#i simply started listening and i can’t stop?? it has nothing to do with being late to a trend pr wanting to seem trendy

[strawburrymeadows]

people who try to gatekeep music make me so fucking angry. i posted smth on my story about listening to punisher by phoebe bridgers on repeat and my friend responded “ur so late lol”

like. i dont care? that wasnt the point of the post? im not listening to music because it’s a “trend” and i don’t care if it’s not “trending” now. im listening to it because it’s inherently good and makes me feel every human emotion.

[vincinnamontoast]

⠂☆ Vi SFW & NSFW HCs

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ tws/content warnings: nsfw towards the end :) not rlly proofread, a bit more modern au, lowercase intended

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ a/n: I���m still working on the story I wanted to post today but I wanted to put something out. so here are a little bit of my vi head cannons! this is lightly proofread with no organization tbh :>

☆ SFW/NSFW MIX

˚. starting off very in it, she worships you and the very soil you walk on. she will quite literally do whatever you say with no questions asked, but of course you don’t take advantage of that

˚. she does in fact snore. nothing crazy heavy and loud. just a light snore with some heavy breathing.

˚. she isn’t the best at regulating her emotions. she is very shamelessly vulnerable with her partner, and she loves being safe enough to feel small sometimes.

˚. she is a very light sleeper. any sense of movement and her eyes slightly open to ensure you’re fine. If so, she goes right back to sleep like nothing. will not move at all, and honestly it concerns you. she has to be sleeping on or near you. if you move away from her, she goes right back.

˚. baby needs so much love. she is a sucker for being babied. wash her hair in the shower, make her little snacks, smushing her cheeks and kissing her nose, tucking her in, and kissing her forehead. call her baby and she’s done for. she will never admit, but you can see it in the way her cheeks turn a warm peachy pink when you baby her. she loves reciprocation, so you can bet you’ll get the same exact love and treatment back

˚. she gets pretty frequent nightmares. she’ll panic inside until she realizes you are asleep next to her, then she’s rolled up into you

˚. loves being both big and little spoon

˚. Is in love with you and everything you do. she will sit and listen to you talk for hours about anything. while you talk, she admires you. the way you move, your voice, how every syllable slips from your lips like honey. she feels so woozy and intoxicated when she is with you. you wipe her off her toes by simply breathing in her direction

˚. she listens so well. you stare at a new game or a nice jacket for too long and you’ll have it by the end of the week. mention how you’ve been craving anything and she’ll have it cooked for you and fresh or ready for take out

˚. she is actually very smart (makes me sad some people call her stupid). she enjoys learning new things but she does get a bit impatient. although it does seem like she jumps into her fights head first, she has strategy and technique.

˚. she is pretty tech savvy. Jinx and Ekko taught her a lot of what she knows. (I do hc that jinx is very tech savvy and into computer software :p).

˚. she always tells you that she loves you. she just wants you to stay aware of how much you mean to her. when you’re both off at work, she ends up always missing you tremendously. she wakes up dreading the moment you both seperate in the morning. you can definitely expect her to blow up your phone with cute messages and comments about her day when she can.

˚. I indeed hc that she has a staring problem. she’s just intrigued easily by little things. she analyzes and is never sure when to look away. she stares at you. A LOT. she admires every single thing about you. every quality, every imperfection, all of it.

˚. very observant and attentive

˚. terrible road rage. she definitely puts up that middle finger and spits profanities

˚. so headstrong and can be very stubborn

˚. follows you everywhereeee. she can’t help it, she loves you so much and just wants you to be right there. she decides stops to following you one day, because she feels as if she’s being annoying. you both were watching movies. kissing her cheek, you stood up. she flexed for a moment, forgetting her plan. halfway down the hall, you noticed you couldn’t feel her right on your tail. when she wasn’t there, you walked back to the living room. she was sitting on the couch with her head down, like a sad puppy. “come here, baby”, was all you said before she jumped up, running to follow you. In truth, you loved it (she’s so puppy coded)

˚. she does talk with her mouth open out of habit. she does it in public when she has to say something.

˚. I believe that she isn’t picky BUT she does like to critique food. she is a food critic and will be honest with you. she is not the greatest cook but she loves to learn and try. she hasn’t dissatisfied you with a dish yet :p

˚. very protective but she knows you can protect yourself. that doesn’t matter though, it won’t change the fact that she is a protector

˚. she is always there for you always, will straight up leave work or anything to be with you if you’re having a bad day

˚. she isn’t the best with wording how she feels but she shows everything through her actions

˚. will defend you in anything, even if you are wrong. she is the defend you in public, correct you in private type

˚. she is an over thinker and does need reassurance sometimes. she is afraid to lose you in any way, but struggles to reassure herself that you aren’t going anywhere.

˚. she actually begs you to get the vi tat on your hip. when you do, she’ll get something that resembles you or your initials on hers

˚. she is so funny actually. she will have you falling over laughing with a shit eating grin on her face. when you both laugh together * chefs kiss *. her laugh is so cute. she does cackle and react with her body when she’s really into it. does in fact think brain rot shit like rizz and skibidi is funny

˚. very very helpful. she can also build shit. bob the builder lesbian fr. truly such a sweetheart and will do anything to help around the apartment you share

˚. she loves video games, choice horror and lore games are her favorite

˚. she is a bit messy, will leave her clothes on the floor and forgets to put her dishes in the sink. she just forgets to clean up after herself sometimes (as we all do honestly)

˚. tends to eat fast because she never knew when she’d eat growing up. It’s just one of her many habits in adulthood. she always makes sure that you have food to eat before she does. just like she did for all of her siblings growing up. she is a nurturer at heart

˚. physical touch is a HUGE love language for her. She loves skin to skin. Quality time is also one of her biggest. has got to be near you or at least have you in her eyesight, but she can respect your personal space.

˚. get jealous easily but she isn’t toxic about it. she’s used to everything being taken from her

˚. has a very gentle touch despite being how strong she is

˚. she can sing. she plays with your hair and sings softly n your neck when you’re sleepy

˚. huge softie. she tends to portray herself as tough, (and of course she is) but she is truly a teddy bear at heart.

˚. best person ever to chill out with. days where you’re both off work, lazy, and watching horror movies, eating, and playing games all day >>>> she’s down for anything honestly. she makes everything so fun and she is such a light to be around. she has her moments as we all do but you’re her partner and you’re there when she needs you

˚. she can be very annoying (i love ittt). can be pretty loud and constantly makes stupid jokes at the worst times.

˚. type who teases the fuck out of you constantly but when you tease her back, she gets so flustered. you both get huge boosts of confidence with each other and will flirt back and forth. It always ends with your eyes in the back of your head and her face between your legs.

˚. you worship her tattoos and kiss her along them all the time. breathing and kissing her neck while dragging your fingertips down the big one on her back. kiss her down it grrrrrr. makes her weak

˚. eats you out like a mad mann. depends on how eager she is but she usually has a method. she puts work into it every time, pleasure for you is pleasure for her. the way she holds you during it, you’re so important to her. your comfort is everything. she’s either the crazy in it type or the brutally slow but you can feel every single swipe and curl of her tongue type. rub her undercut and play with her hair >>>>>> she definitely moans when she’s eating you out

˚. she’s got so much energy and stamina. will have you bent and taking it every which way for hoursss

˚. Is such a good kisser. she is the ‘eat you whole’ type kisser. wants every part of your body on hers when you’re kissing. her hands stay up and down your body. will grab you by the back of your hair, hold your face gently, and guide your mouth into hers. soul connection type makeouts 24/7. always stops to look at you as you’re both panting, admiring each other

˚. grabs your face and makes you look at her when she fingers you. and she’s so good with it too. it’s so hard to maintain eye contact with her, because she makes you nervous. feeling your vision fade in and out because of how good it feels. “look at me” makes you feel things you thought you’d never

˚. she has nipple piercings (canonnnnnnnnn)

˚. she is a moaner and pretty vocal, they’re so soft and smooth coming from her heart shaped lips.

˚. she dirty talks so bad. she’ll have you feeling disgustinnggg afterwards

˚. her body is so warm and soft honestly, those bandages save her from a lot of the scruff she’d get.

˚. seeing her soft pink hair laid everywhere on the bed as you lay between her legs. her pussy melts in your mouth like honey butter and the sounds she makes>>>>

˚. a switch. lovesss to have you between her legs. to keep it quick, everything is messy, and nothing is ever boring with her

˚. she is a very loving and supportive partner

a/n: hope you liked! <3

[neckromantics]

Can we please talk about how often vampires are seen having infatuations with the living, simply because they’re… well, living? How Astarion's vampiric nature would have him frequently mesmerized by just how alive you are??

Pt1.

(nsfw warning. oops. It's mostly fluff tho. there is kinda breathplay in this. i didn't mean to, but-)

Astarion who, smitten as he is, rests his head against your chest during one of your regular lazy morning cuddles. He’s not so covertly listening in on the pounding of your heart. Bare skin sensitive to every brush of his fingertips as he traces them up and down the softness of your side, tapping along to each solid thud as it beats away for him. You try not to squirm too much in fear of jostling him out of whatever dreamlike state he’s fallen into, but you’ve no need to worry. Your soft breathing—the subsequent rise and fall of your belly— is only lulling him further and further into that rare state of tranquility.

After a while, he’ll relocate a little further down. One pointed ear presses tight to the tender skin of your ribs as he seeks to be even closer to the sound, and this time, you can’t stop yourself from squirming. It’s his hair that does you in. The pale curls at the back of his neck are so silky soft against your flesh that it just about tickles, and the goosebumps that start to crawl their way up your arms only get worse each time he readjusts. He sounds so drowsy when he shushes your giggles, and when you insist you can’t help it, that it's his fault, he shushes you a second time. As if the sound of your laughter isn’t precious to him all on its own.

Astarion, who often finds himself with his lips to your pulse point without really knowing how he got there. You’ll be sat by the fire having idle chit-chat, and the next thing you know, he’s pulling your joined hands up toward his mouth as it’s your turn to speak. The first time it’d happened, you thought maybe he wanted a bit of a snack or something (not that he’s really ever done so without asking, first. Even though you’ve said about one thousand times that the offer is always on the table), but when you turned to glance at him, there wasn’t an ounce of hunger in those ruby eyes of his. He was listening to you as intently as always. Even nodded to encourage you when your sentence trailed off a bit in your confusion.

You’re not entirely sure he knows he’s doing it, or why he’s doing it for that matter, but you couldn’t be more wrong.

There’s a general warmth radiating from you that, despite Astarion’s best efforts in the past, he’s always been magnetized to. But here? Where his mouth stays poised? It’s a heat like nothing else. The steady pulse of blood—of life—calls out to him like a siren song, and while the hunger is there (will always be there), there is also something else. Something more, perhaps? A feeling he can’t quite put a name to. It’s a comfort, maybe. An assurance, he reasons to himself. That steady thump of life beneath his lips is proof enough that you’re still here with him.

Anyway.

Conversations continue without a hitch now-a-days, despite his voice being a little more than muffled with his lips jammed against whatever pulse point he can find. But, you don’t mind because while you can’t see him smiling, you sure can feel it.

Astarion, who gets struck with such a strange, desperate need to feel your breath that he has to lift his hand to your lips as he sinks deep into your warmth. Mouth half-open from your previous slack-jawed whining, not even a moment passes before you’re pressing sloppy, wet kisses to the cool skin he’s offered up to you, lids heavy with lust as you try and fail to keep your eyes focused on your lover. It still baffles him how you never miss a beat—not with him, anyway—not even when he’s got the entire bottom half of your face cupped beneath a firm hand.

His own mouth can't stop exploring every inch of flesh it can reach. He says your name but it sounds more like a thank you, fangs pricking against the inside of the arm you've got wrapped around his neck as your heels dig into the meat of his ass to nudge him forward still. Your fingers curl into his hair, getting a good handful that you'd never dare to pull. It's a gentle guiding that drives him mad—the way you herd him ever closer with such a tender touch—as if he isn't pinning you into the mattress with the majority of his weight already.

While his breaths are unneeded, they quickly match pace with the ones you’re puffing against his hand. Hitching into a gasp that he can’t think to contain when your moaning sends vibrations all the way up to his elbow. Your quick gulps of air stutter beneath him as the two of you get your bearings, and your next exhale is so sharp as his hips jerk against yours that it practically whistles out between the spaces of his fingers.

Astarion doesn't think he's ever heard anything more perfect in all his undeath.

(Me quietly to myself: what kind of kink is this.)

[strawberrykake]

“Look At Your Girl….” Prank

“You see how good she looks? Now imagine another guy enjoying her, you not meaning shit to her anymore. Exactly, get your act together.”

>>warnings: Tsukki -> suggestive, cursing

Kageyama, Tsukishima, Atsumu, Hinata

Kageyama

Kageyama was busy preparing his busy volleyball schedule for the next week

It’s been a while since you’ve spent quality time together

So in order to get his attention, you slump beside him with your phone in hand

Sensing your presence, he places an arm around your waist.

“Hey, baby.” He pecks your cheek.

“Hi.”

Without any warning, you play the audio:

Look at your girl.

He looks at you, then at your phone then back at you, confused.

You see how good she looks?

A blush starts to form on his cheeks and his lips curve up into a smile.

Now imagine another guy enjoying her…

His grin immediately drops at the horrifying thought of someone else being with you

“Hmmph.” Kageyama pouts, hearing the rest of the audio.

His grip on your waist has gotten tighter.

“Get up.” He motions to his lap for you to sit on and you gladly hop on.

You can’t stop smiling at his cute little pout.

It was hard to resist a kiss as you leaned in to give him a peck.

You feel his hand move behind your head, bringing you closer and preventing you from pulling away

The kiss lingers a little longer than you intend it to.

“Tob—” He enters his tongue, shutting you up.

He kisses you as if reminding you how much he loves you.

His hands cradle your face as you tightly wrap your arms around his neck.

After a heated make-out session, Kageyama pulls away with a smirk on his face, feeling satisfied with the dazed look on your face

“Tobio…”

“Let’s go out for dinner tonight. On me. I’ll treat you.”

You giggle and it makes his cheeks flush even more.

At the end of the day, you are his and he is yours. he knows that. just likes to be reminded

Tsukishima

“What is it?” Tsukki asks when you approach him slowly on the bed.

He was busy reading a book. He leaves the book open faced down on top of his broad chest.

He leans against the palm of his hand, elbow bent and muscles bulging.

Of course, it’s a habit for you to lay next to him, placing your head on top of his tricep.

“Listen to this!” You pull up your phone to play the audio and Tsukki remains silent to listen.

Look at your girl. His eyebrow raises, looking sideways at you.

You see how good she looks? He nods, giving an impressed look.

Now imagine another guy enjoying her, you not meaning shit to her anymore…

His face contorts into disgust.

When the audio ends, he picks his book right back up and adjusts his glasses.

No more words exchanged. Nothing.

“Uh, Kei?” You scoff, rubbing your nose against his arm

he ignores you

“you’re annoying” before getting up to leave.

“Aht. aht. aht. Where do you think you’re going, baby?”

“Finding another guy cuz it seems like I don’t mean sh—.”

“Don’t finish that sentence. It’s far from the truth. You know it.” Tsukki practically throws his book to the side, not caring if he lost the page he was on.

“I do. But…”

“But what?” He moves closer to the edge of the bed where you stood, taking your hands in his and kissing them.

“Tell me,” he says against your skin.

“I— I—” Instead of saying anything, you press your lips against his.

You can feel his smirk against your lips.

“If.” Kiss. “You.” Kiss. “Wanted.” Kiss. “To kiss.” Kiss. “Just tell me, baby.”

His lips move towards your neck and you feel his arms pull you in close before falling against the bed.

“I want a kiss,” you say shyly.

He chuckles, nipping your ear.

“Okay, pretty.” Tsukki turns you both over, so that he’s on top.

Before giving you a kiss, he stares at you.

And your eyes tell him that you were longing for more than a kiss tonight.

He definitely feels the same way.

Atsumu

“hmm?” He asks mid-crunch on some chips he was stuffing into his mouth

you were simply watching some videos on your phone while cuddling atsumu when he overheard the quote

“You see how good she looks? Now imagine another guy enjoying her, you not meaning shit to her anymore. Exactly, get your act together.”

“who th’ fawk is talkin? what does he know about whats mine?” he says with his mouth full

You giggle

“Who’s that, baby?” He keeps asking

“just some internet guy, love”

Atsumu turns on his side to pull you in closer.

“get off it. n pay attention to me now”

You raise your brow. “I thought you’re watching sports…” you say as the tv continues to play a live soccer game

“It’s not even volleyball. It’s okay baby. C’mon..” He puckers his lips, making you squeal and push him away.

Your actions make him pout.

“Whats up? I dont mean shit to you anymore?” He mocks the person from the video.

You giggle. “You have garlic cheese breath.”

“I’ll brush my teeth if thats what it takes to get a damn kiss from ya” He excitedly hops up from the bed.

You slapping his butt as he gets up from the mattress makes him raise a finger at you (as if he isn’t used to it)

Hinata

“You see how good she looks? Now imagine another guy enjoying her, you not meaning shit to her anymore. Exactly, get your act together.”

“Man…” *Hinata says his voice cracking up. Your playful smile disappears.

“Wouldn’t that be a-awful…”

You look at him apologetically.

“Aw baby…that’ll never happen”

Hinata looks dead at you in the eye

“No. tell me. Am I a good boyfriend? Be honest. I can use any critique I can get!”

You sigh

“You’re the sweetest, most loving boyfriend ever. I don’t wanna trade you for anything or anyone, understand Sho?”

He bites his lip, suppressing himself from crying.

“I-I love you, y/n. I mean it.”

You wrap your arms around his neck tightly.

“Well I love ya forever, my sunshine boy”

He holds you close, breathing you in

There’s nothing that feels as good as hugging this man

“Fuck, let me kiss you” *He whispers lowly, already claiming your lips before you get a chance to comprehend his words

You lose your sense of thinking whenever he kisses you

When a small whimper leaves your lips, he chuckles

“Don’t need anyone to tell me how good my baby looks”

And you’re in for an intense love bombing for the next couple of weeks

[honeyryewhiskey]

but, i'm a cupid!

or, you’re a cupid, you can’t help the natural call to make two beings fall in love. even if it means bringing critters into the bunker when no ones looking.  cw!! fluff, spn lore on cupids is bland so yes i’m adding to it, grumpy x sunshine trope 1.3k words

the bunker had been under a quiet hum for quite some time now, sam in the library organizing and filing while dean sat in the war room looking for cases. the older winchester had nearly forgotten about the little angel cas left in their care a few weeks ago. a cupid, to be precise. 

at first he absolutely refused, claimed they weren’t a daycare for heaven’s flight crew. but cas, being a busy man, simply left the brothers standing in the bunker with a smiley little cherub. unlike most angels dean has met, you were sickeningly sweet, incredibly helpless at times, and though he would never admit it— adorable, too. 

you tried to be helpful, like quietly stepping in to do the chores sam and dean argued over. but it’s not like you really knew what you were doing. like the time dean tiredly shuffled into the kitchen one morning, opening the cupboard to find bacon, milk, and eggs stashed in there. when he started on an angry roll of name calling, it was your tear filled eyes and pouty lips that made him shut up quick. that afternoon was spent teaching you what food goes in the fridge. 

or the time you tried to fix up the impala, completely unaware that spray paint doesn’t cover up scratches. when dean strolled into the garage, expecting to take a sweet sunday joy ride just to find his baby had been vandalised, his shouts damn near shook the entire bunker. when he found you with paint stained fingertips and that pathetic wobbly lip, his anger dissipated. you settled on a promise to never under any circumstances ever touch baby again. 

now, as he sits before the glow of sam’s laptop, the quiet begins to feel entirely unsettling. he leaves his spot, heading for the library. when he doesn’t see you taking on your usual little helper tasks with sam his brows furrow. 

“have you seen the little bird?” 

sam looks up from his pile of books and paper, “no,” he shrugs, “i thought she was with you.”

that damn cupid is up to something, he thinks to himself. 

with a sigh dean turns, setting off to sweep the bunker. the kitchen is quiet, empty. at least the food is safe he assures himself. heading down stairs into the hall of bedrooms he finds your room empty as well. as he heads towards the dungeon, the last place he’d expect you as you once described it as dark and spooky, a muffled giggle stops him in his tracks. 

he waits, listening, as he hears it again coming from sam’s bedroom. he quietly approaches the door, gently pushing it open to find you kneeling on the ground with your back to the door. 

“what the hell are you doing, lovebird?” he crosses the room, standing over you and what he can now see to be a pair of brown fluffy rabbits. 

startled, you look up at him with wide eyes, “nothing.” you smile. his heart does that stupid little flutter that seems to only happen when you smile at him like that. all sweet with a pinch of mischief. 

“right,” his brows knit together as he points at the rabbits, “this is nothing?” 

a little humph leaves your lips as you rise to your feet, crossing your arms and looking up at dean with a determined scowl across your face, “i’m matchmaking, if you must know. these two have been hopping around outside for days and i could practically smell how much they need each other.” 

he looks between you and the critters a few times, “yeah, no, we’re not doing this. no rabbits— no animals of any kind allowed in the bunker.”

 his heart pangs as you jut out your bottom lip, eyes growing glossy. damn this pathetically cute little thing. his hands instinctively cup your face, “hey, hey, lovebird. no crying, remember?” his voice gruff, barely masking his annoyance.

you sniffle, biting your cheek to stop the tears brimming your lashes. you can’t always help the crying, cupids are naturally empathetic creatures with no qualms about showing their emotions. dean thumbs your cheeks, giving a light squeeze to one side. 

“but i’m a cupid!” you cry out, “i can’t help wanting to help them fall in love.” 

“rabbits don’t fall in love!” he drops his hands from your face, trying to find his words despite the absurdity of yours. “they mate, like the saying, ‘mate like rabbits’ there's no love happening here.” 

you stare up at him, wiping stray tears as some terrible thought makes your face turn sour. “so, like you?” your voice reflects the absolute devastation you feel at the realization. 

“oh what now?” dean groans.

“they’re like you! mating with no love.” you whimper. it’s no secret dean moves about women with everything except love. it was one of the first things you noticed about him, a spider's web of potential love stories that never takes because he’s swatting them away before anything divine can happen. you could have easily fixed this, but something about dean getting sweet with another woman makes your heart feel heavy. besides, dean asked you specifically not to matchmake with humans while you were on earth. so, the itch to use your skills was killing you and a perfectly innocent set of rabbits happened to be right outside the bunker. 

dean shoots you an incredulous look before shaking his head, “alright, i’m gunna pretend you didn’t just say that, little bird. we’re getting these things out. now.” he brushes past you, reaching for the rabbits far too slowly and aggressively, making them scurry off in opposite directions. 

“great!” you shout, “you scared them! now they’ll never even mate!” you drop to your knees, cooing gently at the fluff hiding underneath the bed. 

dean paces behind you, eyes squeezed shut as he musters up all the patience in the world, “hold on,” he stops abruptly, tilting his head to you, “why are you in sam’s room?” 

a shy smile finds your lips at you meet his quizzical gaze, “sam doesn’t say no nearly as often as you do. i thought if he saw how cute the bunnies are, he’d be on my side and i’d get to keep them and their love babies.” 

as much as dean would love to think your words fill him with nothing but anger and annoyance, your innocently sharp manipulation is rather fascinating. you were right, sam doesn’t like to say no and he was more fond of having pets than his older brother is, but dean would have put an end to this little scheme one way or another. 

as you lie half under the bed now, reaching for one of the rabbits, dean notices the little black droppings peppering the room. sam’s room.

“actually, lovebird,” he smirks, “why don’t we leave those two alone for a bit, see if your matchmaking skills really can work on the wildlife.” 

your excitement at his words makes you scramble off of the ground, peering up at him with a hopeful smile, “really? you think it’ll work?” 

“mhm,” he grins, stealing your hand in his, “let’s give ‘em some space, i’ll watch that reality show you love and let you tell me which ones are fated souls and all that cupid stuff you talk about.” 

➹

you sat with your legs crossed on the couch, dean beside you with a beer in hand and an amused grin as you raddled off all the little quirks that are tell-tale signs of a cupid’s work. on the other side of the bunker there's a clunk of commotion that startles you, but dean hardly reacts, his grin morphing into a satisfied smirk. 

“what was that?” you grab dean’s arm, shuffling closer to him.

“give it a sec.” he responds cooly. within seconds sam is stomping into the room, bewildered and clearly annoyed. 

“why,” he huffs, “are there rabbits shitting all over my room?” 

“oh no.” you whimper, sinking deeper into the couch, hiding your head under dean’s arm. 

“the little angel brought you a gift, sammy,” the older winchester let’s out an uncontrollable laugh, watching his frazzled brother with pure amusement, “don’t you just love it?” 

y'all i am not used to writing without angst or an emotional overtone so pls lmk if this sucks lol

[kazusys]

— modern au! drabbles. ft. anemo boys.

short modern au! writings about the anemo guys. (❕) a/n: venti’s part kinda sucks, sorry guyss… but uh, i’ll prolly do some other parts with the other people, so yeah. :] thanks for stopping by!

characters included: kazuha, xiao, scaramouche/wanderer, heizou, and venti.

kazuha who, no matter how bad your cooking skills are, always finishes what you make for him. even if, well, he gets indigestion from it or possibly has to be bed ridden. sure, being sick sucks— but, hey! you get to take care of him now! in his eyes, that’s a total win.

kazuha teaches you how to cook. and when you’re able to produce top notch stuff from his teachings and your own personal dedication, he’s so proud and will shower you with praise just to see that sweet smile of yours because of him.

helps you clean yourself after cooking if there’s something on your face. he’ll cup your face tenderly while lightly dabbing away with a napkin all while admiring the closeness and beauty of your face. pardon him if he accidentally leans in for an uncalled for kiss, it’s really not his fault…

xiao who “accidentally” leaves his jackets and hoodies in your room for you to find and teasingly wear it just to embarrass him. if you try and give it back, he’ll simply leave the offer hanging and either switch the topic or insist on you keeping it with some excuse of, “i was outgrowing it, anyways,” or some obvious lie like that.

if while you’re talking to him about some sort of clothing or item you want but can’t get due to it being too expensive, well, he might look like he doesn’t care a bit, but guess what’s in your locker the next day from him along with a couple other trinkets he thought you’d like? yeah, he’s subconsciously whipped.

scaramouche who makes playlists for you in which the songs hint at his true feelings, but not enough for you to ask if he loves you in a romantic sort of way. there’ll always be one song; however, that clearly suggests something in the playlist. but if you ever ask about it, he’ll reply with the lie that he accidentally added it to the wrong playlist.

scaramouche who lets you borrow his headphones and shares his earbuds with you, with one bud in his ear and one bud in yours. he hopes that the lovey-dovey playlist he chose while you both study in the library clues you to something… wait, wait— are you leaning closer?!… hold on— wait!

heizou who gets you into all these mystery novels and films and loves listening to you talk about your thoughts and feelings about the things he recommends. he really loves the late nights he spends with you with your head on his shoulder and his head on yours while a murder mystery movie or tv show plays on the tv. to him, nothing could be better.

ruffles your hair ruthlessly (in an affectionate way, of course) if you get something correct or match his conclusions. but don’t worry, even if you don’t, he’ll still ruffle your hair because you’re just so, so irresistible to him.

venti who collects sanrio plushies and starts invading your room with them too. here’s a secret: at night, he hugs them tightly imagining it’s you he’s cuddling with.

always hugs you whenever he gets the chance. it becomes a tad overbearing at times, but can he help it? his actions truly are like a young one’s, clinging to the love and affection he feels hugging you.

once, he woke you up in the middle of the night spamming your phone with countless notifications and calls just to ask if you wanted to come over. this man would be the death of you.

©️kazusys — 6/10/24; do not plagiarize/steal, repost, translate, and/or claim any of my works as your own.

[galactic-magick]

Be Proud: Viktor x Plus Size!Reader

Summary: Viktor's newfound fame as the co-founder of Hextech has taken its toll on your insecurities.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: mentions and allusions to body dysmorphia/eating disorders

Author's Note: I starting writing this to play with the idea of how founding Hextech probably gave Jayce and Viktor celebrity status in a way and how that would affect them and people involved with them. It ended up turning into a vent fic about my body image issues as well, to the point I almost didn’t post because it got so personal. But I figured there’s people out there who relate and might find solace in reading this as I did writing it.

-

-

-

You’re so proud of him. Everything he’s accomplished, everyone he’s helped. He’s living his dream, creating the future, and he’s being listened to and valued by topsiders. This is all you’ve ever wanted for him, and you would never think of standing in his way.

Which is precisely why you’ve never told him how insecure it all makes you feel.

Before Viktor got involved with Hextech, life was so much more predictable. You both could live your days together in peace, never being in the spotlight and rarely interacting with the highest of powers in Piltover. Life was hard, sure, but nothing you couldn’t manage without some tasteful spite and stubbornness. Viktor always knew his background would be a stumbling block for him up here, and you really weren’t much farther ahead, being from a title-less family with half your relatives from the Undercity.

But you’re not used to being around such glamour and poise. As Viktor becomes more involved with the Council and the wealthier areas of Piltover, making Hextech gadgets per their requests and being invited to fancy events, you’re left mourning simpler times. You’ll never get used to people coming up to you on the street while you bring your husband some lunch, or people staring at you during conferences when you’re just there to support him. Everyday citizens want to know and analyze everything about you, simply because you’re married to Piltover’s finest scientist.

You don’t like to bother Viktor with how it’s affected you, especially since he’s so good at handling it all. He’s always been so proud of who he is—where he came from—because he’s had to be. He’s not phased by the new fame as the co-founder of Hextech, and he easily shrugs off any comments people make about his past or his looks. To him, celebrity status is just a slight annoyance that occasionally distracts him from doing his work in the labs. But for you, it’s brought back every insecurity you’ve ever had about yourself.

You’ve stopped joining him as much at dinners and banquets because you fear they’ll judge how you look in a dress. You’ve stopped chiming in to interviews so you don’t say something stupid and embarrass him. You’ve stopped visiting him so much while he’s working so people won’t talk to or see you on the street.

You’ve started picking yourself apart in the mirror again, fussing every morning until you might cry. You compare yourself to the beautiful specimens that surround you, perfect in face, body, and manners. You start wondering if people judge how you speak or how much you eat. You wonder if people gossip about your family origins or your marriage. You wonder if you really, really, tried—if you could look like them. If you could be like them.

Viktor has started to stay back from some events with you lately, claiming Jayce is better at being the face of Hextech anyway. But tonight marks the five year anniversary of the company, and Councilor Medarda insisted there be a grand celebration.

The feast and dance will be held in her personal mansion, with the rest of the council and all the investors invited, as well as several reporters and journalists. Jayce will give an update address on what they’ve been working on, and what they hope to achieve by the bicentennial Progress Day.

This is something you can’t get out of and you know it. You drive yourself crazy trying on every dress in your closet, hoping to find something suitable for the affair. Half of them don’t even fit, which sends you into a further spiral, and the ones that do still don’t look good enough in your reflection.

Now the floor is covered in failed attempts at getting dressed, negative thoughts taking over your mind. Thoughts you know aren’t true, but you can’t stop thinking them.

He’ll be embarrassed to be seen with me.

I’m not good enough to be here.

I should eat less.

If I tried harder I could look like her.

I should check how much I weigh again. What happened to that damn scale?

They only invited me because they have to.

They probably talk about me—

You’re so deep in your head that you jump when you see Viktor leaning against the door frame, eyes full of love and concern.

“Are you alright, darling?”

You look down at yourself, wearing the last dress you had in your closet. It fits perfectly, but that’s part of the problem.

Viktor moves towards you as tears well in your eyes. He wipes them away with his thumbs, smearing some of the makeup you put on earlier.

“Talk to me,” he says.

“No.” you reply, avoiding his gaze.

“No?” he chuckles. “Why not?”

“It’s so stupid,” you sigh. “I thought I recovered from this. I should be able to handle this.”

“Handle what?”

“All this publicity shit!” you finally look at him. “I hate being watched and talked about and judged for what I say and look like all the time. I hate being asked about personal things and nearly passing out because I’m scared to eat in front of people. I hate all these superficial gatherings that are probably just for show-”

“You’re alright, you’re alright,” he cuts you off, dropping his crutch to the floor and wrapping his arms around you. “Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been feeling this way? Why didn’t you tell me it was getting bad again?”

You sniffle, “I...I didn’t want to bother you with something that doesn’t seem to bother you. You’re so good at being confident no matter what people say about you.”

“You think it doesn’t bother me?” he questions. “You think it doesn’t hurt me every time I overhear insults about me or my home, let alone when they say it to my face? You think I don’t notice that most of these people wouldn’t blink an eye if I died if it wasn’t for what I can offer them?”

He squeezes you tighter before slightly pulling away to look at your face, “I’m just better at hiding what it does to me, darling. Having a drive to prove myself is not the same as confidence. Now,” he kisses your forehead, “Tell me why you’ve been in here for over an hour and still aren’t ready, hm?”

“Well,” you gesture to the piles on the floor. “Those ones don’t fit. I must’ve gained more weight but I don’t really know for sure because I can’t find the scale. And those ones I just don’t like. And this one does fit, but it’s tight and I’ve never worn something form-fitted to an event before. I don’t want to deal with comments about my stomach sticking out or my arms looking puffy or whether I’m proportioned to their tastes.”

“You truly believe they’ll say those things?”

“I don’t know what they’ll say. That’s what’s so scary.”

The tears return, falling slowly down your cheeks.

“Darling,” Viktor says softly. “No one will ever think or say anything as horrible as what you think and say about yourself. I promise you that.”

You nod, allowing him to soothe you, “I know.”

“I need you to tell me when these thoughts are getting bad. Do you understand? I never want you to go so long feeling this way ever again,” he tilts your chin. “Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Good. Now, if you really don’t want to go, I’ll make up an excuse to get us out of it. But…” he slides his hands down your curves, “...it would be quite a shame if I didn’t get to see you wearing this all night.”

“You actually think it looks good?”

“Of course,” his eyes travel down your figure. “You always look perfect to me.”

“But-”

“No buts. Listen to me,” he faces you towards the mirror. “This body has gotten you through so much. I want you to be proud. Most of these people have never known a day of true hardship, but not you. You’re strong and you’re soft and you’re beautiful, and you’re the only one I’ll ever desire.”

You smile, knowing he means every word. You try to see what he sees, remembering every time he’s showered you with praise. You know he’s never once agreed with any of the horrible things you think about yourself. You know he loves everything about you, including how your body compliments his smaller, angular one. He’s never made you feel bad about anything, so why is it still so hard to believe him?

“Thank you, Viktor,” you say, turning to kiss his cheek. “I’ll try to be proud.”

“Good,” he nods. “Now, no more worrying about the scale or falling into old habits, alright? I want you to enjoy yourself tonight.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll try,” you laugh a bit. “You know what happened to it, though, don’t you?”

“Of course. I threw it out months ago,” he smirks. “You think I didn’t notice you checking it every single day?”

“You’re too good to me,” you bend down to pick his crutch up off the floor and hand it to him. “Let me just fix my makeup and we can go.”

“No more crying it off, alright?” he chuckles.

-

Jayce and Mel are waiting for you, welcoming you both to the celebrations. You can already feel the eyes and cameras on you, but you hold your head high, squeezing Viktor’s hand extra tight.

It’s been awhile since you’ve attended an event, but they always seem to go the same. Investors and council members come up to chat, mostly directing their questions towards Jayce. Sometimes they act as if Viktor isn’t even there, which boils your blood to the point you’ve said something on multiple occasions. Viktor has told you many times that he doesn’t mind being behind the scenes, and that Jayce is better at talking anyway, but you can never fully let it go. If people are going to gossip about him and your lives but not actually talk to him, you’ll gladly take the liberty of giving people a piece of your mind. You’d rather focus on lifting him up than dwell on your own self-consciousness, anyway.

One thing is different this time though—being that Viktor is a lot more handsy tonight than usual. He’s not normally one for public displays of affection, sticking to hand-holding and a few reassuring touches here and there. But tonight he can’t keep his hands off you.

It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, whether it be listening to the conversations, answering questions, or participating in the feast and drinks. He always has a hand on your waist or your thigh, gliding to your hips and stomach every so often. It seems mindless, as if he does this every time you’re out together, but you know he’s putting in a special effort to make you feel good.

And damn is it working.

You feel more at peace than you ever have since entering the public eye, proud of who you are and who you’re with. Who cares if people are whispering about their opinions on the Zaunite inventor? Who cares if there’s pictures of you in tomorrow’s tabloids with unflattering angles? Maybe all that matters is you’re having fun with your husband, and he’s making you feel oh so beautiful.

The night goes on for hours, attendees fizzling out until there’s only a handful left. You convince Viktor to dance with you before you leave, leaning against you and swaying simply. You wrap your arms around his neck, wiggling your fingers into his hair. He looks at you with such admiration, such devotion.

How could you ever doubt yourself under the gaze of those eyes?

“You lovebugs ready to head out?” Jayce approaches you both. “Viktor and I have a meeting with Heimerdinger in the morning.”

“Ah, yes, we do,” he briefly looks away from you. “But...perhaps we could push it until the afternoon?”

Jayce rolls his eyes and chuckles, “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you guys are in for a long night. Have fun.”

He waves and walks away, and you burst out laughing.

“Is it really that obvious?” Viktor jokes, returning his full attention to you.

“Viktor, darling, you’ve been all over me since we got here. I’d say the entire city knows how bad you want me tonight.”

“Maybe I want them to know,” he grins, sliding a hand up your dress and squeezing your thigh.

“Viktor!” you gasp, playfully slapping his hand away.

“Alright, I suppose we can go home first,” he pivots around, moving towards the door and extending his arm to you, “Shall we?”

You nod, quickly returning to his side.

Jayce was right, it’s going to be a long, lovely night.

[lukolathoughts]

Dearest gentle readers,

As a GCSE English teacher in the UK, I have taught Of Mice and Men until I am blue in the face. I know the text like the back of my hand. There is a scene/extract where Carlson takes Candy’s dog outside to be shot (spoiler) and the men in the bunkhouse listen and wait anxiously for the eventual gunshot. The tension builds and builds and builds and the characters become more uncomfortable as they wait. To demonstrate how this tension might feel, I would often show my students a video of a balloon getting bigger and bigger and bigger. You get the idea. Until it becomes so uncomfortable you can’t stand to watch it. You know the explosion is coming but there is nothing you can do to stop it. The eventual BANG brings both fear and relief. This my friends, is how I perceive the Lukola fandom at this current moment. Like a kettle whistling away on a stove that no one knows how to turn off. All waiting for the eventual BOOM of the gunshot that feels inevitable. It is in tarot, the Tower.

Of Mice and Men is also a great one for division. White against black. Men against women. Social class. Feels familiar doesn’t it in this day and age? Ironically, next year it is being taken off UK GCSE English exam papers for being too ‘controversial’.  A damn shame in my opinion, as it’s just as relevant now as it was in the 1930’s. Probably even more so. Anyway, in this fandom we have mainly the Lukola’s against the Jakola’s or the Jakeholes as I call them. This narrative was perpetuated by a certain creator after the festival photos of Jake and Nic emerged in August. Until this point it was widely accepted that Nic had been socialising with her ‘gay’ friend Jake and no one batted an eyelid about it. Until those pap photos dropped of a seemingly ‘tipsy’ Nicola staring adoringly up at her ‘friend’ Jake and scratching his arm. Hmm, weird I thought. Didn’t we just have chaos week? Wasn’t the fandom floating on air at this point examining Nic’s ‘drink your milk’ t -shirt and obsessing over Nicola’s insta posts? We knew damn well Luke was home from Italy and we knew he had left two days early alone without his homeboys and most importantly Antonia. What is the meaning of these paparazzi shots taken from the VIP area of the festival. Didn’t Nic just sign with CAA talent agency a few weeks ago? The gears in my over stimulated brain dismissed the photos as Nic simply being over friendly with Jake, as she is prone to be, despite him looking bored and uninterested in her, and I simply went about my day.

Well, we know the rest of the story. The New York stalking incident where a fan practically chased Nicola and Jake down the street. Again, sent to find them reportedly by the ‘creator’. The photos and videos emerged and showed that Nic and Jake were holding hands. It’s okay, he was just leading her away as she has little Irish legs. Now the narrative was well under way and the gleeful Jakeholes had started to creep out from their swamp. The Jakehole ship was rising like an infested remnant of an 18th century passenger ship, spluttering its way across the Atlantic. This is no splendid brand new Titanic, my friends. This is a leaky, wooden, rickety old boat that I’m amazed gained it’s sea legs in the first place.

This was then followed up by the real kicker. The Lukola fandom had been floating on air in joined union and rejoicing over ‘October chaos week 2.0’ as I like to call it. It started with Luke’s cheeky October 3rd post of Polin and ended with the sheer euphoria of BOTH Luke and Nic seemingly on route somewhere. Perhaps, together, perhaps not. But he posts his luggage at an airport! When has Luke Newton ever done this? Nicola then posts herself smiling on a plane and I swear everyone just about fainted in excitement. Oh, the euphoria. Only then spoiled by the stalking incident, which I am convinced spooked Nic and Luke back into the shadows. Then the second lot of Jake and Nic pap pics hit, and this is the one that really hurt. I remember my discord going wild and then me and my bestie wife (she knows who she is) trying to justify the weather for about three weeks in the UK. Not that it really mattered. Distraction or no, the stage was set for the most bizarre few months of my life and undoubtedly Nicola, Luke and Jake as well. What a mess. The Jakehole ship gains some traction and starts chugging away like Popeye the sailor man after too much spinach.

But we’re a stubborn bunch the Lukola fandom. Things behind the scenes were not adding up and anyone with a set of eyes and a smart phone could deduce the real story from Jake’s Instagram. And then like some magic glitter bomb in comes Antonia. Can you hear the song Wrecking Ball by Miley Cyrus screeching in your ear? Because I can. I had done a tarot read that morning and got repeated Antonia cards and most specifically the girl with the snake. My breath caught in my lungs, and I knew she was coming like some willowy Darth Vader with an axe to grind, eating a lettuce sandwich. I quickly jumped on You Tube and gave my warnings. I know it was inevitable. I know a lot of other readers got the same message that day too and I give some of them credit for that. Prepare the ship! incoming attack port side. Boom. I’ve really started to fear seeing bowls of pasta which is ridiculous. I think I have PTSD from pasta gate 1 and 2.

And here my friends is where another division happens. I can pinpoint it exactly for you. Antonia’s pasta video from a Rome restaurant that Luke had been tagged at an hour before. All hell breaks loose, and I mean it. I got a sick feeling in my stomach, not because I believe a word that girl says, but because I KNEW others would. People started jumping off the USS Lukola quicker than I could say, wait a minute, please just wait! There were me and others running around the deck shoving the band out of the way as the death throes of Nearer my God to Thee sound in a haunting melody. I could see the captain of the ship, followed by his foolish crew, letting the water suck them down whole. It was no use, they had jumped all the way down to Davey Jones locker while I still stood on deck, with many others, watching their faces disappear into the murky depths of the black sea.

I do not wish to give Antonia anymore power, but girl I would have been impressed if it wasn’t such a mean thing to do. There is speculation, Luke may have given her the video to distract from some things, that might even be a bit too delulu for even me to comprehend. She also had friends in Italy at the time who could have given her the video, including a dancer friend of hers. She could have simply saw Luke’s location and downloaded a video off the internet. Or she simply was there. I must come to terms with that critically in my own mind as a possible option. However, I do think if she really was there, she would have posted more than some woman making pasta. Admittedly, I am one of those people who like to take pictures of my food, and I bet my arse, Antonia is too. Where is your plate of pasta Antonia? Where are the pictures of Luke’s studio, his hotel room, his shoes? Any bit of evidence you are with him like she used to post incessantly during the world tour to prove her proximity.

We found out later that Luke was not at the restaurant that day. The man pictured was not the owner and just a fan who had a picture with Luke some days or weeks before. The next day after pasta gate 1.0, Luke pushes a bunch of PR explaining he is in Rome to film his first movie White Mars. I felt a lot of energy behind this from him, even if he didn’t organise the Deadline article directly. Antonia was punished accordingly and was in my imagination told by Luke, I will not like your pathetic grid posts on Insta for the whole month of November, so don’t bother. She didn’t post to her grid.

The damage had been done, almost like a tornado hitting and spinning USS Lukola on it’s head. But we were still standing with a new faction of die hard Lukola’s forming. Nothing short of a kissing photo or a word coming from either Nic or Luke was moving us off this ship and that is where we are today. The Lukola’s who jumped, what happened to them? Well, like ghosts of their former selves they spend their time walking along the seabed aimlessly between still wanting to be on the ship but having a new perspective of ‘realism’. We must be realistic, me hearties!! Luke is still most likely with Antonia (eye roll) and Nicola is with Jake (major eye roll, they have left my sockets). I talked a lot about critical thinking in my last blog and I don’t want to rehash it all here, but there is no evidence that Luke has been within the same breathing space as Antonia since last July. I do not count the dodgy Facebook post by Luke’s mother as any kind of believable evidence. No, I also do not believe that Luke’s mother has a beef with Nicola either. Anyone who ever meets Nicola seems to be sucked into her light like a moth to a Dyson hoover. I do not believe Michelle would to it to either Luke or Nic, as I have explained previously.

So, the last week has been a bit exciting for the Lukola diehard’s. Again, here comes another split. Crack, like lightening hitting a road. Nicola appears looking fabulous at the Big Boys premiere in London last Wednesday 22nd January. She was again dressed in black. I should have put bets on it, but I’d win pennies at this point in my predictions that Nicola would be wearing black. Now why is she wearing black again you ask, well dearest gentle reader that is the question, isn’t it? Why does she have a bottle of non-acholic beer at her feet? Why is her dress at the event raising eyebrows? I will tell you why: the Empress, the High Priestess and the Moon repeatedly. It’s as simple as that for me. That is all I will say, because the hate is real guys. I woke up Thursday morning to a barrage of insults. I had not said anything publicly on Twitter about Nicola.

Here now comes the death knell of my one remaining Lukola discord. I woke up to the announcement the server was being shut down. I took my Twitter private to stop the trolls and I thought it was a bright idea to make my own discord server, to hell with the haters. Welcome everyone else. Anyone who disparages Nicola in any way, shape or form in discussions of personal body issues I find disgusting. Talking about a person’s weight is vile to me, it is not acceptable and calling someone ‘just fat’ to explain away other things is abhorrent. We should not be saying things publicly. So now there the Lukola’s who believe one thing and the ones who still support Luke and Nic, but do not believe what they are seeing. That’s okay and we will not force those opinions on others. We will listen and we will wait. We will not comment on Nicola’s body.

There is one last split I want to touch on briefly. The division of the tarot readers. It is unfortunately the case now, much to my inner anguish. I started in this fandom listening to them and loving the readings. I had previously been reading privately on Harry and Meghan Markle (don’t even ask) and I was scared to read on Nicola and Luke because I didn’t want to know that weren’t together, because June 13th broke my heart just like everyone else’s. But these tarot readers were amazing, they gave me hope, and I truly admired and learned a lot from the OG’s. I listen and believe my spirit team implicitly and I will not turn on my intuition. I will not turn my back on Nicola and Luke. There is too much evidence to support they are together. Christmas and NYE confirmed this for me significantly and the fact that Jake got a job in Sheffield yesterday. Good for you Jakey boy, off you go and let the grown-ups carry on now. There are tarot readers who sadly stopped believing, they jumped off with the rest of the frantic Lukola’s and they keep trying to swim back to the surface, before being dragged back down by yet another social media post of the adjacents or paparazzi picture, despite evidence to the contrary.

You know who doesn’t have social media and her readings never change, and she stays true to her heart? The lovely Meghan on YouTube. She doesn’t know about adjacent drama, so they are simply not in her remit and her spirit guides do not address them either. My advice is to follow her lead and listen to what Nicola and Luke tell us, no one else.

It is okay as well for other tarot readers to have different opinions and I respect that, but as public facing roles with large platforms, it is our responsibility to be excellent role models to our followers. We should be supporting each other as women and not disparaging those we read on with our biases. Foul mouthed rants and calling Nicola names is not helpful.

In conclusion, the fandom is a powder keg. We are all sitting in the bunkhouse divided but ultimately waiting for the same gunshot that will snap us back. This might put us all back on the same page, all back to shipping Lukola where we started last year, or this gunshot could divide us further as all factions refuse to see or believe the truth. I truly believe we are coming to the end of this now and one way or another, the truth is on it’s way. We the fandom are the Tower, not Nic and Luke. One way or another, the tower will fall. One gunshot and bam.

[lovelaetter]

i need your thoughts on chaewon with a biker!gf PLEASE

i imagine the gf being a lot taller with big veiny hands perhaps g!p if you don't think that's too much...

as a chaewon size kink enjoyer, all i can say is: big YES. this girl, she gets so giggly around you, since always, all she can do is “oh i’m so small and tiny and defenseless i wish i had a strong tall big gf to protect me ooh” kinda pick me? yes but it’s not her fault you need to understand she is thinking with her pussy, okay? and it worked because look, you’re dating !!

very proud of you with the whole biker thing. she doesn’t know much about the mechanics but she learns a lot with you, listens carefully to everything you say, loves to see you so excited about it. i will have to go for the cliche leather jacket biker here just to say she steals yours a lot to the point you just bought her one and she keeps stealing yours because “it’s comfier”, also, because of that and because of how easy it is to find her around town carrying her helmet under her arm or just hanging around your bike at the parking lot people often think it’s hers and jesus christ you don’t wanna be one of the poor unfortunate souls that ask her something about it because she will open this smile and start “actually, i’m glad you asked, my girlfriend-” like her annoying ass can’t stop yapping about you… unless it’s a weird man then she will sense that from far away and just pick her phone and text you “babe, are gonna be mad if i get some blood on the helmet? there’s this guy…” but its not like she will need to do it because she got the strong big tall gf she wanted so she can play the defenseless princess all the time around you.

overall, big turn on for her, she’s all for the aesthetic too, loves to sneak a few pics of you and you both together all the time on her insta, her mind 100% like “hehe the tiktok girlies will love this one”, she’s so silly. not to mention how she loves to go on late night rides on a highway with you where she can do nothing but wrap her arms around you and rest her face on your back, feeling the wind hit her body, she will never say no to this, in fact will beg to go with you. and you make a stop at this spot that is so beautiful during nighttime, just you two, hugging her from behind, talking nonsense, laughing… everything is romantic, babe. but let’s not pretend she isn’t the one to ruin said moments by asking suddenly to go home, looking up and blinking her adorable eyes at you just because she got too horny to handle it, like yeah, who would thought the bike’s vibrations would go straight to her pussy haha who would imagine that don’t even accuse her of such thing. horny gremlin chaewon.

now let me me talk about size a bit because i want to and i can this is my blog. she loves how you tower over her easily, no she’s not making fuck me eyes, she simply has to look up at you like that! still on the late night rides things, loves when you are just as horny as her and can’t even wait to get inside her apartment, will press your body against hers right there at the garage of her building, shushing her cries with kisses as your fingers find their way inside her with no care if someone walks in or about the cameras, it’s okay, it’s dark and no one can see her there, you cover her up just fine and all she has to do is be quiet.

obsessed with your hands, she totally compares hands sizes, all the time, it makes her knees weak how easy it is for you wrap her waist with them and do so many things with her body, throw her around and in the way you like best, bounce her up and down your cock, she doesn’t have to do a thing but be there like a toy and it’s so good, everything she ever wanted.

[giuliettagaltieri]

A Very Bad Day

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Everything burns right before the eyes of Charles Leclerc.

Warning: Swearing and intoxication

Word Count: 2996

Chapter: 1

Charles Leclerc couldn’t quite grasp how his life could turn a total 180 in the last 24 hours.  Over the phone, his girlfriend broke up with him.  Ferrari decided to void the contract after he got drunk at some bar.  And now, he has no idea where he is as he hops on one leg, trying to get the other foot inside his pants as he runs away from a hysterical woman he didn’t know.

And to put the cherry on top, his foot got caught on a table and he came plummeting down on the hardwood.

“Ah fuck.”

Yesterday started like any other day.  Nothing conspicuous about it.  Charles woke up in his apartment in Monaco.  His still droopy eyes stare out at the busy streets and tall buildings of Monte Carlo.  Charles scratches his hip, yawning.

Excited barks soon echoed around the room and he didn’t even need to look to know who it was.  His lips quirk to a smile.  “Morning to you too, pal.”  The goofy dog kept his owner’s attention for the next five minutes before Charles had to have his breakfast.

The man was simply trying not to burn his sunny side up eggs when he got a call from Alexandra.  Charles smiles, which quickly disappears as he tries to avoid a splatter of oil.  

“Charles?”

He inhales deeply.  “Since when was I Charles to you? I’m caro-”

“I’m so sorry, I can’t just do this anymore.”  Alexandra sobs from the other line.

Charles scratches his head.  “What, you want to find another petname?”  He chuckles awkwardly.

“I just…I want you to understand that it’s not you, okay?”

Damn.

Well, this is it.  He thought.

“You breaking up with me or something?”  Charles mumbles as he switches off the stove when the bottom of the egg starts burning.  Alexandra sobs again from the other line.  “You could’ve done it in person, you know.  Like how a decent person should.”

Alexandra was silent and Charles used the spatula to try and salvage the egg which stuck to the pan, its burnt stench made Charles step back and sit on the chair.  He runs a hand over his face.

“Hello.”

“Listen.”  Her voice is much stable this time, making Charles think if she really had been crying thirty seconds ago.  “I really can’t see any future in this relationship.  We should start seeing other people.”

Charles starts swinging the spatula lazily, his eyes now drained.  “Well, I can’t exactly stop you if that’s what you want.”

“Thank you, Charles.”  Alexandra responds a little softly this time, fooling him for a second that this was just another phonecall they have everyday.  Or was it every week?  Charles can’t remember as their relationship has been getting more dull and dull.  “I’m really sorry.  I tried to resist him for months but you just can’t…give me the love that I want and I want to end it between us before I start another relationship.”

So there is another man.  Charles nods somberly, forgetting that Alexandra can’t see him.  “Yes.  Thank you for being honest…you sure he’s a good man?”  Despite his relationship with Alexandra losing its flame, she was still his girlfriend once.

He hears the smile in Alexandra’s voice.  “He is really kind.  He has a daughter whom I love very much.”

“Yeah?”  Charles tries to sound cheerful for her sake, his eyes following the slow drip of the oil from the head of the spatula.

“Yeah!  He can be really busy with his mining company so I get to spend time with her a lot.”

“Good for you.”  His jaw ticks.  “I don’t appreciate you spending time with him while we were still together but I’m glad you broke up with me before you started dating the man.”

Alexandra sighs gratefully from the other line.  “Thanks, Charles.  I knew you’d understand.  What we had, it was good…but it was not going anywhere.  I’ll still come to watch you race though, see you around.”

Charles thinks it is better if she didn’t.  Leo paws at his leg but Charles can’t bother to do anything but scratch behind his ears sluggishly.  

What kind of person breaks up over the phone?  He was so good to her too, getting her anything a girlfriend could want.  Charles was a busy guy but he tried to make it work with her, spending time with her anytime he could.

This wasn’t how he planned his Saturday to start at all.  Charles can already think of the headlines surfacing in the internet soon.

His PR team would kill him.

Well, it’s not entirely his fault.  They can’t pin this on him.

Although the next thing that would happen that day would totally be his fault.

Charles really tried to keep the whole drinking and getting wasted part in his own apartment but the half empty bottles he kept stocked on his mini bar weren’t doing their job.  So he went with the next best thing.  Go get hammered in a bar.

He could have sworn he only had a few glasses.  How was he supposed to know the alcohol content in those drinks were beyond the roof?  That’s what he gets for ordering drinks he has never heard before in his entire life.

It couldn’t have been Alexandra that caused this much of an impact on Charles that he’d go out his way and get shitfaced in some bar where anybody with a phone could post him on social media.  He gulps down his drink, giving up on the puzzle he had no intentions in solving in the first place.

The bar was getting too cramped and Charles felt like he was fighting for every gulp of air.  He had to get out.  Which was a bad idea.  He could barely hold up his own weight, let alone walk.  Charles was stumbling to every person that passed by him in the busy streets of Monaco, he’s yet to be recognized thanks to his cap but he knows this won’t end well.

Next thing he knows, he is being thrown inside a car, the absence of street lights blinding him, the sudden change in colors disorienting him.  Loud voices of people he should know echo around the cramped car.  Someone he recognizes from his PR team is beside him, there’s another one in the passenger seat, trying to talk to him, trying to get his attention but Charles can’t peel his eyes off the floor.  He’s sobering up bit by bit now.  He hears his name being called over and over but he doesn’t respond, not even when somebody holds him by his collar.  

Questions are thrown his way and he can’t even process a single one before another is being thrown at him again.  They keep asking what has gotten into him.  What happened between him and Alexandra that she had to reveal publicly that their relationship was over.  They have no business in prying in that matter.  They repeatedly fume that he could have been arrested for public intoxication had they not gotten there on time.

The car comes to an abrupt halt, sending him forward.  Hands grip him under his armpits and he’s being forced out of the car and on his feet.  Charles doesn’t even know if it’s him making the steps or he’s simply being dragged.  He’s made to sit on the couch and he recognizes his own apartment.  He sees Leo growling at the people who invaded his home.  Charles hunches on the couch, his hands raking on his hair.

Was he stupid?

He is a Formula 1 driver for goodness sake!

It wasn’t easy to deduce that this would harm his career.  A blotch on his record.  Forever known as the Formula 1 driver who was intoxicated in the streets of Monaco, and it was barely even evening!  A fucking embarrassment is what he is.

A loud ringtone echoes and he hears the brief exchange of words.  A phone was then shoved in his hands and he brought it up to his ears.

Charles was used to hearing the calm and humorous voice of Frédéric Vasseur, never like this.

He knew he fucked up.

And like how Alexandra snipped whatever they had, Vasseur did the same to his contract with Ferrari.

“I am very disappointed in you, boy.  I’m afraid Ferrari will have to let you go.”

This is rockbottom.

Charles wordlessly hands the phone back and it’s replaced with his car keys.  For a moment he just stares at the dark stallion.  He hears them saying that someone picked it up from the bar for him.  

I’m fucking stupid.

Charles grips the key so hard it threatens to dig through his palms.  He gets up and heads to the direction of the door.  They call his name over and over but he just cannot deal with them at the moment.

“Get Leo to my mom.  I’m stepping out for a bit.”

He finds his car in the parking space and immediately gets in it.  Just like that, he threw his career under the bus.  What other team would want him to race for them, after this incident, he’d be lucky if some team with shit cars even looks at him.

For years, he built his name, trying to make those he loved proud, only for it all to unravel before his eyes in a single day. 

He needs to get out of here.

The engine roars as he speeds away from his place, going somewhere and nowhere in particular.

The city lights of Monte Carlo were a blur as he sped through.

Charles is never really one to run away from his problems, but there’s nothing here for him, is there?

The girl he trusted to be by his side went and broke up with him.  Their relationship lost its spark long before this day but Charles thought they were stable.  He was blinded with the comfort brought on by the convenience.  He drank not for losing her but for self-pity, which made him two times more horrible.  Charles would just love to blame anybody but himself right about now.  One stupid decision cost him his deal with Ferrari.

They had a fucking contract.  He was going to race for them for the next season, goddammit.

Charles pulls at his glovebox and sees his passport.

He drove to the airport of Monaco and hastily parked his car and gathered his stuff from the glove compartment.  For a moment his hands hovered over his phone yet he hesitates before deliberately leaving it.

He will deal with this later.  He just needs to get out.  Cold sweat was breaking out in his temple when he entered the air conditioned airport.  Charles pulls his hat down after security, feeling like everybody is looking at him.  His heartbeat accelerates and his breathing visibly picks up.  He’s going to be sick if he stays here a moment longer.

“Ticket to LA, please.”  Charles breathlessly said.

The ticket agent glances at him worriedly, familiarity clearly crossing her eyes.  “Sir, are you okay?  Do you need to sit down?”

Charles quickly shakes his head, giving her a forced grin.  “I’m fine.  I just need the ticket to LA.”

The woman types in her computer and her face becomes apologetic, making Charles grit his teeth.  “The plane just left.  The next flight is in six hours.”

“Shit.”  Charles runs a hand through his face.  “Uh…what about Las Vegas?”

“Next flight’s in eight hours-”

“JUST-…”  He inhales sharply.  “Just tell me which flight leaves now.”

The woman’s lips turned thin at his outburst but she chooses not to comment.

“Well, a flight to New York leaves in an hour.”

“Okay, I’ll need a ticket.”

New York was probably not the best choice but he was in a rush to just get out as soon as he can.  LA and Vegas would have been preferable.  He had friends there, somewhere he can crash for a while as he waits for everything to blow over.

But as he stands there in New York, he looks at the bustle of people.  Nobody looked at him yet and for some reason it felt good to be ignored.  To not be a spectacle for once.  But he doubts it will last.  Charles adjusts his watch to the time and has his money changed to dollars so he can use it and he exits the airport.  

The warm, polluted air of New York slaps him in the face.  He got on a taxi and it drives him out of New York.  He was dropped off at a bar in some town where he got a few drinks.  He remembers glancing at his watch, a little past midnight.  Considering he crossed continents, he thought it would be much later than that. 

He repeated the process of riding a cab and stopping by a few places to eat and drink until he lost himself.  He was black out drunk.  Playing Dora the explorer was not on his bucket list for this year but he was stumbling on a sidewalk of some town he doesn’t recognize.  No landmarks or anything to help him.

He’d probably die from alcohol intoxication if he didn't stop drinking.  But the flashing neon light of the word ‘PUB’ in the corner just invites him over.  He opens the door and sees nobody inside but the old bartender, wiping glasses.  How fucking cliché, it made him chuckle.  He trudges to the counter and he frowns at the empty glasses, some still decorated with different colored liquid on the bottom.  Charles awkwardly pushes them to the side and sits on the bar stool as his eyes squint on the menu.  Aside from the typical hard drinks, he sees a variety of unfamiliar ones and decides to order a spiced apple cider from the hot section of the menu.

Alcohol was still running through his system like crazy, making the rush of his blood thrum.  He needed a warm drink to wake him up.

“Hey!”

Charles whips behind him.  A bad idea.  He grimaces and he clutches his head as the sudden movement makes the room spin.

“That’s my seat.”

He blinks hard and looks up to see a woman with red bold lips.  She was pissed by the looks of it.  But Charles knew that the flush on her cheeks was not because of her anger.  She hiccups and Charles grins.

“Yeah?  Sorry about that.”  He moves to the other stool, still watching.

“What are you smiling at?”  The woman glares at him before looking at the bartender who brings over his drink.  “Tom, I’ll have sour cherry vodka.”

“Young lady, you had eight drinks already, I think that might be enough for you.”  The old man chastises gently, an accent thick on his voice.   “It’s wee hours of the morning already.”

Charles grins behind his glass when she visibly deflates, lips pouting as she rests her flushed cheeks on her hand, hiccupping once more. 

“I’ll just have a hot buttered rum then.”

“It still has alcohol in it.”  Tom replies but starts preparing it for her anyway.  He brings over two glasses of water for them in the meantime.

Charles quietly sips on his drink, ignoring the glass of water.  The woman beside him sighs loudly, her finger tracing something on the fogged glass.

“You know.”  She starts as she straightens up in her seat before turning to him with bedroom eyes, making Charles gulp thickly.  “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

“It’s my first time here.”  He says before sipping his drink again.

She smiles at him this time.  “You’re a tourist?”

He shrugs.  “Uhm, I guess you can say that.”

Tom places her drink on the counter and she thanks him without taking her eyes off of Charles.

“You a local here?”  Charles asks as his eyes follow how the glass presses on the plumpness of her lips.

She hiccups before giggling, as if he said something really funny to her.  “I think so but I just moved here three years ago for work.”

Just watching her giggle makes Charles chuckles too, he doesn’t know why but he just does.  He clears his throat to sip his drink once more.  Cheeks flushing slightly at the effect she has on him.

She gulps down her drink without pause and Charles follows how her throat moves.  When she places the glass down, she has a goofy grin on and Charles groans out a chuckle upon seeing her whipped cream moustache.

“You have something on your…here, let me get that for you.”  Charles leans closer and he cups her cheek and glides his thumb over her upper lip.  He stared into her wide glassy eyes the entire time.

He feels his skin buzzing, heating up under her gaze.

And he gives in to the pull.  Charles leans closer to plant his lips on hers.  She hiccups once more, making them both laugh but he deepens the kiss, enjoying the flavor of her on his tongue.

A sharp cough makes them part.

Charles glances at Tom the bartender and he sheepishly scratches his neck but she grabs his hand. 

“Uhm…you wanna…”

“Yes.”  Charles answers for her, pressing his lips on hers briefly before he clumsily pulls out his wallet to pay for their drink.  He turns to Tom.  “Is this enough?”

Tom sighs and shoos them away with his hand.  “Just get outta here you two.”

The woman laughs and thanks Tom before she pulls Charles out of the pub and as soon as they’re outside, he pulls her close to him, just needing to kiss her again.  She was like a breath of fresh air from all the craziness that took place today.

“Fuck.”  His hands roamed on her body, making her laugh.  “I need you, baby.”

At this point Charles is just willing to throw everything out the window if it meant having her.

Overdrive

[thursdayinspace]

ficlet: quarantine

I needed fluff, so I wrote some. Perhaps a little messy, but definitely fluffy, post-Firewalker. They're in quarantine and Scully is bored. Mulder isn't.

She expected him to get restless and irritable before the end of their first day in quarantine. It’s been five days now, and although he’s been pacing a lot and at times talked for fifteen minutes straight about random cryptids she’d never heard about before, he does seem to be handling this a lot better than she is. Most of the time, he seems almost content.

She can’t say the same about herself. There’s simply nothing to do and she’s bored out of her mind. Standing still gives her too much time to think, and that’s the last thing she wants to be doing right now.

“Are you even listening to me?” he asks, and when she looks up at him from her seat on her uncomfortable chair and meets his eyes across the tiny table they use for their meals, the corners of his mouth are twitching with a barely held-back grin.

“No,” she admits. “Sorry. What were you saying? Something about… banjos?”

“Banshees,” he says. “It doesn’t matter. What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.” She sighs.

“Come on.” He leans forward, arms folded on the table. “You can talk to me. There’s… actually not much else to do here.”

“Yeah.” She leans back with another sigh. “That’s exactly the problem.”

“You’re bored?”

“Aren’t you?”

“Well.” He shrugs. “Yeah. Of course I’m bored. We have nothing to do and nowhere to go and there’s absolutely nothing good on TV.”

“And we’re gonna be stuck here for several more weeks,” she points out, pushing herself up out of her chair to walk over to their single window. It’s completely dark outside. Time has lost all meaning. It could be late evening. It could be past midnight. It doesn’t seem to matter anymore.

“It’s not so bad,” he says, and she twirls around to him.

“Mulder, there is nothing to do here. Nothing.”

“So we’ll come up with something,” he suggests, getting up and making his way over to her. He stands so close she has to lean her head all the way back to look up at him. She’s in her socks and he’s so tall. And he’s smiling. Something aches deep in her gut.

“Like what?” she asks.

“I don’t know.” He bites his lip and seems to think about it.

He’s so beautiful it hurts her heart. Being stuck here is bad enough. Being stuck here with him is torture. Ever since she came back, he’s been so attentive, so careful with her. She can feel him looking at her when he thinks she won’t notice. And he’s always there. All the time. As if he’s afraid she’ll disappear again. And she doesn’t know what any of it means. She knows he wore her necklace when she was missing.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he says at last, and that makes her laugh out loud.

“We can’t,” she reminds him. “We literally can’t, Mulder.”

“Sure we can.”

He takes her hand and places it in the crook of his elbow, eyes sparkling as he grins at her widely.

“What are you—” She shakes her head. “What are we doing?”

“I told you,” he says, “We’re going for a walk.” And then he’s leading her across the small room into the tiny hallway separating their bedrooms, where he starts walking them up and down the same few feet of space. She can’t help it, she dissolves into a fit of giggles after the third turn.

“Nice weather we’re having today, don’t you think?” he says, and she holds his arm with both hands and leans into his side, the sensation of laughter unfamiliar in her chest.

“You’re crazy.”

“So I’ve been told. Many times. By you, actually.”

“In the best way. I like it.”

“Oh,” he says, sounding pleased, and a little surprised. “I haven’t heard that before.”

She stops them in their tracks and steps in front of him. “You know I mean it like that every time, right?” she says. “If I ever—”

“I know, Scully,” he promises, and the smile in his voice convinces her that he’s telling the truth.

“Good. Okay.”

“Do you want to keep going?” he asks. “I’ve been told the view doesn’t change at all the further you go. Might be worth exploring.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” The words slip out before she can stop them, and the happiness in her voice makes her blush. She didn’t mean to reveal that much.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I know the feeling.”

She lowers her eyes and doesn’t know what to say. It’s a new problem. They’ve always had an easy back and forth, even their arguments often comforting in a way she never properly understood. Suddenly, everything seems filled with too much meaning. Or maybe that’s wishful thinking on her part. It’s just that she remembers the look in his eyes when he visited her in the hospital after she woke up.

“Hey, Scully?”

She nods, reluctantly lifting her head when he puts two fingers under her chin. “What is it?”

“I just want you to know…” He pauses for a second. “I just want you to know that I’d rather be in here, bored out of my mind with you, than healthy and having fun out there without you.”

“I, um.” She frantically searches for something to say, but he’s standing here, his fingers caressing her cheek now, and he is so warm and smells so good, and she simply can’t remember how language works for the moment.

“It’s okay,” he assures her. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

“No,” she says quickly. “No, I understand. I… guess I feel the same way.”

“Oh.” There’s something so hopeful in his expression, and she gives him the tiniest nod, hoping he’ll understand.

And he does, of course he does.

She can’t remember any kiss ever feeling like this. His lips just rest against hers, lingering, unmoving, and she feels it all the way down to her toes. Her hands come up to cup his elbows and he takes her face firmly between his large, soft hands, and by the time he pulls back, the world has rearranged itself around them.

“Was that okay?” he asks, and she puts one palm over his rapidly beating heart.

“I think I just thought of a few things we can do while we’re stuck here,” she says.

“Yeah?” He slides his arms around her waist and pulls her closer. “Like what?”

She rises up onto her toes to kiss him again, and finds that another three weeks of this doesn’t sound quite so bad anymore.

[thatpieceoftrash]

Never a frown

Malleus x reader

WC: 898

In which Malleus has doubts, and you help him get rid of them.

It’s quiet as you two work on your respective tasks. Malleus makes quick work of the stone meant for sculpting the gargoyle he’d talked about last night. You, on the other hand are busy studying an ancient looking tome meant to help you understand the origins of gargoyles, but you aren’t really paying attention to the words on paper, after all you can’t really concentrate when outside a storm seems to pick up.

Someone’s upset and you know exactly who.

“Is something upsetting you?” You spoke, finally cutting through the silence.

“Hm? Oh, no, everything is alright, dear” Malleus assured you, however you picked up the slight tremor in his voice, and you could make a pretty good guess he’s probably pouting right now.

“Are you sure? You can talk to me about anything, you know that.” And you finally turned his way and gave him what you hoped was a reassuring smile.

“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.” He sighed, but stopped sculpting and just looked at his hands, not meeting your gaze.

“So there is something, must be pretty upsetting if this storm is anything to go by.” You continued, and at this, he looked out the window and his eyes widened a little.

“It seems I let my emotions get the better of me again, Lilia will no doubt lecture me for it” your dragon lamented.

Whatever happened really got him down, you thought to yourself as you got up from your seat and stood in front of him, taking his cold hands in yours. He looked up at you, and the sadness in those emerald eyes of his broke a bit of your heart.

“Lilia isn’t here right now, I am. Please tell me what’s bothering you.” You pleaded with him.

The silence stretched on for a few moments, but at last he started. “This morning while I was on my way to class, I overheard some students talking among each other, normally I don't pay attention to meaningless chatter, however they said something about you, and as ashamed I am to admit it, I stopped to listen.” Malleus went on, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Did they insult me? You know I don’t care if-“ you began, but he stopped you, holding your hands just a bit tighter.

“No, if they did I would’ve simply struck them down”, he muttered, “ they said it’s impossible to understand why you’re still in the Gargoyle Study Club, because it’s completely boring and nonsensical, and that you’re only here because I forced you to be.” He finally finished his explanation and he somehow became even more downbeat than before.

Now, you took pride in your ability to sympathise with others and help them overcome their obstacles, and your Tsunotaro was no exception to this, of course, you’d do anything for his happiness.

With all that being said, you’re desperately trying not to laugh ‘ all this because someone said gargoyles are boring’ which in all fairness, they weren’t the most interesting subject, but Malleus spoke of them with such love and passion, you found yourself admiring the gothic creations as well.

Try as you might, you couldn’t suppress a giggle from coming out, much to the dismay of your very lovely, and very dramatic fae.

“Do you find amusement in my misery?” He all but demanded, and you tried your hardest to put on a serious face.

“Tsunotaro, do you truly think I would be here if I found it boring? If I didn’t enjoy it?” And you weren’t lying, you appreciated the chance to learn more about this strange world’s history, even if it was in the form of gargoyle evolution.

“Do you not feel obligated to be here because of me?” He whispered, and you were quick to shake your head.

“I joined this club because I found this topic intriguing and something completely new to me. You being a part of it was just a bonus, a very big one, but nonetheless I didn’t choose this just to be with you” okay, that was a small part of the reason, but he didn’t need to know that, unless you want a tornado in the school yard

“Truly?” There was just the smallest glimpse of uncertainty in his eyes as he asked, and you couldn't have that.

“Truly, Tsunotaro.” At your confirmation, he beamed and all traces of the storm passed, revealing a pleasant sunset in its wake.

“You always know what to say to put me at ease, my dear. Are you sure you lack any magic?” He praised, with such a serene smile, it made him seem even more ethereal than he already was.

“Nope, not a bit of it, just my love for you, even with all your dramatic antics.” And you let out a small laugh, relieved he wasn’t sulking anymore, which was further proved when he started laughing alongside you.

“I love you too, my beloved child of man” and with a small kiss to your forehead, he went right back to sculpting, and you back to that ridiculously long chapter about the history of lion gargoyles, yet this time, you chose to abandon the small library desk, and instead sit next to your adorable dragon, content to just to be to him, no matter what you were doing, and you had a feeling he felt the same.

[charmedbystars]

bored. (e-42 miles morales)

pairing: e-42 miles x reader

summary: you're bored and who else better than your pretty boyfriend to annoy?

content: no warnings!

a/n: this is just a super short blurb that popped in my brain. i was also listening to sneaky snitch while writing this so feel free to listen to that while reading this lol.

now, you weren’t a high-maintenance girlfriend who constantly had to be out. you were content with staying at home with miles, but it has been like this since summer started. occasionally, you guys would go out to restaurants or walk around the mall, but doing that every day took the fun out of it. 

so it was a normal summer evening. the air conditioning was blasting. the sun was setting. a random show was on the tv just for background noise. well, it was background noise for you, miles was actually paying attention. could you help it though? you’ve been pressed up against miles’ chest for 2 hours just binge-watching the same show. 

groaning out loud and shifting around on miles’ chest is what caught his attention. “you good mamas?” he asked. while shifting around, an idea suddenly sprouted in your head. leaning up to look down at miles, you smirked before going to a neutral expression quickly so he doesn’t get suspicious.

“hey miles… i need to ask you a serious question.”

“yeah was good? everything ‘kay?” he looked up at you in confusion with brows furrowed. 

“yeahh it’s just… do you love me?” 

“what are you even asking ma? ‘course i do.”

“are you sure?” 

“i can’t believe you’re asking me this,” he throws his head back.

“i’m being serious like do you love me three thousand percent?”

“what’s up with that number?”

“milesssss you’re not answeringgg that means you don’t love meeeee,” you whined. of course, you were joking but you wanted to have a little fun and what better way than annoying your boyfriend?

“you seriously cannot be doubting my love for you right now. look at where you are right now,” he gestured his arms around before going back to wrap them around you. “but if you’re asking, yes i love you very much. tu tienes mi corazon, lo sabes.”

“mmm okay miles. i’m taking your word.”

“girl you better be because i got you living.”

“yeah whatever,” you rolled your eyes before leaning back down to lie on his chest and like nothing ever happened, all of miles’ attention goes back to the tv screen in front of you. although the interaction got rid of your boredom a bit, all you wanted to do now was annoy your cute boyfriend. since you just ambushed him with questions, you waited a couple minutes before making your next move. 

what was your next move? poking miles’ face. your finger went up to poke his cheek once. getting no reaction from him, you poked his cheek again causing him to look down at you. 

“is there something you want?”

“no,” you simply grinned at him. aannddd attention right back to the screen. this time you went to boop his nose making a little “boop” sound with it too. 

“you think you’re so cute, huh?”

“well, as a matter a fact, i know i’m cute. no thinking required.” 

“baby, are you sure you don’t want something?”

“well, now that you ask again, yes i want something. i want your attention, i need you to do something. your sole reason for being my boyfriend is to entertain me.”

“oh so i’m just here to play around, huh?” he raised an eyebrow and you nodded with no hesitation. you should’ve thought of a better response than that because now you’re regretting everything when you feel yourself getting flipped around on the couch. miles on top of you now, legs holding you in place while his hands quickly went to your side tickling you. you squealed and laughed and kicked your legs around trying to get him to stop.

“miles stop! ple- AHAHA NO!” your pleading would not make miles stop at all. “miles i- i can’t breATHE,” you yelled and he stopped. you look up at him catching your breath and all he did was stare you down with a smirk on his pretty face. 

“you’re the worst person ever” 

“aww baby, don’t lie. i know you love me and i don’t even have to ask.”

[michanvalentine]

This post is going to be a bit heavy and boring. I'll talk about Astarion, but also about real life, so if you're not interested, scroll away without hesitation!

So, lately, I've been pretty pissed off. I feel like I'm being made fun of by certain comments I see around regarding Astarion's redemption arc—how I supposedly have some kind of "Florence Nightingale syndrome" that makes me want to "fix" him with the power of my love (a syndrome that, in real life, would obviously put my own life at risk) and how I’m supposedly willing to justify anything he does just because he's traumatized. Seriously? So I must be some kind of idiot, a lovestruck teenager who knows nothing about how the world works, who's never stepped outside her house, who's never had a healthy relationship, and so on. And that pisses me off. Because maybe, just maybe, I know something more, not less.

And that’s exactly why I read between the lines, why I don’t judge instantly, and why I don’t delude myself into believing in the power of love as some kind of absolute force that magically fixes everything just because. Maybe the love we're talking about here has nothing to do with romanticizing (butterflies in the stomach, kisses and cuddles, "I’m the only one for him, and for me he’ll do this or that") a horrific situation—one where a man has been mentally and physically broken, one that comes with a whole range of possible unhealthy behaviors that could be dangerous to himself and others.

Maybe we’re talking about something more real, about lived experiences, about how people can support and help each other crawl out of the darkness. About how love simply means being there, without necessarily doing anything. In both good times and bad, because healing isn’t a straight line. There are ups and downs. Love means being aware of the struggles and working hard on them, it means listening, accepting, waiting, being patient. It means pushing back when necessary, confronting the person you love, and stopping them from hurting themselves. It also means giving up, running away, screaming at the sky, and then coming back more determined than before—even knowing you might have to start the process all over again.

Are the people who love this hard just idiots who think they can "fix" their loved ones with the power of love? And what if it were your child? Fuck no, I won’t accept that! That’s a message that cannot and must not spread, not when there are people out there fighting this battle every single day.

Sure, there are plenty of lost causes in this world, and yes, real danger exists. But the key is being able to recognize them. No one wants to be a martyr, but there will always be someone worth fighting for. Because yes, loving someone who struggles—with depression, personality disorders, eating disorders, anxiety, PTSD, etc.—is a fight. But that doesn’t mean they don’t deserve love.

And Spawn Astarion is not a lost cause. He comes from a background of every kind of abuse imaginable. He’s an asshole because he has to be (and he’s also a fucking vampire!), but then—something changes. Possibilities open up before him. And immediately, he shows he can adapt, that he can learn, that he wants to change.

And when that internal drive is there (that inner force of the individual himself, which makes all the difference in the world), you can’t and shouldn’t ignore it—even in real life.

It’s not about "fixing" someone. It’s about helping them feel better, about helping them achieve their goals (yes, their goals—even when they can’t quite articulate them), about changing in a healthier way, about healing. Because Spawn Astarion wants to live more than anything else. And he wants to do so fully, not as a broken man.

That’s why he approves when Tav/Durge tells him he just needs to find a place for himself, that he can find so many people willing to care for him if only he is willing to care for them. That’s why he approves when Tav/Durge reminds him—despite his fear, despite the intoxicating scent of blood—that maybe, just maybe, ascension isn’t what he truly wants. He approves. There’s no room for misinterpretation here—this is as sincere as it gets.

And in both cases, these situations are directly opposed to his obsession with taking Cazador’s place.

But, going back to the point—thinking that the power of love can magically fix everything is stupid. But we also cannot allow the message to spread that, in real life, a person who struggles due to trauma (and hell, it doesn’t even have to be torture in a dark dungeon—it could be something as "simple" as a profound loss) is incapable of healing or being loved, despite the difficulties. It’s not easy, but there are men and women in this world with immense strength and hearts big enough to do this and more.

If this isn't for you, fine. No one is forcing you. But make room for these heroes instead of spouting nonsense.

Now, fortunately, BG3 is a fantasy game where you can do literally anything, freely, even recklessly, without any real risk. And that’s fine—let’s have fun experimenting, living out our fantasies, being heroes (after all, we’re not actually picking up swords and charging into hordes of pissed-off goblins), becoming ultimate villains, bringing the world to its knees, killing anyone who gets in our way.

But when we bring real life into the discussion to make a point or compare it to the game, let’s do so with a little more thought and tact. Kindness is a virtue, not a flaw.

And to end on a lighter note—hell no, I don’t approve of everything Astarion says or does! I try to understand him, to grasp the many whys behind his actions, but if I had him in front of me, I’d straight-up say, "Oi, what the fuck are you doing?! Asshole!" I’d argue with him, I’d get mad at him—just like I did in my playthroughs.

And for the record, I never had to step off my heroic path to gain his approval. I simply disagreed with him when I felt it was right and treated him kindly when he needed it.

Honestly, earning his approval in this game is the easiest thing in the world—let him drink your blood, trust him (defend him from the other companions’ suspicions), let him decide how to handle his diet (which, honestly, is a fair compromise), tell the devil to go to hell (xP), and do something ridiculously stupid like giving him the necromancy book, interrupting the two ogres having sex, licking a goblin’s boots, and getting whipped a little—voilà! Suddenly, you have Astarion in your arms, and you haven’t even had time to save the druid grove yet.

In my very first playthrough, with my super-good Selûne cleric who was always helping the needy, I was actually trying to romance Shadowheart—when I somehow found myself magically in a relationship with Astarion just because I told him, "I care about you" (the same reason I didn’t let him bite the pervy drow). Lol.

Ok, I'll try not to make any more heavy posts like this. I feel a bit like a broken record, singing the same song over and over—sorry about that. And of course, have a great day, everyone! <3

[sweetlittleneptune]

"You speak French??"

The translations were made by me, as I'm a native French speaker! tho, if you have any issues/questions/see any mistakes, don't be afraid to point them out!

The fact that you never admitted to speaking French to the residents of the mansion was a simple lie of omission. You didn’t think it was that important at first, and then you also noticed how much of an advantage that was. This meant you could spy on some of residents without much trouble at all. Sadly, the charade couldn’t last forever.

NAPOLEON

He had a habit of rambling in French to himself. Random thoughts, most of them unimportant and simple little reminders to do something later. But every once in a while, he would mumble something that caught your attention, and you’d have to hold in your laughter. He had to stop though, once he realized you understood what he was saying and was absolutely humiliated.

It had been a rough day, and the man was frustrated. Between the bickering kids and the eccentric residents, he was practically boiling. That was reason enough to be mumbling insults and such.

“C’est juste des cons. Pas capable de se la fermer, tous inutiles.”

(They’re just idiots. Can’t shut up, useless.)

And it came out before you could even think about it. You just had to.

“Quand même, c'est un peu méchant M. Napoléon. Mais je l’admets… ils sont un peu lourds.”

(Well, that’s a bit rude Mr. Napoleon. But I’ve got to admit… they are a bit annoying)

The look on his face was absolutely priceless. Surprise, confusion, worry, all of it. Napoleon opened his mouth once, then closed it. he reopened it again and closed it once more. Third time’s the charm they say…

“Since when…?”

“Ah, that’s my little secret. Just don’t tell the other, will you?”

Suspicion crossed his face.

“Why?”

“You know, it’s a great advantage to have. Would be a shame to lose it.”

“You’re a devil Nunuche, but a smart one I’ll admit.”

And with a chuckle he left the room

COMTE DE SAINT-GERMAIN

You intended to tell him at first. When he started bringing you to all those dinners, galas, and parties for the aristocrats of the city. You wanted to speak with him and the other attendants. But as soon as they heard the accent in your “bonsoir”, they switched to English, and you rolled with it for some reason. Now it had been months, and you felt it would be weird to start speaking French now.

You were used to being ignored in conversations too. None of it was on purpose and you couldn’t take it personally when Comte was such a popular man to begin with! What you weren’t used to, though, was being disrespected right in your face as if you weren’t there.

The first comment had been something along the lines of “you finally found someone to give you a son!”

Your husband was quick to answer that he had chosen you because you were you. It had nothing to do with kids.

The second almost made you open your mouth. But it was no use. Comte made very sure to let him know he was crossing a limit and ended the conversation there.

“Some people lack manners, it seems. No use wasting more time on this unimportant discussion.”

You simply nodded and followed.

But then you wanted a little treat to eat, and the buffet was on the other side of the room. So, you left Comte for a moment to grab something. Sadly, the same man from earlier was there, chatting away with someone you didn’t know. As soon as he saw you, you knew something unpleasant would happen.

“Elle n’est rien de bien spécial, mais j’imagine qu’elle doit être particulièrement bonne au lit si le Comte de Saint-Germain a décidé qu’elle était bonne à marier. »

(she’s nothing special, but I guess she’s particularly good in bed if the Count of Saint-Germain has decided to make her his wife.)

You pondered for a moment if you should even grace him with an answer. It wouldn’t do any good, you knew that. But if the man had the galls to say it, he surely could listen to your answer, no?

“Monsieur, j’apprécierais sincèrement que vous vous absteniez de m’insulter en ma présence. Et puis, ce sont de riches paroles, venant de l’homme dont la femme est reconnue pour avoir plusieurs amants. Au moins, l’un de nous sait satisfaire son partenaire… "

(Sir, I would appreciate if you could hold back from insulting me in my presence. And this is rich, coming from the man whose wife is known to have several lovers. At least, one of us can satisfy their spouse…)

Red rose to the man’s face.

“Eh bien, je crois que le message est clair! 

(Well, I think the message is clear!)

Comte’s voice made you jump in your place. You hadn’t heard him coming at all! You turned to look at him with shyness in your eyes, a bit worried he would scowl you for your action. But all he did was look at you with pride.

As you left though, he did ask where you learned to speak French.

“A while back, in my world.”

JEAN D'ARC

That night you were staying up late to clean up after one of Leonardo’s raids of the library. It was rotten work for sure, but someone had to do it and Sebastian was finishing up polishing of the silverware. So here you were, going through piles of books left on tables.

Time passed and after a while of not hearing any noise, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to sit down and read for a few minutes. There was a book that had caught your attention while cleaning up. It was a little book of French fables. Some of which you remembered reading back in school when you were young. Slowly, the stories caught your attention for good and the world around you faded.

That’s when Jean entered the room, in the hopes of finding some peace and some books to help him learn to write and read. Still hooked on your little island of nostalgia, you didn’t hear him at all. And him, not wanting to bother you, stayed in his little corner of the library.

An hour must have passed before your eyes left the pages of the book. But when you did, you were surprised to find you weren’t alone anymore. And you felt a bit cheap about being caught slacking on your job.

“I didn’t hear you come in, Jean. What are you doing here?”

“I’m trying to read this book. But it’s hard, I don’t understand much…”

The poor man was trying to read “Les Misérables”, of course he was having a hard time understanding what all those fancy words meant! You held your chuckle in and handed him your fable book.

“You might find this one easier to read. You picked a rather daunting book to try to learn.”

“Oh but… you know I speak French mademoiselle. Your book-” You smiled.

“Take a look at the cover. What does it say?”

It took him a minute to decipher the sounds and the words, but he managed to read the title out:

“Les fables de La Fontaine.” Jean paused. “It’s in French…”

“Yes, it is.”

“You can read French?” there was curiosity in his eyes.

“Oui, mais pas que. Je le parle aussi.”

(Yes, but that’s not all. I can speak it too.)

“Je ne savais pas. Vous ne l’avez jamais dit.”

(I didn’t know. You never told us)

“It’s my little secret,” you answered with a smirk. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should finish cleaning Leo’s mess.”

“Merci.”

“Bienvenue!”

[okwonyo]

hi everyone ! so i guess many if you has seen @cupidhoons post about what i said to her. since you all heard her version of the story, here is mine.

a few days ago, liz made a post inspired by a lana del rey song— a woman who is funding the genocide and asked the president to keep going.

as you can see on the picture, an anon did tell her about it and she had the audacity to first, not even apologize, but second call out the “separate art from artist card” which is not valid at all. not in this kind of situation, especially when we are talking about the killing of many children, women and men.

you can see that right from the start, she made it about anyone but herself. claiming that other bloggers did the same. starting to blame everyone else but herself.

i went to her dms and talked to her about it— as you saw in her posts. here is what i say (which i stand for) and what she responded. then kaia @pshbites (who had nothing to do with this) came along.

(you can search ariana palestine to see what she has done for the people, it takes 2 seconds)

i never once in my messages told them “kaia, liz, you guys are ZIONISTS” no. i just told a truth that giving money to people who support isreal is funding the genocide— because what do you think they do with this money?

now, if i did call them a zionist anywhere, then i apologize. i admit that it’s quite a strong word to use. but i won’t take back anything that i said, wether it hurts your feelings or not.

all i did was to go in liz’s dms and explain to her why i was going to block her. and instead of apologizing for doing something wrong, she is making herself the victim in this situation because “i called her a zionist” when this isn’t what she should care about.

she should care about how she is promoting a zionist artist and wonder why it is bad to separate the art from artist, not only in this situation but in any kind of way.

she can use the excuse that she has a muslim friend, “i’m not racist ! my neighbor is a black woman !” using religion to defend yourself isn’t right, it doesn’t make sense, there are not only muslims in palestine. this isn’t a genocide because of religion, it’s a genocide because of the people. there are chirstians in palestine as well— and most of you not knowing this says a lot about the people that you are.

now, you can make this entire situation about me being the problem. you can say “oh but jiah called someone a zionist, so problematic!” and turn around to support people who showed support to a zionist and didn’t stop AFTER knowing the truth.

this situation isn’t about me allegedly calling liz a zionist, this situation is so much bigger than this and it’s just sad that it got reduced to this kind of drama. this situation is about how some people will reblog links and do post about palestine while still listening to artists that are publicly zionist. they will turn around and drink cocacola, they will go and eat mcdonald.

you can reblog as many posts as you want, but if don’t do the boycott RIGHT you are doing nothing. i know what i’m talking about, i had to stop listening to my favorite kpop group because of this and here is a proof of me acknowledging and learning from my mistakes :

which is why i don’t understand why liz can’t simply do the same without making a whole post about it. you can say that i was harsher with her than rei (@soov) was with me. but i wasn’t promoting jennie on my blog and claiming that it’s okay to give zionists money if we are separating the art from the artist.

so it’s all that i have to say.