to take care of him because Archons did he need it. But he’d simply bat your hand away. He behaves like a cornered dog when you show him even the littlest bit of kindness, and he bares his teeth at you. He bites. No matter, it’s over now. You turn to your drink praying that he won’t notice you. A foolish notion considering that you’re the only person there besides him. Despite the amount of time that has passed since you last saw him you still feel that familiar pull towards him, and you’re sure that he feels it too. It’s something akin to the way that the moon controls the tides. And it’s that same pull that draws him over to you in this moment. “Y/n, long time no see.” There is no semblance of any emotion in his voice, save for the polite undertone that he’s straining to maintain. “Yeah I guess it has been a while, Tartaglia.” You say, venom dripping from your voice. Tartaglia, it almost sounds like an insult coming from you, but even he knows that it’s an empty one. You don’t have the heart to show him real cruelty. “I’ve missed you.” He says. Liar, you think. He misses having a warm body in his bed. All you wanted was a drink to blow some steam off after work, coming face to face with your ex wasn’t exactly what you had in mind. So you get up and start walking to the bathroom, hoping that he takes the hint and leaves you alone. But of course he follows you into the hallway.

He grabs your wrist. “Wait!” You pull free from his grip glaring at him. “You’re really going to tell me that you didn’t miss me?” He grins at you but it’s empty. His eyes are pools of darkness, a far cry from the brilliant blue that you used to drown in every time you’d look at them. Something must have happened, you think to yourself. He looks worse. You can see the blue-ish purple bags beneath his eyes. The exhaustion is evident on every part of his body. His muscles look tense, as if he hasn’t allowed himself to relax in ages. But it’s in that moment of silence while you’re scanning his features that he abruptly puts his hand on your cheek and he’s coming in closer now. Slowly enough to allow you to move away but of course you don’t. You lean into his touch. You always do, the pull is so hard to resist. And it’s that same pull that urges you forward, closing the gap between you and him. You’re feverish now at the mere thought of being able to feel his lips on yours. Then suddenly you’re crashing into him, the kiss is needy and full of desperation. You bring a hand up to his face pulling him in towards you. You had almost forgotten how soft his lips were, how good they felt against your own. You pull away first and the two of you are left breathless.

He’s offering you a piece of himself and of course you take it. Childe is your greatest vice, he’s impossibly addictive and a pain to quit so why go through the trouble of withdrawal when you can just give in. Once again you’re drowning in his ocean, it’s impossible not to. He pulls you in just like he always does and of course, you let him. There’s a momentary pause from him once you pull away, almost as if he’s unsure whether or not he’s overstepped and you see a flash of the man you once knew in the uncertainty that dances across his features for a moment. But then it’s gone just like that and you know that you should leave but against your better judgment you stay.  His gravitational pull is too strong for you to resist so of course you give in. You place your hand on the back of his neck, leading his lips to yours once again. This kiss is sloppier, it is all teeth and sparks that seem to be coming from your lips clashing together. His hand slides under your shirt groping at your breast, there’s nothing gentle about this. And there’s certainly nothing gentle about the way that he turns you so that your ass is pressed up against the bulge in his pants. Your face is up against the wall of the hallway and you offer your neck up to him. He sucks and bites with such vigor that you’re sure it’ll take weeks for the marks to disappear.

You wonder for a brief moment if you’ll get caught, but honestly you just can’t bring yourself to care. He’s still groping you like some hormonal teenage boy but it’s not enough for him. With no warning he pulls down your pants letting them fall to your ankles. And then you can hear his belt unbuckling as he pulls his heavy cock out of his boxers. Just the anticipation alone is making the wet spot between your thighs grow larger by the second. But then all at once he pushes aside your underwear and bottoms out with a single thrust. The burn that you feel as you struggle to accommodate him is a veritable mixture of pain and pleasure. You can’t stop yourself from crying out, which only encourages him to put a hand over your mouth whispering in your ear for you to shut up lest he leave you high and dry. Once he knows you’ll stay quiet he removes his hand from your mouth, instead opting to grab onto your waist as he thrusts into you roughly. “Childe someone’s going to catch us.” You mumble as your chest heaves. “I don’t care.” He says callously, punctuating each word with a thrust. His pace is causing your eyes to practically roll back into your head, and the way that the curve of his cock hits that spongy spot inside of you has you seeing stars. Archons this must be what heaven feels like. Childe’s head is in the crook of your neck and he’s breathing heavily into your ear, letting out only the occasional groan when he feels your walls clench around him.

His right hand has found its way down your front and he’s lazily rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb causing heat to build up in your core. You’re trying to brace yourself against the wall while he continues his relentless pace but your legs are starting to shudder, at this point you’re pretty sure that the only thing holding you upright is Childe. You’re so close to cumming and you’re sure he is too. His pace is becoming erratic, more desperate. He’s pulling you flush against his chest, trying to bring you closer, trying to melt into the feeling of you. And he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t missed this. The way that you become so pretty and pliant for him the second his cock goes into you, the way that you moan so sweetly when he hits your sweet spot over and over again. He wants to apologize for everything, he really wasn’t lying when he said that he missed you. But he can’t choose you over his country, you both know that. So if it means that this is the only way he can have you then fine. He’ll settle for fucking you in the hallway of some rundown bar any day.

As long as it means that he still gets to see you cock drunk, begging for more as he ruts into you like some wild animal giving into its basest instincts. You can feel your peak fast approaching. “Childe I’m close.” You breathe out. “Fuck, me too.” He responds, and then he hears you mumble “Cum with me Ajax.” And the saccharine dripping from your voice is enough to send him tumbling over the edge, hot white seed spilling inside of you as you clench around him. Your legs are shaking as the orgasm rips through your body and he fucks you through it. Your moans are muffled by the gloved hand that goes over your mouth and as the two of you come down Childe is peppering kisses down the side of your neck onto your shoulder. A mockery of the domestic moments that the two of you once shared together. But it doesn’t matter, you’ll take whatever he wants to give to you. Even if it means that he uses you like this, as long as you get to hold him that’s all that matters. 

[tonberry-yoda]

Dewdrops - Asra

notes - Asra brainrot bad dudes. He is so fine and I have been wanting to kiss him all week, so here's a lil fic lol. I hope you enjoy and stay hydrated!! <33 @thearcanagame yall should hire me to write arcana stories haha jkjk... unless tee hee word count - 538 ~~BUY ME A KO-FI (COMMISIONS ARE OPEN)~~

You woke up delirious, blinking rapidly to get the bright sun out of your eyes. The air felt different than usual. Humid. Cold.

You felt that you were somewhere familiar, but there was also something strange about it.

A dream. Yeah, that was the best way to describe it.

You still couldn't see, so you tried to sit up and block your eyes from the brightness above you. When you sat up, you felt something fall from you, like a weight. But it sounded like you were under water.

What was going on?

You were finally able to see a little bit better after a couple more blinks and saw that you were definitely somewhere dream like. And you looked like you were just lying in a pond.

You tilted you head and tried to stand up, but your legs were much to weak for that.

The water you were in, you noticed, changed from shades of purple to blue and even looked like there was glitter swirling at the bottom.

But what shocked you the most is when you turned next to you to find Asra fast asleep in the pond. There were dewdrops in his hair and falling from his lips.

How the heck did you two end up here?

"Asra." You tried lightly shaking him to wake him up, but nothing. "Asra! Hey, wake up!"

You watched his white eyelashes flutter open until they shut again, probably from the brightness of the sun, if that even was the sun.

You blocked it nonetheless and cupped Asra's face, wiping the water away from the corners of his eyes. "Asra."

His eyes finally opened and he smiled when he saw you. As he sat up - holding you in his lap - water dripped from his clothes and his body.

There was a dewdrop on his lip that looked rather kissable...

"Where are we?" he asked sleepily, rubbing his eye.

"No clue. I thought you would've known, almighty Master Asra."

"Ew," he giggled. "Don't call me that. Just... let me get my bearings. I should be able to tell."

You got off of his lap and tucked his wet hair behind his ear while he looked around.

You both knew where you were. A sprit realm of some kind. But how you got there was beyond you.

"A spell..." Asra slowly began to remember. "Hm. Must've hit us hard."

"You don't think it was me, do you?" you asked frantically.

"No, I don't think so. And even if it was, I guess fate was telling us we needed a nap. Either way," he stood up and stretched, reaching his hand out to yours. "We'll figure it out along the way. Let's get going, yeah?"

You nodded and took his hand, letting him help you up. Your legs were still weak, but with Asra's help, you would be fine.

"You have water on your lips." you told him cheekily.

"Oh? Than why not help get it off." he smirked.

You pressed your lips to his, licking of the water lightly. He held you by the waist and pressed his chest to yours smiling in the kiss.

He didn't have the heart to tell you that you messed up a spell.

~~~~~

the arcana masterlist | pinned post

2023 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

[moodymisty]

So I had these sitting around for a bit and didn't have any use for them, so i just decided to clean it a bit and then post it. So here, two snippets of a nailsremoved!AU to be balm on the wound of the inevitable tragedy that is Angron. Apologies about any incohesiveness due to it's rough nature. I'm trying to get more confidence in my own writing and posting more of the ideas that I don't spend 80 years on.

Relationships: Angron/Fem!Reader (an AU of my 'stolen historitor' saga)

Warnings: None really apart from typical 40k talk and Angron's general existence

Snippet 1

The only word you can use to possibly describe it, is euphoric.

Never in a million years, in all of your hopes and prayers and desperate pleas, did you ever think it would even be possible. Even he hadn't; Though as with much of his life, he'd accepted his inevitable fate with the same despondent anger as with much else.

You shouldn't be awake, but you can't help but watch him for a moment.

Angron sleeps sitting. Perhaps its a remnant of his time in the gladiator pits. That would make the most logical sense to you, watching as his chin presses against his collarbone. He has one leg bent and one straight out, his left elbow resting on the bent one. He's prepared to fight, even in his sleep. Even his chainaxes are still within reach. You know if you even shifted towards them, they'd be in his hands within the blink of an eye.

But it's still odd to you, not seeing them. The nails were such a poignant, overt part of Angron's silhouette, that their removal has been an adjustment. It feels like a part of him is missing; In an odd sort of way.

You accidentally shift, and he opens his eyes. You smile at him.

He grunts. You snuffle closer to him and lay against his side, content to stay there for the time being. He doesn't remove you, so you assume it's fine.

You’re happy, but it’s bittersweet.

You know that while Angron no longer feels the full punishment of the nails against every other emotion but rage, that portions of the nails that couldn’t be removed; The pieces that replaced parts of his brain will always give him pain. To say that he is cured is laughable as like some sort of sick curse, he can have no relief in his life. A more accurate description would be that they neutered the Butcher’s Nails to give Angron some breathing room.

"Does it still hurt?"

You say softly, feeling his massive hand flop on your hip.

While there is no longer any nails for you to soothe, he does still feel as if your company gives him relief. Perhaps that's just another human emotion he's only just now been able to taste.

“No.”

You don’t know if he says it because it’s true, or he merely mistakes the neutering of pain as full relief it would make sense, given how long he’s lived with the nails; The pain becoming part of him and even its slight removal could feel like it was gone.

He could also just be lying. Though perhaps it would be more accurate to say refusing to show weakness. Someone like him won't simply admit that pain is affecting him. He'll never show his stomach to anyone, now matter how close you may be to him.

He stares at you. Hard. It’s always impossible to tell what he’s thinking until he inevitably says it.

“You worry too much.”

Your lips purse, and Angron grips your face not too hard, but hard enough to make your cheeks empty of air.

"I'm not the only one. I'm just the only one who admits it." The gladiator makes a disgruntled, irritated face and looks away.

Snippet 2

What an odd moment in time, Sanguinius thinks.

To imagine that out of all of his brothers, the one hailing from Nuceria would be the one to change so drastically. And to think they'd almost thought him lost.

Such is the nature of life, he guesses. For things to change so quickly. Even in their long lives it doesn't seem to slow down in the slightest.

Sanguinius looks across the massive room, watching the World Eater's Primarch interact with the only human he's given time of day. A question must've been asked, as they look up to him with a curiosity and Angron glances down to give an amused scoff.

It's barely there, but he sees it. It's just barely noticeable in the slightly softened look in his eyes. But the angel is keen, and catches it. He speaks up to either of the men in his presence, to neither in particular.

"I've never seen that man crack even the smallest smile. And it's been, what, three hundred years?"

Sanguinius' wings are fluffed, comfortable in the presence of two of his closest brothers. They've even seen Konrad smile; Though context proves to be a valuable marker in regards to him in particular. Magnus crosses his arms and looks towards Horus, not having heard him when the two of them exchanged an amused chuckle at Sanguinus' observation. Odd, for the Warmaster. Normally whenever he's in the Angel's company on Terra, it's hard to keep a laugh off of his lips.

"Have you, brother?"

Horus looks towards his brothers with a soft, charming smirk, one that fades ever so slightly as he looks to Angron. He thinks back, trying to remember a moment where the man hailing from Nuceria had ever shown anything but rage boiling just beneath the surface.

He lets out a soft chuckle when he comes up completely empty, and shakes his head.

"No, I don't think I have."

With all three in agreement Sanguinus makes some sort of lighthearted jest to Magnus at Angron's expense, looking away from the Warmaster for a moment. He doesn't let his perfect veneer drop, as he sees the old gladiator speak words not audible to him at you.

Horus watches for a moment longer, and then walks away.

[petitprincess1]

A Numbness (Oc x Alastor ficlet)

The burning smell of cigarettes intertwined with sour booze and sweat from sex filled the little vixen's lungs. It was neither good or bad, but it was better than the nothingness she was feeling before. Her bushy, black-tipped tail traced the pebbles and shattered glasses along the sidewalk. A bit of wetness made her tail feel the slightest bit heavier. Was it entrails or just alcohol? She hardly cared as she breathed in her own acrid, cancer stick.

Why was she forlorn and so unfeeling? Well, for one, Hell can do that to any person, especially one that was traded away from paradise. Not only was she taken away, she was given to one that was even considered even a pox to these Sinners’ standards.

“Well, well, well, so this is were you've been hiding, little foxen. Not exactly a place quite near your standards, don't you think?” A snarl left the vixen's curled lips as she glared up at the blindingly red deer demon. Despite a streetlight shining down on him, the only thing that seemed to stick out was the forever condescending glow of his eyes.

Red on red in this bleak red world. Hell must've really tried to make The Great Alastor feel at home. She blew smoke in his direction and sighed, “I'm not hiding. Merely waiting for debris from an explosion…a drunkard driving…or maybe an impling getting too familiar with a gun.”

She heard the devil's tapping shoes as he sat down beside her. She murmured, “I don't remember inviting you.”

His jacket was placed around her shoulders as he strangely cooed, “No need, cherie. You're practically asking for attention. I was waiting for you to start blubbering like a banshee on top a chaise lounge~”

“Fuck you!”

“No thank you, I'm quite good,” Alastor cheerily chuckled, while the vixen stared at the cigarette burning between her fingers. If she let it continue, would it wake her from this coma? Unfortunately, she didn't get her answer as the demon took the stick from her, stuffing it out on the littered sidewalk.

A shuddering, weak breath escaped from the vixen, breaking the uncaring facade she was upholding. Al simply brought her close and shushed her, running his claws up and down her back. It was strange at how both soothing and frightening the sensation was. Nevertheless, she placed her face into his chest and quietly cried into it.

She started, “I-I…Why was I…I-”

Al shushed her more, “No need to try to understand what happened. It just has. More importantly, you should focus on what comes next, darling. So…what would you wish to do next?”

The fox pulled away a little, rubbed at her eyes, and sniffled, “I guess I wouldn't mind…walking?”

Alastor helped her to her feet and smiled quite earnestly, at least she thought so, “Now, that sounds like something. Who knows…maybe a drunkard will strike us both? Wouldn't that be quite the headline!”

She gave a small giggle. A pox in Hell with leftovers from Heaven. What else can one do but laugh? Perhaps, she can feel more than that numbness.

~~~

I was feeling a little sad today. So, I wrote this as a bit of a vent xP

[robotravanger]

Solo Leveling Female G!P Sung Jinwoo x reader: Episode 6: The Real Hunt Begins

Y/n's current hairstyle and outfit:

A/n: I'm skipping the fight with the giant spider boss and moving onwards. Hope you understand.

So, after some great trail and error, Jinwoo and Y/n managed to beat the boss and level up as a result.

Plus, scaring Jinho since he believes that they're false rankers, people who fake their rank on purpose and are largely known for being a little bit crazy.

So, bro decides to call them boss/ma'am (that one is specifically for Y/n) to stay on their good side.

Then, he mines the mana crystals and tells the pair to relax since they're mostly tired from the spider boss fight.

This has Jinwoo going like:

Jinwoo's thoughts: (What has gotten into him?)

Y/n's thoughts: (I have a feeling he's being nice since he saw Jinwoo and I kill the boss, so he doesn't want his head on a platter. Though, he's very sweet. My heart warms for him.)

Suddenly, they hear a voice saying:

Jinsuk: No. They're alive?

Jinwoo and Y/n turn around to see Dongsuk and his goons standing in one of the tunnels.

Jinwoo exhales in frustration as she places her hand around Y/n's waist protectively.

The group of bastards head down to confront the three.

Dongsuk: So you did squash the spider.

Kyu-hwan: Guess it was just an overgrown bug and not an overpowered monster.

Chul-jin: I'm sure that dude's gear made beating a C-Rank boss a cinch.

Juntae: He's a D-Rank, though. Thing must've been weak as hell for him to kill it.

One of the hunters asks what's next as Dongsuk talks with Jinho.

Dongsuk: Jinho Yoo! Those fancy toys of yours got me curious, so I did a little digging. Your old man's the head of Yoojin Construction, Myunghan Yoo. Isn't that right?

Y/n's thoughts: (So, they're using his family and personal information as blackmail, huh? Damn greedy fucks).

Jinho wonders how that plays and Dongsuk mentions that he must kill Jinwoo and Y/n and he'll live. Don't and he'll die with them.

Jinho however doesn't comply immediately, forcing the goons to ready their weapons against him.

Dongsuk: Come on. Not like it's a hard choice. What happens in a dungeon stays in a dungeon. Don't tell me a D-Rank is afraid of two E-Rank losers like those girls.

Jinho then walks over to Jinwoo and Y/n, seemingly ready to kill them.

Y/n's thoughts: (He won't do it. Jinho's a good kid, so there's no way in hell he'd kill someone to save his own skin.)

Y/n knows deep down Jinho ain't no killer and she gets proven right as Jinho stands infront of her and Jinwoo to defend them.

Dongsuk: Wow. You're actually siding with the deadweights?

Jinwoo is surprised by Jinho's bravery and willingness to protect her and Y/n as she smiles while Y/n also smiles like a proud mother to her son.

Kyu-hwan: So are we cooking the golden goose, too, or what?

Dongsuk: We'll take out the weak ones first. Say, fellas. Ever killed a human before? In cold blood?

The group of bastard lizards march towards them, weapons drawn and ready to commit murder.

Jinwoo and Y/n analyze the situation before them.

Then, a system Notification for both of them pops up and it reads:

Notification:

An urgent quest has arrived.

Urgent Quest: Defeat the enemies

Goal:

There are people present who want to kill the players.

Defeat them all and ensure your safety.

Warning: If you do not complete the quest, you will receive the appropriate penalty.

This shocks the players as the system is telling them to kill humans ,something completely unfathomable.

Kyu-hwan then launches a light spell which blasts them into some mana crystals.

As Jinwoo and Y/n lay there with blood dripping from their heads, they think to themselves.

Jinwoo and Y/n's: (How could we have forgotten? It's survival of the fittest in this world. This world of violence, cruelty, deception, and betrayal. How could we? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How How? How? That's right. We got numb to it. Careless, overconfident, delusional.)

The system then changes the "appropriate penalty " to "your hearts will stop".

Jinwoo and Y/n's thoughts: (And now, the system expects us to murder our enemies. Does it need to keep us alive for some reason?)

Jinwoo and Y/n slowly begin to get up as they realize what the system really wants.

Jinwoo and Y/n's thoughts: (This isn't coincidence or charity. The system wants us to live.)

Once they're back up on their feet, Dongsuk is shocked.

Jinwoo and Y/n's: (It wants us strong).

Jinho faces Jinwoo and Y/n, happy to see them still alive.

Jinwoo then rubs off some of the blood off her face and Y/n does the same.

Jinwoo: I think I get it now.

Y/n: I think so as well.

The players walk forward, menacingly as they speak.

Jinwoo: If the system is bent on using us...

Y/n: Then we'll just use the system.

Dongsuk: Kyu-hwan, you idiot. You shouldn't have held back.

Kyu-hwan: (laughing) Sorry, boss, I should've done better. But I guess you could say I didn't want to hurt the cute E-Rank on the right.

Kyu-hwan refers to Y/n on the left side of Jinwoo.

Jinsuk: Understandable. Maybe we'll just kill Jinwoo and take Y/n and Jinho instead. I haven't felt what an E-Rank beauty like feels like. That Jinwoo girl is a lucky bitch I'll tell you that.

Jinwoo was now more furious than before. These sons of bitches tried to kill her and Y/n. Now they want to take what's hers. Her girlfriend, her boo, her shawty? Nah, blood's about to spilled today.

Jinwoo: Thanks for the reminder. The weak always lose, no matter what.

Y/n: That's the way it is.

One of the hunters mocks Jinwoo and Y/n as they reply.

Jinwoo and Y/n: We do. Your crew understands how it works, too, if you're saying that.

A dark aura begins to spew out from Jinwoo and Y/n.

Jinwoo and Y/n: You hunt and hunt.

They then stare at the evil assholes with a dark aura surrounding the two.

Jinwoo: So now we want to know...

Y/n: Are the hunters ready to be preyed upon?

Juntae walks up to Jinwoo and Y/n as he speaks.

Juntae: Hey, boss. I'mma handle this one.

Juntae then proceeds to place his arm around Y/n's waist in a flirtatious manner, which pisses off Jinwoo as he places his arm Jinwoo's shoulder.

Juntae: Okay, listen up, beautiful. You and your girlfriend need a reality check. Are we " ready to be preyed upon?" And just what can a jumped-up little duo of E-Ranks like you even do? I mean, you two are the weakest hunters of--

Y/n then whips out her dagger and places it by Juntae's neck.

Jinwoo whips out her dagger as she places it on his neck too.

Together, they slit his throat and cut off his head. Juntae's head falls off his body as the rest of his body thuds to the ground.

Everyone is shocked at this sudden action.

The system then notifies Jinwoo and Y/n they made their human kill.

Numbers of enemies defeated:

1/6

Jinwoo and Y/n: That's one down.

Jinsuk: J-Juntae!

Kyu-hwan: What the hell, man?

Jinsuk: When did they draw those daggers?

Sukmin: Where were they even those?

Dongsuk's thoughts: (Arrogance aside, Juntae was stronger than the both of them! How could two E-Ranks kill a D-Rank?)

Jinwoo and Y/n then look over to Juntae's corpse.

Jinwoo and Y/n's thoughts: (We just killed someone. A person. Even if we say the system made us do it. We still ended a man's life. But it's either their lives or ours. So we can't back down now.)

Jinwoo and Y/n grip their daggers tightly as they look up with cold indifference.

Jinwoo and Y/n's thoughts: (Because it's only the strongest who survive!)

Dongsuk and his henchman then get ready to fight as Jinsuk unloads his rapid-fire crossbow.

Jinsuk: Go to hell!

Jinsuk's go on rapid fire but Jinwoo and Y/n block each one with the quickness.

Sukmin and Chul-jin attempt to jump them but Jinwoo and Y/n evade.

Chul-jin gets stabbed in the back of the neck by Jinwoo.

Sukmin tries to kill her but Y/n comes in and stabs him in the gut.

Jinsuk: What kind of E-Ranks move like that?

The two hunters that attempted to kill the players struggle to recover.

Chul-jin: Damn bitches!

Suddenly, Chul-jin and Sukmin cough up blood from their mouths and eyes and everywhere else.

This thanks to the Kasaka's Venom Fang dagger's drain and paralysis effect from the poison imbued within.

Dongsuk: Kyu-hwan!

Kyu-hwan: Oh, um, right!

Jinwoo and Y/n finish off Chul-jin and Sukmin with a few slashes.

Jinsuk attempts to shoot them but Y/n speeds past him and slices him by his gut and throat. Plus, a stab in the forehead.

Kyu-hwan tries to unleash a magic blast but the female hunters dodge and take him out in brutal fashion as well.

The system notifies them that they killed 5/6 enemies.

Jinho is awestruck at the power the players are showcasing.

Jinho: They're both so strong. And they seem more than when they defeated the dungeon boss.

Dongsuk, shocked at what has happened, can't wrap his head around the fact that two E-Ranks killed his men.

Dongsuk: You two killed all five of my men within seconds. Bet you also took out the spider, huh?

Dongsuk accuses Jinwoo and Y/n of hiding their true power as he activates his reinforcement skil, making his body as durable as steel.

Bro thinks he's tough shit but dear God he shall learn.

Dongsuk charges at the girls but they simply appear infront of him as they say:

Jinwoo: Mister Hwang, you're impressive.

Y/n: But sadly for you, we have some rather bad news.

Jinwoo and Y/n grab Dongsuk by his face as they slam him down to the ground.

Jinwoo and Y/n: You see. We've been leveling up this whole time.

Dongsuk can't believe that two E-Ranks managed to slam him to the ground so easily.

He then tries to negotiate with them in exchange for them sparing his life.

However, Jinwoo reminds him he tried to kill her and Y/n and states that Dongsuk mentions that what happens in a dungeon stays in a dungeon.

He then utters his last words.

Dongsuk: You bitch! If you had any idea who my younger broth--

Jinwoo proceeds to decapitate Dongsuk, ending his life, indefinitely.

The system notifies Jinwoo and Y/n that they completed the urgent quest.

Meanwhile, Jinho pukes out his lunch due to the bodies and blood.

Then they leave when the dungeon begins to collapse.

Outside, back in the real world, a Hunter Association representative who questions them on what happened.

Jinho covers for Jinwoo and Y/n by claiming Dongsuk and his men fell in battle.

Jinwoo and Y/n acquire some sweet rewards and a new skill called Murderous Intent which places enemies in a state of panic.

Jinho then thanks Jinwoo and Y/n for what happened as they head off home.

Upon returning home, Y/n goes to the shower.

Y/n: I'm gonna go shower all this blood and guts off.

Jinwoo: Can I join you?

Y/n: Sure.

Jinwoo and Y/n take off their clothes and head into the shower.

Once inside, Jinwoo turns on the shower and water pours down.

Jinwoo wraps her arms around Y/n's waist as her breast presses against Y/n's back.

A/n: Luckily it ain't her dick.

Y/n: Jin, did we do the right thing? You know, back at the dungeon? I know Dongsuk and his guys were pieces of shit but were we really in the right?

Jinwoo: I'm not sure of that, myself. But what I do know is that we had no choice. The system would've killed us, plus I couldn't deal with myself if I lost you.

Y/n leans into Jinwoo's touch as she sighs in relief.

Y/n: I guess you're right. Besides, as long as we have each other than everything will be alright.

After that, they finish showering and get dressed.

Eventually, they cuddle and fall asleep.

A/n: Hope you guys enjoyed and peace out ✋️✌️🫡🤔😗🤝🙏.