#i guess the tag for the 3 of them but i barely see anyone using it here and frankly i've never used the ship names before

[papersak]

Silver got more scenes in Masters and that reminded me to follow up on that ship dynamics thing.

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝑿𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑹 (𝑳𝑼𝑴𝑰𝑬𝑹𝑬) ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆

╰┈➤ ❝ xavier x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni | kinktober '24 day 14 (15… x_x)

tags : pwp (with plot), (it’s uhh kind of more on the plot side ish… i think? maybe? hfskj), praise, established but developing relationship, mild angst, hurt/comfort (ish), jealousy, possessiveness, slight spoilers for the lumiere myth, references to “midnight whispers”, kissing and making out, sliiight dry humping, wall sex, vaginal sex, desperate sex so it’s kind of rough ish, creampie, tl;dr both of you just can’t get enough of each other, use of pet names “angel” and “my star”, lmk if i missed any tags!

wc : 3.7k

an : okay so i’m late queueing this but. COUNTDOWN TO XAVIER’S BIRTHDAY - ONE DAY TO GO !!! :D for my beloved darling boy here’s 1 out of 3 total fics prepared for him this month <333 (which may be off-schedule, BUT…) this was fun to write, so i hope you have just as much fun reading! sdkjfhsdk at this point i think i’ve barely ever written xavier fics without plot/feelings… loving this man will just do that to you i guess…

taglist : @interstellar-inn @pixelcafe-network @hunters-association @darlingdummycassandra @spotted-salamander @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @rafayelsgf @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @love-and-deepstrays @keioxo @theanbitchless (SIGN UP HERE)

AO3 / KINKTOBER MASTERLIST / KO-FI JAR / COMMISSIONS

There’s a lot more to Xavier’s jealousy than you realize, and you’re adamant on setting it right.

This was how it was to be in love with you.

The sweet smell of roses, a walk under the cherry tree.... The calm breeze of morning and soft, fresh linen sheets. Sunlight peeking in through the window, pages of a book. Of words that could mean more to him than he could ever think to describe.

Xavier could call on all the possible analogies he could think of, pull from all the poems and stories that he'd read. And yet none could compare to you. It was in the same way that the stars were second to none—so too, then, were you.

You had always called him your star. But to him, the opposite was just as true.

And perhaps that was why this was so difficult.

The stars were different.

Sometimes changing in position, sometimes visible, sometimes not... From where the both of you stood, they were tiny specks of light in the vast domain of the sky—illuminating the night as much as they could, but part of a different world altogether. Unreachable. Untouchable. So bright, so radiant, that the single, slightest touch could burn him down to nothing.

They belonged to the skies; better admired from afar. It was torture to fall in love with something that, to anyone, felt utterly, unspeakably unattainable—

But that was how it was to be in love with you.

And it was a curse as much as a blessing.

"So then Tara mentioned this new place that opened up recently, and she swears by its service! She said we should totally go out and celebrate!" Your eyes gleamed with excitement as you spoke, taking in a spoonful of your ice cream to bring up to your lips. "So this does mean I have a little last-minute rendezvous later tonight... I'd have invited you, too, but—you know. Girl's night?"

His gaze remained transfixed.

The pace at which you both walked was matched, and relatively relaxed—yet he'd barely touched his ice cream. Instead, blue eyes focused on you as you spoke, tracing the movement of your lips and that sparkle in your eyes that he could never ever tire of.

"Okay," he murmured.

When you looked up at him, he glanced away, bringing a hand back to rub sheepishly at the bridge of his nose.

"...Really, really? Just okay? You usually, I dunno, ask me more about the people I'm with, or something..."

He shook his head, and there it was—the little smile on your face didn't go unnoticed. He knew you were trying not to tease, and your actions were so well-known by him that he'd memorized them all for himself. It was endearing to see you like this, knowing you probably knew his habits just as well as he did yours. And at the same time, he knew that you were right.

"Well, I mean... It's just Tara and the others," he said slowly. "You've... been spending a lot of your time with your hunter friends lately. I know who they are."

"I know who they are. You've a way with words, huh?" With a roll of your eyes, you took another bite of ice cream, before nudging him slightly with your elbow. "I've been trying to get to know more of the hunters in the Association lately. There's a lot of them, you know? I'm really glad that everyone's been so nice."

This time, he didn't say anything. Only a quiet hum, the soft crunch of autumn leaves on the concrete a sound that proved comforting to both of you.

The truth was, he was trying not to be so childish about it.

Something stirred in his chest when you spoke, that familiar discomfort that came with a feeling he knew to be jealousy.

It wasn’t a nice feeling.

But it was also easy to lose a star.

It was easy to lose you when, sometimes, he didn’t feel as if he had the right, really, to own you.

Because who was he to control your feelings?

There was no guarantee that, in this lifetime, you wouldn’t just up and leave.

And the more time you spent with others, the more he realized how true that could be.

There was no certainty that this was end game.

“Xavier?”

He heard your voice call out softly to him, and he looked down—

God. You were so cute.

Your head tilted to the side with a little air of concern, and he couldn’t help but smile. The moment a gentle breeze blew, he leaned down for a cheeky kiss on your forehead.

“X-Xavier—?!”

The incredulous expression on your face was one he wished he could preserve in his mind for eternity. He was sure that if that were possible, he really would.

“It’s nothing,” he assured. And he, himself, wanted to believe that to be true. “I like walking with you. It’s nice like this.”

It’s nice like this.

I hope it stays like this.

I hope that this time, we can just… stay together…

—

Oops.

That was the first thought in your head as you shot up from bed, eyes bleary with sleep.

Your phone was in your hand, and you stared aghast.

Package delivered.

You thought you’d been delusional when you could have sworn you heard nothing of a doorbell, until you looked at the address. And that was not your apartment number. That was Xavier’s.

You’d forgotten to change it—again.

Haphazardly throwing on a sweater and putting on your shoes, you raced out your door. The fact that you had yet to receive a text from him about it, nor have it delivered to you, likely meant one of two things: either he hadn’t received it and it was waiting outside his door, or he’d discovered what was in it.

His door absolutely did not have a package waiting outside it.

“Xavier? Xavier!” a little bit out of breath from the sheer shock of such a morning, you called out for him and hurriedly knocked on his door.

“Good morning,” came a voice from inside.

He wasn’t opening the door.

“Xavier…?”

“Is this about your package?”

“...Yes! Yes, it is! I forgot to change the address—”

“I have it.”

“Th-that’s great! Could you, maybe, open the door…”

A shuffling could be heard, and when the door did open, your jaw immediately dropped at the sighed before you.

He had opened it.

“Did you really order this? Were you planning to come here again and ask me to wear it?”

Xavier was frowning, his arms crossed in front of him—he wasn’t at all happy, that much you could tell. But you almost couldn’t focus on that. Not with the black tassel ear cuff hanging on his right ear, not with the suit he was currently wearing. And, those black gloves, the metal cuffs, the gold embellishments, the crimson dye, the blood-red collar… and everything.

It was a stark difference to how you usually saw him.

Xavier almost never wore black… But this looked phenomenal on him.

In retrospect, you supposed that there was nothing he could ever truly look bad in. But this? This was a whole other level of eye candy. There was absolutely no keeping that giddy smile from spreading across your face, even as you brought your hand up to cover your mouth.

“Don’t look at me like that…”

The way his brows furrowed was near downright adorable, the corners of his mouth turning down into a little pout. You could have squealed.

Almost.

Instead, your hands reached out in a look of wonder as you slid your touch down the side of his arm, feeling the well-made fabric of the suit. It was just a cosplay, and yet, it nonetheless seemed so well-made, mearly comparable to the original…

“You opened the package? It’s mine, you know,” you murmured, and with a huff, he stepped aside to allow you into his apartment. You weren’t mad that he opened it, really—and the fact that he put it on? While you could tell he wasn’t happy about it, he was already being nice enough to indulge you with all this again.

“Is it really your package? You could have delivered it here on purpose. I saw Lumiere on the label. These are clothes in my size.”

For a moment the two of you stared at each other in silence, and you could very well remember how this played out the last time you were in this situation.

“Well,” you started, if only to fill the air around you that had grown a little tense. “I didn’t expect it to arrive this soon… We were talking about it last night. You know, with the girls? A few days ago at the office, apparently Nero was all busy because a new line of Lumiere merch came out—a whole alternate costume! We talked about it all night and I had to order a set, too, I just thought I wouldn’t get it for another week—”

You were cut off in a swift movement.

With wide eyes, you found yourself pressed up against the wall, Xavier’s hands on either side of your head. The warmth of his presence so near you had you holding your breath, almost as if the air around you had turned from tense to suffocating. There was something about it that simply rendered you unable to breathe. It was easy to get all dizzy with him so close to you.

But when you looked at him, what you were met with was... not anger.

There wasn’t a trace of it on his features.

Instead, you were surprised to see a hint of something else.

His lips pressed into a thin line. Displeased, yes—but his gaze, while kept on yours, was desperate. Eyebrows knitted together, eyes narrowed ever so slightly with the prospect of almost begging you for something that you couldn’t quite place... Something you felt as if you should.

“Xavier?” you murmured. Your hand raised, slowly, carefully, up to cup his face.

This was different from the last time you’d played around with Lumiere’s costumes. He wasn't just sulking over it.

“...But is that really who you want to be calling?” His voice was quiet. Too quiet. This was an emotion you couldn’t quite read, nor was it one that was familiar to you.

“Xavier? What’s going—”

“It’s always like this.”

Your mouth shut, and you frowned, trying desperately to understand the tone in his voice.

“It’s still always Lumiere, right?” he let out a slow breath. “Why do you care so much about Lumiere? You’d talk about him to your friends, too. You’d spend an entire night without me for him.”

“What? That’s not—I told you, we just wanted to—”

“But I’m right here.”

The calm, even tone with which he’d been speaking slipped in that moment. A crack in his voice—though barely audible right in the moment—wouldn’t have gone unnoticed by you.

Something was wrong.

He was rarely ever like this with you—this wasn’t even an argument, it was just… It was something.

His right hand, previously placed by your ear, shifted to take your hand from his cheek. Taking the other at the same time, he pinned both hands back against the wall, preventing you from moving. The lace of your fingers together had you hyper aware of the leather texture of his gloves, and your breath hitched. 

He leaned in.

“I’m right here.”

A repeat of his words.

Yet he almost sounded as if he could break.

“I know you are,” you started, speaking carefully.

“Do you?”

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

“I do.”

This time you spoke firmly, meeting his gaze full-on with a certain sense of conviction that you were not going to let him try to doubt. “Please... what brought this on, Xavier?”

For a while, there was no answer.

His chest rose and fell, deep, calming breaths for himself almost as if trying to compose himself in front of you. You didn't like that. He did it so often; hiding things from you for your sake, putting on a braver face for you if only to keep you from worrying any more than you needed to.

But you needed to.

You wanted to.

Was that not what a relationship entailed? To worry about each other?

You could tell that this meant more to him than simple, petty jealousy—and you were determined to find out what that was.

“Don’t do that,” you mumbled. You frowned slightly, as if to make your point. “Don’t act in front of me. Don't put up a front. You’re upset, right? Something’s wrong. Xav… Are you still jealous? Is that what this is?”

“...I’m not.”

“But you are. Don’t do that.”

Like before, his eyes averted, but you didn’t miss the way he had to grit his teeth just to make sure he would keep a straight face.

“Xavier.”

You tugged at your wrists.

“Xavier.”

His eyes closed. While his grip on your hands loosened slightly, he didn’t let up—his forehead pressed against yours, and for the first time, you realized how shaky he felt. 

His breath was warm. His hands were warm. You could barely notice the cold of the wall pressed against your back, the rest of his living room fading away into the background as if all that existed was you, and him, and this little corner you had to yourselves.

As if it were all that mattered.

In a way, it was.

He was all that ever mattered.

“I don’t want it to change,” he whispered. His voice was small; smaller than you had ever heard it before. “I don’t want us to change.”

“Huh? But we’re not changing…”

“No, we’re not. I hope we don’t. It’s enough like this, just to be with you…”

Something about his words stirred at the pit of your stomach.

I hope we don't.

Perhaps that was it. Perhaps you'd been spending too much time without him, and perhaps he just wanted to feel... a little more wanted by you.

“Xavier…”

This time your hand slipped away from his hold, and it was back on his face, cupping his cheek. You watched him lean into it—a soft sigh of resignation, nuzzling into the palm of your hand like he wanted nothing more than your touch.

You swallowed thickly.

“Xavier, it’s not that I’m so fond of Lumiere…” you spoke softly. “I’m fond of you.”

His eyes opened, a slow blink of mild confusion.

“Lumiere is you. Is he not? He’s handsome, and gentle… just like you are.”

When his expression didn’t let up, you continued.

“Xavier, you saved me. I’ve always thought that Lumiere was amazing… But, now, knowing that he’s you—doesn’t that mean I get to love both you and him at the same time?” Your thumb rolled over his skin, and you leaned up slightly, teasing for a kiss. “I loved you first. So I like him because he’s you.”

The tips of your noses touched, and his lips brushed against yours. Your eyes locked this time, and he was all that you could see. All that you would ever see. Close. Impossibly close. Within reach… this time, because this was the Xavier that had come to love you. And that was all that mattered to you.

Maybe you felt a little sense of pride knowing this star was all yours. And maybe that was what he needed to feel, too.

“I… don’t like him,” he murmured. “I don’t want to be him… I just… want to be me. With you. Like this.”

"And you are you."

"But I'm not Lumiere. Lumiere is part of the past. I want… I… I'm here."

Ah.

Somehow, you understood.

Your gaze softened, and you let out a slow, quiet sigh. "Oh, Xavier…" you mumbled. “I like you no matter who you choose to be, Xavier. Ah—”

You smiled, and then shook your head. “Sorry," you corrected. "That’s wrong. I mean… I love you, no matter who you choose to be.”

You saw his eyes light up at that, breath hitching. Those blue, blue eyes—bluer than blue, the most beautiful shade of it that you’ve ever seen.

That was it.

That was what he needed to hear.

His lips trembled slightly, and then all you could feel were them.

He crashed against you, pinning you back against the wall just as he had done earlier, and you could feel everything. His knee between your legs, inching upwards, pressing you back with every ounce of his being as if the single, final thread of self-control had snapped.

“My star… my angel…” 

He gasped between kisses, barely muttering out words before he would drag his lips plush against yours in a way that made you want. A way that made you need.

You moaned against him, his body melting, molding into yours.

My star.

Xavier was so unfair.

Even the nicknames you would reserve for him could be turned right back to you, snaking his way into your heart that he had, that he owned, because you had given it—everything—all to him.

And you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Not when the heat of his presence wrapped enveloped you in a hazy mist of love and desire, the pull of his touch so strong that you couldn’t ever think of leaving. His fingers curled into yours, his grip straining. Bodies pressed together, the outline of his bulge grinding between your legs—his hips rutted into you with not much thought behind his movements, and your desperate pants fell into each and every kiss as if you simply couldn’t get enough. 

You couldn’t get enough.

Your mind could only fill with thoughts of him, because he’d taken that for himself as much as everything else.

“X-Xavie—mmphf—”

It didn’t take long.

Clothes discarded in barely a moment before he was hoisting you up on his waist and fucking you, your back hitting the wall with every upward thrust of his hips.

“X-Xavier!” you cried. Your eyes rolled back as he dipped his head into your neck, muffling his moans into your skin. “Xavier… Xavier… So good for me… so, so good, nnh—haa—”

Every praise uttered from your lips caused his thrusts to jerk, a whine falling from his lips.

He liked it.

“Mmh… Mh—yes— j-just like that! Ngh, you fuck me so, so well—ha-ah!”

You clawed at his back as the tip of his cock edged against your sweet spot, and you could tell with the way he choked out a laugh into your skin that you were in for it. His hips continued to snap against yours until you could barely register any coherent thought in your head. He would plunge in and out of your wet, leaking cunt with reckless abandon—you almost couldn't breathe.

“Xavier! Hnng—so good! Good boy, good—ngh—! Th-there! Please!”

You were long gone.

He could only hold you up with his sheer strength—you felt weak as you cried out endless strings of praise, obscene sounds of sex filling the room in an instant.

“My star…” He leaned back to hold you properly against the wall, grunting and panting. With his hair stuck to his forehead, droplets of sweat sliding down his skin, your eyes glazed over. “My star. My star. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine…”

With a mewl, your legs tightened around his waist, and he kissed you. Tongue, and teeth, and messy. Just as needy as earlier. Just as desperate as earlier. Your hands continued to claw at his back, fervent movements of his lips against yours in a foggy frenzy of pure want.

“Mine,” he gasped, pulling away just enough to speak. “My angel, my star—my pretty—pretty angel—my—good girl—”

His kisses, his thrusts, were punctuated with every word, driving you absolutely insane.

“Ngh—ah! Xavi—vie—Xavier—!”

You could barely get any more praise out as he easily turned the tables on you, lulling you into a headspace where all you could say was his name. His name, that, gladly, he would easily relinquish to you. A name that was yours as much as his. A name that you could call, this time, with the comfort of him being with you.

“Angel…” he groaned. “Feel'so good… Taking me so well…”

“G-gonna cum! Xavie—Xav—haa—!”

“Good girl… Good girl, good—girl—good—ngh—girl…!”

That was it.

One last thrust had you spasming around him, practically collapsing into his arms as he held you up, keeping you between the wall and his body as his own trembled with a release triggered by your own.

“So much… so much…” you buried your face into his neck, and he rubbed soft, soothing circles into your back. Hot, white ropes of cum filled your insides, enough to leak out of you, trailing down your legs.

The two of you stayed still for a moment, catching your breaths. There was comfort, in being held tightly in his embrace. And it wasn’t until a while later that either of you spoke.

“...The Lumiere plushie…” he breathed, quietly. “Do we have to keep it?”

You lifted your head, shooting him an incredulous look. “You’re still upset over it?!” Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see the dark-themed Lumiere plushie resting neatly atop of the coffee table, and you let out a huff. “Xavier, really, I promise you that I—”

You stopped.

He let out a soft laugh, his eyes crinkling in what you noted was not quite amusement, but… happiness, nonetheless.

You huffed slightly, but it felt lighter knowing that he was happy.

That was all you ever wanted, after all.

His forehead pressed back against yours, and he spoke again.

“Do you mean it?” he murmured. “What you said earlier. That you love me… No matter what?”

You smiled.

“Of course I do, silly. Isn’t that what you say to me all the time, too? What’s to make you think that I can’t say it back to you?” you gave him a playful swat, rolling your eyes. “I agree with you, you know… I like it like this. I like being with you. I want it to stay this way, too. Because all I've ever wanted was to be with you. You, whoever you feel like being. Whether it's Lumiere, or the Xavier in front of me now. That's... what it's like to love a star. Right?"

Something flashed in his eyes, then, before he nuzzled against you in that way he so often did with you.

“...Mm. So this is what it’s like to love you."

He was whispering, and he seemed to be speaking more to himself.

But, he smiled: 

“Ah, no… This is what it’s like to love you more.”

an : lumiere really is the best!!! 🥰✨

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[guiltyasdave]

delicate

pairing: modern!Oberyn Martell x f!reader

word count: ~3.9k

summary: You meet a mysterious man at a club. He's just as attracted to you as you are to him.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), alcohol consumption, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, very soft dom!Oberyn, protected p in v (who am I), dirty talk, fingering, anal play (m receiving), a hint of angst, romance because I can't help myself

a/n: written for @dancingtotuyo’s on repeat drabble challenge, based on the song delicate by taylor swift. this is honestly just feral, i have nothing to say for myself.

dividers as always by @saradika-graphics <3

find my full masterlist here and follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates!

Lights are flashing, colors dancing over the exposed skin of your arms and shoulders; the bass is pumping, making your whole body feel like it’s vibrating from within. You’re clinging to your friend, your arms intertwined as you navigate your way through the crowd of people to the bar.

You first see him as you’re gulping down your drink, welcoming the cool liquid in your parched throat. Your eyes are observing the crowd, flying over him and then flickering back to take a second glance. 

He’s gorgeous, his dark hair a mess, a beard framing his face, his skin shining under the lights. He’s wearing a shirt that flows around his body, threads of gold weaving through the fabric and reflecting the dancing lights. It’s almost entirely undone, giving you a generous look at the expanse of his toned chest, at the sun-kissed skin that you feel a sudden urge to run your fingers over. A massive gold chain with a lock hangs around his neck, an accessory that you’re convinced would look absolutely ridiculous on anyone else. But on him, it somehow only accentuates the strong cords of muscle that ripple under his skin in a way that makes you want to lick your lips. 

He moves with a confident ease, his body in tune with the stomping beats, his whole being exuding an almost cocky self-assuredness. You keep drinking him in, fascinated in a way that you can barely understand. You realize that you’ve been staring when your friend follows your line of sight and you hear her quiet gasp beside you. 

“Haven’t seen that one around before,” her voice floats into your ear over the music and you shake your head in silent agreement. You’d definitely remember if you did. 

You both watch him move with the body of a woman next to him, watch him bend down to whisper something into her ear, watch the way his lips curl into a smug grin as she grinds against him in reaction to his words. 

“Too late, I guess,” you laugh, downing the rest of your drink and tearing your eyes away. 

The two of you head back into the crowd, swaying your bodies to the beat. You try to get lost in the feeling of it, but your eyes keep searching for him, hungrily grasping at the glimpses of him that you can spot. Eventually, you watch the retreating backs of both of him and the woman head toward the exit, their bodies closely intertwined. Like you said, you try to shrug it off, too late. It’s not a big deal, there’s more than enough other guys around you. 

But you don’t go home with any of those guys, none of them able to catch your interest the way he did, and when you lie in bed in the early morning hours, your head pleasantly buzzing with the remaining alcohol in your bloodstream, you still see him behind your eyelids. 

A few weeks go by and while you hope to catch him every time that you’re out, there’s no trace of him. It isn’t until your friend’s birthday celebration, a tradition that the two of you have kept up for years, that you see him again. 

Again, you’re leaning against the bar, your eyes aimlessly drifting over the dancefloor while you’re sipping on your drink, when you spot him. He’s wearing another colorful shirt, his chest almost entirely on display, and he’s shamelessly grinding against another young man as they’re both moving to the beat. You can’t tear your eyes away, apparently staring so intently that he catches you and throws you a wink across the room. 

You feel heat rising in your cheeks and almost turn away, but he’s already on his way, moving towards you with a cat-like grace, effortlessly weaving through the crowd of moving bodies. 

“Hey,” he says, leaning into you so close that his breath fans hot against your ear, causing goosebumps to rise on your neck. “Saw something you like?” 

You grin at him over the rim of your cup, biting your lip and nodding. He mirrors your grin, an almost predatory glint in his eyes. He’s even more gorgeous up close, a light sheen of sweat on his face and his eyes a smoldering brown, his dark hair a mess with strands sticking to his forehead. You take in his toned chest, his broad shoulders and you desperately want to touch your hands to his golden skin. A foreign accent is lacing his words in the most delicious way, only adding to the pull that you feel towards him. 

“Let me buy you another drink,” he purrs and you accept, thanking him and offering him your name. You relish in the way you have to lean into him so that he can hear you, greedily soaking in his scent and his body heat that make your mouth water. 

His name is Oberyn, you learn, a name that sounds foreign on your tongue and you could swear that a quiet growl rises up his throat when you repeat it back to him. 

You’d love to spend your evening dancing with him, pressing your body against his, find out if moving with him feels as good as it looks from the outside. But it’s your friend’s birthday, and you’re gonna stick together, dance the night away with each other and no one else, the way you do every year. 

He shrugs it off when you tell him as much, an unbothered grin on his face as he promises you another time then. His hand wraps around your wrist, the warmth of it sinking into your skin as he pulls your arm out towards him, a black marker suddenly in his other hand. 

“What are you–” you begin to ask, but your voice dies at the sight of him pulling the cap off with his teeth, something that really shouldn’t affect you this much. 

He bends over your arm and it takes your hazy mind a moment to register that he’s writing numbers onto your skin. You’re getting lost in the feeling of his hand on you, even in such an innocent place, and your thoughts are already jumping to fantasies of how it would feel trailing up your arm and over your body. 

“There,” his voice floats into your ear and you almost jump. The smug look on his face leaves no doubt that he knows exactly what kind of effect he has on you. He leans in close again, so close that you can feel his breath on your skin. Your mouth feels dry. 

You look down at your arm, now adorned with digits in black ink. A phone number. 

“Give me a call,” he smirks, and leans in even closer, until his lips move against the shell of your ear and a shudder runs down your back at the sensation. “Just think of the fun things we could do.” He throws you another wink and slides away from you, back into the crowd. 

You text him the next day, worried if it’s too soon, if it makes you seem desperate. Then again, you have to admit to yourself, you are desperate. Desperate to hear his voice again, desperate to feel his hands on you again. Texting him is less awkward than you had hoped, his demeanor putting you at ease almost immediately. You catch yourself smiling at the screen, already down bad for this man. 

You’re in bed, struggling to calm down enough to sleep when your phone’s screen lights up the darkness of your bedroom from where it’s lying on your nightstand. 

He’s asking you to meet him in a dive bar, right now, if you want to. You’re reluctant at first, once again worried to appear too eager, but the almost magnetic pull that you feel towards him eventually leads you out of your apartment and to the address he sent you. 

He’s waiting for you in the back, just like he told you. Wearing dark jeans and a white t-shirt, the fabric stretching around his broad chest in a way that makes it hard not to stare, dressed much more casually than you’ve come to know from him. It doesn’t take away from his persona one bit, he’s still exuding that energy that seems to let him command every room he’s in, that makes it so hard for you to resist him. 

He buys you a drink and pulls you into a corner booth with him. Talking to him is easy, he’s an attentive listener and his quick remarks make you laugh, leaning into him when you do. You learn that he’s not from around here, that he flew in to visit friends but that he’s thinking about moving here permanently. It almost scares you, how giddy that prospect makes you, the idea of having the chance to keep seeing him. His arm finds its way around your shoulders eventually, his fingers drawing shapes over your skin. The innocent contact makes you feel like a teenager, suddenly sixteen again. 

He walks you home later, his arm still wrapped around you, pulling you into his side. It feels good, a sense of safety and intimacy that you feel yourself getting lost in. You had thought that he was hot, that he would be a fun hookup, but as the minutes tick on, you realize how much you already like him. How much you want this feeling to last. 

It feels so natural, turning around to face him when you reach your building, both of you leaning in simultaneously until your lips meet, like it’s the only possible way for this evening to end. You think that it is. 

Kissing him feels even better than you had envisioned in your mind, and you melt against him, one hand braced against his chest while the other comes up to pull at the hair in the nape of his neck, needing him closer, not ready to let him go. He’s cupping your face in both hands, his thumbs caressing your cheeks, and you feel him smile against your lips. You lick into his mouth, revel in the groan that rumbles deep in his chest. 

You don’t let go of him, holding onto his hand when you pull him up the stairs, soak in the feeling of him pressed against your body when you unlock your apartment door, let him connect his lips with yours again when he walks you backwards down your hallway.

Everything about him feels so right, so safe and yet like the most exciting experience you’ve ever had. You breathe him in, ecstatic with the sensation of his broad form against you, with the way you feel his muscles move under your fingers where you’re grabbing at his shoulders.

He lets you lead him into your bedroom, his hands still all over you. You push him down to sit on the edge of your bed and he follows your lead, sinking down on the mattress with an easy grin on his face, regarding you with hooded eyes. He wraps his hands around your waist as you’re standing in front of him and he pulls you closer. His fingers find their way below the hem of your skirt, dancing over the supple skin of your thighs, slowly inching up higher. 

You whine, already squirming under his touch, and his grin widens. 

“So soft,” he coos up at you, tightening his grip on your thighs and moving you to straddle him, your legs already spread wide to accommodate the thickness of his thighs beneath you. One hand comes up to cradle your face again, his thumb nudging at your lips and you flick your tongue against the digit, making him chuckle. 

“And so pretty,” he continues, leaning in to connect your lips once more. You want to melt into him, let him consume every fiber of your being. 

Your hands tug at his t-shirt, pulling it up, desperate to satisfy the need to be closer to him, to feel his bare skin against yours. He helps you, lifting the fabric over his head. You’ve seen most of his chest before, but not like this, not revealed just for you, in the dim light of your bedroom, yours to look at, yours to touch. He somehow seems even broader without clothes on and you’re almost transfixed by the thick cords of muscle of his arms and shoulders that are on display for you now. 

He chuckles again, placing another kiss at the corner of your lips. 

“You alright, princess?” 

“Yeah,” you murmur, feeling breathless, overwhelmed with how much you want him. 

His hands splay over your thighs, fingertips dipping beneath your skirt again, slowly, teasingly skating higher. 

“Take this off for me.” It’s phrased like an order, but it’s still so soft, not leaving a doubt in your mind that you could say no if you wanted to. But you don’t. You want him to see you, want to feel his eyes on you, want to have this hungry look that’s trained on your face burning all over your body. 

He groans when you obey, a deep, rumbling sound that goes straight to your core and you know that he feels your thighs clenching on top of his. His mouth is on your bare skin within seconds, kissing and sucking, his tongue moving against you like he’s going to devour you. 

You arch against him with a whine when he circles your nipple, first with his fingers and then with his tongue before sucking the sensitive bud between his lips. It’s all encompassing, the wetness of his mouth, the strong grip of his hands, the heat of his chest seeping into your skin where you’re pressing yourself against him. 

“Please, Oberyn,” you whimper, not even sure what you’re asking for, just knowing that you need more. His responding moan sends vibrations from his mouth straight through you, before his fingers dig into your waist and he flips you over, until your back is resting on your sheets and he’s hovering over you, your thighs still spread wide around him. 

The image alone is enough to send another wave of arousal through you, the way he looks just as wrecked as you feel. His large hands spread your thighs wider as he leans back, his eyes trained on your panties, where you know the fabric must be soaked already. 

“So pretty,” he mumbles again, more to himself than to you. His eyes fly back up to meet yours, almost black, his pupils blown wide. “Can I take these off?” He dips a finger under the lace covering your hip, pulling it away and letting it snap against your skin. 

“Please.” You don’t care how desperate you sound, not when he looks up at you with the most sinful smirk on his face. His hands grasp the fabric and you lift your hips to help him pull it down, but his smirk widens as he tears the lace in half, ripping the shreds off of your body. 

“Fuck,” you whine, not a single thought wasted on the fact that those were some of your favorite panties, every part of you focused on how badly you want his hands all over you. 

His eyes stay focused on your expression, eagerly drinking in your every reaction as his fingers dip between your legs, so close to where you so desperately need him. He groans when he feels the wetness seeping from your folds, swirling his digits through it before reaching your clit. He’s ghosting over the sensitive nub with barely any pressure, but it’s enough to elicit a moan from you, your hips canting up to follow his touch. You’re distantly aware of the pleas that are falling from your lips, giving way to a loud whine when he finally sinks two thick fingers into your heat. 

He thrusts into you, curling them just right, and his name tumbles out of your mouth again, laced with pure need. You watch in fascination when he sucks his slick-coated fingers into his mouth, eyes still trained on your face, a rumble forming in his chest at the taste. 

“Tastes so sweet, princess.”

Your thighs fall open wider, shamelessly offering yourself to him, to his eyes, his hands. You reach out, grabbing at his waist, the need to feel all of him nearly overwhelming. His fingers intertwine with yours, pulling your hands away from his body. He lifts them up to his mouth and presses soft kisses against your knuckles, a whisper of patience on his lips before he lets go of you and rises up to rid himself of his jeans. 

Your eyes widen at the sight of him, a needy sigh escaping you when you think about feeling him inside you, about the way he’s gonna stretch your walls. You sit up, eagerly reaching for him again. Your fingers wrap around his cock, mesmerized by his girth, and he hisses when you move your hand over his length. 

You hear the crinkle of plastic and then his hand is on yours, gently tugging it away, much too soon for your liking. You watch as he puts the condom on with practiced ease, the sight of his own hands on his cock enough to send another wave of arousal through you. 

He’s back on you before you know it, sliding in between your spread legs, his large hands splayed over your upper thighs, pushing them further apart. His eyes are trained on your weeping pussy, a hungry darkness in them. You whine when he rubs his cock through your wetness before tapping against your clit.

“You want this?” he asks, his voice husky. 

“Please, Oberyn.” Your desperate plea breaks off into a filthy moan when he sheathes himself inside of you, breaching your tight walls with the most delicious sting, and you feel your eyes rolling back into your head. 

Pleasure grows inside of you as he starts to move, slamming into your pussy in a forceful rhythm. You feel so full of him, the sensation almost overwhelming as he hits the perfect spot over and over. The wave inside of you crests so suddenly that you barely realize what’s happening, the need that you’ve felt brewing all evening finally reaching its peak. 

You gasp his name, nails pressing into his shoulders as he fucks you through it, until you’re a trembling mess beneath him. He slows, moving in and out of you with shallow thrusts, his lips on yours once more. 

You stay like that for a moment, arms wrapped around him, holding him close while you bask in the bliss that you’ve just experienced. But his continuous movements have the hunger for more growing inside of you once more. You meet his thrusts with your hips, needy to feel him deeper again. He props himself up, and it’s sinful how good he looks, his face glowing, a sheen of sweat on his skin. 

You suck one of your fingers into your mouth, eyes wide and holding his gaze, feigning innocence. He watches you, a curious glint in his eyes, as you trail your hands from his shoulders down his back until you reach his ass and pull him further into you, fingernails digging into his flesh. 

You let your saliva-covered finger reach further, gently massaging the puckered ring of muscle and he gasps, thrusting into you with so much force that it jostles your whole body and you cry out, the sensation of him so deep inside you a heady mix of pleasure and pain. 

“Fuck,” he grits between his teeth as you keep up your ministrations, delighted to have this effect on him. “Fuck, princess, just like that…” 

You bite your lip, grinning up at him. “Do the girls back home touch you like I do?” 

He breathes out a laugh and shakes his head, his movements never faltering as he gathers your wrists in his hands and pins them down on the mattress beside your head. 

“No. And you’re gonna make me come if you keep this up, but I’m not finished with you yet,” he purrs, leaning down and sucking bruising kisses into the soft skin of your throat, the scratch of his beard only adding to the sensation. You free one of your hands from his grip to tug at his hair, your fingers burrowing in the soft strands at his neck and scratching against his scalp. 

“You can give me one more, can’t you?” His voice in your ear makes you shiver and you nod, a breathless please on your lips. 

“Good girl.” His kiss is soft against your cheek before he pulls away, his thrusts speeding up, as he grabs your hips, holding them up, giving you no choice but to take him. “Touch yourself,” he demands, the tendons in his neck straining with exertion. 

Your fingers are on your clit within moments, rubbing against it, slick with your arousal. The coil inside you tightens again, desperate for release once more. 

“Give it to me princess, come on.” His voice sounds wrecked, and it’s the thing that makes you leap over the edge a second time, stars exploding behind your eyelids as you pulse around him, pure pleasure soaring through you. 

He comes to a stuttering halt, hips pressed flush against yours, and his groans are almost enough to make you want to come again. He falls forward, forehead pressed against yours, and you share a lazy smile. 

You think that he really is the most beautiful person that you’ve ever met.

You fell asleep curled against him, your head resting on his chest and soaking up his warmth, with his arm around your shoulder, but when you blink awake to soft morning light falling through your curtains, you are alone. You roll onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. You’ve seen him at the club, he’s probably in a different bed almost every night, you shouldn’t be surprised that he snuck out of yours in the morning. And you sure as hell shouldn’t be disappointed. 

You get up with a sigh, pulling a t-shirt over your head and padding down the hall to the kitchen. You come to an abrupt halt in the doorway, met with a sight that you hadn’t expected. He’s standing in front of your open fridge, the expanse of his back bare and turned towards you. There’s a swoop of excitement in your stomach.

You exhale loudly and he turns towards you, an easy smile on his lips. “Good morning.” His voice sounds raspier, still thick with sleep. 

“Hey,” you say, returning his smile. He closes the distance between you and cups your face, the sensation of his thumb against your cheek already a familiar one. His lips find yours and you get lost in the feeling of it, in the fantasy of this being your every morning, in pretending that he’s yours. 

When he pulls away, the words are out of your mouth before your mind is able to catch up.

“I think I really like you.” 

You want to bite your tongue immediately, to take them back. Too early, the voice in your head screams. Your eyes widen as you search for something else to say, but he doesn’t waver, still regarding you with that relaxed smile on his handsome face.

“Is– is it okay that I said that?” 

He hums, his large hand still on your cheek. 

“I think I really like you too.”

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider putting a smile on my face by reblogging, commenting or sending in an ask <3 thank you for reading!

[head-shoulders-knees-pain]

Day 17: Aventurine x Gn!Reader - Glove Kink

fandom: Honkai Star Rail word count: 500+ cw: 18+, kink without sex, glove kink, dom reader, sub character, teasing, light degradation (to character), spoilers of his character (job and real name) tag: @ficsforgaza note: I was an idiot and posted it a week early, still hope you enjoy <3

“Is there a purpose behind your gloves or more of a stylistic choice?”

The man in question lets the coin he was flipping land in his hand, before looking up towards me. 

“Oh, these old things? Nothing special, my hands are just too valuable so having them prevents me from touching anything unworthy.” He replies haughtily, though his winking blue and pink eye shows me it’s only a joke.

‘Fine, two can play that game.’ I lean over, taking his right hand. 

“For such a charming man, I have to agree. Can’t have just anyone hold your precious hands, can we?” I emphasize my point by placing a single kiss on one of his rings.

A pause followed by the sound of a gulp has me looking back up, and what a sight I’m greeted with.

His eyes on open display with his shades having fallen down the brim of his nose, wide and alert. His usually unflappable mouth opens and closes but my favorite part is the pink tracing his normally pale cheeks.

In what feels like an eon but is more like a few seconds, he brings his other hand up while clearing his throat. 

“And people call me a smooth talker, guess I really am more a gambler than a charmer haha.”

I arch one of my eyebrows at his display; leaning closer I push more. “My dear Aventurine, don’t tell me you’re soft on me after a simple gesture of goodwill?”

He scoffs and uses his left hand to push me away slightly, speaking quicker with each exchange, “A simple gesture? I’m more used to handshakes or-”

Instead of listening, I evade his push and cup his left hand with mine. “Then perhaps I should get you more acquainted?”

My fingers trace the edge of his glove where it clings to his skin, smiling as I hear a gasp slip past his lips. 

“Really! T-there’s no need for that-” he cuts himself off with a hitch as my fingers dip below the leather and trace his palm.

“While there may be no need, that doesn’t mean you can’t want it. Is that what you want? Want to feel me touch you? I promise I won’t sully you’re precious exterior…unless, of course, you want me to~”

My fingers circle the edge of his glove, waiting for his permission.

His eyes dart between me and the glove, his biting his lip in thought, before whispering a simple, “...please?”

I hum warmly and look up at him again, “Yes? Please what?”

“Take it off, kiss me, anything just do it already-” The quick movement of my hand sliding between his glove and his hand as I remove the glove cuts him off.

His soft pale hand feels almost like a Victorian woman showing her ankles, and who am I but a simple human wanting to oblige their lover’s request?

I cup his bare hand, tracing each digit carefully. I lower my mouth to his hand as I softly place a kiss from his knuckles to his pulse point, up his arm to his jaw until I reach the corner of his mouth.

His little gasps and hums of pleasure are a beautiful melody, but as the conductor of this orchestra, I cut it off with a searing kiss. 

Warm lips pressed together, I feel his hands grab hold of my shoulders to steady himself. It’s a good thing because as soon as I brush my tongue against his lower lip, I can feel a shiver rack through him.

However, I pull away when an idea pops into my head. 

I start to put his glove on my hand as he stares at me dazedly, “W…what are you doing?”

I only hum before I pull it tight and bring my now-gloved hand to caress his cheek, “Thought it might be fun to see what all the fuss was about your gloves.”

My grin only grows as he leans into my touch, “I think there might even be more to your gloves than even you realized.”

I move my gloved thumb to touch his lips, which he quickly opens.

“So obedient, I don’t even have to ask.” 

Slowly, I push my gloved thumb into his warm mouth and am rewarded with a muffled moan.

I use my other hand to discard his shades so his dilated pupils are on full display and card my hand through his hair gently.

“Who would’ve thought, one of the IPC’s Ten Stonehearts was an open pervert who displayed his kinks by wearing them all the time. Is this what you wanted? To have your own glove exploring your wet mouth?”

He whines and closes his eyes, but doesn’t pull away and instead sucks slightly on my digit. 

“No need to answer, I already know.” I press down on his tongue, before removing my thumb.

“Wait! I’m not done-!!” He goes to protest but I shut him up with two of my gloved fingers shoved back in his mouth.

“Don’t worry, this is only the beginning my sweet Kakavasha.”

[cupcaketeddybehr]

when your credit card declines pt. 2

featuring: gojo, geto, and sukuna!!! sorry the storylines are all so drastically different LOL i made gojo's a meet cute 😅 also i've never written for sukuna before so i really hope you guys like it!

here's part 2 as promised! thank you so much to the lovely lovely @luvxoxo for the request!! ILYSM!!

for anyone who has a request/just wants to chat, my ask box is open!! (please please please please send me requests)

tags! <3 : @itawifeyy

Gojo

you sigh as you peer through the pastry display case at your favorite cafe. you came as soon as you got off work, but it doesn’t seem like you came early enough. with fifteen people in front of you, you’re sure that the three boxes of kikufuku, your favorite sweet treat, are going to disappear by the time it’s your turn. after dealing with annoying, entitled clients for the entire day, this brings your mood to a new all time low. unsure of what you’re going to end up ordering, you stay in the line, hoping that some kikufuku will be magically left by the tine you get to the front.

the man behind you doesn’t make waiting in the line any easier. either talking to himself or talking to someone who barely responds to him, he’s talking at a volume that’s making your ears ring. you have no choice but to listen as he excitedly gushes about the progress of his students at whatever school he teaches at. you assume that it’s the nearby jujutsu school you used to attend as a child. you feel the gusts of wind his exaggerated hand movements create on your neck. eventually, one of them end up accidentally smacking the side of your head. you turn around to yell at whoever's behind you when you make eye contact with the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. you take in his expressive blue eyes and perfectly styled white hair. you’re wondering how he looks this good after a long day of work.

you two stare at each other a bit until the black-haired man next to him, who you assume is his friend (weird because you haven’t heard him talk the whole time), smacks him and hisses, “satoru, apologize”

satoru blinks and says, “oops, sorry, i didn’t mean to hit you,” still not breaking eye contact.

all anger suddenly leaving your body, you shake your head, “it’s okay” you stare at him a little longer, both of you waiting for the other person to say something. when neither of you do, you turn back around, a bit disappointed. maybe you were being delusional.

you drag your feet as the line in front of you gets shorter. you hear people shoving each other behind you, and you hold back a giggle.

“shut up, suguru”

you hear the two shove each other back and forth, careful not to hit you or anyone else with their antics.

when you get to the front of the line, you look into the display case again to look at the leftover kikufuku. to your disappointment (but not your surprise), there are none. turning to the cashier, you ask, “do you have any more of that?” as you point to the empty platter labeled “kikufuku”

she shakes her head, “sorry, all we have left are kikufuku pre-orders”

you frown, continuing to look at the display case, hoping to find something worth buying.

“you can have some of mine” satoru says from behind you. he looks at the cashier and asks her to bring his pre-order out from the back.

“no, it’s really okay i-“ you stop mid-sentence as you see the cashier come out of the kitchen with more kikufuku boxes than you can count. you can’t even see the top of her head. you look at suguru, who has his hand over his eyes, embarrassed. “i take it back.”

satoru laughs, “you can have a box!”

“ONE BOX? YOU HAVE SEVENTY”

“BECAUSE I PREORDERED”

you huff, ‘i guess… thank you, satoru”

he beams at the sound of his name, nods, and goes to look at the other pastries, asking suguru if he wants anything. currently, his eyes are only on the sweets in the bakery.

you take a glance at him as the cashier asks you to swipe your card for the box of kikufuku. you fish for your card in your wallet and then tap it on the machine.

“sorry, could you swipe that again?” the cashier asks. you panic and wonder how much money you have left in your account.

satoru suddenly looks away from the pastries and looks at you, “why are you paying?”

you’re confused, “i’m buying the box? if you don’t want me to anymore its fi-“

he steps beside you, asks the cashier to add a few more other sweet treats, and tells her to add your tab to his. “do you want anything else?”

“why are you being so nice to me?”

“maybe i want to take you out on a date” he says. “also- i never got your name”

“yes! uh- i mean, i’d love to” you grin, “and my name’s y/n”

he smiles and dumps the seventy boxes of kikufuku and bag of pastries on his friend. “suguru, hold this.”

grumbling, suguru takes the boxes and bag as satoru pulls out his phone.

“can i have your number?”

you nod, taking his phone and typing in your number and name with a little heart next to it.

“wanna come with me to this kikufuku shop tomorrow? i haven’t tried it yet” he asks.

“didn’t you just buy seventy boxes?”

suguru peeks out from behind the boxes, “he’ll be done with these by tomorrow.”

Geto

you walk through kyoto’s don quijote superstore with your boyfriend, suguru, on the phone. wandering the aisles searching for cheap peripera and romand lip oils and glosses, you can’t help but notice how shiny suguru’s hair looks through the screen. you swear that it’s reflecting light, sheen glistening as he moves around the house.

“sugu?” you begin, “did you change your haircare routine?”

he rubs the back of his neck with his hand, “noooooooo”

you gasp, betrayed. “you changed it and you didn’t tell me? is that why your hair looks so much better than mine right now?”

he doesn’t even try to argue that your hair is on equal footing, “maybe” he says, as he looks anywhere but you.

you glare at him through your phone, “we literally share the same hair care products. what have you been using?”

“i have a secret stash that i take out when you’re not looking” he sheepishly admits. “satoru told me that your hair looked better than mine the other day.”

you sigh, knowing how suguru is when it comes to his hair. “really, sugu? you’re letting your hair come between us?” you pout, jokingly. his entire ego relies on the appearance of his long black locks.

he laughs, “sorry, angel, my hair and i have a special relationship”

you roll your eyes, knowing that he would buzz his hair off if it meant saving you from a life or death situation. but that was the condition. you had to be on your deathbed. “can you at least tell me what products you’re using?” you beg.

“i use ten different products.”

“WHAT. you must be joking.”

he walks up the stairs and pans his phone camera to the stash of haircare products he’s apparently been keeping under the bed. your eyes widen as you spot every single one of the ten products. among them are hairbrushes, hair oils, dry shampoos, combs, and hair ties (the fancy spiral ones that don’t leave dents).

“why do i feel like this is the equivalent of you cheating on me”

he laughs, “baby, you’re being dramatic.”

“suguru. remind me which one of us keeps a secret stash of hair care products under the bed because he’s too scared to be tied for best hair?”

he clicks his tongue, “fine… i’ll help you find the products. but not all ten”

“why can’t i just use yours?”

“they’re mine.” he says possessively. “but i promise to help you find some.”

you grumble as he gives you step by step directions to the shampoo and conditioner aisle. apparently, he knows the way to the hair care aisle by heart.

when you flip the camera over, he points to the viral &honey shampoo and conditioner. “get that, angel. it’s a really good brand”

you two spend about thirty minutes picking out hair oils and hair masks before you’ve just about had it. “suguuuuu this is too much work” you whine.

he laughs and starts walking towards your garage. “i’ll be there in ten, okay?”

he arrives exactly ten minutes later and you take on a mindless, drone-like state, letting your boyfriend do all the work for you. you watch him as he squints at the labels of all the hair care products, making sure that they either contain or don’t contain a bunch of ingredients you can’t pronounce.

when it’s time to check out, you’re walking hand in hand to the cashier when he starts massaging his temples, “shit, i forgot the new tsubaki hair mask i wanted. i’ll be right back, okay angel?”

“okay sugu! get me one too!”

after looking at the ten person line, you decide that you might as well queue to save time. apparently, people move faster than you thought, because you’re at the front of the line with everything on the conveyor belt. you feel like your parent just left you at the cashier.

panicking, you glance behind you at the long line of people. no way you’re getting back in that. you decide to just tell suguru to come back another day for the hair masks. you double check the total and swipe your pink credit card on the machine.

“i’m sorry, could you try that again?” the cashier asks. you look at the screen and pray that the bold “DECLINED” message is just an error. when you go to swipe again, your card is snatched out of your hand before it’s even halfway to the machine.

“sorry i took so long, angel. i had to fight people for the last two hair masks.” suguru explains. “also- didn’t i tell you to call me whenever you’re buying something? you shouldn’t have to spend your money on anything.”

you breathe a sigh of relief, “usually, i would offer to pay… but i think i’m broke”

suguru stifles his laugh, “remind me to transfer money to your account when we get home, baby.”

you giggle and kiss him, “you’re the best!”

a week later, your hair starts looking a little shinier than his and the cycle begins again.

Sukuna

after admiring sukuna’s tattoos for months, you’ve finally psyched yourself up enough to get one.

you hold his bicep still as you color around his black markings with sharpie while he’s quietly eating his extremely rare-cooked (was it even cooked? you have no idea) steak. “kuna? what tattoo do you think i should get?” you ask as you hand him your phone.

he scrolls through your “tattoo” pinterest board with a look of distate. “these wouldn’t suit you, brat”

you frown as you glance at the pins he’s looking at. you had been hoping to get a cute little studio ghibli linework tattoo on your arm. “why not? I think they’re really cute.”

“something else would look better. those look weak and pathetic.”

you start to get annoyed when he takes a sharpie from your pile and takes hold of your arm. “kuna… what are you doing?”

“drawing your tattoo, obviously” he grumbles. he seems to be annoyed at the fact that you consulted pinterest before him.

the pen strokes on your arm lull you to sleep as sukuna draws all over your forearm, elbow, and bicep.

thirty minutes later, he flicks your forehead to wake you up. “i’m done, brat”

you yawn groggily as you take in the masterpiece on your arm. it’s an entire sleeve of beautifully drawn flowers.

“kuna… this is beautiful.”

“i know” he says, “it suits you.”

you grin at him, “awww thank you, kuna”

he nods, “you can look up the meanings of the flowers later.”

MEANINGS? your boyfriend knows the meanings of flowers? you know that he gardens, but you didn’t know that he loved flowers this much. “i love you so much! you’re so cute!” you squeal while you throw your arms around his neck.

“ditto… and don’t call me cute.”

you tug on his hand and pull him to the car, “let’s go!”

before you know it, you’ve been laying down on the tattoo bench for almost two hours. the piece is huge, and you’re sure that you’re going to be here until they close. sukuna sits beside you, brushing his long nails through your hair and squeezing your free hand with his other hand every time you wince.

at some point, tears are falling down your face. sukuna yells at the tattoo artist to get out while he wipes the tears from your face and kisses your forehead repeatedly. “you can do it, just a little bit more. it’s going to look so pretty on you”

you nod, squeezing his pointer and middle fingers with your hand.

when the tattoo artist walks back in, sukuna shoots him a glare before returning to his original position. an hour later, he’s stroked your hair so much that you’ve fallen asleep.

when the tattoo artist pokes your shoulder to wake you up, you take a moment to admire the beautiful spread of flowers on your arm. as you turn to tell your boyfriend, you realize that he’s fast asleep on the chair. now that you’re looking at him, you have no idea how he fit into that chair to begin with.

you quietly make your way to the counter to pay, trying not to wake sukuna. when you pull your credit card out of your wallet, it somehow suddenly goes flying right into sukuna’s hand.

he walks towards you , running a hand through his hair. “WOMAN. how many times have i told you that you’re not allowed to pay for anything in this relationship?” he snips, inserting his platinum american express card into the slot.

“oops”

“whatever, just don’t pull something like that again. i ordered you a credit card linked to my account. it’s coming tomorrow.” he says.

your eyes widen, “WHA-“

he clamps his hand over your mouth, “shhhhh… just accept it”

you nod slowly, “okay… thank you kunaaa”

“mhm” he says as he spins you to the side to get a good look at your new piece. “do you like it?”

“of course i do, you drew it” you say, staring adoringly into his eyes. “wanna tell me what flowers you drew?”

he points to each one as he names them, “alstroemeria, calla lily, baby’s breath, camellia, daisy, marigold, and rose”

“wanna tell me what they mean?”

“no. google it.”

later, when you go to google the flowers, tears well in your eyes at your boyfriend’s thoughtfulness.

[alstroemeria (devotion and friendship), calla lily (magnificent beauty), baby’s breath (everlasting love), camellia (perfected loveliness), daisy (cheerfulness), marigold (power and strength), rose (loyalty and love)]

you come up behind him and jump on his back, kissing his cheek, “you’re the best”

the corner of his mouth lifts, “so when are we getting matching tattoos?”

thank you so much to @saradika-graphics for the beautiful dividers and support banners 🫶

and thank YOU so much for reading! i appreciate you!

[lucrezianoin]

Wyll and Astarion banter (2/2)

Collection of banter between Wyll and Astarion (you can find part 1 here). In case I will add more in the future I will use the tag "wyllstarion banter".

This one has a lot of dialogues I literally never heard of, so I wonder if some of them are not in game anymore (tho they are act 3 specific).

Astarion: I hardly saw you at the party. Did the honest and true Blade sneak off for a little fun? Wyll: No! Nothing like that at all. Astarion: Oh, but you protest too much. Now I know you were practicing your swordplay.

---

Wyll: Ah - the memories. The Blushing Mermaid's where fifteen-year-old Wyll snuck his first kiss. Astarion: You didn't kiss anyone until you were fifteen? Gods, what a tragic, sheltered life... Wyll: Sheltered? Not at all. I was exposed to all manner of riot and revelry. Hells, my father even urged me on once or twice. But I've always been a bit old-fashioned on these matters. I find more pleasure in a courtly dance than a loveless fling.

---

Astarion: I lived two centuries in this city, but it can still surprise me. Wyll: Baldur's Gate harbours many a secret. Even the longest-lived explorers have yet to uncover them all. Speaking of - what were you getting up to all those years? Astarion: Let's not get into details. If Baldur's Gate can have its secrets, so can I.

---

Wyll: Astarion, I was wrong about you. Truly wrong about you. Astarion: Let me guess - you thought I'd suck blood, but actually I just suck? Was that your witty jab? (devnote: a little tired of Wyll's bullshit) Wyll: No, I mean it. There's little between us we share. But you've fallen in love and stood by your lover. That is something this dreamer's heart can appreciate.

(this is a spawn astarion romanced dialogue)

---

(more under cut)

Astarion: Well, it's no Baldur's Gate, but at least it's some kind of civilisation. Wyll: I do miss the Gate, though. The Elfsong Tavern! Sunset over Grey Harbour! Fried fish at the docks! Astarion: Drunk young patriars, naked in the fountains! Ah, civilisation... (note: whistfully)

---

Wyll: Finally, we're approaching Moonrise Towers. Astarion: Nothing escapes the Blade of Frontiers' keen senses, I see. Wyll: Mock me all you want, Astarion. We could use a little comic relief. Astarion: Yes, that's why I'm mocking you - to keep our spirits up. No other reason...

---

Astarion: You know, I've never seen this place in the daylight before. Wyll: I always loved this park. Spent a lot of time here as a boy battling imaginary monsters. Astarion: Oh, I was going to say it looks wretched. The dark hid all the kitschy details.

---

Wyll: Astarion, I just want to say - I judged you wrongly. I'm sorry. Astarion: Really? And how - specifically - have you misjudged my fine character? Wyll: You aren't actually insufferably randy. You're just insufferable.

---

Astarion: Marriage, Wyll? I thought you'd have learned not to get trapped by devious contracts. Wyll: I was planning to invite you to the ceremony, but I'm having second thoughts. Astarion: I'd love to come! As long as I can sit with someone fun. Mizora, perhaps?

---

Wyll: I'd watch yourself, my friend. I don't know if our pale rogue has anything good in his heart, or even a scrap of it left for you. Astarion: Excuse me? That's just mean - we're all adults here. Wyll: Your heart's cold as ice, Astarion. I'm just making sure no one slips and gets hurt.

---

Wyll: As much love as I hold for Baldur's Gate, these frontiers delight me as much as any bustling street. Astarion: You can't be serious? This is a howling wasteland! I haven't even had a bath since the abduction. I must reek of ilithid slime. Wyll: Sure, but think of the stories you'll be able to tell.

---

Shadowheart: So. A vampire spawn and a monster hunter in the same group. We're not going to have trouble, are we? Astarion: Excuse me? Since this tadpole, I'm barely a monster at all. I just want to survive, same as you. Wyll: I don't see a problem, as long as mister fang there keeps his appetite in check.

---

Astarion: A question for our master monster hunter: how would you approach killing a vampire? Wyll (he knows Astarion is a vampire): A full-on vamp, you mean? Lure it into the sun, drive a stake through its heart. And that's not the end of it. The suckers are wily. No offence. Astarion: None taken. Wiliness keeps me alive. More or less.

Wyll (he doesn't know Astarion is a vampire): To start? Lure it into the sun, drive a stake through its heart. Why? Astarion: Just curious.

---

(this is about the Moonrise Oubliette)

Astarion: Admittedly, I don't care for most people, but this is a terrible waste. (note: referring to all the wasted blood) Wyll: Because their lives were cut brutally short, you mean. Astarion: I - ... yes, that. That's clearly what I was referring to. (note: pretending he wasn't referring to all the wasted blood)

[empressgeekt]

Trolls - Burning Branches au - Part 3 Aftermath

Okay so if anyone has not read the other posts on this AU, I highly suggest you do. Believe me this will be much more fun with context. The previous posts are by the same title, minus the "Part 3". I will also be tagging all of them with the title after posting this.

Char = Branch

Lets get into it...

When we last left of the Family Harmony was complete and the V-Twins were being carted off to jail. Char and Poppy kissed and wondered if they could finally get married now.

Then Floyd collapsed. The troll literally had the life drained out of him for two months, he is not walking away from that with just a new hair style. This sends the happy moment into one of panic. Floyd does not wake up when prompted, and not even when the other moved him on to Rhonda. It's clear he needs a doctor, but none on Mount Rageonus know troll physiology, so they need to leave as soon as possible.

But where will they go? Anywhere is still few days drive, and there is barely any supplies on Rhonda. No food. There was water but not enough for everyone. And most importantly no medicine beyond a very old, very basic first-aid kit John had for gotten about. Barb and Bruce stay behind to make sure Floyd doesn't die (and make sure Tiny takes a nap). Floyd has a seizure and Barb steps in taking control of the situation with Bruce freezes. Bruce asks her how she knew to tend to someone who's sick, and Barb explains that Char used to have them as a kid and she was usually the one who nursed Char through his head aches, and when he got sick from the volcanic fumes. This leads to bonding between the two of them, and Bruce starts to think of Barb as his little sister too.

When the others get back, John and Clay kind of freak out about the seizure when told. Trips home can wait they need a doctor. Rock territory is closeted and the doctor that treated Char originally is still around and on call. Still few days drive, but it's the best guess they got.

When Floyd finally wakes up he's a mess. Exhausted, nauseous, with a killer head ache. It's also in the middle of the night, and everyone is still asleep. Well, everyone except Poppy and Char. They were still up due to some shared insomia, and discussing their re-do wedding plans. Floyd's perception of things are still hazy, so he's calling Char by Branch and not noticing the latter's discomfort over the name. Still Char helps alleviates Floyd migraine so he can go back to sleep. Floyd asks how Char would know that it would work, Char says it works for me. Floyd would continue to ponder that, until he passes back out.

When they get back into Rock Kingdom territory, Floyd is taken into the hospital rather quickly, and is put on supportive devices, to combat server malnutrition, dehydration, and oxygen just incase. Brain scans, reveal scaring on his brain from several concussions that went untreated. The source of his seizures, and possibly other symptoms that have yet to show themselves. Once he's conscious he reports of, numbness, pain and tingling in his legs and is looking at possible nerve damage.

During this time, with the help of Barb, Bruce manages to get a letter out to his family explaining what was going on and it would be little longer until he was home. Char and Barb re-unite with their Dad and Riff. And the rest are just trying to make sense of everything.

Floyd has, at least one of his brothers with him at all times. When he's awake they talk and bond, and when he's asleep they comfort his nightmares. He notices that Char isn't there most of the time (he's out making princely announcements explaining the situation and dealing with some back-lash about "returning to his own kind" from some of the less accepting citizens), and is worried that his Brother is mad at him for not coming back. He practically breaks down upon hearing about Char amnesia, and asks to see him.

Char comes, but is very awkward when he first arrives. Floyd takes in all the difference, and mentions the green vest. Char says he can't remember being without it, Floyd says he gave it to him, before beginning to apologize for leaving him. Char shuts it down, telling Floyd his injury isn't his fault, maybe a few days ago he'd have been mad, but he doesn't regret how his life turned out. He hugs Floyd and wipes his tears. Floyd tells Char that comforting was his job, Char says no matter who's older siblings comfort each other. Floyd wants to know how Char's life turned out. Char, eagerly tells him about Barb and Thrash, how he grew up as a prince, and his betrothal to Poppy. Floyd is shocked his brother grew up as a prince, but is happy his brother grew up in a good home, and wanted to meet Poppy, Thrash and Barb as soon as possible.

Eventually, Floyd is released. He's on crutches, with braces on his legs and has physical therapy routine he needs to follow to walk again. They stay at Char and Barb cavern (their royalty they have the room, and Thrash is loving the company, he's convinced their all his kids and no one corrects him) during this time and for a few days after the release, but tension with the public is spiking and they can't stay for long. Barb stays behind to control the crowds and the others go to Pop village. Viva would re-unite with Peppy, and begin preparations to move the Put Put trolls to the village, with an escort of Rock guards off course.

The saga would end, with Poppy and Char finally getting married and Char coronated as king of pop...with an epilogue of years alter when they had twins trollings, named Rosie and Ash (named after Grandma and Thrash).

---

Part One and Part two

And those are my currently plans. I'm going to outline this, but Not sure if I should fully write this thing out now or later. What ya'll think?

[justafoxhound]

OC in fifteen

I saw a tag game- to share 15 lines or less of dialogue that showcases your OC's personality

For my Lone Wanderer Talia:

1. “I think there’s a term for what I’m feeling, though it’s bound to be much more pant-orientated than ‘anxious’.”

2. “Geez, Burke, these deliveries just keep getting bigger. Do I look like I have a second head? ‘Cause I’m actually not a pack brahmin you know.”

3. “Holy shit.”

4.  “Oh no, don’t give me all the credit. I put a thing inside another thing and pushed a button. You’re the one who engineered all this. I wouldn’t want to take away from what you did. Which is almost everything. I barely even featured if we’re being honest.” 

5. “You’d tell me if I did something wrong, right? If I needed to be better? You’d give me a chance to fix it?”

6. "Fine. Throw me out. You’d miss me.”

7. She looked at him darkly. “Work is very important, Burke. In the Vault anyone who wouldn’t or couldn’t work was mulched for crop fertilizer." [........sike]

8. “I was saying thank you. Though fuck knows if I should. But you’re not all judgmental or crazy. You’re just here to- hic- get drunk, and I appreciate that.”

9. "But today, you are lucky. Today, I’m here. I crawled out of a hole in the ground too. Many things, many people have tried to kill me already. And some of them got real close… but do you just lie down and cry about how bad things are? No you do not. You ask yourself, ‘am I really going out like this?’ And you say, ‘am I fuck.’"

10. "Listen I know you hate me because of, you know, being a dick to my dad or Megaton or whatever, but-"

11. [“After all I’ve done for you, you dare throw it back in my face?”] “I’ll throw whatever I want, I don’t owe you every person that ever looked at Megaton."

12. "No,” Talia corrected, “you have to invent vodkaponics."

13. “I can see the truth in that. Well I’m no genius… I guess I’m just mad.”

14. "Don’t make a fucking sound,” she threatened, encouraging him into a side room with a little 10mm incentive. “I was letting you fuck off you fucking mutfruit,” she chastised...

15. Talia rolled her eyes. “I just want some gossip Sarah. We’ve been walking for days with mutants and an army after us. We got drinks, thank you by the way, but we’re surrounded by this depressing cave of orphans. Did you know they have to leave when they turn sixteen? I saw a boy being kicked out earlier. It was his birthday today. Just tell me something normal or fun, please.”

Tagging @dirty-bosmer @jentucker @chennnington @lucien-lachance @skyrim-forever and anyone else who wants to share!!

[grandmasterswife]

Secrets Above the Stairs

->Pairing: Childhood Bestfriend!Reader x Rafe

->Summary: Rafe comes to you distraught with a confession after helping his dad commit a crime.

->Warnings/Tags: Vulnerable!Rafe, mentions of doing coke lol, angst

->A/n: This is incredibly short, but I loved writing it. I am such a whore for comforting the vulnerable. Anyway, this takes place during Season 2, episode 2 when Ward kills Gavin bc he's blackmailing him and then comes home and asks for Rafe's help to get rid of the body.

First time sharing my writing, pls be nice <;3.

Your eyes burn at the bright light in contrast to the dark room that you had previously been asleep in. Your phone is dinging with messages that you figure you’ll ignore and read in the morning, until the obnoxious ringer goes off indicating you’re getting a phone call.

‘My fucking god.

You snatch the phone into your hand and squint your eyes enough so you can see the answer button without bothering to look at who was calling. Your eyelids scratch against your eyes like sandpaper, and you can’t fight the heaviness weighing them down.

You try to say something into the phone but all that comes out is a gravelly murmur.

“Can I-,” There’s a short sniffle, “Can I come up to your room?” His octave is low and soft, if he was anyone else you would have second guessed who was calling.

Rafe’s distraught voice pumped adrenaline into your body, forcing you to sit up in bed.

“Are you okay?”

“I just- I need to come up. You’re home, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’m coming.” Grabbing pants wasn’t of importance to you at the moment, mostly because you didn’t want to dig around your drawers to find something and waste more time. You were just glad tonight was one of the nights you decided to wear an oversized t-shirt to bed.

You hurry down the stairs, using your phone screen as a flashlight to find the steps and illuminate the space between the halls and door. The metal handle is just as cold as the tiles on the floor, and as goosebumps raise all over your body, you're desperate to get him to your room so you can jump back into your warm covers.

Your selfish desire ceases the second you open the door. Rafe Cameron, the usual cocky but otherwise unemotional boy you were once bonded with, is at your doorstep with wet cheeks and a heavy expression that left you with about a hundred thoughts running through your mind of what could have happened. You pull the door further open, and he walks in past you. The moonlight disappears as you close the entrance, leaving you in pitch black. You wait to ask any questions till you’ve made it to your bedroom.

“This w—” You started to whisper.

“I remember where it is.”

You momentarily forget that this used to be a second home to him. He knows how many steps lead up to your second floor, and which dishes are in which cabinet. He knows that you wear little to nothing at nighttime because your room is hotter than the rest of the house, he knows which part of the couch you prefer to lay on, and most of all, he knows you’re the only one aware of the kind of person his dad is.

You get to the top of the stairs and after a few more steps and turns, you push your door open and close it behind him. After turning on your lamp, your stomach sinks at the sight of your former best friends' dazed expression and nervous fidgeting. You barely manage to suppress the urge to wrap your arms around him, instead you wrap them around yourself and sit down on the edge of the bed.

“What’s going on?”

“I haven’t been in here since freshmen year of high school.” He says flatly, looking around the dimly lit room. The rays of orange from your lamp display across the walls and furniture.

He sounds distant when he speaks, and your arms tighten around your torso. Rafe Cameron was not one to be fazed. At least not the one you knew. Not your Rafe. You heard about his short temper and drug habits only after the two of you had stopped hanging out. You saw him at a party last summer with a rolled-up bill up his nose sniffing white lines from a table. Maybe you should have intervened then, but you weren’t sure what your place was in his life anymore.

“Yeah, I know,” You clear your throat, “Are you gonna talk to me?"

“I have this- this... stuff that I’m dealing with. And uh, I don’t think I can tell anyone else. I’m not even sure I should tell you.” He sits down beside you and curiosity fills your mind.

“Rafe,” you tuck a leg underneath yourself and adjust so your body is facing him, “what happened?”

In this moment, you weren’t just ex-friends who grew apart over the years, making small talk in the name of nostalgia. In this moment, you’re the kids cannonballing into your pool at the family barbeque, the teenagers sneaking alcohol from your parents’ liquor cabinet just to get drunk in your room, the friends who spent every day together. In this moment, you never grew apart and you still understood each other.

“I did something. And- and I- I did it to protect my dad, you know? But someone knew. He fucking knew I did it and he was trying to blackmail my dad for money. And so, he—”

“What’d he do? What did you do?”

His blue eyes observe your face like he’s trying to determine his next words. You want him to talk to you, so you lean closer to put a hand on his knee for support.

“He killed our pilot, Gavin. He asked me to help him-” He lets out a shaky breath as he rubs his face, like he's trying to wake up from a nightmare. “Help him get rid of it.”

“Did you…?”

Even with him turning away, you see his eyes moisten. He opens his mouth like he's about to answer but instead, he clenches his jaw shut and looks up to the ceiling. Your face twists with concern at his reaction, but you don't want to say anything else until he answers.

“I did, Y/n.” His voice cracked.

You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to criticize Ward or ask what the hell happened to him after you stopped being friends, but neither would do him any good. Instead, you sigh and give in to the urge telling you to pull him into you. You wonder why he didn't go to Topper or Kelce; you never spotted him in public without one of them at his side. But as he embraces you tightly, you quickly realize what he wants is comfort and you wince at the sobs that start to erupt out of him. In between sniffles, he starts to tell you everything. Not just about what his dad did tonight, but about what he did that led to it in the first place; he killed a cop.

“I think there might be something wrong with me.”

Might is an understatement.

“That is some pretty fucked up stuff, Rafe.”

“I need you. I don’t know how to fix this on my own.” He lifts his head up. His face is only an inch away from yours, you can feel his warm breath on your skin as his eyes gaze into yours like he’s searching for something.

“Okay,” You put your hands on his shoulders to create space between you, “Stay here tonight. I’ll help you. We’ll fix it.”

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 16

Hello, darlings! I wanted to get this to you before I got too busy and forgot. My birthday is on Monday and I'm having a party on Saturday that I'm preparing for today, tomorrow, and most the day Saturday. I hope to get something out during that time, but I might not be able to get it up until Sunday.

Also I found out I was accidentally tagging @chaoticlovingdreamer twice! I don't think it did anything, but it was funny it took me this long to catch on!

Speaking of tagging, it used to be easy to tag from a copied list, just click on name, select drop down, move on to the next. But for some stupid reason I can't anymore and have to delete the last character in their username to get it to pop up. Is anyone else having this problem or is it just my life deciding to make it more difficult again?

Today for your enjoyment: communication, drunk Robin, and soulmate bonding!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

***

Eddie crowed inside when Steve blushed at his comment. “And for record, sweetheart, I could see us tangled in your sheets. Not just the hot sex but everything before and after. All I’m asking is to take it slow.”

Steve gulped. “I’ll go at whatever speed you need, Eds. Honest. You set the pace.” He gave Eddie’s hand a squeeze. “And if you change your mind tomorrow, I’m down for that, too. If you decide we’re better as friends, I’ll be your best friend, okay?”

Eddie smiled. “I think Jeff and Robin might take offense to that.”

Steve laughed. “Nah, nah, Robin is my platonic soulmate, that’s separate from best friend.”

Eddie grinned. “I guess Jeff is more like family then a best friend. All the guys are.”

“There you have it,” Steve said smiling at him, merriment sparkling in his eyes.

They walked hand in hand all the way the way to the Rainbow High Club. They were forced to let go to flash their IDs, but they stayed close to each other, blushing and smiling at each other every time they caught the other’s eyes.

Chrissy’s eyes lit up. “How have I never heard of this place?” she asked, trying to take in as much of the sights as she could all at once. “It’s amazing.”

“Who’re the DDs tonight?” Robin asked, gleefully rubbing her hands together.

Steve, Gareth and Mandy all raise their hands. Eddie pouted.

“Stevie, you’re not drinking tonight?” he whined.

Steve laughed. “I’m working on your tattoo tomorrow, sunshine. I am not working on you hung over.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

*

Now that Eddie and Steve knew where they stood with each other, that last barrier of tension vanished between them. They were laughing more freely. Touching more readily. Just having a blast knowing the potential for more was there waiting for them when they were willing to take that step.

Steve knew where the line in the sand was now and cranked up the charm to eleven. Just being a gentleman.

Eddie ate up the attention like a sunflower in summer following the sun. He felt that last bit of worry just clatter to floor like a chain coming off of a worn gate after so many years being locked away.

Jeff and Mandy ate it up on the dance floor, pulling Gareth with them as they got the shyer man to come out of his shell a little bit.

Brian even managed to get the DJ to play a little metal. Steve sipped on a Coke and laughed as he watched his friends get silly on the dance. He had barely finished his drink when Robin grabbed his hand and led him to the dance floor.

He cussed her out but she just kissed his cheek and told him to move his hips for fuck’s sake.

His dancing was terrible, but he let himself join the crowd and sway to the beat.

Eddie said in his ear, “You know in ‘Pride and Prejudice’ being a bad dancer meant you were bad at sex.”

Steve snorted. “Seriously?”

Eddie nodded. “So you know I’ve got to ask...”

“No, trust me when I say I tango better in bed than out of it,” Steve said with a giggle.

“You got receipts for that, big boy?” Eddie asked, dropping his voice low, startling a gasp out of Steve.

His giggle turned into a full on laugh. “You want a list of my very satisfied exes?”

“And their phone number,” Eddie teased back. “If you’re going to win me over Casanova, I’m gonna need references.”

“I think I can handle that,” Steve said in total seriousness.

Eddie pushed him away, a laugh stuttering out of him. “Get off, you menace. Jeez!”

Steve backed up, giving him the space. “You started it.”

“Sorry I forgot you were Mr Charm Everyone’s Panties Off in high school,” Eddie said rolling his eyes.

Steve chuckled. “I’ve still got it, I just don’t date much because I have to run a shop.”

Eddie leaned back in. “And honey, I’ve got nothing but time.”

Steve grinned.

*

At the bar a blond man with legs for days and a cocky grin leaned against the edge of the bartop with his elbows. Ink peaked out of the black tank top he was wearing and he had piercings in both ears and a snakebite piercing on his lower lip. He lowered his sunglasses as he watched Eddie and Steve on the dance floor. His bright blue eyes glittered with malice, the grin never leaving his face.

*

Steve got a giggling Robin up the stairs to their apartment and into her bed. He pulled off her jacket and shoes and rolled her under the covers. She made grabby hands at him when he stood back up.

“I’m going to get ready for bed and I’ll be right back,” he told her.

She pouted, but let him go.

Steve made a mad dash to his room, where he threw on his pajama pants and a faded band tee and rushed back to Robin’s room.

“Where you go?” she asked with a frown.

He shook his head and climbed into bed with her. She immediately latched to him like some kind of possessive sea creature. Like a an octopus or a barnacle.

“Why did you surround me with pretty girls?” she wailed. “All the pretty girls all at once.”

Steve snorted. Mandy and Chrissy were not ‘all’ by anyone’s stretch of the imagination.

“Mandy has a boyfriend,” he gently reminded her.

“Did you know she did ballet?” Robin whisper-yelled. “That’s why she has such long legs and great tits.”

“Yes, I was there when she told us,” Steve soothed.

“And Chrissy was athletic, too!” Robin continued. “Cheerleading is scary hot.”

Steve huffed out a small laugh. “What does that even mean?”

“The...” she made a weird motion with her hands, “and the woo...” she threw her arms in the air, “and the ‘yay!’ That’s scary.”

He rolled his eyes. “The tumbling?”

Robin hit his arm over and over. “That, that! Yes. And the hot is the uniform. Have you seen the uniform?” she growled.

Steve laughed. “I was in basketball, yes. You know one of the two sports that has cheerleaders?”

“The skirt is itty-bitty,” she slurred, putting her hands together as close as they would go without touching. “And no sleeves! Bare midriffs too. And and the cute little socks!”

“Can’t forget the cute little socks,” he agreed.

She slapped his arm again, this time harder. “And don’t you dare try to change the subject. I see you.” She pointed at her eyes and then at him, nearly poking his eye out.

“I didn’t change anything,” he muttered, “you started talking and haven’t stopped.”

“I saw you run the bathroom after the concert, gig, thingy...” she frowned. “What is it called the every day one not the tour-y one?”

“Gig,” Steve said gently.

Robin slapped his arm again. “Don’t change the subject!” she hissed. “You got hella horny watching your boy sing!” She threw out her arms and did hit him in the face that time.

“Yes,” he agreed. “I will be better prepared next time we go.”

“You have the hots for Eddie,” she said leaning in close.

But before Steve could answer, Robin was out cold. Her low tolerance for alcohol knocking her out at last. He carefully untangled himself from her embrace knowing that her drunken snoring would be like a buzzsaw in his ear if he slept in her room.

He pulled his shirt off and slipped into his own covers a smile on his face.

*

The next morning he had coffee and the greasiest breakfast sandwich he could find ready for his platonic soulmate when she staggered out of bed and into the kitchen. He handed her a small glass of water and painkillers, which she took under his watchful eye.

“I feel like I should hate for this,” she muttered into her steaming styrofoam cup.

Steve grinned, knowing full well that if laughed, she would straight on murder him and he really didn’t want to go yet.

“Also, don’t think you dodged the talk about you rushing to the bathroom after the show,” she grumped. “Because that was a bit pervy even for you.”

Steve rolled his eyes as he chowed down on his own less greasy sandwich. “I was totally unprepared for how hot he was that close up,” he snarked.

Robin raised an eyebrow. “He did seem particularly out to get you with that little number he was wearing last night.”

“Seriously,” he agreed. “But I’ll know better next time, plan ahead, sit behind the table.”

She giggled.

He propped his head on his hands, elbows planted on their counter. “But enough about that. I want to talk about two lovely blondes making goo-goo eyes at each other all night.”

She pushed his arm causing him to almost smack his face into the counter as he lost the support.

“Shut up,” Robin hissed. “She did not make goo-goo eyes at me all night. I would have noticed.”

Steve laughed. “I noticed you didn’t deny making goo-goo eyes at her.”

She blushed, and took a sip of her coffee to hide her embarrassment. “She’s so pretty and smart and how I am suppose to win her over when she so far out of my league.”

Steve came over and grabbed both of her cheeks in his hands. “Robin Eloise Buckley you are just as beautiful and smart and talented as she is. Just in a different way. I know right now you’re feeling morose because you have a hangover. So trust me in this moment, you are every bit as awesome as she is and if she doesn’t see that then we say?”

“Fuck that?” she whispered.

“I don’t think I heard you,” he said cocking the side of his head so he could tilt his right ear her direction.

“Fuck that,” Robin said with more conviction.

“There you go,” he said and gave her a fierce kiss on the forehead. “Now what I want you to do while I’m gone is watch the ‘Pride & Prejudice’ mini-series with that tub of Ben & Jerry’s I know you’ve been saving and when I’m done I’ll grab Chinese from that favorite shop on the corner, okay?”

She set the coffee down and gave him a fierce hug. “You’re the best soulmate a girl could ask for.”

Steve squeezed her back. “Hard same.”

She laughed. “You are such a dork.”

“Yes, but I’m your dork.”

***

Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @renaissan-vvitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @sapphirecobalt-1@a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @aizawa-emma @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @archermightbegay @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bestwifehaver @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @oldwitcheshat

[guhamun]

@caemthe said (inbox):

It had started as a simple mission to investigate some ruins from a hidden research facility near the borders of Huanglong. The group dispatched for it was mostly patrollers, and a few mercenaries, mostly as a precaution in case TD had gathered there. It was supposed to be a simple mission, after all. Except that no one returned, and communication was cut. It went on like that for nearly 12h until a message was finally received. It was a weakened and fearful voice that said: ‘Please, someone save us.’ And that was the end of it. Communication couldn’t be reestablished after that. Once reinforcements were sent to the location, it soon became clear why it wasn’t going to be an easy rescue mission. Most of the floor had collapsed, revealing an underground facility that was barely hanging by a thread. Not just anyone would be able to get down there. On top of that, there were strange readings that made it impossible to guess what dangers lied ahead, and a strange level of static electricity coming from the underground facility. Jiyan felt responsible, so he said he would be going down. He expected to handle the rescue mission alone, but he couldn’t say he was surprised when he saw the mercenary leader waiting at the location. He knew that Calcharo always looked after his people. “The last and only message was received 3 hours ago. There should be at least a few survivors in the worst case scenario.”  Between the two of them, it should be a quick affair, but Jiyan could sense that something wasn’t right. But… ‘Please, someone save us.’ He would never leave anyone behind.

THE MISSION HE HAD dispatched some of his Hounds on had seemed simple enough. They were to aid the Midnight Rangers in their patrol and serve as extra protection just in case things intensified. Whenever TD were involved, one could never be certain how a situation might unravel. Thus, it had been wise of Jiyan to ask for his aid in the off chance that there might be trouble. However, what he had thought would be the case, turned out to be the opposite. Filled in on what had happened, it took no convincing for him to involve himself. Although his Hounds had volunteered to go with him, he refused to allow them to involve themselves when this was his failure to handle. The only thing he allowed from them, was to serve as backup in case the Midnight Rangers needed them. Going inside, though…that was up to him.

     Calcharo would put no other lives in danger when just his would suffice (it was easier looking after himself than multiple people anyway). Besides, Jiyan, no doubt, was already on his way to the location the distress signal had disappeared. And so, he waited. Arms crossed over his chest, he peered down that exposed underground facility, mind mulling over all the potential dangers that might be lying in wait. He wasn’t even sure if the one who sent that distress signal was still alive…or if anyone in that group was considering how long ago that last message had been. Regardless of this fact, he would see for himself what their end was…and bring back the dog tags of his men if that was what it all came down to.

     ❝You’re here.❞ Without turning to look at Jiyan, he had already known that they were present. Their footfalls, long since memorized. Turning away from sight beneath him, icy gaze came to fall upon the General’s features, his expression as solemn as his own. ❝Be prepared for whatever we encounter. I know you can sense that something isn’t quite right about this situation.❞ It was instinct that came from having to make quick decisions – of having to look five steps ahead of everyone else.

[mouldycakes]

Into the blue (2005)

So I was wondering if anyone has written a Mcdanno fanfic using this movie?

Imagine Jared Cole (from Into the Blue, played by the late Paul Walker) visits Danny (Bryce in the movie) and Steve may/may not get a little bit jealous from the way they're constantly on each others' personal space*, or the fact that Danny will jump into the water and swim with him with barely a word of protest**, or that Grace happily jumps into his arms screaming 'Uncle Jared!'. I just think it's be nice if Danny had another friend outside of work you know?

And if it gets Steve to make a move - if they're not in a relationship already - then much better 👀

Politely tagging @trickster-archangel, @teruel-a-witch and @murphyhatesme for the next part because it was during this movie's filming bts that we got the closest to 'Danny in lingerie' there is (to my limited knowledge, correct me if I'm wrong) because of these posts:

Post 1 - Post 2 - Post 3 - I love you guys tags and they inspired this post (LizzyBear I'm going through your fics as we speak! Loving them so much <3 Possessive!Steve is my absolute jam)

It's Scott in a bikini, with Paul holding him and grabbing one of his tits pecs - and bonus pic of Paul showing off his muscles; look at these goofs:

Source: this blog - the pics are originally from JustJared.com but I couldn't find them there.

*These are just 3 scenes, there's a lot more. I forgot to include the one where Jared gets Bryce away from a fight, Bryce tries to argue, immediately gives up and apologizes when he sees Jared angry with him, and they hug. It's cute! Also there were apparently more scenes with Paul and Scott in the water and according to an interview with Jessica Alba, but were cut:

"Scott and Paul rubbed more skin together than you and Paul did. Alba: I'm with you. There was actually this one sequence that got cut from the movie and I hope it makes it to the DVD. It was so homoerotic. Scott and Paul did this swim underwater on top of each other. There was this really pretty music so I had to tease them about that for a while."

**Maybe Jared is the one who makes Danny love water again after Billy? But he kinda tied it to Jared alone, so when he tells Steve that he knows how to swim but just for survival, it's just because he doesn't feel like digging up all of that for someone he just met.

But! If anyone knows a mcdanno fic like this, please let me know!!

To be honest, I don't recommend this movie for anything other than how all over each other Paul and Scott were; the treatment of the women was... 'meh' to put it nicely, very early 2000's, though they do redeem themselves with the damsel in distress saving herself at the end I guess.

You can watch the movie here: https://www.braflix.st/movie/11968

Make sure you have UBlock Origin!! It'll get annoying otherwise.

[anxresi]

…Isn’t it a bit late for April Fools Day?! 🤡🤣

I was going to just write a few snarky remarks in the tags, but fuck it… I have a bit of time on my hands right now, so let’s tackle these somewhat disingenuous statements one at a time shall we? Starting from the one in the top left hand corner, and working our way anti-clockwise around… *Cracks knuckles*

1. Yep. SO nice in fact, she doesn’t have any other noticeable character trait. ‘Niceness’ by itself doesn’t make you an interesting, intriguing or compelling character… it just makes you boring. In fact, I’m gonna have to work pretty damn hard to finish this off before I nod off just thinking about her… 🥱

2. …And this is a GOOD thing? It just proves how much the writers were DESPERATE to make her Chloe’s replacement they rushed virtually everything to do with her, including her rapid induction to ‘Hero’. Most of the other Miraculous users had to wait AGES to get their chance, and Lil Miss Perfect just turns up in Paris and gets her chance virtually the first day. It wasn’t earned, it wasn’t believable… it was just handed to her on a silver platter because… reasons. 😩

3. So what? This is just yet more evidence that this girl, a TOTAL STRANGER up to S4 is all of a sudden being treated like the queen of all Mary Sues. Just listen to all the endless shilling about her from the rest of the cast (especially Marinette and, more depressingly Plagg) Now imagine them said in Thomas Astruc’s voice as he lays his case against Chloe… and everything should become clear.

4. This means virtually nothing. Everyone gets their Miraculous permanently at the end of S5, so the fact she gets her’s 5th is just down to a quirk in sequence. If anything, I’m surprised she didn’t get it sooner… in another gratuitous ‘Take That’ to diehard Chloe fans… 😬

5. I don’t even have anything to say about this.. it calculates the precise sum of 0.00% in terms of her worth of a character. You got anything better?

6. Oh, you mean the same acting ‘skills’ that she used to manipulate her sister into pretending she ‘loved’ her and to carry that useless charm about?The thing is, everyone might’ve SAID her talent was great in that AWFUL Queen Banana episode… but it actually wasn’t. Just because the other characters say she’s the next Sophia Loren, doesn’t mean the viewers don’t have eyes and ears. But I guess if they’re stupid enough to fall for Lila’s incredibly obvious lies when the plot demands it, anything’s possible…

7. What, you like her colorful shoes? This is possible the only one I’ll grant you (they ARE pretty snazzy) but at the end of the day, they’re just pointless aesthetics. Anyone else could be wearing them, and the garish colors can’t blind us to her all-conquering mediocrity. Moving on…

8. Here’s a hint: NEVER use the word ‘objectively’ when the opposite is clearly true. She’s not just ‘sweet’, spending time with her is akin to being pinned down in Wonka’s chocolate factory being force-fed candy by all the Oompa-Lumpas until you literally explode. Not a pleasant experience in other words, thanks to the writers laying this sole facet on with a literal trowel and shovel.

As for the ‘sass’ part… nope, not seeing it. Unless you mean the occasional scene when she ‘deals’ with her sister… these parts were obviously only put in to throw red meat for the Chloe-hating sheep out there could hoot and holler at the screen (probably waking their parents up in the process) whilst screaming “SEE? THAT’S WHAT YOU GET!!” Well, I hope you’re happy now. You hapless lame-o’s.

9. Mary Sues don’t get ‘character assassinated’. They get bigged-up, cheered, given every resource in the show to be Da Best… but NEVER wrecked in that manner. Her sister, on the other hand… 😢

I would argue though, that what she is, is WORSE than character assassination… she’s an individual that never should’ve existed in the first place. In fact, I’d barely even describe her as a character. A plot device, a waste of space, a product of Thomas Astruc’s inexplicable raging hatred against Chloe maybe, but not a serious character. As the popular meme goes, Change My Mind (you won’t).

10. …You’re REALLY scraping the bottom of the barrel now, aren’t you?

Besides, this hasn't even been confirmed yet. We don't even know anything about the elusive Mr Lee, or even what he might think about his daughter being forcibly adopted by the Mayor. Something which I'm sure a show of such grandiosity and ambition will go into at great length.. Nah, just kidding!

Next, you’ll be telling me that somehow her sexuality is another reason to think she’s the best thing since sliced bread…

11. And there we have it (sigh). How terribly predictable. 🙄

I’ve already done a whole post thingie about how her being a lesbian and having a short-lived crush on Marinette was just imposed to get unearned brownie points from underrepresented communities when they won’t actually do anything with said revelation, so I’ll keep this short. Sufficed to say though, I feel like starting a hashtag… #TheGaysDeserveBetterThanZoe. Get it trending, peeps! 😎

12. Whatever you’re smoking, can I have some of it? This is crossing the line from ‘delusional’ to ‘crazy’ now. She’s remained as static as a statue since her opening episode, has NO room for change and growth due to the fact she was only brought in to replace Chloe and in that uncomfortably dull niche she’ll stay. Sorry, but just because you wish that she’d had any kind of interesting development doesn’t mean she has. Facts have a funny habit of getting in the way of the truth.

13. In turns of ticking boxes for diversity, French-Americans aren’t exactly a high priority IMHO. But sure if you think that makes her the bees knees (pun intended), you go ahead and celebrate it. 👍

14. So in conclusion, I do agree that Zoe Lee is indeed ‘Best’ character… (hears sharp intake of breathes all round) oops, I’m sorry. What I meant was ‘Pest’ character… in that just having her buzzing about in all her flawless Mary-Sue glory makes you just wanna reach for the bug spray.

You know, like you would for a pesky wasp during a delicious picnic. Because she’s Vesperia, get it? 🤪

The only upside to this sad situation is, from what I can tell (being strictly a non-watcher these days, you figure out why) the writers half-agree with me.

After all for such an 'amazing' character who's apparently achieved so much in her short time in the show... why is she barely featured? They must know, somewhere down deep in their artistic brains, she's a narrative dead zone.

A collection of tiresome off-the-shelf quirks, traits and spare parts (someone here said she was like a bad fanfiction self-insert... ABSOLUTELY RIGHT), loosely held together with visible stitching and hastily assembled together like Frankenstein's Monster for the most cynical of reasons.

She has no arguable reason to be in the show, apart from being a far inferior replacement to the potential mine of character development that someone like Chloe could've represented.

I guess Thomas really does hate complex characters who may overshadow his precious Marinette... or school bullies who traumatized him so much as a lil kid he specifically wrote someone into his show he could subsequently and systematically destroy (as the rumors go... but it wouldn't surprise me with THAT guy).

Now I’m off to bed, but let me end on at least ONE positive note for this much-maligned individual: She’s EXACTLY the kind of character a show like Miraculous Ladybug deserves… and if you like her, you deserve her too.

Now, good night. 🌝 🛌

[sauron-kraut]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you so much for tagging me, @nihil-ism 🖤

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Currently 15.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

9,329 - you see, my works posted so far are either shorter one shots or ficlets/drabbles.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The Silmarillion and adjacent works by Tolkien. :) And within this fandom it's almost exclusively about rather niche ships with Mairon. Let's see when/if I will write for other fandoms; I'd love to at some point.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Of Gods And Monsters

Sacrificial

Plaything

Sugar

Sacred

All of these are Mairon/Ar-Pharazôn. lmao

5. Do you respond to comments?

I will respond to every single (first) comment someone leaves on a fic of mine. I thorougly enjoy these little interactions and I want to show my appreciation to people who show me theirs.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

That must be my double drabble Plaything I guess. At least if we talk about the very moment ending the fic. Throwing up from negative emotions and alcohol alike seems pretty... angsty.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

That must be Of Being Born and Little Deaths. Everyone (well...) is having a good time and it literally ends with an orgasm.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

So far I haven't and I'm very grateful for that.

9. Do you write smut?

I love writing smut. And I love weaving character analyses/studies and some poetry into it.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I don't, personally not a fan of crossovers.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I haven't, but sharing headcanons and ideas with others has endlessly inspired many of my fics.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Angbang (Melkor/Mairon). I love them, I will never be over them; they've been with me for ten years now, I could ramble on forever about how important this ship is to me and what it means to me. It's rather popular in fandom though and I feel like there's many great writers out there who have graced us with their brilliant work. That makes me feel like I don't necessarily need to... add to that somehow. I'd love to write (more) Angbang at some point but as far as writing goes my favorite ship is Mairon/Ar-Pharazôn (which many of you might have guessed at this point lol). It's rotten, it's biblical, it's a playground for all things terrible to me. And it's a rarepair (why??) and therefore (in my mind) lies like a bare field before me, ready to sow and play in. 🖤

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

No such thing. My WIP are my children and I will not abandon them. It might take many months but they will see the light of day.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Building atmosphere, pretty lines, poetry, in some parts characterization. (Very) short formats are my strength in general.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Not really able to write anything plot-driven, sometimes dialogue (though I might have started to improve a little), prioritizing pretty imagery and rhythm/sound over meaning/sense sometimes, having difficulties writing longer stuff.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Not really my thing; could get awkard quickly imo.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Visual Kei bands (Moi dix Mois) when I was 14.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? 

Easily my little double drabble Reverence. It illustrates nicely what I talked about regarding my writing strengths for question 17 imo.

Tagging @lvsifer, @curufiin, @cilil, @saintstars, @gardensofthemoon, @elevenelvenswords , @crackinthecup , @swanhild , @a-world-of-whimsy-5 and @i-did-not-mean-to (no pressure ofc and sorry if I forgot anyone, in that case: that's just my forgetful brain at work)

[azures-bazar]

Hiiiiii ! ❤️ I love your soft!Arthur one shots and was wondering if you could eventually write about female!reader comforting Arthur after a meltdown or something ! Like he had a very bad day or he just feels bad and cries and all but is too ashamed to show he's sad ! thx !!

Angel’s Tears 

Hey there anon, thank you for your request ! It means a lot &lt;3 I love writing sad stuff (don't ask why, it's my cup of tea), and soft/sad Arthur is a part of my fav subjects lol

I'm sorry if it took me so long, I got really busy with my job and my free time is mostly consisting in me resting while playing Cyberpunk 2077 lol. Having a new graphic card helps a lot.

I hope you'll like it despite these awful mistakes I've made !

Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader 

Word count : 2.6k

Short summary : Arthur has been gone for three days and just came back after a dramatic set of events. You don’t want to leave him alone, so you’re taking him out for more privacy.

Warnings : mentions of torture and death

Tags : Chapter 3, Arthur is broken, angel tears, mentions of Isaac Morgan, you are Arthur’s treasure, soft boah, tears and kisses, some fluff, cute

It had been three days. Arthur had been gone for three days. This felt common for almost everyone around camp, but you genuinely thought he had been gone for weeks. You were used to have him wait for you by your tent every morning, sometimes passing his head between its flaps with a large smile. You loved being close to him when he was around camp, or when he was taking you to town. It was no secret for anyone that you had a little something for him, especially not to Mary-Beth. She had been quick to talk about this to Tilly, who told Karen, who then told Sean… who shouted about it all day long. That day, you wanted to dig a hole in the ground and never come out of it. 

As far as you could recall, Arthur had spent his entire day blushing anytime your eyes would meet his. What a sweet thing you were, right here, probably loving him as much as he loved you ! Arthur was not good as talking about what he felt, but something you were sure about was the reciprocity of your feelings. You could easily tell he was sweet on you by the very beautiful look he was giving you, by his bright smile whenever he was seeing you after being gone for some time, by his overall attitude. What made him fall for you was the night you fell asleep with your head on his shoulder while listening to Javier’s ballads. He had carried you to your tent and did not let go all night long, appreciating the way you clung onto him, still leaving by the morning before anyone would spot him. 

His absence was noticeable, days felt rather dull whenever he was not waiting by your tent in the morning like he usually did. While you were on guard duty, you did your best to focus on the surroundings rather than think about him and feel this void surrounding you. You missed his embrace, his overall presence around camp. Even if Sean wanted to fill this emptiness by… forcing you into hugs you did not like, you counted each hour separating you from Arthur’s return, notting them on a paper in order to be more prepared for the next time. You knew he would most likely bring you something from his travels, or maybe not. You did not care, you just wanted him back at this point. 

"Guess who’s back !" Karen shouted from the camp’s entrance 

You were cleaning your riffle with Charles as you spotted Arthur coming back to camp. You calmly placed your riffle aside and approached him, noticing how pale Arthur was, how shocked he seemed to be, how much blood covered his shirt. He barely smiled at you, giving you a soft kiss on the forehead before taking a wad of cash from his satchel and moving straight to Dutch’s tent to give it to him before quickly heading to the water to wash himself before Ms. Grimshaw would force him to do so. As you watched him pass by Javier without saying a word, you understood he did not want to be bothered, leading you to swallow your desire for an embrace and head back to your riffle-cleaning. You knew Arthur did not like being bothered and wanted to give some space. 

"Looks like he's not alright." Charles noted, glancing at Arthur who was cleaning his shirt 

"I’ll let him cool down a bit." you answered, nervously rubbing your riffle’s trigger. "You know how he is when he’s not in the mood."

"Yes, but I guess you should do something anyway. Leaving Arthur like this ain’t a good idea, that’s for sure." 

You nodded at Charles' advice, taking a few more minutes to finish your chore before carefully walking to Arthur who was now sitting on his cot in a brand new shirt and a pair of clean trousers, staring into space without noticing you were actually standing right before him. You cleared your throat a little, not daring to touch him just yet. You knew how unpredictable Arthur’s reactions could be whenever he was lost in his thoughts and dragged back to reality, you had seen him slap Bill one day as he was just trying to catch his attention. 

"Excuse me, Arthur." you said 

Morgan gently turned his head to you, a sweet smile bloomed on his pale and haggard face. You felt something was wrong with him by the way his eyes spoke to you, filled with emptiness and melancholy. You had no idea about what Arthur had been up to, but the blood that was covering his him when he came back to camp made you supposed he got into a brawl, or maybe worse. Much worse. Arthur was a tough man, believing brawls were actually quite enjoyable when you had the advantage over the situation. You strongly believed something bad had happened. 

"I’m heading to town." you restarted, crossing your hands behind your back. "Would you like to join me ?" 

"I just came back to camp, Y/N." Arthur smirked. "I don’t think Dutch would allow that." 

"Don’t worry, he will allow you to spend some time with me at the saloon. C’mon, let’s go !"

"Errr… Fine."

Arthur rolled eyes and grumbled as he stood up. Since the day you got inducted into the gang, anyone could notice he could hardly say no to you. Your mesmerising eyes and adorable face never helped him. He would have brought you the moon on a silver plate if he could. He always found himself scrambling to make you happy, and could obviously not refuse leaving camp with you. Even if he had just come back from a three days long journey, he genuinely believed a moment with you could make him feel better instead of hiding his frustration, sadness and overall exhaustion behind his tent flaps. 

You quickly headed to Dutch to tell him you were taking his boy out to town. Surprisingly enough, Van der Linde agreed and even gave you enough money to spend on a room and a bath at the saloon. Dutch had seen Arthur’s overall mood when he gave him the money he had collected and had felt quite worried about him. Arthur’s empty eyes and tense expression had reminded him of the one he had years ago, following his return from Eliza’s house after finding out that she and his son Isaac were dead. He knew his boy would probably feel better with you as he was aware of your natural ease to work him. Dutch gave you some food as well, believing Arthur should be hungry after his travels. 

"Sure, sweet girl." Dutch told you. "Make sure not to get into trouble."

Unexpectedly, Arthur insisted on riding your horse, believing his one needed some rest as much as he himself did. He left them to Kieran’s care as he climbed on your silver Turkoman, helping you up and placing you before him. One of his hands rested on your waist as the other one carefully held onto the bridle, he led you out of the hideout.

"Let's go, m'lady." he told you

Your short journey to Rhodes was rather quiet as Arthur did not speak at all, making you feel awkward, if not even uncomfortable. At the saloon, you quickly ordered some food at the counter while renting a room and a bath before heading straight to the bedroom, locking the door behind you. 

"What happened, Arthur ?" you asked 

"Some shit." Morgan responded without meeting your eyes, taking his boots off. "Nothing to worry ‘bout." 

"You were covered in blood, Arthur. I know you’re tough, but that look on your face… what happened ?" 

Arthur looked up and bit his lower lip, calmly breathing before sitting down. You approached him and sat beside him, placing your hand on his back. It made him shiver, any time you touched him felt like a treasure for Arthur. He sighed, understanding he could not get away with it, believing talking to you would make things better. 

"While I was ridin’ in Roanoke, spotted some Murfrees torturing a couple of hostages." he whispered. "Poor feller had his four limbs broken, I guess. His wife died before me. I tried stopping them, and then I spotted a lil’ boy nearby… heard his pa’ saying « Alexander », I guess that was his name."

Tears started streaming down his cheeks as soon as he mentioned the presence of the child. You kept listening to him, being somewhat aware that the worst had happened to this poor family. Judging by Arthur’s attitude and sudden sadness, you could easily guess about their demise. You had known about Arthur’s son during a random talk you had with him, you could only imagine how terrible it must have been for him to witness the Murfree’s torture on a family. 

"As I tried killin’ these damn Murfrees, one of them got out and took the child as the feller died beggin' me to find his son." Arthur hiccuped. "I tried runnin’ after them… looked for the kid for hours. Found his body at the bottom of a hill." 

Arthur quickly rubbed his eyes while bitting his lower lip. His hands clung onto his legs as you ran your fingers across his back. Witnessing the body of a child deeply broke him as he transposed the image of Isaac on him. On a boy who would have been about his son’s age by his death. 

"I could have done somethin’, Y/N…" he grumbled, turning his head to you. "I could've done somethin’… if only I had been here earlier… m-maybe…"

"You couldn’t have done anything." 

"I… I could have…"

"It’s alright, Arthur. It’s alright." 

You were heartbroken after hearing his distraught, his pain. There were no words to describe how bad you felt when you met his devastated gaze, tears streaming on his reddish cheeks, his wobbling lower lip. Your hand made its way through his hair, you played with it as Arthur buried his head against your shoulder. You passed your hand on his cheek, causing him to catch it while crying. It made you shiver a little, but you did not mind. In fact, you appreciated his complete trust, knowing he would have never spoken this way to anyone else but you. 

"I'm sorry, darlin'." Arthur sobbed. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

He wanted to feel your touch, he needed it. He needed you more than anything at this moment, and no words came out of his mouth to express his pain. He firmly held your hand on his cheek, letting out a few sobs as you carefully kissed the top of his head. Your other hand made its way to his shoulder, you left your thumbs rub it without bothering about what was surrounding you. Nothing else mattered but Arthur, nothing else. 

Poor man sobbed for long minutes while you kissed his temple at times, watching the sun go down through your window. You did not dare saying a word, believing it would break Arthur into pieces. Just a word and your favourite cowboy would probably collapse into your embrace, so you remained silent and allowed him to cry on your shoulder, rocking him back and forth at some point before he slowly moved away from, looking into your eyes with a soft smile. 

"Thank you, sweetheart." he whispered 

"Don’t thank me." you smiled. "I couldn’t leave you like that." 

"You’re a real treasure, you know that ?" 

You shrugged a little, your smile got wider. Arthur had told you a few times that your sole existence was one of his biggest treasures. He could not describe how safe he felt with you, how much your smile could make all the troubles go away in a mere second. You were one of the last pillars of his life, and he was quick to show it whenever you were with him. From embraces to two or three quick kisses on your lips, Arthur knew how to make you feel special.

As you were about to kiss his forehead one more time, Arthur quickly rose to change your target. Your lips landed on his instead, causing you to blush as he gently opened his mouth to make it last longer. You calmly took his face between your hands, keeping his head close to yours for a short while until moving back a little. Your bright smile made him blush, despite his darker shade was hard to notice due to the overall lightning in the room. 

"Yeah, you’re a treasure." Arthur said. "My beautiful treasure." 

"You’re going to make me blush." you chuckled 

"I’d love to, girl. I’d love to." 

The two of you talked for a long while up until a prostitute brought you some food on a plate, carefully placing it on your bedside table. Instead of allowing Arthur to take care of you as he usually did, you believed Morgan needed some rest and that you had to pay him back. You ate with him, listened to him talk about his discoveries, about these wild animals he had the opportunity to draw, about the overall strange ambiance he felt while travelling around Roanoke Ridge, being thankful the gang didn't settle there. He had brought you a beautiful emerald he had found somewhere near an old house, hidden in a crate. 

"It ain’t much, but I really thought you’d like it." he smiled. "I wanted to go to a jeweller and make a ring out of it, but ain’t got no time."

"It’s amazing, Arthur !" you praised him. "It’s a god damn emerald ! Of course I love it !"

"Just… don’t tell Dutch I gave you an emerald, right ? He'll get mad."

"I won’t tell anyone."

You watched Arthur eat his whole plate of fried fish so fast that you barely had time to start eating yours. You felt lucky Dutch had given you some more food, Arthur was hungry. He ate some bread, some of your vegetables and the two apples you had brought with you. Then, you dragged him to the bathroom, carefully undressing him as he looked at you with wide opened eyes. You had never seen him naked before, but did not care at all. In fact, it was even pleasant to see !

"Get in there so I can wash you." you said, placing your hands on your hips

"I ain’t a child, Y/N." Arthur said as he sat down in the bathtub 

"You sure ain’t. Just relax and lemme help you." 

Arthur shrugged as you started massaging his broad shoulders. He loudly moaned as you reached his neck, he absolutely adored having you press your hands on it. As far as he could remember, Arthur had always loved taking care of you. He loved staying by your bed when something was wrong or when you felt bad, he had helped you bathe following Blackwater’s botched heist to which you had participated and were traumatised for days. Arthur loved having you under his watch, having you doing the same for him was unusual, but worth it. He could breathe, he could forget.

It took him a few minutes to doze off. His soft snore made you smile as you dried your hands, sitting by the bathtub to look at him. What a handsome feller you had here ! His long eyelashes were quick to make many women jealous of him, it gave him a rather angelic look. Who would have thought that this tall and brawny man, his face wet with all these angel’s tears which had streamed on his cheeks, was an outlaw ? A man who had killed people, who had beaten some of them up ? Who would have thought that a man with such puppy eyes had blood on his hands ? 

"Ain’t you a handsome man…" you smiled 

The lack of response from Arthur’s part was no surprise. You watched him sleep, surrounded with this faint steam and soap bubbles, his eyes moving beneath his eyelids. You could not help but smile at this beautiful sight, you adored it. It was worth it, having Arthur rest like this was worth it. You knew he deserved it, you genuinely wanted him to be alright. And, that night, your presence healed his poor soul. You were everything for him, a reason to keep going.

You were his treasure. 

[yellowhollyhock]

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

The universe is punishing me.

It's all because we didn't tip that dorky delivery guy. Leo tried to tell us we'd regret it someday. It was just one more of all the annoying stuff he says, but now I'm thinking maybe that once I should've listened.

Bad enough that the road forks. Casey Jones is an idiot and I can't wait to give him a piece of my mind. How does a guy live in the city like that and not know how to give basic directions? Now it's either into the woods or into the mountains. Why didn't he just tell me woods or mountains?

Anyway, I barely had time to be mad about that after waking up this morning before I noticed the scarecrow.

Is someone stalking us, that they designed it to look just like him? Is he haunting me? I'm kind of starting to think he's haunting me. I'm leaning towards heading for the mountains so we stay in daylight, otherwise I'm gonna see his face behind every tree. On the other hand, Leo's kind of positioned--I mean the scarecrow is positioned--to look like he's guarding the mountain. So maybe the forest is better.

And like it's not bad enough to have Leo's face looming over me while I try to make a decision, talking it out with Toto, all of a sudden I hear his stupid voice.

It's definitely him. I don't know how it's possible but that's not any kind of clone or ghost or nothing. I knew it the second he said "Well if I were you..."

He says his name is Scarecrow. He says he's never seen anyone come back out of the forest, which to me is a pretty freaking clear sign that we should not go that way. But get what Scarecrow says: they must've found what they were looking for.

He did actually have some useful information, too: the mountains are where the Vigilante of the West lives. He's not guarding the mountains, he's guarding everyone else from the mountains. With his back to them, like an idiot. It seems to me he ain't done too good a job at that, but I don't got the heart to take the wind from his sails.

I did kind of give him a hint that standing in one spot wouldn't do much, and he just looked heartbroken.

"It's the last thing the Vigilante of the South asked me to do. Ever since the Lady of the West turned me into cloth and stuffed my head with straw, guard duty is all I can do." Then he got this insufferable look on his face, like he always gets when he's making a point. "You can think it's stupid, but I'm not giving up on the munchkins just because I don't have a brain."

See what I mean? The universe is punishing me. Leo's face, Leo's voice, and now Leo's personality minus having a brain? Now I gotta go into the woods no one's ever come out from to find this Wizard I don't even know a thing about. I guess I mentioned it was the worst day of my life and that I didn't see why I needed to find the Wizard anyway, because Scarecrow latched onto that detail like a leech.

"I've always wanted to see the Wizard. She could give me new brains, and I could fight those tyrants properly again!"

And that's how my day got even worse.

I've seen Leo when he feels stuck before, you know? It ain't pretty. I can't really just go on, and leave him here to get all depressed.

"Why don't you just come see her with me, then?"

"I can't! I told you, I have to stand guard."

So I had to reason with him, talk him into tagging along when I don't even want him to! Nothing could sway him from doing what he thought he was supposed to, so I finally had to angle it like I needed his help.

"What if the road forks again? I never been around here. You at least know what you heard from people, right?"

He got this really thoughtful look, then he finally grins like he always does when a plan starts to come together in his head.

And now I got a Leo-shaped tag-along, who I'm supposed to call Scarecrow.

So just, learn from my mistakes, alright? Always tip your delivery guy, even if he's late and your pizza's cold. Trust me, it'll come back to bite you if you don't.