#if you see this without seeing the post I made the other day

[sceletaflores]

well, all right i’m bad, but then you’re no prize either…

pair: joel miller x fem!reader

wc: 8.6k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, no ellie, general violence (only referenced), age gap (56/26), swearing, so many spacers lmao, not quite friends to lovers and not quite enemies to lovers but a weird other thing, kinda mean!joel for a good sec, dressing wounds, joel miller TUMMY, loss of virginity (reader is a virgin but she's not completely oblivious and weirdly infantile about it lmao), fingering (fem!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex whoops, size kink, belly bulging, pussy pronouns, porn with a tiny plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: well, i finally caved y’all. baby’s first tlou fic! this literally took me forever to write and even longer to post cause i was so terrified LMAO so please give me some grace if it’s shit and he’s ooc and timelines are a little fuzzy cause i barely know what i’m doing. thank you chickens love you mwah mwah mwah. kisses!

dividers by lovely @saradika-graphics!

joel found a lodge house…

You don’t know what you did to make Joel Miller hate you so much.

He's never outright said it, but you know it’s there—in every sharp glance, every clipped word, every deliberate avoidance.

Besides, his silence is worse than anything he could say. A quiet condemnation that settles in your chest like stone.

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter, that you don’t care what he thinks, but the truth is harder to swallow.

You do care—more than you want to admit. His approval, his respect, hell, even a sliver of kindness from him feels like an impossible prize you’ll never win.

And you hate yourself for wanting it. For needing it.

It's not just the weight of his disdain that eats at you, it's the not knowing why. God, do you wish you could ask him why.

What did you do to make him look at you like you’re some necessary evil he has to tolerate. Why does he hold some unspoken grudge that's manifested itself into something you couldn't dream of ever comprehending.

But the thought of confronting Joel feels like standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down into a void that might swallow you whole.

So instead, you do what you've always done. You keep your distance, try to match his indifference with your own, and tell yourself it’s better this way.

You were young when the outbreak hit, six years old.

You’re sure that’s part of it. That that’s how Joel sees you, as some bumbling, naive child who’s more of a hassle than anything else.

Another mouth to feed, another back to watch, baggage.

You've been with him for almost seven months now, traveling side by side when you may have well been miles apart. Trekking through abandoned cities, overgrown highways, and every godforsaken patch of wilderness in between.

In the beginning, you did everything you could to prove him wrong.

You pushed yourself past your limits, hunted, scavenged, fought, kept up. You did everything that needed to be done without hesitation.

All to show that you were more than what he made you out to be. It never seemed to matter much.

After you lost your parents in the early days of the outbreak, it was just you and your sister. She taught you everything you know, taught you how to survive.

It's because of her that you know how to shoot a rifle, how to skin a rabbit, how to start a fire with nothing but sticks and dried moss, how to snap bones and locate which vital arteries bleed out the quickest.

It's because of her that you've been able to hone some sick skill in the maiming of clickers.

A skill you never thought you'd need to use on her.

You were supposed to be safe in the QZ. You weren't supposed to be fifteen years old, aiming a gun at the one person you had left.

Your own flesh and blood wasn't supposed to be the very first in a long list of red tallies under your belt.

It’s been years and you’ve still never forgotten that day. December 19th, 2012, the date burned into your brain like someone took a branding iron to the tissue.

You can’t count the amount of times you’ve been ripped from your sleep drenched in a cold sweat with the tail end of a scream tearing at the skin of your throat.

The image of what was left of your sister, slumped on the ground lifeless as her blood painted the wall behind her flashing behind your closed eyelids. The sound of her last labored breath ringing in your ears louder than any shotgun blast.

You ran that same night, with the weight of her death on your shoulders.

Your entire world spinning out around you as you clawed through barbed wire fencing, not caring where you were going or what would happen to you—just needing to escape.

There was nothing left for you to do after that but survive. And that’s what you did, for years, scraping by in a world that had already chewed you up and spit you out a mangled mess.

You learned how to be ruthless because of it.

How to harden yourself against the loss, the pain, the brutality. But there were cracks, too. Cracks you hid well, buried deep beneath layers of stubbornness and distance.

The endless days blurred into each other. Empty houses, hollow streets. A life reduced to scavenging, hiding, and the occasional, fleeting moment of human connection that inevitably ended in loss. 

And then you found yourself with Joel.

You hadn’t exactly found him, though. More like crashed into his orbit by accident.

A few desperate days spent scavenging through the ruins of a small town, a chance encounter that left you both wary and unwilling to turn your backs.

But, inexplicably, you somehow became part of his traveling routine.

He wasn’t like any of the others you’d met before. At first, you thought he might be different. A man who seemed broken, but different nonetheless.

As the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, you began to see the truth. Joel Miller wasn’t concerned with you. He didn’t need you. And, more than that, he didn’t want you around. 

You didn’t know what to do with that.

It’s a bitter kind of irony. You’ve survived all this time completely on your own, fought tooth and nail to stay alive, but with him, you might just crumble.

Joel found a lodge house. It's a small, weathered place tucked away in the dense trees of the wood surrounding it.

He only deemed it suitable after an extensive perimeter check and a thorough sweep of the interior.

It's not much—just another run-down place in the middle of nowhere—but for the first time in what feels like forever, it’s a roof over your head for the night.

The walls are sturdy, though the windows are cracked and half of the floorboards creak like they're about to give out at any moment.

You explored the second floor alone, creeping through the desolate rooms and taking in all that was left behind.

Old family photographs covered in thick layers of dust, worn clothes riddled with holes still hung in the few closets you stumble across.

The oddest of all was an old jewelry box tucked away in a dresser draw, tarnished silver dull and muddy.

The sound of familiar footsteps comes from somewhere behind you. The door creaks open slowly.

Joel. Of course.

He clears his throat, the sound abrasive in the quiet of the house.  

“Fire’s low,” he says, voice rough from its lack of use today.

You don’t turn around, not yet. You take the box in your gloved hand, running your fingers across the intricate design of the lid, touch trailing over winding vines and small roses.

“Okay,” you mutter, your voice coming out quieter than you intended. “I’ll grab some more wood later.”

Another beat of silence. Then, “It’s gettin’ cold out, I’ll go.”

Your fingers pause their ministrations, moving to flip the lid open. Empty.

“Suit yourself,” you reply after a moment, your tone just as neutral as his.

Joel doesn’t leave right away. You hear the floorboards groan beneath his weight, his presence lingering in the doorway. 

You wonder what he’s waiting for, or if he’s waiting at all.

Finally, he speaks. “Don’t touch anything.”

With that he turns and leaves the room, you wait until you can’t hear his footsteps trailing down the stairs anymore to let out the scoff festering in your chest.

You snap the jewelry lid shut with a little more force than necessary. “Asshole.”

Joel's been gone for a while now. Longer than it takes to chop a few logs for firewood.

You came down from the upstairs a few minutes after hearing the tell-tale sound of the heavy door opening and closing. The main room is quiet, save for the soft crackle of the dwindling fire.

You're perched on an old armchair near the entrance, peering out the dirty window that has the best view of the treeline as you nervously pick the skin around your nails.

You tell yourself not to worry. He’s probably fine, he’s been doing this a lot longer than you. And if Joel is anything, it’s annoyingly competent.

Still, a nagging doubt itches at the back of your mind. It's been at least half an hour, maybe more.

You’re just about to grab your own pack and go looking for him when the front door creaks open.

Joel stumbles inside, the frigid evening air rushing in behind him before he slams the door shut. At first glance, he looks fine—no more haggard than usual. 

But then you notice the way he favors his left side, the way his free hand is pressed against his ribs, blood seeping through his fingers and staining his torn undershirt.

You’re on your feet in an instant.

“Fuck,” you say, voice sharper than you expected. “What the hell happened?”

“Raiders.” Is the only explanation you get as he tries to brush past you like it’s nothing. The stiff way he moves and the tightens of his jaw betray him. “S’just a scratch.”

“Bullshit,” you snap, stepping in front of him and blocking his path to the fire. “Sit. Now.”

He gives you a look, one of those deep, withering glares you’ve seen him use to intimidate countless others into submission. But you stand your ground, chin raised and jaw set–defiant. 

His stubbornness finally meeting its match in your own. 

Finally, with a low growl of frustration, he drops onto the couch. “Happy now?”

"Not until you let me take care of that." You motion toward his side, where the blood is still spreading.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, lolling his head back to rest more heavily on the couch.

“Sure you are,” you snap, crossing the room to rifle through your bag. “And I’m the fucking Queen of England.”

"Said I’m fine," he bites through gritted teeth, but you’re already moving, heading back to him with the first aid kit from your pack.

"You want to bleed out on this ugly-ass couch? Be my guest," you shoot back, dropping to your knees in front of him. "Otherwise, shut up and let me help."

Joel surprisingly doesn’t argue any further, just sighs heavily and reluctantly sinks further into the couch cushions.

You push the front of his jacket open to slide it off his shoulders as gently as you can, peeling back the layer of his flannel next.

The smell of blood hits you immediately.

The gash is about five inches long, trailing the span of his ribcage. It’s deep—but not fatal—just an angry red and oozing blood.

Definitely not the simple 'scratch' he made it out to be.

Your stomach churns at the sight, but you push it down. No time for that.

“Jesus, Joel,” you mutter under your breath, reaching for the alcohol in your kit. “You really know how to underplay a situation, huh?”

He doesn’t respond, just watches you with those dark, calculating eyes of his. Always watching, always assessing.

It’s unnerving, but you focus on the task at hand, grabbing a clean cloth and soaking it with alcohol.

“This is gonna hurt,” you warn, though there’s a part of you that doesn’t mind the idea of causing him a little discomfort.

A petty, vindictive part that still stings from all the scorn he’s thrown your way.

“Just get it over with,” Joel grits out, his voice low and gravelly.

You don’t give him any more warnings as you wipe the soaked cloth over the wound. He flinches, a harsh curse slipping through clenched teeth, but he doesn’t pull away.

You work as quickly as you can, wiping away the blood and dirt with steady hands, your movements as gentle as possible given the situation.

You let out an annoyed huff when the torn fabric of his shirt gets in the way of your hands for a second time.

You lean back on your heels, glancing up at Joel. “You need to take your shirt off.”

Joel raises a brow at you, his lips pressing into a thin line. “That really necessary?”

“Yes, it’s necessary, Joel,” you huff, already losing patience. “Unless you want me to sit here and cut around every thread of this ratty thing while you bleed out, then by all means—”

He sighs heavily, cutting you off as he shifts forward and grabs the hem of his shirt. He tugs at the fabric, grunting in pain each time it strains his ribs.

You roll your eyes at how slow he’s moving, and your patience—already worn thin by the day's events—snaps.

“Jesus Christ, let me help,” you huff, reaching forward and grabbing the fabric.

Joel jerks back slightly, his hand shooting up to stop yours mid-motion. “I got it,” he growls, a sharp edge in his voice.

You glare at him, your hand still caught in his grip. His palm is calloused, his hold firm enough to make your pulse jump unexpectedly. 

For a moment, the two of you just sit there, locked in a silent standoff.

Then he releases your hand and pulls the shirt over his head himself, wincing as the movement pulls at his side.

You wait with your arms crossed, trying to ignore the awkward flutter of nerves in your stomach as the fabric peels away to reveal his chest.

Joel’s broad, solid frame isn’t new to you. You’ve seen him shirtless before—brief glimpses when bathing in rivers or changing in run down houses between stops.

But this time feels different, more intimate somehow.

You’re staring, and you know it.

The firelight cast shadows over his skin, illuminating old scars, faint lines of muscle, the barely there jut of his stomach over the hem of his jeans.

You had been getting more game kills recently, two hunters are always better than one.

Joel clears his throat, dragging your focus back to the present. “You gonna gawk all night, or can we move this along?”

You snap out of it, scowling to cover your embarrassment. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

You finish cleaning the gash and grab the small needle and thread lying next to you.

“This’ll hurt worse than the alcohol,” you say, threading the needle easily.

Joel snorts, a rare sound. “Figures.”

The needle pierces his skin, and this time, you catch the smallest hitch in his breath. He doesn’t make a sound, but his jaw tightens, the veins in his neck standing out like cords.

His hands grip the edge of the couch hard enough that his knuckles turn white with it, but he doesn’t tell you to stop or slow down.

He’s too damn proud for that.

You shift closer, your knee brushing against his leg as you position yourself to work from a better angle. You feel his eyes on you, that intense, scrutinizing stare that makes your skin prickle.

“You’ve done this before,” Joel says after a moment, his tone less sharp than before. It’s not quite a question, more of an observation.

You shrug, keeping your hands steady. “Of course I have.”

“Who taught you?”

The question catches you off guard, Joel’s never shown much interest in what your life was before you met him. You glance up briefly, catching his gaze. There’s no malice there, no judgment—just curiosity.

You swallow hard, dragging your eyes back to stitches, half way done now. “My sister.”

You don’t elaborate and Joel doesn’t push.

Maybe it’s the sudden tightness in your tone or the look you know must be clouding your face that keeps him quiet.

You finish off the stitching, tearing the thin strand of thread with your hands before you’re leaning away again.

“Good as new,” you say, dabbing some more alcohol on your own hands to disinfect. “Try not to tear these open anytime soon.”

Joel leans back, strong arms spread across the back of the couch, his face unreadable as he peers down at the fresh stitching on his side. 

“Could’ve done it myself,” he mutters, but the edge in his voice is gone, replaced with something softer, almost resigned. 

You roll your eyes with a scoff, not even trying to hide your irritation as you rise from the floor. “Sure you could’ve, right before you passed out. You’re welcome by the way.”

You gather your supplies and turn to head back to your bag, but Joel’s voice stops you in your tracks.

“You’re always like this, y’know,” he says, and the words carry that same gravelly drawl, but there’s something new there—something heavier.

You pause, your hands tightening around the kit in your grasp. “Like what?”

“Pushy. Stubborn,” he replies, his tone cutting, though it lacks the usual venom. “Like you’ve got somethin’ to prove all the damn time.”

You whip around, your patience officially gone. “You think I’m stubborn?” you shoot back, your voice rising. “Coming from the guy who would rather bleed out on a fucking couch than admit he needs help?”

Joel’s jaw tightens, and his hands flex against the couch cushions, but you don’t stop. Not now. Not after months of this.

“I’ve been busting my ass since day one to prove that I’m not dead weight to you. I’ve fought for us, for you. And for what? Just to get more of your bullshit attitude?”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about,” Joel snaps, pushing himself upright despite the obvious strain it puts on his freshly stitched wound. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me.”

“Because you won’t let me!” you fire back, stepping closer, your voice rising. “All you do is look at me like I’m some burden you can’t wait to get rid of.”

Joel’s glare sharpens, his lips parting as if to respond, but you cut him off.

You really can’t stop yourself now that you started, all the anger and frustration reaching a fever pitch hot enough to burst the tight lid you’ve kept on your emotions.

“If I’m such a hassle, why didn’t you just leave me back there, huh? Why didn’t you just walk away like I know you wanted to?”

Joel’s breathing is heavier now,  his broad chest rising and falling as his dark eyes bore into yours.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Then, he stands, and the sheer size of him forces you to tilt your chin up slightly to keep your glare fixed on his face.

“You think I wanted this, kid?” he growls, his voice low and strained, like he’s barely holding himself together. “You think I wanted to be responsible for someone else? To have someone else’s fuckin’ life on me?”

“Don’t call me kid,” you spit, shoving a finger into his chest, ignoring the way his jaw ticks at the contact. “I’m not a fucking kid.”

He scoffs, casting his eyes to the ceiling disbelievingly. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Fuck you, Joel,” you growl, fists clenching at your side. “If you hate me that much, why the hell are you still here? Why didn’t you tell me to fuck off the second you met me?”

“Because I couldn’t!” Joel snaps, booming voice filling the small space.

The confession slips out like it pains him. His fists clench at his sides, and for a moment, he looks like he might break something.

You’ve never been scared of Joel, even though you’ve seen first hand just how scary he can be.

Now, as he looms in front of you, eyes blazing and jaw working furiously beneath his skin, it’s the closest to scared you’ve felt.

“I’ve seen you out there,” he continues, tone low and dark. “You’ve got a fuckin’ death wish. You’re too damn stubborn to just stop, and I’m not gonna let you go so you can run off and get yourself fuckin’ killed.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, his words hitting far too close to home.

“I’m just trying to survive, Joel,” you snap, your voice shaking. “That’s what we do, isn’t it? Survive.”

“Survive,” Joel repeats bitterly, his gaze burning into yours. “That what you call it? Throwin’ yourself into every goddamn fight, gettin’ stabbed and shot right fuckin’ in front of me and expecting me to brush that shit off?”

You let out a humorless laugh, nodding your head exasperatedly. “Yes, yes I do expect you to just brush it off, because that’s what you always do.” 

“Well I can’t,” he grates out, taking a step closer. “I can’t ‘cause despite whatever it is that you may think about me, I don’t hate you. I care about you too damn much and that's my goddamn problem.”

That shuts you up, your mouth snapping closed with a sharp click of your teeth as you stare at him, shocked.

Joel holds your gaze, lips pressed into a thin line. “That what you wanted to hear?”

It’s in that moment that the fire finally fizzles out, the dull hiss of it the only sound left in the room.

You’re quiet for a beat, stunned into silence. The heat of his anger, his frustration, it radiates off him, and you realize suddenly that this isn’t just about you. 

It never was.

“Then show me,” you challenge softly, your heart pounding in your chest. “Show me that you don’t hate me.”

Joel’s eyes darken, his head cocking to the side as he searches your face for a sign. You don’t say anything, you only square your shoulders and raise your chin, your eyes just as hard as his own.

“I want you to prove it.”

The tension snaps like a rubber band stretched too far. 

You shouldn’t—this shouldn’t—happen. Not like this. Not after everything that’s been said.

But when Joel’s lips crash against yours, hot and desperate and urgent, it makes everything blur into nothing. 

It’s not gentle, not soft—this is anger and longing and frustration all wrapped into one. It’s messy, frantic, like a fight that’s been brewing for too long.

He grips your arm, pulling you closer, almost too roughly, but it feels like it’s everything you’ve both been avoiding.

His other hand moves to cup the back of your neck, grounding you as his lips press harder against yours, like he��s trying to pour everything he can’t say into this single moment.

You respond just as fiercely, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders as you kiss him back with all the pent-up emotion that’s been simmering beneath the surface.

The coarse hair of his beard scrapes against the skin of your chin deliciously, the scent of blood and firewood filling your senses as his arm wraps around your waist, dragging you impossibly closer.

Close enough that you can feel the wild beat of his heart booming against your chest.

You pull away for a second, breathless, both of you looking at each other, your eyes wide and pupils blown.

“Goddamn it,” Joel mutters, his voice thick with frustration and something else you can’t place. He presses his forehead to yours, the deep brown of his eyes dark than before. “What the hell are we doing?”

You don’t have an answer. You’re not sure if you even want one.

You reach for him again, arms looping around his neck to drag his mouth back to yours.

This kiss is nothing like the first, it isn’t a clash of frustration–it’s filthier, rawer. A near feral thing, all teeth and tongue, a surge of hunger and need that borders on violence. 

Joel groans into your mouth, a low, guttural sound that sends a shiver racing down your spine. His teeth catch your bottom lip, pulling just hard enough to make you gasp.

He takes advantage of the sound, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to slide against yours with wet, messy desperation, like he’s trying to claim every inch of you.

The taste of him—salt and iron and something distinctly Joel—makes your head spin. 

Your fingers knot into the chocolaty curls at the nape of his neck, surprisingly soft to the touch. His own hands roam the soft curves of your body, rough and insistent, like he can’t decide where he wants to touch you most.

“Joel—” His name spills from your lips like a plea, and he answers with a deep, guttural noise that sends heat pooling low in your belly. His tongue follows the path of his teeth, soothing the bites with lazy, deliberate strokes that make your knees weak.

You’re moving before you even realize it. Joel dragging you across the room and down onto the couch with him, using the strength he’s built up after all these years to manhandle you until your thighs are spread wide on either side of his lap.

“Joel,” you gasp again, rearing back enough to break the kiss. “Your stitches–”

He cuts you off with a sharp nip to the sensitive spot behind your ear, tearing a high whine from your throat. “Can hardly feel ‘em.”

You make a displeased sound, but it’s undermined by the way you tilt your head to give his wandering lips more room. His hands find a home on your hips, one slipping beneath your shirt to press against the soft skin of your stomach. 

His fingers splay wide across your skin, his palm callused and rough. His pinky just barely brushes the underside of your breast, and you’re suddenly rearing back. 

“Wait,” you say, your voice barely a whisper.

Joel’s hands immediately loosen their grip on your hips, his brows knitting together in concern. “You okay?”

You nod quickly, your heart pounding in your chest. “I just...I need to tell you something.”

His jaw tightens slightly, but he stays quiet, waiting for you to speak.

You take a beat, chewing at the skin of your bottom lip nervously.

“I’ve never...” You pause, swallowing hard as your cheeks heat up. “I’ve never done this before. I mean, I’ve never been with anyone like this.”

Joel pulls back slightly, his expression unreadable as he processes your words. For a moment, you think he might pull away completely, but then he exhales a long, slow breath.

“Christ,” he mutters, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You’re tellin’ me this now?”

“I didn’t exactly plan for this to happen,” you snap back, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “It’s not like I had the luxury of a high school sweetheart to pop my cherry out here.”

Joel’s gaze softens at your tone, and he reaches out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Hey, hey, I didn’t mean it like that.”

You glance away, suddenly feeling self-conscious under the weight of his stare. “I just...I wanted you to know. But I want this, Joel. I want you.”

His thumb stills against your cheek, and he swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing as he considers your words.

“I don’t...” He pauses, the most hesitant you’ve ever heard him. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

It’s the most vulnerable he’s been around you, round eyes shining with something so raw and so earnest it makes your heart ache in your chest. 

“You won’t,” you insist, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach. “I trust you.”

Joel’s jaw clenches, and for a moment, he looks like he’s going to argue. But then he nods, his shoulders relaxing as he cups the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your foreheads touch again.

“At least let me do this right,” he murmurs, his voice so soft you almost don’t hear it. “Not here. Not on some goddamn couch.”

You blink up at him, surprised by the tenderness in his tone. “What?”

“Upstairs,” he says, his thumb tracing lazy circles against the side of your neck. “There’s a bed up there. It ain’t much, but it’s better than this.”

You can’t do anything but nod, your pulse racing beneath your skin fast enough to combat the cold night air seeping through the walls.

“Okay,” you say softly, voice barely above a whisper. “Upstairs.”

Joel stands, gently pulling you to feet and taking your hand in his. He leads you upstairs, each step feeling heavier with anticipation. The small bedroom is dimly lit, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through a broken blind. 

The bed isn’t much—an old mattress on a worn frame, covered with a patched-up blanket—but it doesn’t matter.

Joel shuts the door behind you, the sound of the latch clicking into place sending a shiver down your spine.

“Last chance,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “You say the word, and we stop. No questions asked.”

Your throat tightens at the sincerity in his tone, the way he’s giving you an out even though you can see the strain in every line of his body, the way his hands flex at his sides like he wants nothing more than to reach out and touch you.

But you don’t hesitate.

You step closer, placing your hands on his bare chest. You bite back a smile at the goosebumps that break out all along his skin at your touch. 

“Jesus, Miller,” you mumble teasingly, nails lightly scratching through the salt and pepper hair scattered along his chest. “How long are you gonna drag this out before you get it through your thick skull that I want to fuck you?”

"Christ." Joel huffs, shaking his head as the corners of his lips turn up in a small grin. “Like I fuckin’ said,” he starts, big hands kneading the meat of your hips. “Pushy.”

Joel walks you backward until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you fall onto it with a soft gasp.

He follows you immediately, crawling over you, his body covering yours, his weight a comforting pressure. “I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours. “I’ll make it good for you, I swear.”

His fingers are everywhere, unbuttoning your shirt with a practiced ease that has your pulse racing. His lips follow the path of his hands, each touch a branding mark, each kiss leaving you wanting more.

“Pretty girl,” he mutters softly, pressing a kiss right between the valley of your breasts.

You feel his cock stirring against your stomach, and it makes the ache between your legs flare to life, the weight of it, the hardness of it, driving you crazy with need. 

You want him so badly you can barely think straight, but when his lips graze over your collarbone, you can’t stop the quiet whine that escapes your throat.

Joel growls in response, a sound that resonates deep in his chest, and you know then that he’s as far gone as you are. His hands slide down to the waistband of your pants, tugging them down your legs with urgency. 

As your skin is exposed to the cool air, you can feel the heat of his gaze on you, like he’s memorizing every inch of you.

“You’re fuckin' perfect,” he mutters, his voice thick with desire.

Joel's hands find your thighs, parting them with a deliberate slowness that makes your breath catch in your throat. He positions himself between your legs, his body weight pressing you into the mattress, his chest rising and falling with the same frantic rhythm as yours. 

The anticipation is almost unbearable as his fingers trace the line of your panties, the fabric damp with want.

“Jesus, she’s drippin’ for me already,” he mutters, voice rough, as he slides the material to the side, his thumb brushing over the sensitive swell of your clit.

Your body jerks at the contact, a desperate sound escaping your lips, but Joel doesn’t relent.

“You touch yourself down here, baby?” he asks, working tortuously slow circles over your clit.

"Please," you beg, your hands grasping at the sheets, pulling at them as if they can anchor you to the moment.

He looks up at you, his gaze dark and filled with an intensity that makes your stomach tighten. “Asked you a question, honey.”

You whine, high and loud in your throat as your thighs clench desperately around his wrist. “Yes, I touch myself.”

Joel’s lips curl into a satisfied grin, sliding his thick index finger through the messy wetness to slip inside your clenching hole, making you gasp. Your hands grasp at the sheets, pulling at them as if they can anchor you to the moment.

“Good girl,” he breathes, eyes darkening at the broken moan that bursts from your lips. “When’s the last time you touched yourself?”

Your brain feels hazy as you search for the answer, pleasure clouding your mind slow and sweet as molasses. “A–a few nights ago.”

Joel hums idly, slipping a second finger alongside the first. The stretch has you whining, his fingers a lot more to take than your own.

Your hands come up to claw at his shoulders, relishing in the way his broad muscle ripples and shifts beneath your greedy palms.

“Joel,” you whine, hips canting down against his hand impatiently.

He just shushes you softly, free hand brushing soothing circles along the skin of your inner thigh. “I know, honey,” he mutters, the pace fingers speeding up. “But I gotta get her nice and ready if you wanna take my cock.”

The gush of your pussy around his fingers is loud in the stillness of the room, a filthy wet noise that burns your ears each time he plunges them into your aching hole.

“I am ready.” Your breath hitches as your body begins to tremble beneath him. “Please, Joel—fuck—please, I need—”

“Need what?” His voice is thick with dark amusement, but there's a hunger in his eyes that has your stomach twisting. “Tell me, baby. What do you need?”

“I need you,” you rasp, your nails digging little crescent moons into his skin, your body pleading for release. “I need you inside me.”

Your hands grab at his hair, pulling him back up to meet your lips in a feverish kiss. 

The pressure of his body on yours, the way his hard cock grinds against your trembling thigh, drives you to the brink of madness. 

Your hands trail down his chest, past the waistband of his jeans, finally reaching the bulge straining against the fabric.

Joel groans when you rub him through his pants, feeling his cock twitch in response. He pulls back, breathing heavily, his lips curling into a smirk. 

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice thick with lust. “You want my cock in this pretty pussy? Want me to show you how good it feels to be fucked?”

“God, yes,” you answer, desperation lacing your tone as your hand moves to unbuckle his jeans. “Want it so bad.”

He lets you push his pants down just enough to free his cock, and you gasp, your eyes drawn to the way his length stands, thick and hard, just waiting for you. The tip flushed an angry red, drooling pre-come onto the scratchy sheets.

Joel pulls his fingers from you, using his hands spreading your legs wider, positioning himself between them with such careful precision that you can barely stand it.

The head of his cock drags through the mess between your legs, slipping all the way down till it catches on your soaked entrance.

Joel pauses, looking down at you, waiting for your signal, but the only answer you give is a pleading whimper, your hands pulling at his shoulders, urging him to move.

His mouth captures yours once again as he slowly slides into you, the stretch of his cock filling you steadily, making you gasp into his mouth. 

The slow burn of him carving a place for himself inside of you is almost too much, your body trembling as you adjust to the feeling of him.

“Fuck, baby,” Joel mutters against your lips. “You’re so tight, so fuckin’ perfect for me.”

As he sinks deeper into you, his thick cock finally buried to the hilt inside of you, the feeling is overwhelming. You gasp, nails digging into his back as the pain slowly shifts into pleasure.

Joel groans into your mouth, his hands moving to your hips, guiding you as he rocks gently against you. 

The rhythm is slow at first, deliberate, as if he's savoring every inch of you. Your body quivers beneath him, every inch of your skin tingling with sensation. You clutch at him, your legs tightening around his waist, needing more, wanting more.

"That's it," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Take it, baby."

You screw your eyes shut tightly, trying to steady yourself as he thrusts deeper, harder. The angle shifts just enough to make your breath catch in your throat. 

Every stroke feels like it’s hitting the deepest part of you, sparking heat in places you never knew could burn so hot.

"Fuck," you gasp, the sensation too overwhelming, too much in the best way. "Joel... please..."

"Please what, sweetheart?" He pulls back slightly, teasing you with a slow roll of his hips before driving back in with a grunt.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, urging him to move faster, harder. "Don’t stop," you breathe, your voice trembling. "I need you to fuck me, Joel. Faster. Harder. Please."

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as Joel finally picks up the pace, each thrust harder and deeper than the last.

Your back arches off the bed, chest pressing flush to his as your body coils tighter and tighter, already so close to the edge.

Joel reaches up to take your wrist in his, dragging your hand down to press flat against your lower stomach.

“Feel that?” he asks breathlessly, the speed of his hips knocking the dingy bed frame into the wall with every thrust. “You feel how deep I am?”

His own hand blankets yours, pushing down so you can feel the way his cock punches up against your palm on the next thrust.

Your pussy clenches desperately around him at the feeling, your slick lips dropping open on a loud moan.

You can barely hold on. The heat in your stomach tightens, coiling painfully as your free hand scrambles to find purchase on his skin. "I can't—I'm gonna—"

He grits his teeth, his jaw clenched as he drives deeper, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "Come for me, baby," he growls, his voice dark and commanding. "Let me feel it."

With a strangled cry, you finally release, your body clenching around him, every nerve igniting in a white-hot explosion of pleasure. 

You’re lost in it, your world spinning, your senses overwhelmed by the sensation of Joel’s body pounding into yours, the way his cock brushes against that sweet spot behind your clit enough to make sparks go off behind your eyelids.

Joel pulls out of your velvety warmth, hand coming up to fist his dripping length until he’s bowing over you tightly and coming with a deep groan of your name.

His release paints your stomach with milky strands of white, rope after rope of warm come claiming you in a way no one has before.

He finally collapses against you with one last shuddering breath, both of you breathing heavily, your chests rising and falling together in the quiet aftermath.

For a few moments, neither of you speaks, the only sounds are the soft creak of the bed and the quiet hum of your racing hearts. 

Joel rests his head against your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin, and you can feel the tension begin to slip away, the weight of everything that’s happened between you both settling into something new—something different, but still there.

Your hand slips down the sweaty expanse of your stomach, your fingers swiping through the sticky mess of his release curiously.

“Christ, quit that,” Joel groans, tearing his eyes away from the sight to press his forehead against your shoulder.

“Why?” you hum, brow raised in amusement as you drop your hand back to the mattress. “Can you even get it up again?”

Joel pinches your side hard enough to make you squeal, your body flinching away from him as a surprised laugh bubbles from your chest.

“Watch it,” he warns, though there’s no bite to his tone. You only laugh in response.

The two of you settle into a comfortable silence, wrapped in each other as crickets chirp from outside the window.

Then Joel clears his throat, fingers idly tracing different shapes on the skin of your hip as he gathers the courage to speak.

A circle, a square, a diamond, a circle, a heart, a heart, a heart.

“I’m…” he starts, trailing off softly. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a real fuckin’ prick, and you didn’t deserve it. You never did.”

You turn your own gaze to his chest, hand coming up so you can trail your fingers along the jagged scar decorating his shoulder. Your touch featherlight over the rough patch of skin.

All the anger seeps from your body, a heavy weight gone until you feel so light you could float off the mattress and into the cold night air.

“It’s okay,” you whisper softly, so soft you think it gets lost in the quiet darkness of the room. “I understand now.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you both just lay there, tangled in each other, not worrying about the world outside, about the chaos that waits. 

Just you, him, and the soft glow of moonlight.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini nat's note: should i add joel to my taglist...i do kinda want to write more for him in the future but i'm not sure yet...lmk chickens <3 bee tee dubs sorry the ending absolutely sucks i could not for the life of me figure out how to end this LMAO

[jjunieworld]

BODY ELECTRIC ˒˒ 투바투

❝ 𝗶 𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝗲𝗹𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗰, 𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆 𓈓 𝗍𝗑𝗍 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌!

p ‎⸝⸝⸝ 투바투 𝑥 fem!reader ꔛ g ‎⸝⸝⸝ headcannons, video links, smut, established relationship ── dom!txt, sub!reader, mostly unprotected sex, oil / lube, various kinks (breeding & daddy kink hehe), creampies, housewife!reader / traditional gender roles, food play?, some mean & hard dom elements because i truly can’t help myself, some roleplay, probably others than i’m missing ╱ ❨ 𝓶.list ❩

✉️ ⦂ never posted twt links before but this was kinda fun lmao ^^ i might post more sometime soon. like maybe an enha (hyung line) one?? hmm… not completely sure. anyways, i hope you enjoy!!

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏ ͏  ︵͡   𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (⌒‿⌒)♡

𓍼 ˋ✮ YEONJUN

ʬʬʬ — him fucking you so good that your cum just spills out of you. would angle you in a way that didn’t let any escape until he’s done with you and filled you up completely. he would start fucking you again just at the sight of how messy he made you, shushing you and telling you how your spent pussy could take another round. 100% has a breeding kink.

ʬʬʬ — hates your bad attitude and how he constantly has to fuck the brattiness out of you so you remember your place and who’s in charge. slaps your ass to make sure you’re listening to him and to punish you for talking back in the first place.

ʬʬʬ — like soobin i feel like he would like to use oil too! loves watching how easily his cock slides in your needy pussy and swallows it whole. also loves taking you missionary so he can see your pretty face all twisted up in pleasure!!

ʬʬʬ — idk what it is about this but it’s just so yeonjun to me?? would eat you out after to taste the slight bubblegum flavor and then would continue eating the cum-covered lollipop like he wasn’t just fucking you with it.

𓍼 ˋ✮ SOOBIN

ʬʬʬ — would beg you to dress up as his favorite anime and video game characters!! the two of you would roleplay a little before he’s fucking you and filling you up with his hot and sticky cum (>人<)

ʬʬʬ — loves seeing you in lingerie but hates the fact that it gets in his way!! it makes him too hard and he just wants to fuck the shit out of you without having to pull back straps and lace. definitely would keep on the thigh high stockings tho, it’s his favorite!

ʬʬʬ — honestly you should know to not wear short skirts around him… immediate hard-on and he’s fucking you against whatever surface is the closest to him. doesn’t even care that you were only quickly dropping by to give him something, you’re not leaving for the rest of the day.

ʬʬʬ — the type to drench you in oil so he can watch the way you glisten all prettily while getting dumb on his cock!! loves seeing your shiny tits bounce, bonus if you have nipple piercings. i feel like he would be the type to record it all so he can get off to it again later. cowgirl is for sure his favorite position for you!!

𓍼 ˋ✮ BEOMGYU

ʬʬʬ — interrupting him playing his game was a bad idea… of course he’s gonna bend you over his gaming chair and fuck you. leaves his mic on and let’s all his discord friends hear how much of a slut you are. (/ω＼)

ʬʬʬ — love love loves sitting back and having you fuck yourself on him. gets off to your pretty little moans and the sight of his cock disappearing inside you.

ʬʬʬ — cuddling with him always turns into you feeling his bulge against your ass, to him sliding his cock inside of you “i just need to feel you,” to him pulling your hips towards his so that he can fuck you. you’re constantly sticky with his cum!!

ʬʬʬ — this. definitely how most of your nights would go when you’re super horny for him. would laugh in your ear at your whines for his cock and would tell you to get yourself off on his thigh or bulge instead.

𓍼 ˋ✮ TAEHYUN

ʬʬʬ — you begging him to fuck you without the condom on,,, he’s always so careful and you just need to feel him inside you completely, feel the way his thick load fills you up and drips out of you!! you don’t want him to pull out ♡

ʬʬʬ — him teasing your needy and wet clothed pussy. just loves how wet he can get you without even sticking his cock inside of you.

ʬʬʬ — quick morning fuck before the two of you go to the gym!! you told him “just the tip…” but you both can’t control yourselves! ended up going later that morning hehe

ʬʬʬ — his little housewife (⋟﹏⋞) you let him do whatever he wants to you whenever he wants. taehyun wants you to suck up off while you’re making dinner? you’re on your knees with his cock shoved down your throat in an instant.

𓍼 ˋ✮ HUENINGKAI

ʬʬʬ — kai needing you so bad that there isn’t even enough time to put his cock in you. would completely miss the mark and end up fucking your thighs instead!! you’d go crazy from only having stimulation at your clit and not where you need him the most. would leave your thighs covered with his cum while he bends you over for more. this video as well hehe

ʬʬʬ — so needy while he’s trying to practice. his long fingers aren’t enough so now he his to fuck you with his cock too… definitely didn’t finish practicing after this >///<

ʬʬʬ — would always have you sitting on his face. watching a movie? he can eat you out like a starved man and watch the movie at the same time. always wants to be pleasing you in some type of way.

ʬʬʬ — you’d be a good girl for daddy and let him fuck your wet pussy right? so wet that kai’s big cock keeps slipping right out!! loves hearing your moans and repeatedly asks you how much you like daddy’s cock. loves how you beg him to put it back in and fuck you deeper.

∿ [ continue on to . . . masterlist , taglist , request ] ︵͡   𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (⌒‿⌒)♡

🏷️﹙ want to be added to my permanent taglist? click here ﹚ @jjunberry @gothgyuu @gyuuberries @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka @dani-is-tired @riaawr @nxzz-skz @jakeswifez @ghstzzn @jenn-ieverse @rapmonie2047 @aaa-sia @won4me @skaterhoon @usnve @jeonghaniehaee @todorokiskitten @xylatox @lovzwoni @minaateez @onlyhyunjin @lilyuwon @aduh0308 @chaconadine @who-tf-soddhi @americanojake @missychief1404 @in-somnias-world @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @riribelle @hyukascampfire

© jjunieworld - all rights reserved. do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

[flemingology]

soft alexia where she always looks for reader after a home game and runs to the stands or dedicates goals to her 🫠🥲🥺

siempre para ti ─ alexia putellas x reader

in which: alexia scores the winner in el clasico. for you.

warnings: none

wc: 1.3k

a/n: 2 posts in 2 days? who am i

Game days. Your worst favourite days. You loved going to watch your girlfriend do what she loves, really, but the nerves that came along with that weren’t as welcomed. Especially with El Clasico.

Alexia went through the motions, as she always did on game days. Had her usual breakfast, did some pre-pre-activation in your home gym and listened to the same 4 songs on repeat like she always did on matchdays. You could cite them all word for word now, but you wouldn’t dare complain and mess up her little routines.

She left you 4 hours before kick-off, a couple lingering kisses that would’ve lead to more if she didn’t have a 90-minute football game to go play, not without your promise that you’d be there and cheer for her if she scored. Alexia knew you’d be there and she knew you’d cheer the loudest of them all if she managed to get the ball in the back of the net, but who minds a little reassurance?

You made your way to the stadium well before the game started, not wanting to get caught in Barcelona’s rush hour traffic. You found your spot in the friends & family box, greeting Eli and Alba with a kiss on the cheek before settling in and glancing over at the Barça team who were already doing their warm-ups.

Alexia scanned the crowd when they were called inside, her gaze lighting up once her eyes found yours. You shot her a wave and an encouraging smile, which she reciprocated quickly – not without having to endure some teasing from Vicky.

The Spanish midfielder would never get used to seeing you in the stands. You probably hadn’t missed a home game yet in the past 4 years of dating each other, but she still felt fuzzy and warm inside when she saw the woman she loved most sitting in the stands of the football club she loved most. You were there for her, to watch her, in her shirt to cheer for her and she wanted to perform for you.

And that’s what she did. Barça took the game by the scruff of its neck, completely dominating and controlling the game from kick-off onwards. Chance after chance, shot after shot, the girls in blaugrana were all over their opponents. Aitana and Caro both had a big chance, but neither could convert. Much to your surprise and the team’s dismay, the 0-0 was still on the board when the referee blew the whistle for half-time.

They’d had the chances to be in front, but they hadn’t been clinical enough. This time, Alexia didn’t search for your eyes before she went into the tunnel, her professional demeanour never wavering a second once she was in game-mode. You hoped she wouldn’t be scolding herself too much over the promising free-kick she wasted.

The teams came back out 15 minutes later, and you finished up chatting to Alba as the game started again. More of the same, as expected, as Barça once again took control of the game. They were playing good football, passing the ball around, making runs in the channels and creating chances, but it felt like they couldn’t cross that final hurdle. Ingrid almost scored from a corner and they were claims for a penalty after a harsh tackle on Ewa, but nothing given.

It wasn’t until stoppage time that they had their best chance of the game. Some combinations at the back to play out of Madrid’s press, Patri was now rushing forward with the ball in midfield. She scanned the pitch, looking for options to lay the ball off to, sending it outside for Caro to chase. She got there first, beat her defender with a simple step over and sent a cross into the box.

It felt like slow motion, really. The final minutes ticking down on the clock, the ball sailing in the air, bodies pushing one another in the penalty area, until someone fell and they were shouts for a foul. You couldn’t make out who it was, who had fallen, but what you did make out was the whistle and the outstretched arm from the referee. Penalty.

Situations in football didn’t get much more pressure-loaded than this. A 93rd minute game-winning penalty in El Clasico. Your heart hammered against your chest, so you could only imagine how the players were feeling on the pitch. You’d been too caught up in a conversation with Eli to see Alexia had stepped up. She was stood near the ball, hands on her hips as she tried to calm her erratic breathing from having ran around the past 45 minutes.

The whistle sounded and Alexia took another couple deep breaths before beginning her run-up. A couple steps back. One to the side. Another deep breath. Short little steps to begin her run-up. A little pause. And then; the back of the net.

The stadium erupted, you cheered and jumped up and down to celebrate what would surely be the winning goal of the game. Alexia took off towards the corner flag to celebrate with the fans, her teammates soon barrelling in and tackling her down to the ground. You hugged Eli and Alba, the remnants of what had been a nerve-wracking game slowly washing away.

Alexia stood back up after a couple moments and her eyes scanned the friends and family box, looking for you. Your gazes locked and a toothy grin formed on her face, pointing her finger at the badge on her chest and then at you. She blew a kiss your way before turning back around and jogging over to her side of the pitch, leaving you with a warm feeling in your chest. No matter how many goals Alexia would dedicate to you, you’d never get tired of the fact it was your eyes she looked for after she made the ball hit the back of the net. It was you she blew a kiss, you she broke her stern captain bravado for.

It was much later when Alexia finally emerged from the changing room and into the friends and family area, surrounded by teammates and their speaker still playing loud music – clearly all very happy with the derby win. She was dressed in a pair of black trousers and a dark green shirt, clearly planning on celebrating the win. You could hear plans were made for a night out from where you were standing a little away from the group of players, as Alexia silently snuck away and walked over to you.

Your face lit up with a smile as the Barçelona captain come up to you with damp, disheveled hair, eyes tired with the exhaustion from running around for 90 minutes. “Hola, winner,” you teased, the brunette engulfing you in a tight hug. “Nice goal, hmm,” you said, lifting your shoulder a little so she would pull back. “Para ti,” Alexia whispered, her forehead resting against yours. “Siempre para ti.” Alexia accentuated her words with a soft kiss against your lips, pouring all her love for you in the short couple seconds of intimacy.

You closed your eyes and enjoyed the soft moment, clutching onto the back of her shirt tightly before she’d inevitably be pulled away by her teammates to get their night out going. Alexia’s arms circled around your waist in that ever familiar way, and even though you were here in a friends and family box in a stadium an hour and a half away from where you lived, Alexia’s embrace felt like home.

[remxedmoon]

UPDATE TIME BABY

so!! i’ve been making a lot of edits over the past few days after i noticed a few Issues so!!! i think it’d be a good idea to list them here? consider this an update to this weird little pseudo-mod i’ve accidentally created. plus there’s some extra art here (if you, uh, couldn’t guess from the sprite directly above me :3)

okay!! big news first!! thanks to @horatiocomehome, i finally have access to the actual game files! kinda. at least enough access to actually know what the files are named. so, i’ve renamed all of redraw files to be compatible with the game! this should make it way easier to mod them into the game. yipee! so sorry these weren’t correctly named before auauua

i finally made “official” spritesheets for my battle portrait redraws!! ttthese are not intended to replace @/thea2l112’s mod or anything, i just wanted to make ones that included my custom sprites! because i’m very proud of them. i don’t think the custom sprites should cause any issues, but just in case, i also included versions that exclude them! the only differences you’d actually see in normal gameplay are act5 siffrin’s buff sprite and act6 siffrin’s ko sprite (or lack thereof). you can find them in the portrait redraws folder, but i’ll also include them at the end of this post for ease of access 👍 also the fourth spritesheet doesn’t actually do anything in normal gameplay it’s just there so my custom bonnie and loop sprites have a place to go.

okay the changes here are a little less important so they’re going down here. anyways

added the afterimages(?) for the special attacks! i genuinely didn’t realize these were a thing until one of my partners actually put my cgs in the game. so those exist now!! yipee!!

predictably, isa and mira’s jackpot cgs having different aspect ratios did in fact cause issues. i put in a bandaid fix, but i still can’t actually test it out (and i don’t want to pester pastell about it) so, uh, maybe let me know if you encounter any problems with their placement??

so you might’ve noticed that there’s two copies of each of siffrin’s cgs during the final attack scene? that’s just how it is in the game files. i don’t know why. they’re identical in every way, just there to make sure things work properly 👍

made an alt version of the mal du pays death animation! nothing drastic, just cut out a hole to match the original. probably safer to use the one with the Hole for modding, i don’t know what the layering for the cg is in that scene. alas. sspeaking of death animations though!

so!!! there’s two new sprites for this little update thing!! i forgot to do siffrin’s unused battle portrait during my first batch of redraws, so i went ahead and made it! as you can see above! nothing too difficult, i just reused the lineart from my bigfrin sprite (since they use the same lineart ingame)

second of all!! act6 siffrin death animation :3. or well, i guess it could work in other contexts, but i intended it to be for the twohats fight. idk! thought it’d be fun! use it for whatever you desire

aaaand i think that’s it! again, sorry there were so many issues with this batch! i might’ve drawn these for use in mods and fangames or whatnot, but i really did not expect all the interest and support i’ve received??? at all?? it really means a lot!!! so i want to make this thing as Polished and Complete as i can!

aaaa. enough rambling. if you’ve read this far, thank you!!! i hope the redraws are a little easier to work with now!! here’s the spritesheets as promised, please enjoy :3

spritesheets without custom sprites here v

so all you need to do right now is disappear.

HHHHAPPY ISATVERSARY EVERYONE. here’s redraws for every single battle cg in the game. 36 drawings this time around, with 11 of those being custom (though admittedly a good portion of those are edits). combined with the portrait redraws i made back in september, i’ve made 114 redraws for this project! jesus christ! just like those redraws, these are completely free to use!! as long as i’m credited and it’s not for commercial purposes, go wild!! do whatever you want!!!

no i didn’t make these for isat’s 1 year anniversary this is just wildly good timing.

i genuinely can’t fit all of these cgs in one post even with the 30 image limit on browser, but i’ll still try to fit Most of them below the cut (without making this post horrifically long), along with some notes that might be important 👍

okay! once again, i labeled all of the custom art as such in the drive(UPDATE. NNOT TRUE ANYMORE. reformatted file names to be easier to mod in auau. apologies!), but if you want a full list, the customs are hatless siffrin jackpot, bonnie jackpot, bonnie special attack, bigfrin attack, and a bunch of alts which are definitely not related to any projects i’ve been thinking about don’t worry about it. and out of those customs, only like. 3 of them are actually completely from scratch.

while i did my absolute best to keep the aspect ratios completely the same as the originals, there’s 3 exceptions that i just couldn’t get to work.

isabeau’s hair in his special attack cg wouldn’t fit in frame if i kept things completely accurate to the og, so i moved his cg down a bit. it shouldn’t cause any issues with modding or anything, it’ll just appear slightly lower than it does in game. alas…

isabeau’s sleeve and mirabelle’s hair made their jackpot sprites a little larger than the originals? i’m hoping this doesn’t have too much of an effect (since the jackpot sprites have inconsistent sizes) but i can’t test this myself unfortunately. aaa feel free to let me know on discord if any problems arise!!

i managed to fix these, so they aren’t going to cause problems now, but my original drawings for mirabelle and siffrin in the final attack scene were a pain in the ass to fix. mirabelle’s sprite was slightly too talk to fit in frame and siffrin’s hat whacked bonnie in the face while i was editing everyone together. i’m only mentioning this because it took like an hour and a half to fix them and finish the scene.

all that aside, these were a fucking BLAST to work on. apparently this ended up taking 57 hours over exactly 10 days. which is a little worrying if you do the math on that but somehow i have not burnt myself out. i will be doing enemies at some point!!! but probably not for a little bit. i think my friends will actually kill me if i don’t take a break.

once again, happy birthday isat. you’ve ruined my life and i wouldn’t have it any other way (silly).

also, on an actual serious note, this little timeloop game has genuinely changed my life for the better? you guys are probably sick of hearing it at this point (or maybe not, i don’t talk about myself That Much. i hope), but i was practically a ghost for about 2 years before joining this fandom. it’s a little surreal to suddenly have friends (plural!!!) and people who Care about me, or even know i exist, honestly. it’s weird!! in a good way!!!

i don’t think i would’ve ever come back to social media if this community wasn’t so welcoming. i’ve met a lot of really great people through this game!!! so, uh, thank you isat, i guess. here’s to another year.

[crystallinestars]

Just Confess Already! Part 2

Drabbles about Genshin men (or you) confessing with the help of a wingman. This is pure fluff.

Characters: Kazuha, Kinich, Ororon, Wanderer, and Cyno.

Part 1 here.

I apologize if the endings sound abrupt, I've edited and rewritten this many times, and at this point I just want to get this finally posted. I also apologize for the length, my writing style has changed since part 1.

🍁 Kazuha

Everyone and their mother at The Crux could tell you and Kazuha had a thing for each other. The way you guys spent most of your free time in each other’s company discussing poetry or music, the way Kazuha always volunteered to help you with your tasks, how you took care of Kazuha when he got drunk, and just the overall subtle romantic tension about your pair tipped off pretty much everyone.

Though Beidou didn’t want to pry into the love lives of her crew, she’d sometimes catch glimpses of you and Kazuha chatting up in the crow’s nest of the ship and noted that the way you smiled at each other was endearing. Otherwise, she paid little attention to it, thinking it was only a matter of time until one of you confessed and you guys became an official couple.

However, that time never came. The two of you pussyfooted around the topic of laying bare your feelings, and everyone at The Crux was getting a little annoyed that you were stuck in the pining phase. There was a limit to how long Beidou could tolerate watching you give each other pining glances without snapping and telling you two to get together already.

One time when you were out on an errand, Beidou and her crew invited Kazuha for a drink. The friendly and cheerful atmosphere prompted some members to share their life stories, and the topic breached romance. Someone asked Kazuha why he hadn’t confessed to you yet, and the drunken ronin answered that he treasured your friendship and didn’t want to jeopardize it in case you didn’t feel the same way.

Beidou could only scoff at his excuse. It was so obvious that you liked him back, and since when was Kazuha such a coward? He could go up against the Raiden Shogun’s deadly Musou no Hitotachi, but had his tail between his legs at the prospect of admitting he loved you to your face? Preposterous! Moreover, she had to tell her crew to settle down because they were creating a spectacle out of your crushes on each other and making bets on which one of you would confess first (she betted on you).

If Kazuha was too much of a coward, Beidou thought, then maybe you’d be braver.

That same evening, she happened to find you alone in your cabin and took the opportunity to bring up the issue of your longtime crush on Kazuha. Though she was no expert on romance, Beidou wanted to help you. She got you to open up and confide in her, patiently listening while you expressed your fears about confessing to Kazuha. You also didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had with him, so Beidou stated outright that he returned your feelings. If you didn’t believe her, then see for yourself.

With that, she pried open a window in the cabin. Over the gentle lapping of the waves, you heard the crew’s laughter up on the deck, and the faint sound of Kazuha’s familiar voice. It was a little difficult to hear what he was saying over the crew’s chatter, and his speech was slightly slurred, but you made out a few words. He frequently spoke your name while reciting a few clumsy haikus. But they weren’t just any random poems about the sea or sky—they were love haikus.

Beidou patted your shoulder and told you to have courage instead of wasting your life wondering about what-ifs and regretting not doing anything.

Over the following days, Beidou sent you and Kazuha out on joint errands in Liyue Harbour. The errands themselves weren’t all that important, but they served as good excuses to give you two some alone time. Kazuha was no fool and quickly deduced that Beidou was setting you two up on purpose, but he wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity to spend more time with you.

Beidou hoped something would finally change by the time you returned, and sure enough, when she spotted you and Kazuha walking back to the ship, she smiled. The two of you were holding hands and smiling warmly at each other, a good sign that your once-suppressed feelings were now in the open. Naturally, the rest of the crew noticed the change as well and grew excited when you confirmed that you and Kazuha were now in a romantic relationship.

That night, they brought out the good wine and food to congratulate you and Kazuha on finally getting together. Most of the Crux’s crew joined on the festivities, with some members being nosy and asking you for details on how it happened and who confessed first.

When you admitted to confessing first, Beidou smugly accepted her winnings and took a big swig of her drink before yelling out a cheer. Her crew followed suit in toasting and cheering much to your and Kazuha’s embarrassment, but it was all in good fun. Beidou made sure to make it up to you by distracting the crew with a drinking game and sending you a wink as she allowed you and Kazuha to make a quiet escape from the party. The Crux gang would have plenty of time to tease you in the future—for now, you and Kazuha deserved to enjoy this newfound relationship without others poking their noses where they don’t belong. Beidou would make sure of it.

🟩 Kinich

Kinich’s relationship with you perplexed K’uhul Ajaw. The Almighty Dragonlord couldn’t pinpoint when it happened, but something between you two changed. Recently, Kinich had been giving you discounts whenever you asked for his help, and sometimes even did things for you for free. Kinich the Malipo giving someone special treatment? Unheard of! And on top of all that, his servant had been visiting you more frequently during downtime, and there was also that strange glint in Kinich’s eyes whenever he looked at you, something akin to endearment—

Oh.

Kinich liked you.

Oh, this was going to be good!

Ajaw’s diabolical nature wouldn’t let him keep Kinich’s feelings for you a secret. The next time you came to hang out with their duo, the saurian waved his little stubby arms and ran his mouth as soon as you were within earshot. “Hey, human! Our lowly servant has developed romantic feelings for you like some sort of prepubescent schoolboy! Isn’t that a riot?” and cackled, thinking Kinich would be thoroughly humiliated and put in his place.

To Ajaw’s dismay, instead of looking disgusted by the news, you appeared… hopeful? A tad surprised by his outburst, but was that hope shining in your eyes? To Ajaw’s even greater dismay, Kinich lacked any sort of outward reaction to having his crush on you vocalized so brazenly. Instead, the saurian hunter told you to ignore Ajaw’s nonsensical words in his usual calm manner, before smacking the pixelated menace away for a timeout. Right before he got locked away, Ajaw managed to catch a glimpse of disappointment in your eyes when Kinich brushed the situation aside as if it were nothing.

That day, K’uhul Ajaw realized that Kinich’s feelings were not one-sided like he originally thought. You liked Kinich too. The mere thought of you two acting all lovey-dovey with each other was sickening, but the saurian figured poking fun at you and Kinich would be a good source of entertainment.

After that day, Ajaw became even more insufferable. Every chance he got, he’d swoop in with a taunting remark and make fun either you, Kinich, or both.

One time while accompanying Kinich through a dense forest, you slipped on a wet tree root and were sent falling towards the ground. However, Kinich swiftly caught you and pulled you to his chest to help stabilize you. Ajaw had a field day laughing and crowing about how scandalous you were for practically throwing yourself at Kinich like that. Were you that desperate to be in his arms? Disgusting!

The saurian also used every opportunity he could find to reveal all of Kinich’s secrets to you. Did you know Kinich gave you special treatment? No? Are you blind?! Can’t you tell he does stuff for you for free? Why do you think he brings you game and wild berries free of charge every once in a while--to show off how good he is at hunting?! Have you at least noticed Kinich smiled more and acted softer towards you, or are you really that blind? He doesn’t treat anyone else that way, you know! …And so on and so forth, though most of his attempts to out Kinich are interrupted by the man himself locking Ajaw away before the dragon reveals too much.

As fun as it was to watch your pair’s awkward attempts at showing signs of affection for each other, Ajaw eventually grew frustrated with standing witness to the mutual pining that never progressed anywhere. It made the little saurian’s blood boil with annoyance.

Whenever he and Kinich were alone, Ajaw would complain that the hunter should stop being a dimwit and a coward and just confess to you already! How could he not see that you obviously liked him back?! Seriously, how bad was his luck to end up with such an imbecile for a servant?!

Kinich coolly rejected Ajaw’s insistence for confessing his feelings. It was not in his nature to recklessly rush into the unknown—he needed to carefully analyze and weigh his options before coming to a sound decision. As such, his relationship with you was not to be rushed. This didn’t sit well with Ajaw, but no matter what he said, Kinich stubbornly refused to listen.

The Dragonlord’s patience reached a breaking point during one fateful day. It was getting dark, and Kinich had offered to escort you home. Once you were safely at your doorstep, you made the bold move of kissing Kinich’s cheek in thanks. For a split moment, Ajaw swore there was palpable romantic tension between you as your and Kinich’s eyes met (gross). Kinich glanced at your lips, looking as if he wanted to lean in and kiss you (doubly gross) and Ajaw prepared himself to make disgusted gagging noises, except… nothing happened. With a seldom seen blush on his cheeks, Kinich awkwardly cleared his throat and bid you goodnight, preparing to leave.

Ajaw exploded.

“This is painful to watch! You two were clearly made for each other—both equally cowardly and blind to each other’s feelings! Just admit you like each other already; you’re not fooling anyone! Kinich, you cowardly, brainless, insufferable insect—just lean in for that kiss, you obviously want to! And you! Stop waffling and just spit out that you like Kinich already! Agh, watching you two is torture! What did the great K’uhul Ajaw do to deserve this fate?!” he yelled, turning red in the face.

Kinich promptly locked Ajaw away, for which the saurian would later chew him out once he was free, but not before interrogating you and the hunter about whether you finally confessed. Once Kinich revealed that yes, you had talked it out and admitted your mutual feelings for each other and were now in a relationship, Ajaw could finally feel some sense of peace regarding the situation.

Feeling proud of his contributions, Ajaw puffed out his chest and told you and Kinich to pucker up and kiss his feet in worship, for only with the help of the Almighty Dragonlord K’uhul Ajaw has your relationship progressed instead of stagnating like swamp water.

Though the saurian relic continued to be an annoyance, even Kinich had to admit that Ajaw played a part in getting you together. Though not in the form of worship or foot kissing, Kinich did repay the favor by procuring some quenepa berries and other fruits that Ajaw liked, hosting a small feast as a thank you. Though Ajaw complained about being scammed, the snacks did the trick of improving his mood and keeping him occupied while you and Kinich had some precious time to yourselves.

🦇 Ororon

Ever since you and Ororon were children, Citlali observed that the two of you got along well. So well, in fact, that Ororon had developed a little crush on you. He would pluck flowers from a nearby meadow to give you, follow you around like a loyal puppy, and one time, Ororon told Citlali that he hoped to marry you one day.

Citlali couldn’t help but find Ororon’s crush on you adorable, and a part of her anticipated the day when you both grew up and got married. She had no doubt you would make the sweetest couple among the Masters of the Night-Wind.

Ororon’s attraction to you persisted into adulthood. At that point, Citlali could no longer call it a cute little crush— “Love” was a more apt description for how Ororon felt towards you, even if he tried to hide the depth of his attachment to you. He was content to stay as just your friend and not risk ruining the close bond you had in case you didn’t return his feelings. Citlali was a little frustrated that Ororon continued to pine for you without doing anything about it, but she knew better than to force the stubborn boy to do something he didn’t want to. If you were both happy with the way things were, then why change them?

However, during one of her rare trips to the market for some divination supplies, Citlali overheard a conversation between two tribespeople. The topic of conversation was about love, and one of the men bashfully admitted that he thought you were pretty and that he hoped to ask you out on a date soon. This news washed over Citlali like a bucket of cold water as worry seized her heart.

This wasn’t the first time others had expressed romantic interest in you. After all, you’ve always had a bit of a reputation among the Masters of the Night-Wind for being attractive, so it wasn’t surprising others had an eye on you. However, now that you were an independent adult, it wouldn’t be strange for you to look for a partner to settle down with, right? Knowing Ororon, the dimwit wouldn’t ever think to confess, and what if someone else confessed before he did and stole your heart?

Citlali didn’t want to force you to choose Ororon, but she didn’t want things to end without her beloved grandson at least taking a shot at winning you over. The last thing she wanted was for Ororon to be left heartbroken and disappointed all because he let the chance to be with you slip from his fingers.

With these troubled thoughts, Citlali sought out Ororon and announced that he needed to stop dawdling and actively pursue you unless he wanted to watch your heart get stolen by somebody else. Citlali’s sudden proclamation confused Ororon, so she explained that he’s not the only one who is in love with you and that there’s a risk of you choosing someone else to spend your life with.

As she expected, Ororon stubbornly refused to go along with her urging, saying that who you wanted to end up with was your choice and he would respect it. Though he said that, Citlali could see it on Ororon’s face that the mere thought of you falling for someone else hurt him, and she couldn’t help but feel bad for her grandson.

After much convincing and reassurance, Citlali got Ororon to agree to court you and promised to come up with a plan to help him in this endeavour. There was, however, one major problem: how were two socially awkward outcasts supposed to win someone’s heart? Having never been courted herself, Citlali had no past experiences to draw from when designing her plan, but it shouldn’t be too hard, right? She’d read a lot of romance novels imported from Inazuma, so maybe if she got Ororon to do some of the same things the male leads did, then it would curry your favour? Regardless, it was worth a shot.

The plan was for Ororon to prove his worth as a suitable partner by giving you gifts, compliments, and always being there for you no matter what it was. In Ororon’s opinion, he was already doing all of these things for you as a friend, but Citlali insisted that his actions needed to be infused with romance to distinguish them from gestures of friendship. Her grandson was still reluctant to actively court you, but he had promised to try and try he did. Except, his approach subverted Citlali’s expectations.

When it came to giving gifts, instead of presenting jewellery, woven scrolls, or useful gadgets, the young man gifted you game he had caught in the wild and the best selection of produce from his garden. Citlali could only facepalm when Ororon told her which gifts he planned to give you, but she also knew he put genuine thought into them. Ororon handpicked the nicest veggies he could find in his garden and personally delivered them to your doorstep instead of sending Ifa like he normally would. Citlali told him that giving gifts in person held more meaning, and Ororon appeared to have taken her words to heart.

Ororon also gifted you flowers much like he did when you were little. However, this time he didn’t give you flowers plucked from the wild. Instead, he gifted you potted plants that he had also grown in his garden. “They will live and look pretty for longer,” he told you, then received a flick to the forehead once Citlali found out what he did.

His compliments were no better. Saying things like his vegetables grew better whenever you visited his home and spoke to his plants or your presence being calming for the aphids, was the best Ororon could do. Citlali admonished him for these strange compliments, but to Ororon, that was the highest praise anyone could receive. After all, you were an amazing person, and even his plants and aphids sensed it.

Ororon’s courtship was unconventional to say the least, and granny Itztli worried whether her grandson made a favorable impression on you. To help improve Ororon’s image in your eyes, Citlali sought you out more often to put in a good word for her grandson and get you to see him as a man. She highlighted Ororon’s good points to you, commenting how Ororon is a bit peculiar, but he’s also kind, resourceful, accepting, gentle, and so much more. A truly good kid. He would make an excellent romantic partner, wouldn’t you agree?

Her pushiness flustered you, but it also allowed Citlali to gauge how you felt about Ororon, and she had to contain her excitement when she pieced together that you loved him back. In her giddiness, she urged Ororon to confess.

When the day of the confession came, Citlali hid among some trees while keeping an eye on you and Ororon. She didn’t intent to spy, but the anxiety over how the confession would go made her antsy and she couldn’t sit still at home. She watched as Ororon offered you a basket of his finest produce and finally professed his love. The confession came out awkward because he tried to recite what he practiced with Citlali a few days prior, and he seemed to realize this because Ororon then took your hand and placed it against his chest. Using his own words this time, Ororon explained that he genuinely did love you, and the racing of his heart should be proof enough that you were more than just a friend in his eyes. However, it was alright if you didn’t feel the same way about him.

Citlali had to clamp her hands over her mouth to hold back from squealing in giddiness as she watched you reciprocate Ororon’s feelings. She would later apologize for spying since she knew it was wrong, but it filled her with joy to witness the blossoming of love between you. In some ways, this was better than any romance novel she had read in all her years of living, and it warmed her heart to see you both so happy.

Even if it was a childhood fantasy, perhaps Ororon’s wish of marrying you was not that far off now? Citlali certainly hoped so.

☂️ Wanderer

Nahida was no expert on romance, but she had observed enough couples during her 500-year-long imprisonment to know what romantic attraction looked like. The strange air surrounding you and Wanderer must have been that, she speculated, as she watched Wanderer hand you a box of your favorite foods with the flimsy excuse of having made too much. For your part, you seemed genuinely touched by the gesture despite Wanderer’s grumbling, much to Nahida’s delight. Wanderer’s prickly personality pushed some people away, but not you. You stayed by his side and gave him the companionship he needed, helping Wanderer open up and heal from his trauma.

It was clear you deeply cared for the young man, and a little peek into your mind confirmed to Nahida that yes, you did love him romantically. She couldn’t read Wanderer’s mind since he blocked all her attempts to do so, but she didn’t need mindreading to conclude that he loved you too.

When she next spoke with Wanderer, she carefully asked if he loved you. Wanderer’s response was a gruff “No” and “Stop asking”, however Nahida could tell he wasn’t being honest with his feelings. If he didn’t love you, then why did he treat you differently compared to everyone else? His manner of speech is gentler when with you, and despite all his grumbling he still complies with all your requests no matter how irritating he may find them. Not to mention, he spends most of his free time in your company, goes out of his way to make you little gifts and cook your favorite dishes. Surely all these behaviours were proof that you were someone special to him?

Being effectively cornered, the puppet had no choice except to come clean about his hidden feelings. With scowl and a blush on his cheeks, Wanderer reluctantly admitted that yes, he likes you, but it was none of Nahida’s business and she’d better stay out of it.

Despite Wanderer’s warning, the Dendro Archon wanted to help get you together. She felt confident that if both of you put in a little effort, a beautiful romance could blossom between you. Still, she didn’t want to outright reveal your feelings for each other. She believed that each of you should relay these intimate feelings yourselves. All Nahida would do is give you a gentle nudge in the right direction.

To help her with this task, Nahida sought help from a few Aranara and asked them to keep an eye on you and Wanderer and report any meaningful details that could help her bring you together. Through her little helpers, Nahida learned the full extent of Wanderer’s affections for you, and she couldn’t help but smile at how sweet he was, especially when it came to you.

Using this acquired knowledge, the Dendro Archon frequently brought up Wanderer in your conversations with her to explain the thoughtfulness behind some of his gifts and words. For as frank as he usually was with people, Wanderer was more close-lipped about the true extent of his feelings, so Nahida had some work cut out for her in making you realize how much he truly cared about you.

For example, the next time Wanderer gave you your favorite food with the excuse that he’d made too much, Nahida revealed to you that he actually spent several days perfecting the recipe before finally giving the dish to you.

That hand-made bracelet he gifted you, saying he got it for free during an arts and crafts event he visited? Wanderer actually made it himself during that event and used beads of your favorite colors. The Aranara watched him spend a lot of time crafting that bracelet with the greatest care, but Nahida left that part out.

In addition, she would subtly drop hints for you to invite Wanderer to hang out more often. For example, the Zubayr Theater was hosting a play and Nahida heard there was a discount if you bought two tickets. Why don’t you go and invite Wanderer to come with you?

As for Wanderer, she discreetly told him that you once mentioned wanting to try out a new drink at Puspa Cafe but had nobody to go with, so why not be a good friend and take you there himself? Wanderer initially objected, but ultimately caved in and invited you to the Café while commenting that a certain annoying sprout said you wanted to try a new drink there, though deep down he glad for the opportunity to spend more time with you. Nahida could tell by the way Wanderer went out of his way to spoil you that day, buying you anything you wanted and keeping you company until the sun set.

Little by little, Nahida softened Wanderer towards the possibility of being in a romantic relationship with you, and helped you gather the courage to confess. Wanderer was unlikely to ever confess first, so the responsibility rested on your shoulders. She could tell you were nervous about laying bare your feelings, but she reassured you that things would go well. You only needed to take that leap of faith.

When you finally confessed, Nahida and the Aranara secretly observed the scene from behind a nearby corner, curious to see how things would go while also quietly cheering you on (not that you knew). When a flustered Wanderer accepted your confession, Nahida was overjoyed. She had fun guiding both of you towards this moment, but the satisfaction of knowing you could finally be together the way you always wished was rewarding in its own way. Even when Wanderer later confronted her about spying on you during your confession and scolded her for it, the little Archon’s happiness didn’t wane. She looked forward to seeing what your newfound relationship would blossom into, and had no doubt it would be something beautiful and pure, just like your love for each other.

👁️‍🗨️ Cyno

It was no secret to Tighnari that you and Cyno liked each other. He had known about your mutual crushes as far back as your student days at the Akademiya where you first met. You became fast friends with him and Cyno, but Tighnari couldn’t help but think Cyno was a bit more special to you than you let on. After all, you were one of the few who wasn’t intimidated by Cyno’s perpetual stern facial expressions and actively sought him out, and who actually laughed at his lame jokes.

Tighnari also knew about Cyno’s crush on you since his friend confided about it to him. Not that Cyno needed to say anything because Tighnari could see his attraction to you clear as day. Cyno’s eyes lit up whenever he saw you in the distance, he tried to act “cooler” in your presence in an attempt to impress you, and Tighnari swore that if Cyno had a tail, it would have wagged like a dog’s every time you laughed at his jokes.

Though he knew about your mutual romantic attraction to each other, Tighnari didn’t want to stick his nose into your love lives. He figured you guys would resolve everything yourselves in due time.

However, nothing changed even after you guys graduated. Your group remained close friends and saw each other regularly, but Tighnari was starting to lose his patience with how you and Cyno hopelessly pined for each other. He had already lost count of the number of times each of you came to him for advice on how to win the other over.

Cyno asked Tighnari’s opinion on a lot of things: Would you like his newest joke? Would you be okay with Cyno volunteering to be your bodyguard for your upcoming desert excursion? Which of his limited edition TCG cards best represented you? Cyno wanted to express how much you meant to him by giving you a card that reminded him of you.

You were no better. Tighnari had lost count of the number of times you approached him with questions about Cyno’s work schedule. Your excuse was that you wanted to plan hangouts with him, Collei, and Cyno during their days off, but Tighnari knew there was another reason why you asked about Cyno’s schedule in particular. He had half a mind to tell you to ask Cyno yourself because it was obvious that you just wanted to spend more time with the General Mahamatra. You also pestered Tighnari with questions about Cyno’s TCG deck. Much like his friend, you wanted to express your appreciation for Cyno by giving him cards he didn’t have yet.

Seriously, you two were a match made in heaven…

Tighnari would have found your mutual crushes on each other endearing, if only he wasn’t stuck being the middleman. As it stood, Tighnari wanted nothing more than to throttle both of you for pussyfooting around your feelings and getting him caught up in being your messenger. He was on the brink of snapping and sitting you both down to explain that your feelings were mutual, so just hurry up and get together already.

That’s why the next time Cyno approached him with another question about you, Tighnari took the opportunity to convince his friend to confess. He and Collei assured Cyno that you liked him a lot, and urged him to tell you his feelings. Cyno was hesitant but did seem to want some closure about whether you liked him back or not, so Tighnari gave him an incentive. How about the next time he played TCG with you, you guys set some stakes? Why not have a rule that the loser must tell the winner a secret? If Cyno lost, he would have to confess.

Cyno wasn’t fond of the idea initially, but agreed after some contemplation, acknowledging that this method would be effective in giving him that necessary push. Still, Tighnari could tell Cyno was nervous about confessing, so he volunteered to come along as moral support, much to Cyno’s gratitude.

That was how Tighnari and Collei found themselves at Puspa Cafe, sitting a few tables away from you and Cyno, hidden from your line of sight. Tighnari tutored Collei while Cyno played that fateful round of TCG against you, but the Forest Ranger kept a close eye on his friend. Though he didn’t want to get too invested in Cyno’s love life, even he couldn’t help but grow anxious as he watched the TCG match end with Cyno’s loss.

Although Tighnari was too far away to hear what Cyno was saying, he could tell the moment of confession had come. Now, the ball was in your court.

You looked stunned by whatever Cyno said, but soon smiled and said something that made Cyno mirror the happy expression on your face and reach out to hold your hand. Though he couldn’t hear, Tighnari knew you had reciprocated his feelings. Even Collei quietly fawned over how cute you both looked. It had been a long journey, but he was truly happy for his friend. Out of everyone, Cyno was happiest with you, and Tighnari hoped you would continue to make him happy for many years to come.

With everything ending well, Tighnari beckoned Collei and discreetly left the cafe before you or Cyno noticed. As happy as he was for you guys, he dreaded the possibility of Cyno coercing them into a TCG match. With how elated his friend must be right now, it was only a matter of time until Cyno called him and Collei over for a new game to celebrate you accepting his feelings. In Tighnari’s opinion, you guys deserved to have some proper time to yourselves to explore your feelings and new relationship without him and Collei serving as thirdwheels. That, and he just really didn’t want to sit through another hour of watching Cyno show off for you.

[avatar-anna]

this is the second part of my exrry in italy oneshot! you can read that here

Three days had passed and Harry hadn't left your tiny apartment.

He kept saying he should probably leave, and you insisted there were things you had to do, but neither of you actually made it past the threshold of your door. No one said goodbye, or even bothered to shrug back into clothes. For three days, you ate, drank, and slept with Harry.

"You're making it hard to leave," he murmured, his voice low and content as you placed tiny kisses on his neck, his collarbone, his jaw, anywhere you could reach, really. It was how you used to wake Harry up when you were together, and when morning number four rolled around, you couldn't help yourself but lean across the bed and kiss his soft, sun kissed skin.

At first, you kept up the pretense of being unattached, of sleeping with Harry merely because you knew each other well enough physically. "This doesn't mean we're back together," you'd both whisper, or something to that effect, before blurring the lines of your non relationship once more.

"You're not making it any easier to kick you to the curb," you mumbled, one hand reaching up to caress his stubbly cheek. The fine, short hair that seemed to grow in the last few days.

Harry smelled good, like he usually did with a mix of the soap in your shower. It messed with your head in a way that was dangerous, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

So he didn't leave (again), and you didn't tell him to go(again). You and Harry stayed in bed for most of the day, only bothering to get up when hunger was too apparent to ignore. You managed to whip something up from the meager groceries you had, not having gone to the market recently, and sat with Harry at the little dining table by the kitchen. The balcony would've been a much nicer spot, as it looked out over the neighborhood square you stayed in, but it was too public, too many keen eyes would've spotted Harry immediately.

"Part of me wishes I hadn't seen you at all," Harry confessed later in the day. You were back in bed after a brief stint in the kitchen where you tried to make pancakes, which promptly turned into kissing and licking pancake batter off Harry as he did the same to you on the kitchen counter, pancakes no longer a priority.

You knew he hadn't meant it to hurt you, but the words sent a pang through your chest, so different from the heat and fireworks and butterflies you usually got from him. Everything was so different now. It was hard to face how much had changed, especially now that Harry was in bed beside you. "I know."

"It's easier to pretend when I can't see you," he said softly, his hand never once stopping as it tracked through your hair, nor did your hand stop tracing patterns in his chest.

"Pretend?"

Harry blew out a large sigh before sitting up in your bed, his arms stretching high above his head. There were hickeys littered all over his body, one on his hip revealing itself as the bedsheet fell and settled just below his waist. You found yourself transfixed by your ex's body, the one you still loved so much the idea of him leaving made your heart hurt.

"Do you still love me?" Harry asked out of the blue.

The question shocked you, but only because you thought the last three days would've made it obvious. You certainly didn't have to ask him how he felt. "Yes."

"That makes it easier too. In a selfish way, I guess," he said, not once meeting your eye. "Knowing you're in as much pain as I am."

Unexpected tears welled in your eyes. You never wanted to hurt Harry. He'd been right to say it was easier to imagine him happy and healthy post break up if you didn't see or hear from him. It was easier to move on if you convinced yourselves that you were better off without each other.

"Harry—"

"I miss you, Y/n," he said, his voice trembling slightly. Harry wouldn't meet your eye, which made all of this so much worse. "I know why we broke up, and I've done everything short of sleeping with someone else to try and move on, but I just—Tell me you're struggling as much as I am. Tell me you don't sleep as well as you used to because I'm not there. Or don't. Tell me this has all just been sex to you so I know there's an end to this—this—"

"Misery?" you finished for him. "I wish I could. I don't know if I'll ever be the same again, honestly."

"Then why—"

"Don't ask why. Please. Not when you know the answer."

It wasn't like you and Harry woke up one day and stopped loving each other. Everything about your relationship had been nothing short of perfect from the very beginning.

Until it wasn't.

"No one has to know this time," Harry said. His tone had taken on a desperate edge, almost making you turn away from him so you wouldn't have to face it, do this all over again. "We can—We can keep this a secret. It'll be just us."

It will never be just us, you thought miserably. "People already know, H."

At the look of confusion on his face, you reached for your phone. You showed him the slew of articles that had already been written. Pictures of you and Harry walking through Rome together three days ago, each one picking you apart or depicting you as the villain in Harry's life.

"I know that's why you're still here. You're waiting for the storm to blow over," you said, unable to meet his eye.

"That's not—After everything I just said, you really think that's why I stayed?" he asked. You'd turned away from him, but you felt his hand on your shoulder, the kiss to your temple as he leaned in close.

"I wish I was the kind of person who didn't care what anyone thought, that I could simply exist in this relationship and not let anyone else in, but—but I'm not. I can't."

"You. Are. Enough," Harry murmured, pressing each word into your skin with a kiss. You closed your eyes, tears leaking from the corners as he curled himself around your body. One leg slid between yours, and you selfishly pulled him closer as he continued to murmur in your ear.

You fell asleep in your ex's arms, the weight of his body on yours more comforting than any blanket. When you woke up, Harry was there, but he wasn't wrapped around you anymore. He sat at the edge of your bed, wearing clothes for the first time since he'd set foot in your apartment.

"You're leaving?" you asked, voice scratchy with sleep.

"I'm supposed to go to Florence tomorrow," Harry said, bent over as he tied his shoes. "I've got a dozen messages on my phone asking where I am."

Something in Harry's voice sounded different, distant, just the way he sounded when you initially ran into him. It pulled at something in your heart, something that you'd been keeping at bay since you invited Harry into your apartment—the knowledge that this would eventually end.

"So you're—You were just going to leave? Without saying anything?"

You heard Harry sigh as he rested his head in his hands. "I thought it would be easier. Our last conversation seemed...final."

"I know, but—"

But what? Harry was right. This wasn't going anywhere. You told him you couldn't be in a relationship with him, and he was responding to that. You knew it was coming, but it didn't hurt any less now that the moment had finally come.

"You're right," you said eventually, sitting up in your bed. "We came here separately, of course you have plans. I'm sorry if I kept you."

"You didn't," Harry reassured. "There's nowhere I wanted to be the last few days, but we... we're broken up, and as much as I want to stay, I don't want to keep giving myself false hope."

Your fingers twitched, itching to reach out, to touch him, hold him. But he was right. As much as you loved this relationship limbo, that was all it was. Stringing you and Harry along would only hurt you more.

"I'm sorry," was all you could say. For too many things, none of which you could bring up without crying.

"Me too," Harry said.

Leaning across the bed, he kissed your forehead, then stood up. "One day you'll realize how extraordinary you are, and you wont care how people perceive you," he said, his thumb caressing your cheek. "And then you'll go and make someone the luckiest man in the world by giving yourself over to him completely. I'm just devastated it wasn't me."

You watched him go from the sanctuary of your bed, knowing the second he was out of sight you'd break down completely. The door closed with a soft clock, and even though you knew you shouldn't, you hurried over to your bedroom window, waiting anxiously to get one last glimpse of him.

Harry's lean figure appeared a couple minutes later, his head bent and shoulders slightly hunched, avoiding the few photographers who had been waiting for him to leave the building. You wanted him to turn around. You wanted to see his face one last time, a final farewell. But perhaps for his sake, he didn't, and you watched as he retreated down the street and turned down the road out of sight.

On your last day in Rome, you found a note he'd written.

Harry had hidden it in one of the pockets of his favorite of your sweaters, though you weren't exactly sure when. It wasn't very long, and the note itself was no more than a scrap of paper, one you'd nearly thrown out by accident. But you would've recognized his handwriting anywhere, and fond memories of notes you used to find among your things kept you from throwing away the folded paper and opening it instead.

Perhaps in another life. Unless you change your mind in this one, H.

[nyxs2]

Ma Meilleure Ennemie (pt 1/?)

Silco was at his limit. The last few days had been a whirlwind, made worse by Jinx's eccentricities, which Sevika couldn't control. He was exhausted, his nerves on edge, so, as if it were the most obvious solution, one of his subordinates suggested that he relax… in a brothel. The idea was so offensive that Silco almost killed him right there. But in the end, there he was and unfortunately or fortunately you are the lucky one who will serve him.

Silco x fem!Reader Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI) Word Count: 4,9K Warnings: smut, resolved sexual tension, oral sex (m!receiving), dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, discussion (a few lines), you work in the brothel, Silco POV (when to start smut because the male POV It just hits ✨different✨), an obsessive Silco in the end?

I got into my obsessive phase with this man again thanks to the second season of Arcane and I had to turn a conversation with a janitor bot into a fanfic. This is my first time posting something here so I have no idea what I'm doing lol… English is not my first language, sorry if there are mistakes.

The room reeked of overly sweet flowers, a cloying mixture of perfumes that you never found pleasant but managed to endure. Dressed in a simple white satin gown, which men liked to dismissively call "easy access," you stood behind the curtain, taking deep breaths and trying to hide the trembling in your hands. This wasn’t your first time dealing with difficult clients at the brothel, but this time, it felt different.

Silco.

His name alone was enough to make your breath hitch, and not in a good way. The feared, self-proclaimed leader of Zaun was seated on the couch, his arms draped casually over the backrest while his eye—or rather, his good eye—surveyed the room with evident impatience. You could tell he was irritated, perhaps even more so than the rumors had suggested when he arrived at the brothel. The deep lines on his face seemed sharper under the dim lighting, and he ran his tongue over his lips, muttering something you couldn’t catch.

You knew there was no choice. Refusal would bring consequences far worse than simply losing money. So you swallowed your fear, lifted your chin, and stepped through the curtain with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. Your steps were steady, but your heart waged a frenzied battle against your ribcage.

He didn’t seem impressed at first glance, but you could feel his gaze weighing on you as you moved closer. Each step shrank the safety distance between you. Your body moved almost instinctively from there, guided by the muscle memory of your unconventional profession. Carefully, you leaned down, letting yourself settle into his lap. Curiously, Silco showed no visible signs of discomfort, but he didn’t seem particularly engaged either, which only heightened your anxiety.

You assumed he would take the initiative, steering things more directly as clients often did here. The small talk, the courtesies—they always seemed unnecessary in a place like this. Your hands hesitated as they reached his shoulders, finding them rigid at first, but he appeared to relax slightly, sinking back into the sofa with a heavy sigh. It took you another moment to finally find your voice.

“You seem... stressed.”

“Those men aggravate me.” he muttered in response, his voice heavy with frustration, as if exhaustion had seeped into his very soul at that moment.

You nodded as though you understood perfectly. Of course, you didn’t, but you knew how to agree with powerful men without questioning them. Despite the fear that churned within you, you noticed something: he had let you touch him. A rare allowance for someone as reserved and commanding as Silco. The realization was strange, but it made you move your hands more carefully, wanting to prolong his apparent calm.

Silco’s mismatched eyes—one blue, the other orange—scrutinized you with an intensity that made you feel as though he was truly seeing you for the first time. He tilted his head slightly and asked, his tone more curious than cold:

“You haven’t told me your name.”

“Call me whatever you wish,” you replied sweetly, your voice melodious, though only you knew how forced every word felt. Your fingers, braver than your spirit, began tracing subtle lines across his chest, feeling the expensive fabric of his clothing and the warmth of his body beneath it.

“I’m aware of that, but I’d still like to know your name.”

After a moment’s hesitation, you gave him your name. Silco repeated it, testing the syllables on his tongue. Hearing your name spoken by him unsettled you in a way you couldn’t quite place—it was strange how easily it rolled off his lips, as though it meant nothing, and at the same time many things. You weren’t sure if he was genuinely interested or if it was just conversational habit, but the fact that he asked stirred something within you.

“It suits you.” he said. From the subtle curl of his lips, you knew he’d noticed your nervousness. “Indulge my curiosity. What brings a woman as beautiful as you to a place like this? Surely, you have dreams that extend beyond satisfying the desires of others.”

Before you could think of a response, Silco's fingers moved to your face, brushing aside a stray strand of hair that had fallen over your shoulder. The touch was slow and soft—almost too intimate for someone like him. The warmth of his fingertips against your skin sent a shiver coursing through your body. Your instinct was to pull away, but you didn’t dare.

Swallowing your hesitation, you leaned slightly into his hand, like a cat seeking affection. Your posture remained controlled, the smile on your lips unwavering.

“Me? Well, I’m like any child of Zaun... I had to find a way to survive, so let’s skip the tragic parts of the story.” Your fingers began to toy with the fabric of Silco’s suit, admiring the quality of the material. It was the kind of fabric you’d never dreamed of owning, let alone touching. “I got lucky with my looks because, honestly, having sex and earning money beats living on the streets.”

You forced a smile as you said the words, trying to project confidence, though the very idea of finding yourself here still felt unreal. What you truly wanted to say was something entirely different: that you hadn’t had a choice. But that part, you kept to yourself.

“Besides, if I hadn’t chosen this path, I would never have had the chance to be here with you.”

It was an empty, contrived line, but you assumed it was what he wanted to hear. That had always been your role—making others feel desired, as though being in their presence was a privilege for you. Deep down, the bitterness of the lie gnawed at you, but you’d long since mastered the art of hiding it.

Silco’s touch, still unexpectedly gentle, lingered on your face, tracing the curve of your jawline with a calmness that seemed to contradict the dangerous aura surrounding him. Every nerve in your body was on high alert as he stayed silent, simply observing you, his fingers mapping your features. You couldn’t ignore the satisfaction he seemed to draw from your hesitation, as though your nervousness was precisely what he wanted to extract.

“I can see why the men of Zaun would pay handsomely for your... company,” Silco murmured, his voice low and deliberate as his fingers trailed down to your lips. “Still, surely you could have found another path. Something that didn’t involve selling yourself to the highest bidder.”

The disapproval in his tone struck like an invisible slap. You blinked, startled, unable to hide the brief flicker of disbelief on your face. Him? The chemical baron who ruled Zaun, questioning your morality? He, who built his fortune by exploiting desperation and chaos through Shimmer? It was almost laughable, but the weight of his words left no room for humor.

“Tell me the truth,” he continued, his voice slow, each word laced with a faint, mocking edge. “Is this what you want? Spending your nights warming the beds of strangers, smiling as they use you for their pleasure?”

Your fingers, which had been toying with the fabric of his suit, returned to your own body, creating the barest sliver of distance between you—though it felt impossible to achieve while still perched on his lap. You briefly considered keeping up the act, retreating to the mask of seduction and sweetness. But something about his tone, the intensity in the look he gave you, made it clear he wouldn’t accept a rehearsed answer.

"You’re hardly in a position to lecture anyone about morality, you know that?" Your voice was steadier now, stripped of the syrupy tones you had wielded before. There was still caution, but also something resembling either confidence or sheer madness. You weren’t entirely sure what was fueling you. "But the truth is, you don’t have much choice when you attract too much attention. Men have this pathetic need to turn anything they desire into property. If I weren’t here, I’d probably be some baron’s plaything... or any other man’s who thought he had that right."

You caught the slight shift in his expression, but you didn’t stop before he could interrupt.

"At least in the brothel, I have a small sense of safety. Here, we protect each other. It’s not ideal, but it’s enough to survive." Your words dripped with a cynicism you wore like armor, but they were genuine. Silco remained silent. "Satisfied?"

His touch grew firmer then, his hand gripping your chin and forcing you to meet his gaze. Silco didn’t settle for easy answers, and that kept you on edge. His mismatched eyes bore into yours, as if he could rip the truth from behind your façade by force. For a moment, your body betrayed your mind, trembling under the weight of his focus—or perhaps under the heat radiating from him.

"No," he said softly, his voice laced with an undeniable authority. "I’m not satisfied."

There was something in his tone that both soothed and terrified you. "I recognize value when I see it, and you’re not just a pretty face or a warm body to be used and discarded. You’re a survivor, my dear. And survivors don’t settle for scraps when they could have the entire feast."

Silco leaned closer, his face now so near that you could feel his breath ghosting over your skin. The hand that had been holding your chin slid down to your waist, pulling you even closer. He was invading your space, breaking every boundary you had tried to set before. It should have made you furious, and yet, there was something maddeningly magnetic about his words, his tone. Like a moth drawn to the flame.

"And what if I told you." he murmured, his voice dropping into a husky whisper near your ear, "That I could offer you another path? A way out of this gilded cage you’ve trapped yourself in? All you have to do is say yes."

It was tempting—far too tempting. But you knew better. This was a trap, a carefully spun illusion of power designed to lure you in. Silco wasn’t just a chem-baron; he was a master manipulator, someone who played people like pieces on a chessboard. His hands were stained with blood, and you weren’t going to become one of his victims.

Your shoulders tensed, and your hands moved to his shoulders, pushing lightly as though instinctively trying to create space between you.

"You’re right about one thing," you whispered back, your voice low but carrying a newfound confidence even you didn’t quite recognize. "I’m a survivor, precisely because I don’t trust men like you."

Your nails dug into his shoulders—not to hurt him, but as a way to anchor yourself, to remind yourself that you still had some semblance of control. To keep yourself from faltering under the weight of his presence. After all, few dared to deny Silco, knowing full well he could take whatever he wanted in the end.

"It’d be foolish of me to say ‘yes’ so easily..." you continued, taking a measured breath to steel yourself. "Everyone in Zaun knows that accepting one of your offers is the same as selling your soul to the devil."

Silco's movement, leaning back slightly to return a fraction of space to you, wasn’t a concession—it was a strategy. He was calculating his next move, and you knew it. His gaze remained fixed on you, and despite his apparent calm, you could feel the weight of his stare—heavy, like a verdict. He didn’t like being challenged, especially by someone who, theoretically, had no power to oppose him. Yet, there was something about you, something that even Silco found himself impressed by, if only for a fleeting moment. He seemed to respect your defiance—admiration disguised as frustration, perhaps.

"You're bold, aren’t you?" Silco spoke, almost amused. "Most girls would jump at the chance to be under my protection. But not you. No, you're far too clever for that."

His hand rose again, this time stopping at your throat, where his fingers rested, feeling the rapid rhythm of your heartbeat. It was a gentle touch, but undeniably threatening—a silent warning. And though the sensation was unsettling, it was nothing you hadn’t dealt with before. After all, if he truly wanted to kill you, he would have done so already.

"Allow me to clarify my proposal, dove," he continued, his voice softening in a way that only heightened your distrust. "I’m not offering salvation or a fairy tale ending. I’m offering you a chance to survive, on your own terms. To rise above the squalor and degradation of this place."

His touch shifted, his free hand sliding along your waist, tracing every contour of your body with an unsettling softness. You could feel the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of your dress, and you knew he could feel the heat of yours just as well. Your body tensed, but you didn’t give in—not even as his hand ventured lower, stopping on your thigh. A shiver ran down your spine, but your mind remained resolute, knowing that any sign of weakness would be an invitation for him to push further.

His tone, now little more than a husky murmur, made the air around you feel heavier, charged with a tension you knew he wielded with mastery. "All I ask in return is your obedience."

His hand, now bolder, slipped beneath your dress, brushing against your bare skin with a touch that felt almost possessive.

You swallowed hard.

"Think carefully," he continued. "Is serving me really worse than being passed from hand to hand, always in danger of being killed like any other cheap whore? At least with me, you’d be valued. Protected."

The silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the sound of your breathing, a rhythm that seemed to amplify the rising tension. Silco held the advantage here—he knew it, and so did you. For all your cunning, there wasn’t much you could offer him beyond your defiance. But you weren’t one to yield without a fight. He might have been formidable in many ways, but all men, no matter how imposing, had a weakness. And you knew this weakness well enough.

"My obedience..." you said, your voice soft, dripping with sweet venom. "You already have it… for tonight."

You pressed your body against his, deliberately moving against the part of him he most desired yet had been neglecting. For the briefest of moments, you caught the crack in Silco’s stoic façade, a flicker of pleasure that betrayed him as your slow, deliberate movements sent a surge of heat to his core. Your hips rolled against him provocatively, the thin fabric of your dress bunched high enough to leave almost nothing to the imagination. The lace of your panties pressed against the unmistakable hardness growing beneath his trousers.

"Isn’t this what you came for, after all?" Your voice was a seductive whisper, yet tinged with irony, your tone laced with a hint of mockery. This wasn’t the submissive game you’d been playing earlier. Not anymore. Silco, with all his authority, likely hadn’t anticipated you flipping the cards the way you just had—appealing to something as raw as carnal desire.

You leaned in even closer, your lips brushing his ear, your warm breath sending a shiver through him. "Because I doubt you walked into this brothel looking to recruit a courtesan for your organization... am I wrong?"

Your words seemed to strike a nerve in the feared "Eye of Zaun," as he remained silent for a few moments, though you could feel the tension in his body. His grip on your flesh tightened, almost as if he was holding back. Then, the hand under your dress slid further upward, his fingers brushing against the lace trim of your panties. The touch sent an electric jolt through your veins; it was affecting you just as much as it was affecting him.

"You're playing a dangerous game, dove," Silco murmured, his voice low and laced with warning. "Tempting me with your body, even as you deny me with such effort. It's a risky move."

He leaned closer, just a breath of space separating your faces. "But I suppose that's what I like about you. You're not afraid to dance on the edge of the blade, even if it means getting cut."

Silco’s other hand slid along your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair before pulling gently, tilting your head back to expose the curve of your throat. You felt him inhale your scent, and your eyes fluttered shut as his lips grazed your skin. "However, don’t mistake my desire for weakness. You may not like the result."

"I have no doubts about that," you quipped, increasing the rhythm of your hips, the friction doing a fine job of making you forget you were dealing with a dangerous criminal. You could feel your panties growing damp. "But that doesn’t matter now, does it?"

With difficulty, you moved your head to face him again, despite the way his hand still gripped your hair. Your own hands wandered across his slender frame, sliding down toward his trousers.

"You’re paying to have me, not to talk." With practiced ease, you unfastened his trousers, your hand slipping past the barriers of his clothing, finally touching him. A gentle stroke, testing… "So let’s make your money’s worth."

━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━ Silco's Pov

Silco's breath caught in his throat as her hand slid inside his pants, her fingers brushing his hardened length. The sensation was electric, sending sparks of pleasure racing down his spine. He could feel the heat of her skin through the thin fabric of his underwear, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to buck his hips against her touch. But even as his body responded to her ministrations, Silco's mind remained sharp and alert. He knew she was trying to gain the upper hand, to turn the tables on him by focusing their encounter on base carnal desires. And while he was more than willing to indulge in such pleasures, he refused to let her think she had won. But, he would recognize her cleverness.

With one swift movement, Silco grabbed her wrist, halting her exploration of his cock. He leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke. "Ah ah ah, not so fast, dove," he purred, his voice low and dangerous. "You forget who holds the power here. I'm the one paying for your services, and I'll be damned if I'll let you set the pace."

Silco released her wrist and sat back, his eyes raking over her body with undisguised hunger. "Strip," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I want to see every inch of that gorgeous skin. And then, if you're a good girl, I might let you touch me again."

As she began to comply, Silco allowed his gauze to drift down to the junction between her thighs. He could see the damp spot on her panties, evidence of her arousal, and it made his cock throb with need. But he held himself in check, determined to make her work for her pleasure, even if it becomes an unbearable temptation for both of them.

Once she was fully exposed, Silco reached out and ran his fingers along the edge of her undergarments, teasing her with the promise of his touch. "Now, show me what that pretty mouth of yours can do," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "And maybe, just maybe, I'll give you what you really want."

Oddly enough, that stubborn woman obeyed him without question, living up to what she had said about him having her obedience. The sight of her kneeling naked was sinful, even more so when her curious fingers made quick work of undoing his pants completely. Taking a moment to study his cock, and when Silco opened his mouth to let out a sarcastic comment she finally took him into her mouth.

Silco groaned as her tongue laved along his shaft, the wet heat of her mouth sending jolts of pleasure racing through his veins. He could feel his cock pulsing in her grip, the blood rushing to his groin as his arousal mounted. It took every ounce of his self-control not to simply grab her head and force her down onto his dick, to fuck her pretty face until he painted her throat with his seed.

But he resisted the urge, determined to savor every moment of this exquisite torment. She was skilled with her mouth, he had to give her that. She knew just how to tease and tantalize, to bring him to the brink of madness without pushing him over the edge.

Silco's hands fisted in her hair, his grip tight enough to be uncomfortable but not quite painful. He guided her head as she worked him over, showing her exactly how he liked it. Up and down she went, her lips stretched obscenely around his girth, her tongue swirling around the sensitive head of his cock.

"Fuck, just like that," Silco sighed with pleasure. "Take it deeper, dove. Show me how badly you want it."

He could feel his balls tightening, his orgasm building at the base of his spine. But he held back, determined to make this last. He wanted to hear she beg for it, to watch her break apart on his cock like the desperate little slut she was.

Silco's hips rocked in time with her bobbing head, his pace increasing as his arousal grew. He could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter in his core, the pleasure bordering on pain. But still he held back, his iron self-control the only thing keeping him from exploding down her throat. Finally, when he couldn't take it anymore, Silco yanked she off his cock and hauled her up into his lap. He crashed his mouth against hers in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving deep to taste himself on her lips. His hands roamed her body, groping and squeezing, leaving marks of possession on her soft skin.

The kiss was confusing at first, perhaps because she probably didn't expect him to pull her in for a kiss. However, it didn't take long for her to give in, returning the same intensity. Of course, it would be foolish to think that her wandering hands would remain still since soon Silco could feel her gripping him and rubbing against herself. She had pulled her panties aside as she covered him with her wetness, as if her saliva wasn't enough. When the provocation seemed to last longer than it should, she lined up his tip with her entrance. That woman was going to kill him.

Silco groaned as she sank down onto his cock, her tight heat enveloping him like a vice. The sensation was exquisite, her walls fluttering and clenching around his length as she adjusted to his size. He could feel every inch of her, from the slick, velvety softness of her entrance to the tender spot deep inside that made her gasp and writhe.

His hands gripped her hips hard enough to leave bruises, his fingers digging into her flesh as he guided her movements. Up and down she rode him, her pace growing faster and more erratic as the pleasure built within her. Silco thrilled at the sight of her, head thrown back in ecstasy, breasts bouncing with each thrust of her hips. She was certainly a sight that would stay in his mind for a long time.

He leaned forward and captured one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking hard as he rolled the other between his fingers. She cried out, her back arching as the dual stimulation sent shockwaves of pleasure racing through her body. Silco could feel her walls tightening around him, her body tensing as she neared her peak.

"That's it, dove," he growled against her skin, his voice rough with lust. "Come for me. Let me feel you fall apart on my cock."

Silco's hips snapped up to meet hers, driving his cock deeper, harder, faster. The sound of their flesh slapping together filled the room, obscene and beautiful all at once. He could feel his own climax building, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter in his core. But he held back, determined to bring her over the edge first.

He reached down between their bodies, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing in tight, fast circles. The added stimulation was too much for her, and she came with a scream, her body convulsing around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. And, as if possible, becoming even more beautiful.

Only then did Silco allow himself to let go, his own orgasm ripping through him like a tidal wave. He thrust up into her one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he exploded, his seed painting her insides with its heat. He could feel her milking him, her walls rippling and fluttering around his.

━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━

You collapsed against Silco’s body, utterly spent, as if the world around you had vanished during those feverish minutes. Your forehead rested against his shoulder, and you desperately tried to catch the breath that seemed to have abandoned your lungs. Your body, slick with sweat, still trembled with the remnants of pleasure, involuntary aftershocks that left your overly sensitive skin prickling at the slightest touch. Every muscle felt too heavy to move, leaving you there, trapped between exhaustion and the slow return to reality.

The silence that followed was filled only with the sound of your uneven breathing mingling with his, punctuated by the muffled music, laughter, footsteps, and the occasional moans from other rooms. The brothel was alive, grounding you in where you were, even though the power play that culminated in this moment had momentarily made you forget.

"So..." You lifted your head slowly to meet his gaze, your voice husky and still thick with effort. "Did I please you?" You knew the question would sound like a provocation masked as submission, but you would regret letting the opportunity to tease him slip by so easily.

Silco remained silent for a beat, and then a low, rough chuckle escaped his lips. "Please me? That would be an understatement, dove." he replied, his voice still deep, almost purring. "You exceeded all my expectations."

As he spoke, you felt his fingers rise to your face, brushing aside a strand of hair stuck to your damp skin with a subtle touch. His heterochromatic eyes were locked onto yours, and the moment seemed to stretch on longer than it should have. A part of you wanted to pull away, but something about the intensity of his gaze kept you rooted in place.

His hands slid down your back, fingers tracing the subtle contours of your spine. The heat of his touch sent another shiver through you, your body still far too sensitive. He knew that, of course, and seemed to savor every small reaction he could elicit.

You thought he would push you away, that this moment would end quickly, but he didn’t. Instead, Silco’s lips met yours in a fleeting touch, so brief it could hardly be called a kiss. Then, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed as if he were absorbing what had just transpired, what he had just done to you.

"But I’m not done with you yet." he whispered, his voice a dark warning, the echo of something dangerous. Something you should fear.

But you laughed in response.

"I was hoping you’d say that," you teased, slowly shifting your position on his lap, feeling your muscles protest against the movement.

The smirk playing on your lips was wicked as you took in the state of him. Though still clothed, his appearance was far from composed. His trousers, carelessly undone, were wrinkled and disheveled, while his previously immaculate hair was a tousled mess. And those eyes—still hazy, swimming in lust—watched you with an intensity that sent a thrill down your spine. He was chaos incarnate, and you felt absurdly proud of being the one to unravel him.

"However..." You slid off his lap with the same provocative grace that had carried you through the entire evening, your body still trembling faintly from the lingering sensations. "I believe you'll have to pay again if you want to see me next time... Our time is up." You felt his cum, as well as yours, slide down your thighs as you sank into the spot next to him on the couch, but you didn't really care about cleaning it up. The only shred of decency you had was fixing your panties. 

Even with nothing but your undergarments covering your skin, you made a point of turning this moment into something that would haunt Silco’s mind—a small finale, pure provocation.

Silco remained seated for a moment, his intense gaze never straying from you. There was something in his eyes—a possessive glint, almost feral. It was as though he wanted to say something, to act, but with an admirable display of restraint, he held back.

You watched as he reached into his pocket, retrieving a wad of bills. With a casual flick of his wrist, he tossed them onto the table in the corner.

"Consider that a bonus for your... exceptional service."

Rising from the couch, he began adjusting his clothes with mechanical precision. His nimble fingers fastened the zipper on his trousers and smoothed the creases in his suit. The final touch was the swift motion of his hands taming his disheveled hair, each strand returning to its rightful place. With every deliberate move, Silco reclaimed the aura of the man who commanded fear and respect across all of Zaun.

When he reached the exit of the room, he paused. He didn’t turn completely but tilted his head just enough for the warm orange glow of his eye to catch the dim light.

"I have a feeling we’ll see each other very soon, dove."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: Today is my friday bc I booked time off to go see my grammy!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You don’t dare enter the suite again until you hear snoring. You’re cautious as you move around in the low rhythm of Lloyd’s slumber. It begins to dawn on you slowly what you’ve agreed to. You’re used to controlled doses of him. You go to work, do his bidding, then clock out. There might be a few late nights but this is too much. 

One million dollars. You repeat it to yourself like a mantra. With that money you can but your way free of this man once and for all. Hell, you might go back to school so you can be an insufferable boss one day. That might actually make your mother proud. 

You shut yourself in the bathroom and try to wake yourself with a shower. It’s nice but your fatigue is even more obvious as you emerge. Your coffee sits cold and forgotten next to scraps of bacon and an empty cup. 

You go back down to the dining hall and sit to enjoy your coffee without the threat of another awkward moment. You rub your forehead as you lean your elbow on the table and sip. Not bad for hotel brand. 

You return to the room and knock before you let yourself in. You hear stirring in the bed as you do but nothing as lewd as last time. Lloyd groans and whimpers. 

“My head,” he moans. 

“It’s almost ten,” you say. “What time is this brunch at?” 

He whines again and drags a pillow over his head. You open your carry-on and pull out your travel tube of pain killers. You cross to him and grab his hand, shoving the capsules into his palm. 

“Get up,” you say, “what time?” 

He clasps onto your fist and rips the pillow off. He tugs on you as he sits up. His eyes are blood shot and his forehead creased with agony. You want to laugh in his face. Serves him right. 

“Twelve,” he pouts. 

You wrench your hand free and go to the mini fridge. You grab him a bottle of water and toss it onto his lap. He catches it with a flinch. 

“Woah, watch the gems,” he warns. 

“I gotta go get my luggage. Find something appropriate,” you look down at the grey sweatshirt and leggings meant for the flight home. “Get yourself together.” 

You turn and grab your jacket. You’re really not looking forward to this. You agreed to it, though, and you won’t be Lloyd. You’re not going to gripe about a decision you made. One million, one million, one million... 

You go out to your car and grab your bag. You haul it back up and after another cautious tap on the door, you push your way into the room. The bathroom door is open as the shower thrums and Lloyd’s groans underline the hum. You shut it and prop your bag up on the chair. 

You pick out the cashmere cream blouse with the twisted neckline and a pair of soft beige wool trousers. Presentable but not high effort. These people are not going to stress, not any more than he already has. 

You change and search your toiletry bag. You use the wall mirror to get ready as you hear the shower crank off. Lloyd’s clumsy steps slap the tile and he crashes into the door from the inside. You make no effort to check on his as you blend in your blush. 

“Urghhhhh,” he appears like a yeti from a snow drift, staggering with his head nearly beneath his shoulders. “I feel like a sorority girl after rush week.” 

“That’s gross,” you reprimand as you put the blush stick away. “I think maybe this is a good lesson. Take it easy on the mimosas at brunch, huh?” 

“Hair of the dog,” he insists as he clutches the top of the towel and stumbles to the bed. “You wanna get out my Gucci suit. You can iron the jacket--” 

“Excuse me?” You turn. 

“Please, my beloved,” he whines. 

“N. O.” You say. 

“I’m paying you--” 

“That wasn’t what we discussed.” 

“Wives iron suits,” he retorts. 

“In 1952.” You bounce back. “Lloyd. This is business. We sell this thing to your family so you can get your money, and I can get mine, and that’s that. This is a shell. Okay?” 

“Hmph,” he grunts. He sucks his teeth as he thinks and you turn back to the mirror. You see his reflection. You don’t like that twinkle in his eyes. “Well, if we really want to sell this thing, we gotta make it seem natural.” He stands up and wobbles as he braces his forehead. He takes a breath and lumbers towards you, “you gotta act like you’re into me.” 

He brings his hand down and squeezes your ass. It’s more painful than you expect. You’re reminded of that unceremonious pinch issued by another of his bloodline. 

You spin to face him and slap his hand down, “ow. Don’t do that.” 

“Like I said, you’re not going to be engaged to guy you can’t stand. Okay? So you gotta get into it,” he reaches around you with both arms and cups your ass, pulling you flush to him. You drop your mascara and smack his upper stomach. 

“Lloyd,” you growl. 

“Put a little honey in it,” he kneads your ass as you squirm. 

“Let go--” 

“You know I’m right,” he wiggles his hips and the towel slips off. 

“Oh, god!” You push on him harder. 

“Mm, you know, I never realised how tiny you are. I could just...” He bends his knees as he slides one hand down your thigh and the other up your back. He angles to scoop you up. You squeal in surprise. “Ah, easy as pie. Just like me, Pixie stick. 

“Lloyd, put me down,” you writhe in his grasp. “This isn’t okay!” 

“Should we consummate now--” 

“Ew, oh, no.” 

“Ew?” He echoes. “What’s ew about it? I’m rich, I’m attractive--” He pauses as he turns and tosses you toward the bed. You land in a heap with a yelp. “And I’m strong.” 

You don’t have a chance to recover before he’s on top of you. He catches your hands before you can swipe at his face and he pins them above your head. He straddles you, shamelessly naked, and snickers. 

“Trust me, my thrust game is on point,” he rolls his hips and you close your eyes. 

“Lloyd, off. Now.” 

“I’m tryna get off, Pixie, trust,” he leans over you until you feel his breath. “We could have lots of fun. After three years of tension, you know it’s inevitable.” 

“Tension?” You hiss, “oh, I don’t think it’s the kind you think.” 

“You’re stressed. I’m offering you relief. A little extra bang for your buck, here.” 

“No,” you grit out between your teeth, twisting your wrists in his grip and you kick your legs. You don’t like the way it makes the whole bed jostle. “Just get off of me. Please.” 

“I’m trying to get in you,” he snarls. 

Your eyes snap open as his nose comes down next to yours. He leers down at you as his irises no longer sparkle. His features are sinister as he puffs down at you like a wild beast. Your heart jumps into your throat. He’s no longer just a nuisance, he’s a danger. 

You open and close your fingers, “we’ll be late if you don’t.” 

He stares down at you. You feel him breathing, shallow and rabid, as your own heartbeat thumps in your chest. He doesn’t have to stop and there’s really nothing you can do to make him. 

“Mom’s already mad at me,” he grumbles and pushes himself up. He slowly drags himself off and turns his back to you. You watch the muscles tauten and bring yourself up on your elbows. 

“I’ll iron your suit,” you relent. “Just put some underwear one.” 

He scoffs as you carefully roll away from him. You move as if any sudden motion might antagonize him. He gets up and grabs his phone from the night stand. He huffs as he lights up the screen. 

“This licks ass,” he growls. 

You go to his suitcase and open it. You search out the label with the G on it and hold up the red blazer. “Is this the one?” 

He looks at you as he chews his cheek. He nods and quickly goes back to his phone, tapping on it with his thumb. You roll your eyes and find a pair of black slacks to match. You take it all out and unfold the ironing board from the wall. 

You nearly wince as he approaches. He passes you and goes to his bag, bending to sift through it. “You know, I usually like to hang free.” He rips something from the suitcase, “but for you, I’ll tie the hog down.” He stands and steps into the briefs one leg at a time. He snaps the band and puts his hands on his hips. “Happy?” 

“Not really,” you mutter. 

“Yeah, me neither,” he sighs. 

❄️

In the daylight, the Hansen’s mansion appears even more pristine. As you come up the long walk with the elaborate set stone, Lloyd neatens his mustache with a small mother of pearl comb. You give him a side glance but say nothing. He hasn’t stopped fidgeting since you got in the car. 

You get to the front door and prepare yourself for another encounter with the worst people you’ve met. For all your time working for the man next to you, you should be perfectly honed for the task. Still, you’re not sure you can be ready for that bunch. 

Lloyd lets himself in and you follow. As you unzip your booties, he clears his throat. “Hey, mom, we’re here.” 

He receives no answer but you can hear the din humming from another room. He takes off his jacket and hangs it. You put yours next to his. His cheek ticks with dread and he forces his chin up. 

You follow him to the dining room and as he enters, he receives no welcome. A few stray looks are aimed at you but no one acknowledges your arrival. Lloyd clears his throat and sits. You claim the seat next to him and peer around. How jolly of a holiday. 

As your boss shifts beside you, you hold back a yawn. You haven’t got enough sleep for this nonsense. Lloyd sits forward and reaches for the jug of orange juice. Another hand reaches out to catch the crystal decanter. 

“Let us get the formalities out of the way, son,” William snarls. “You owe your mother an apology.” 

Lloyd rescinds his reach and flinches, “an apology?” 

“Yes, you humiliated her last night, storming off like that.” 

Lloyd blinks, as genuinely confused as you’ve ever seen him. His throat bobs and his eyes brows arch, “Mom,” he looks at Gwenyth as she puts her posture as straight as she can. “I’m sorry.” 

“Are you? And what about this one? I’d say she started all this trouble,” she accuses as she points at you with a red acrylic. 

You nearly scoff. Instead, you match her energy. “I have nothing to apologise for.” 

“Pixie,” Lloyd hisses. 

“No, why should I apologise? Tell me exactly what I did and I’ll let you know if I’m sorry.” 

“Pix, what are you doing?” Lloyd murmurs. 

“Well, you...” Gwenyth begins. “You said—You--” 

“You accused me of being out for money. I’m not. You insulted him,” you gesture carelessly to Lloyd, “repeatedly. So, I’m not entirely sure what I did that offended you so much. I’ve been pleasant but it doesn’t mean you can walk all over me.” 

“You are defiant,” she yaps shrilly. 

“I’m being honest. And to apologise wouldn’t be honest,” you shrug. “Now, if you would rather we leave, I’m more than happy to pack up. Obviously, I can’t meet your high standards.” 

“Pixie,” Lloyd whispers. 

The table is silent as you stare across it. You feel the fire burning under your skin. You’re not sure where that came from. Maybe it’s because none of this really matters. You don’t need to impress them. You just need to get that courthouse contract signed and you can be on your merry way. This is all just pretense. 

“Hm,” William pushes the jug toward Lloyd, “you hold onto that one. She’s clever.” 

“William,” Gwenyth yowls and swats her husband’s arm. 

“She has a point,” he says. 

“But--” 

“Suppose we are a bit hard on the boy,” he argues. 

“Or maybe he’s just a disappointment,” Lillian preens. “Daddy, please. He waited forty-three years to meet expectations.” 

“Better late than never,” Benson snorts. “I’d prefer never.” 

There’s a bit of laughter, though Gwenyth and Lillian continue to glare across at you. You would be intimidated if you were concerned about their opinions. But they are nothing compared to your grandmother’s eternal glower or your mother’s grim sighs. You might be better prepared for this than you thought. 

“Exactly what she said,” Lloyd swipes up the jug and stops himself, reaching for your glass instead of his. He fills it and presents it to you with a smirk. “We didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“All this waiting and for what,” Gwenyth fans herself and sniffles. “And he chooses this prissy little--” 

“Gwen,” William warns curtly. “Please, do not spoil another meal.” 

“Me? Spoil? I never.” She whines. 

“Hm, yes, we will not mention Easter then,” William tuts. “Let us just enjoy today. After all, I’m sure she could be at home with her own family.” 

You could and you would rather be. Yet, that is one thing you can blame on Lloyd. The more you think of it, you can blame every single snipe and jab on him. After all, he snared you into this. You might have been easily bought but that doesn’t excuse his machinations. 

You look at him with no effort to conceal the revelation. He meets your eye and his brows twitch. He bares his teeth sheepishly. Your eyes narrow as you center every ounce of exhaustion, chagrin, and general distaste in his direction.  

“You okay, honey pie?” He asks softly. 

You reach for your glass and examine it, “is there prosecco in this? If not, could I request some?” You turn back to the table. You hear Lloyd gulp and feel him shift before he reaches to touch your arm. It’s your turn to indulge. 

[bqstqnbruin]

Friendsgiving

Hi so we are going to ignore the fact that it is nearly 2 am but here I am with a fic that I started today because of this tik tok that I saw a few hours ago and I immediately went 'fic'. So, here we are

Warnings: none

WC: 5845

Enjoy!

__________________________________________

“Why and how are you in Vancouver?” 

“Don’t hate me.”

“Oh, my god, did you move to Canada without me? You moved and didn’t even tell me.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at what you hoped was Lena’s unnecessary panic that you heard through your phone speaker, trying to navigate your way through the airport that you had never been to before. “No, I’m just probably doing something stupid.” 

“And you’re doing it without me?”

“Leen, I’ll catch you up later, ok?”

“Am I going to have to make sure you don’t end up in a ditch?”

“You should probably watch my location for the next few days,” you say, in all seriousness. “But I have to go, I love you, bye.”

You hang up on your best friend as you hear her screaming on the other end about calling the authorities, knowing that she wouldn’t actually do that. Actually, she might. But you can’t think about that right now.

You were trying to find Brock, despite the fact that you had never met him in person and stupidly agreed to fly to Vancouver on a day's notice from your home the week of Thanksgiving. 

You couldn’t believe the last couple of days of your life. You had posted a silly photo of you and your friends at your annual Friendsgiving. You always got together the Friday before, and had been doing so since middle school when your parents still had to either make the food for you, or had to be in the kitchen with you heavily supervising the entire time. This year was the 15th year in a row that you had all gotten together, celebrating in a much bigger fashion than you had in years past; you all dressed up, you all brought the food in the best serving dishes you had instead of the Dollar Tree tin dishes you all normally brought, you had the fanciest bottles of wine you could afford littering the table, and you had even all planned to stay over together for the first time, continuing the event into the morning. 

Brock had messaged you because of the photo. You were mutuals, having some of the same friends in college but never actually interacted with each other. 

All of your friends talked about how you two would get along so well, but it seemed like every time you were supposed to meet, something happened that prevented you from doing so. There was the one party you were supposed to go to with your friends, that you had been planning on going to all week until you got food poisoning from the dining hall. There was the class you were supposed to take together until his practice times got changed and ended up conflicting with the class. You were supposed to go to a formal together as each other's dates until he slept through his alarm and missed the bus to the venue.

You were always supposed to meet, until you didn’t.

But then you got the message from him a few days ago asking if you wanted to come to his Friendsgiving that he was going to with his American teammates. 

It was easily the craziest thing you had done in your life, saying yes to flying out to Vancouver the next day to meet a guy you had never actually met in person, or really talked to before those messages.

It made you realize you really hadn’t done much with your life. 

You walked through the airport, trying to see if you could find the guy you would be spending the next couple of days with by the baggage claim where he told you he would meet you. 

You finally see him, the blonde head of hair sticking out to you for an unknown reason. 

You knew from his pictures on his account that he was attractive, but, shit, he was gorgeous in person. 

He was also dressed up way more than he should be for someone to be waiting for a stranger in an airport; he was in a full suit and tie, his hair looking like he had just gotten out of the shower and styled it immediately. 

“Hi,” he says to you when he sees you, a smile on his face making your heart skip a beat. 

You didn’t even know this guy. “Hi,” you manage to get out as he pulls you in for a hug. “You look good, all dressed up.” 

Brock reaches for your bag, taking it off your shoulder and walking you out of the airport. “Thanks.”

“Why are you dressed up?”

“We’re on our way to the game.”

“We?”

“I didn’t tell you?”

“Do I look like I’m dressed for a hockey game?”

Brock looks at you as the two of you approach his car, opening his trunk to put your bag in. “You look great to me.”

“I’m in sweats, fresh off a plane. When do you think you told me?”

“Uh,” he lets out as you get in his car. “Yesterday?”

You take out your phone, scrolling through the messages the two of you exchanged. “You told me you had a game, not that I was going to one.” 

“Who did I tell that to yesterday?” he says, staring out through his front windshield, wracking his brain. You couldn’t help but laugh. “I can take you back to my place, if you want.”

“Would that make you late for the game?”

He glances at the clock, pulling out his phone. “Very late, yes.” 

You roll your eyes, fighting back a smile that you couldn’t help. “I’ll go to the game. I’m sure I have something I can change into stuffed in my bag.” 

The two of you fall into easy conversation, much like you had when he first reached out to you. There was something about him that was easy to talk to. 

He pulls up to the arena, still talking about one of the parties you were both supposed to go to in college.

“Do you remember that one kid, Chris, who somehow threw up at every party he went to?” he asks you, leaning against his car as you rifle through your bag in his trunk, searching for any semblance of an outfit that was better than the sweats you were currently in.  

“Hold on,” you tell him, climbing into the trunk and pulling the hatch closed, trying your best to change in the cramped space. You managed to find jeans and a black shirt that could pass as a non-airport outfit that you were smart enough to pack as a spare since Brock didn’t really give you a ton of information as to how the week was going to go. You could see him standing outside the car, dumbfounded by the abrupt nature of you practically commandeering his car as a changing room for yourself. “Ok, I’m good,” you say, opening the door back up in what you were sure was record time for changing in a car trunk.

“Wow,” he says, you noticing the slightest shade of red appearing on his cheeks. 

“Better?” you ask. Your foot catches on part of the trunk as you try to get out, practically falling out of his car. 

You feel Brock’s hands catch you, spreading across your back and under your legs. “Much,” he says, his face inches from yours. He clears his throat, his face turning bright red as he puts you down.

He wasn’t about to kiss you, was he? And why would you have been ok if he did that? “Thanks for that,” you tell him, embarrassment seeping into your voice. 

“So, uh, Chris?” he asks, walking you into the arena with his hands now firming shoved into his pockets.

“He really did somehow end up in the bathroom at every party.”

“Even if he didn’t have anything to drink that night.” 

“I wonder what he’s up to now?”

“He just got engaged, actually,” you tell him. “His fiance was one of my lab partners back in college.” 

“Wow. Never would have known that,” he tells you. The two of you walk through what you could only describe as the tunnels of the arena, Brock showing you around and trying to explain to you what everything was. 

“You’re gonna be in here,” he tells you, showing to a room that was filled with women and children who all seemed to know each other. Before you can ask anything, he checks his watch, his eyes practically bugging out of his head. “Shit, I’ve gotta get ready. I’ll meet you right here after the game.” 

Brock runs off, leaving you standing at the entrance to this room that you could see was at ice level, filled with people you didn’t know. 

You couldn’t enter the room. This was already ridiculous, you being here in the first place with a guy you just met for the first time in person less than an hour before. Now you were apparently supposed to go into this room with a bunch of people and do what? Talk to them? 

No thank you.

You feel your phone vibrating in your pocket, leaning against the wall next to the entrance of this room as Lena calls you again. “Ok, you did not fly all the way to Vancouver to see a Canucks game.”

“I’m going to stop sharing my location with you,” you laugh.

“Ok, spill, why the hell are you in Vancouver?”

You recount the whole string of events to her, realizing how ridiculous the whole situation sounded now that you were actually verbally articulating everything. “And now, I’m outside of this room with a bunch of women and I think this is where I’m supposed to be for the rest of the game.”

“Are you in the WAG room?”

“The what?”

“The WAG room.”

“No, I heard you,” you sigh, “What does that mean?”

“The wives and girlfriends.”

You stare at the wall on the other side of the hallway as people you ignored scurried around you. “But I’m not a wife or a girlfriend?”

“Well, as long as you have that established. I heard there’s supposed to be amazing food in those rooms for the families.” 

You peek your head into the room, seeing a line of the women forming on the other side of the room in front of what looked like an incredible spread of food. “I can see that.”

“Go in!” Lena shrieks in your ear. “Have fun, make friends, and bring me some food when you get back.” She hangs up before you can say anything else, leaving you there with your phone pressed against your ear and no one on the other end of the call. 

You finally work up the courage to go into the room, trying to slip in and stay in the back, out of the way of anyone who would feel the need to come to talk to you. You stay along the wall closest to the door, trying to take in the room around you. There were children seemingly everywhere, running and shrieking as they played with each other. Toys were scattered all over the floor, bags lined against the wall. You probably looked like a freak the way you were moving through the room, trying to find a seat that you could sink into and become invisible in.

“Shit,” you let out, slamming down onto the floor, tripping over one of the toys you were somehow too busy to notice. 

“Are you ok?” one of the women asks you, crouching down on the floor to meet you at what was now, embarrassingly, eye level. 

You could feel your face getting hot. “Other than my ego being bruised, I think I’m good.” 

“I haven’t seen you before,” she says to you. “I’m Lexie. I’m Thatcher’s wife.”

You had no idea who Thatcher was, but it probably wouldn’t look good for you if you admitted that. 

You introduce yourself, finally getting up off the floor and dusting yourself off. “I’m here with Brock.”

Lexie’s eyes light up with excitement. “You must be Brock’s mystery girl.” The room seems to go silent when Lexie practically shrieks that, even the children making no noise. “He had been telling us he was seeing someone, but we never thought he would bring you to a game early.”

“Oh, I,” you start, getting nervous now that all eyes were on you. You had no idea what he had told these women, or their husbands, or boyfriends, or whoever these people were. “Here I am.”

“I can’t believe Brock would just throw you to the wolves like this,” Lexie says, linking her arm with yours and walking you over to the food table.

“Are you kidding?” another one of the women chimes in. “This is exactly something Brock would do. I’m Natalie, by the way, J.T.’s wife.”

The two women start chatting your ear off, you unable to comprehend what they were saying. Brock had a ‘mystery girl,’ that you had now taken on the identity of. Brock was probably seeing someone who couldn’t be there this week and now he was going to look like an awful human when you suddenly disappeared and were replaced with another person next week. 

But, why did you care? You barely knew Brock.

You had no idea how much time passed by when they all start filtering out the seats near the ice, the players skating around in circles. 

You join them, unsure what else to do. You pull out your phone, getting an idea and starting to type in a new note, trying to wave Brock over to the boards when you finally get his attention.

They think I’m your ‘mystery girl??? you show him with your phone screen pressed against the glass when he comes over. The color seems to drain from his face, mouthing ‘I’m sorry,’ and shrugging way too casually for your liking before practically sprinting away from you to the other side of the rink. 

You head back into the room, beelining for the exit and pulling up Lena’s number.

“Brock told everyone he and I are dating?” you try not to scream too loudly, hoping that none of the people in the room or in the hallway 

“Oh,” Lena says. “That’s not great.”

“Not great?” you say, running your hand through your hair, feeling yourself panic. “This is crazy. What if this turns into a psycho killer situation?’

“He’s way too high profile in the area to get away with killing you.”

“That’s not reassuring.” 

“I’m just saying he wouldn’t get away with it.”

“Adelena,” you stomp your foot like a child out of frustration, using your friend's full name.

“Ok, calm down,” she says. “There’s no need for the government name here. I think you just need to talk to him after the game and figure out what’s going on. I will fly out there and save you if I have to.” 

You take in a deep breath. This was the dumbest thing you could have done, regret seeping into you with every passing moment that you spent in Vancouver. “I’ll let you know.” You go back in the room, trying to pay attention to the game as the people around you milled about, trying to get to know you and about your ‘relationship’ with Brock.

“How long have you two been going out?” Lexie asks eagerly. 

“Um,” you panic, “Not that long, honestly. This is all really new.” That wasn’t a total lie.

“How did you two even meet?”

“We went to college together.” 

Before Lexie could ask you another question that you probably didn’t have an answer to, a toddler runs up to her, crying. “Gotta go,” she says to you, lifting the toddler and trying to comfort them. 

You sat and tried to watch the rest of the game, writing down everything you told Lexie in hopes that Brock would have said something similar. You spent the rest of the game on your phone texting with Lena, thankful that no one else in the room came up to you to talk to you or ask questions the way Lexie had, only going back to the ice and looking up from your screen to see Brock scoring.

You wait outside the room for Brock once the game was over, his teammates coming out much faster than he was as the hallway and the room behind you slowly emptied out, leaving you alone in the hallway. 

“What the fuck,” you ask him when you finally see him. 

“I’m sorry, I know,” he tells you, walking out to his car. 

“I don’t care if you need me to pretend to date you, but I would have liked to know about it before you threw me into the Gossip Grotto.” 

Brock exhales when he gets into the car, resting his head against the steering wheel while you stared at him with your arms crossed in front of you. “The guys keep bugging me about not dating anyone so I told them I was seeing someone to get them to shut up.” 

“And you didn’t think that was relevant to mention when you invited me here that there was a good chance they would think I’m the girl you’re dating?”

“No. I figured they would have forgotten about it by now.” 

“Well, their wives didn’t.”

“So what do we do?”

You stare at him. “I could leave on the next flight and get out of here and probably be mad at you forever. Or, we pretend we’re together.”

He whips his head to you, his eyes crazy with shock. “What?”

You shrug, pulling out your phone and showing him the notes you made during the game about you and him being together. “We fake date. I’m only here until Wednesday, and you said we were only going to be seeing your friends on Tuesday night. We have plenty of time to figure this out.”

“We have a day and a half.” 

You scoff. “You think I haven’t figured out more complicated things in less time? I got a plane ticket and got myself here on twelve hours notice.”

“So, we fake date?”

“We fake date.” 

_____________________________

“What are you doing?” you ask, walking into Brock’s kitchen the next morning, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You spent the night in his guest room, sleeping in what was probably the most comfortable bed you had ever slept in. You spent the night before starting to hash out the story you would tell his teammates and their partners, agreeing that you would only share information about the two of you if you were directly asked about it. 

“Debating whether or not to make us breakfast,” he tells you, one hand on his hip, the other holding open the fridge door. Brock had on no socks, boxer shorts and a t-shirt, all of which showed off to you just how unfair his entire physique was. His hair was messy in a somehow perfect way that would have made you drool under any other context. You could pretend to drool over him, but real drooling was out of the question right now. 

“What’s the other option?”

He closes the fridge door, turning to face you. “I don’t make breakfast and we go out for food instead.” 

“How good are you at making breakfast?”

“I make a mean bowl of cereal.” 

“We’re going out for breakfast, get dressed.” 

“Wow, my girlfriend is bossy,” he smirks as you walk away, looking over your shoulder at him and sticking your tongue out.

Was that too flirty? You had agreed last night that flirting was ok so you could ‘get used to it.’ How could you flirt in front of other people if you had never done it before? 

You call Lena while you were getting ready. 

“You could just real date him,” you hear her suggest, crunching on something on the other end of the line.

“You could just give me real advice and not chew on something in my ear.” 

“It’s morning, let me eat my apple,” Lena says, obviously with her mouth full. “What are you guys doing today?”

“Right now, getting ready for breakfast. Beyond that, watch my location.”

“Yeah, I have no job. I can just stalk you all day.”

“If I end up dead how are you going to know?”

“Ugh, fine,” she sighs. “Have fun, don’t die.”

She hangs up, leaving you alone to get dressed for a day you didn’t know the details of. You pull on leggings and a sweater, your sneakers on and grabbed a jacket that you didn’t even know if you needed. You head back out to Brock’s kitchen, finding him leaning against the counter on his phone.

“You need to change,” you tell him. He had on black jeans and the same color sweater as you. 

“This could be a cute couple thing,” he jokes. “We could take a picture together and post it, or something.” You hesitate, walking over to Brock as he extends his hand with his camera open. “At least pretend to like me,” he tells you, plastering a smile on his face as he starts taking photo after photo.

You rest your hand on his chest, leaning into him and smiling at his camera. You did look good together, if you had to admit. 

“Can you do one where you kiss my cheek?’

“What?”

“Don’t couples do that?’

You stare at him for a second. Would it be weird to do that? He asked you to do it. “I normally scroll past those photos.”

“Me, too.” The two of you stand in silence for a second, neither of you sure how to go on. “Maybe we don’t do that. Too much, too soon.” You nod in agreement.

“So, where are we going?”

Brock smiles at you, leading you out the door. 

_____________________________

The breakfast he took you to was amazing. He said that he had an entire day for you planned as a thank you for coming out here in the first place. 

“How are you with hiking?”

“It depends.”

“On?”

“How long the trail is.”

Brock laughs, putting his car in park in front of a water front. 

“If we don’t stop, it’ll take two hours.” 

“That seems like a long time.”

“That’s how long my games are.”

“Yeah, that was a long time,” you tease him, getting out of the car. 

The trail was beautiful, a breeze off the water cooling you down as you walked alongside Brock. This could easily have been a real date if the two of you were actually together. 

You shake your head slightly of the thought. This was just supposed to be you helping him out, even though that wasn’t the original purpose of your trip. “So what are you supposed to do for Friendsgiving tomorrow night?”

Brock stops walking, the person behind him nearly knocking into him as he scolds Brock for stopping in the middle of the trail. You pull him over to the side of the walkway, ignoring the spark that you swore ran through you as laced your fingers in his. 

“I have no idea, actually.” 

“So you’re off to a great start.”

“I think I was told to bring something in the group chat,” he says, using his free hand to pull out his phone and start scrolling through the message thread that seemed to go on forever, your hands still intertwined. You weren’t sure he even noticed at this point, but part of you didn’t want to be the one to break the connection between you. “Ah, mac and cheese.”

“Have you ever made homemade mac and cheese before?”

“It has to be homemade?”

You roll your eyes, starting to walk again with your hands still locked together. “Did you think it would just magically spawn in front of you once you got to Quinn’s place?”

“I only have boxes of the store brand of mac and cheese.”

“Oh my god,” you sigh, pulling out your phone and finding the recipe you make for yourself when you have motivation. “Can you use Quinn’s oven when you get there or will he not have space?”

He quickly types on his phone as the two of you keep walking. “Yeah, we can as long as it doesn’t take too long,” he tells you, showing you the message from Quinn.

You nod, scrolling to the recipe on the website. “What do you have from these ingredients?” 

Brock quickly scans the list, nodding along and mouthing each component to himself. “I have the flour, salt, and pepper.”

“So you were supposed to be making mac and cheese and you had neither the mac nor the cheese?”

“That would be correct.”

“Oh my god,” you groan again. Brock stops walking, pulling you off to the side of the trail again. “What?” Brock gestures to the water in front of you, the sun making the ripples shine, the sky absolutely pristine. “Wow,” you let out. 

“What do you think?” you hear him ask, not taking your attention away from the sight in front of you.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It is.” You look over at him, seeing him tuck his phone away into his pocket, his eyes on you instead of the view. 

_____________________________

“Why was getting all of this way harder than I thought it would be?” Brock asks, putting the bags of groceries on the counter.

“Because you had no idea where anything in the store was and we had to keep doubling back for things we missed the first time.”

“You really have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“We’re dating, isn’t that something you’re supposed to know?”

Brock laughs, pulling out pans and bowls from his cabinets as you start to get everything prepared for the mac and cheese. You tell him what to do, giving him step-by-step instructions.

“This is nice,” he tells you. 

You think for a moment, shredding the cheese into a bowl. The recipe called for more cheese than any recipe you had ever made before, and somehow the mountain of cheese in front of you still didn’t feel like enough. “It is.”

“My mom and dad used to cook like this,” he tells you, his voice somber as he comes up behind you. 

“Yeah?”

“She would tell him what to do and he would do it. Badly, but he would try his best.” You laugh along with him. He had told you that his father had passed away a couple of years ago, but you didn’t know anything else about him other than what she could find with a quick google search that now, in a weird way, felt like an invasion of privacy. “We could always tell which things Dad helped with because they tasted just a little off.” 

“You miss him, don’t you?” you say, slowing down your shredding and turning towards him. He was facing you again, his arm around you but not touching you, resting on the counter on the other side of you. 

“Always.”

You swore he was going to lean in, his eyes flickering down to your lips. You clear your throat, turning back to the cheese. “You should check the pasta to see if it’s almost done or not.”

Brock nods, smiling and winking at you before doing what he was told.

_____________________________

“This is all fake.”

“And?”

“It doesn’t feel fake.” 

“Well, you aren’t a great actress, are you?”

“Lena,” you whine. 

“I saw you try out for The Little Mermaid in middle school.” 

You had texted her once the mac and cheese was done and you were back in what Brock now referred to as ‘your room,’ panicking that he had almost kissed you again. What if you were just reading into things? You felt stupid to think that he was doing anything more than pretending for the sake of getting used to things for tomorrow, right?

“Is there a chance for this to turn into something not fake?”

“Considering he lives in a different country, unless you want me to actually move to Canada without you, no.” 

“Do you want it to be something that isn’t fake?”

You hesitate, knowing that Lena had a stupid smirk on her face that would turn into some sort of ‘I told you so,’ later in the conversation. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it does.”

You sigh. “He’s great, but I’ve known him for two days. You don’t fall for someone like that in two days, it’s absurd.”

“Jack and Rose did in Titanic.”

“And that’s fiction, not real life.”

“Ok, if you had more than two days, then what?” 

“Then, I don’t know. Maybe?” 

“So, what do you do about it?”

“What can I do, Leen?” You flop down on the bed. “I’m here for less than two days before I leave and probably never talk to him again. The best this can be is fake.” 

_____________________________

“Are you ready for this?” Brock asks you, handing you one of the trays of food you made. “No.”

He smiles at you. “Me neither.” 

You head towards the door of Quinn’s place, ready to be as overwhelmed with the people you were about to encounter as you were two days prior at the game, even if you had already met most of these people. 

Lexie is the first one to greet you, somehow, through the chaos of everyone else around you. She leads the two of you into the kitchen, even though Brock already knows his way around. “I’m stealing her,” she tells Brock, grabbing you by the hand and leading you off to another room while all the guys stand around the kitchen island, somehow the ones in charge of the food.

“It is so good to see Brock so happy,” she tells you, handing you a glass of wine as she poured one for herself. The two of you were alone in the room she pulled you into, leaving you amazed that with that many people in the house, there was even an empty room to begin with. “I mean, those photos he posted of you? You are the most photogenic person I have ever seen.”

“Uh, yeah,” you tell her, knowing that you have to stop stammering everytime you try to give someone an answer. 

“You don’t know about the pictures?” You shake your head. She prompts you to pull up Brock’s page, the most recent pictures one from yesterday.

You scroll through the carousel. The first one, as you saw, was the one of you two before you went out for the day. The second one was one of you in the airport, looking for him. You thought you looked awful, but somehow, he made you look good. The third from the game the other night, one of the photographers probably captured a photo after he scored of him looking at you and smiling at him before he heads to the bench. The fourth and fifth were ones you had no idea he took; when you were looking out at the water yesterday, smiling at the sight while your hair somehow perfectly framed your face, and while you were hunched over the cheese, grating too many cups of the stuff for today. 

“He’s in deep,” Lexie smirks, drinking her wine. 

You can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks as you looked at the photos, which he captioned, Thankful for you, with your handle tagged. 

“Now it makes sense why I’m getting so many notifications,” you joke, setting your glass down on the table in front of you. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to go find the bathroom.” 

You head back towards the kitchen, hoping to find Brock there. 

“I’m surprised you actually are dating someone,” you hear someone’s voice in the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Brock responds.

“I thought you made her up,” another voice agrees with the first. 

“I’m not Quinn, I wouldn’t do that,” Brock lies.

“That was one time when I was in sixth grade,” the first voice argues.

You hear Brock laugh, your heart fluttering at the sound, immediately hating yourself for that. You’ve known him for a few days, why did you have to remind yourself about that?

“How long have you guys even been together?” Your heart stops,hoping Brock remembered all the things they talked about the last few days. She knew what he should say, but that didn’t mean he would say it.

“Only about two months, I think.” 

“You think?”

“Petey, you know he’s not good with time.” 

You finally work up the nerve to walk into the room, seeing Brock’s face light up at the sight of you. 

He was faking it. 

“Hey, babe,” he says, pulling you close and kissing the side of your head. 

“God, you two aren’t going to be the kind of couple who overdo the PDA, are you?” Petey asks.

“Only if you piss us off,” Brock says, not taking his eyes off you. 

“So, um,” you say, coming back to reality and turning to the other two. “Everything looks great.” 

Quinn looks at the clock on the oven. “We should probably eat soon. The food should be in a couple of minutes.”

“We’ll get everything on the table,” Brock volunteers the two of you, grabbing one of the plates and handing them to you.

“Everything is going well, so far, I think,” you whisper to him once you’re out of earshot of the others. 

“Everyone thinks we’re actually together. I think we might pull it off.” 

_____________________________

The rest of the night went surprisingly well, the attention largely kept off the two of you most of the time as the team seemed to be more interested in teasing each other while their partners rolled their eyes at the guys’ antics. Brock drove you back in silence, a smile on his face the entire time. 

You headed to bed, knowing that you were going to be leaving when you woke up the next morning, part of you dreading the moment Brock would drop you off at the airport. 

He pulled up to the terminal, neither of you moving once he put the car in park. 

“Can I admit something?” he asks. 

“Sure.”

“I don’t think I want you to leave.” 

You look at him. “I don’t really want to leave.”

“But,” he starts.

“I have to.” 

Brock gets out of the car before you could say anything else, heading to grab your bag from his trunk. 

“We were good at fake dating, though,” he says, handing you your bag. 

You nod as he pulls you in for a hug. “Was all of it fake?” You don’t know what compelled you to ask that, other than you not thinking before you speak.

Brock smiles, his arms still wrapped around you. Before you can fully process it, his lips find yours, a sweet, slow kiss as your lips moved together, his hand on the small of your back pressing you into him. 

“No.” 

[judesmoonbeauty]

Can you give the context of BLE chap 25? Pleasee

Hi anon, of course! - MDNI

Longish post

25 BLE starts the morning after Kate and Jude sleep together. While Jude is still sleeping, Kate wraps a sheet around herself and explores his room because she's never been inside of it. As she's looking at all the books on his bookshelf, she doesn't realize that he's come up behind her. He hugs her from behind and calls her out for sneaking around his room.

He says it's fine though because he'll just do something in exchange for it, so he slides his hand down her waist before he rips off her sheet. He pinches her nipple with one hand and then slips a finger inside her with his other hand. He teases her verbally, and then Kate asks him if they're now a couple which surprises Jude.

He says she should know without him saying it, and she argues that some things can't be understood without words. Jude never says 'I love you' to her. Instead, he grabs her by the chin and kisses her with force, and marks a snarky comment that she turned red when she was kissed by a man who isn't her lover (he's implying he is her boyfie), and she says, "then we are a couple." Kate is satisfied with that because she never expected normal words of love from Jude.

Before she can kiss him, he pulls his finger out and says he's got a business meeting that morning. Kate, who is is now wet and horny, asks about the continuation. Jude laughs and tells her to finish off herself, and that's what she gets for cheating him. She asks if he's upset that she consulted Victor and the other Crown members instead of him, about staying at Crown. He says she can think what she wants to think and then leaves......

Darius asks Nica if Jude would be a good fit for their family, and Nica is like...uhhhh, no.

Jude also gives Victor heaps of paperwork and contracts to sign as his punishment for going behind his back to help Kate remain at Crown. Still, he thinks Jude is as vindictive and adorable as ever. Ellis says that up until now, Jude has never once been happy, but since it seems to Ellis that he's at his peak happiness, so he asks Victor if he thinks it's okay to kill Jude now. Victor laughs and says that he can kill him later. Ellis is disappointed, but agrees and then he tells Victor he's going to deliver something to Kate.

However, Kate is not at Crown because she is under cover as a new recruit for a criminal group that's been causing a ruckus lately, and who now have been using Raven Co's products for nefarious purposes. Jude isn't having that.

Kate is in a luxurious room filled with men, booze and smoke. Her part of the mission was to go undercover and steal confidential information, which she already has, so now she's just waiting for Jude's arrival to start his revenge as her signal to leave. But, a thug comes in and says that Jude's been captured, which surprises Kate.

Flash back to a few days before prior to the mission when Jude and Kate are reviewing the operation details, (in which Kate narrates that after they became a couple, Jude often randomly touches Kate, but it's also a regular occurrence that he does before each mission.)

So, we have a very touchy-feely boyfriend.

Any way, Kate repeats the plan to Jude. She'll be undercover for three days, and then he will show up at 8:00 pm on the third day. He asks if she remembers her promise she made to him, and she reiterates that she promises she won't die. Jude says that when it's all over he's going to make love to her until she's hoarse, but her improv skills suck so....

Kate denies that statement, and says that she can too improvise and adapt in any situation. Jude smiles and says he looks forward to it.

Back to the present, Kate realizes that Jude got caught on purpose because he wants to see what she can do. This both annoys her that he'd do something like that to his girlfriend, and excites her because that means that Jude has complete trust in her abilities and he recognizes her. So, she calls out to her boss that she'll take care of Jude Jazza.

When she walks into the room where he's being held in handcuffs, the group is cheering for her to kill him gloriously, and she says to just leave it to her. Kate notices that although Jude looks beaten, his amethyst eyes are twinkling with a smile. She walks up to him and straddles his lap, points her gun at him and asks how she should kill him. The two quietly talk to each other as the people around them jeer for his death, and Kate suggests a bullet to the brain.

Jude says that's fine, but if that happens then she won't get her treat later on. Kate retorts that without her his life would be boring, and Jude admits that while may be true, he's going ruin her life for the rest of her life until they're in hell together. He'll never let her go. Kate says that's fine, they can suffer until they die, together.

His cuffed hands are hugging her waist, and before you know it he's got the cuffs removed, and Kate shoots her gun, and the both of them laugh and smile together as they bring down the criminal group, in his cycle of hatred and revenge.

Let's keep making unfulfilled promises to each other. -So long as I can dream the same dream as you.

The last two lines that finish the chapter are rough translations.

[0cta9on]

One Year of 0cta9on

Hello everyone! :]

Today marks exactly a year since I debuted as a writer! In an ideal world, I would’ve had some crazy story planned for today, but my current circumstances didn’t allow for that, so enjoy this semi-sappy yap session instead :>

I started writing during a particularly low point in my life where my mental health was in the gutters and I had an insane amount of free time. I’ve always liked imagining stories in my head, so the next obvious step was to start writing those stories down. Hence, 0cta9on was born :]

Channeling my energy into something creative provided me with a distraction from all the things that weighed on my mind and become a source of joy for me. While I know I’m not the best or most well-known writer in this community, seeing even a single comment on my work fills me with such an unexplainable amount of joy. To know that there’s people out there that enjoy the silly little stories I put out is genuinely insane in the best way possible <3

Since I’m mainly a fluff writer, I wasn’t sure what other writers in this community would think of me. But my worries were almost immediately quelled when I first joined the writer discord and became friends with a bunch of amazingly talented writers. Shout out to @msafterhours, @writerpeach, @octoberautumnbox, @gangplanksorenji, @prael, @kooyabooya, @okaylikeschaewon, @mintwithchoco, @defmaybe, @sinswithpleasure, @midnightdancingsol, @capslocked, @svndaysaweek, @usedpidemo, and of course many, many more for being so kind and welcoming <3

Recap of my past year of writing:

Wrote 8 chapters of Unlikely Duet, my cute little slice-of-life romance series starring best girl, Minji <3 Chapter 8 is the longest piece I’ve written so far at +18k words!

First Snow was the first fluff one shot I made. Rough around the edges, but we all start somewhere.

Beach Day and Good Idea were my first attempts at writing smut and they are… alright, I guess :> Part of me wants to go back and revise them, but I barely have the time and motivation to work on new drafts ;[

Masterpiece is still probably my favorite fluff one shot I’ve written so far, and while it’s not the best written by any means, I still really like how it turned out :]

FFF2+4 and Train Ride to Heaven for me marked the start of when I started becoming more comfortable writing smut. I’m still not that great, but it’s fun and I think that’s all that counts for me :]

Stuck with You was the first commission I ever did! Writing someone else’s idea is always difficult, but I’m glad the buyer liked the final product :]

Stroke of Luck was the first time I ever wrote a threesome. I think it went okay :>

Wrote And We Danced and Sunscreen for a fun prompt challenge hosted in the writer’s discord (You can thank @mintwithchoco and @msafterhours for these <3). The latter ended up turning into a quaint little mini series :]

Lessons was my second ever commission and my first attempt at femdom. While femdom isn’t really my thing, it was a fun challenge writing about something new and I really like the little gimmick I threw in there :]

I wrote Today, like, two days ago at 1am without much revising or editing (Shoutout @defmaybe for reading through it before I released <3). Go read it if you haven’t yet pls n thenk yew :>

Wrote 15 shorts from ideas submitted by you guys! Some of my favorite stories I’ve written have been shorts and they’re always nice when I’m low on ideas :]

While I likely won’t have anything out for a while, I think it’d be fun to pull back the curtain a little bit and hint at what I’ve been working on :]

🐰🦋// She’s just your coworker. Just that. Nothing else.

🐻👖// It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?!

🍁✨// Upcoming New Variety Show: Fan Date! Episode 1, starring [REDACTED]

🍔🧀// Time changes, but summer stays the same

I’ve run out of things to talk about, so this concludes my one year anniversary post :> Despite my unplanned and prolonged hiatus, I want y’all to know that I do NOT plan on retiring anytime soon. I have so many stories I still want to tell, whether you like it or not >:]

Have a good day/night and I love yall <3 Have a Minji :]

[twstfanblog]

*~Thanks Give Me~* Pt 3

A/N: Third part ready and served! Yes I passed out writing this at least twice. So you can probably see it but at this point it's just gonna have to be. I have plans to do what I'm gonna call 'Winter Cleaning' since I wont be doing a Christmas fic this year. So lots of time to look back at all of my posted fics to fix typos and the such XD Word Count: 3.3K Pairings: Ruggie/Leona, Cater/Idia, Vil/Rook, Trey/Jade, Riddle/Floyd, Epel/Ace/Deuce/Jack Warnings: Swearing, Trans-headcanons, Drug mentions, Lying about pregnancy

Prev

The dinner was surprisingly pleasant. It was a possibility, Trein knew that. His students, if push came to shove, could act civilly to each other for extended periods of time. It still made his heart soften seeing them all around the table engaged in conversations. If he craned his head a little to the left he could see Lucius seated at the ‘Kids Table’. Demeaning? Possibly. But he knew his familiar wouldn't complain if he was receiving human food, not to mention the small tumbler of cream he had in place of the fruit punch the other children and Grim were given.

Looking to his right, Trein watched Cater take photo after photo of his plate. It was filled to the brim, a little tasteful piece from the most colorful dishes. But seeing him only pick at the food, Trein realized that was only his ‘Photo Plate’. The redhead was routinely picking off of Idia’s plate who was to Caters right. 

Thinking over the conversation he had with Yuu earlier that week, Trein placed his utensils down. Dabbing at his mouth to make sure no food was on his face, he cleared his throat, “Cater?”

The redhead in question snapped his head up, the flash of his camera flickering as it took a photo, “Yes? Sorry, is the flash bothering you, sir? I'm trying to see what lighting is better.”

"Nothing is the matter Cater, I wish to speak to you on other matters.”

“Oh?” Cater leaned his arm on the table, “Spill the tea.”

Trein linked his hands together, leveling Cater with a steady gaze, “You were given the a title as a task I believe?”

“Lol, yeah. Yuu says I'm ‘Gay Cousin’. Wont really tell me what I'm supposed to be doing though.”

“Oh, well this works out perfectly. Yuu alerted me as ‘Grandpa’, it was my task to ask you certain questions.”

“Oh, thank the Seven. Actual direction…”

Trein pulled his phone from his inner robe pocket along with his reading glasses. Putting his glasses on, he opened the notes app, “Now, I've heard you children say a few terms that I'm not aware of…would you tell me what a…’Gyatt’ is?”

Cater turned to Idia, grabbing his attention from his tablet, “Switch seats with me.”

“There's two T's.”

“Switch with me right the fuck now.”

Leona ate as much from his plate in big bites as possible. Ruggie was no better, the hyena basically shoveling food down his throat without even closing his mouth. Looking to his other side, he had to hold back the urge to smirk.

Malleus Draconia, the bane of his existence and the most aggravating thorn to ever find its way to his side.

When he had visited Ramshackle to offer more monetary support, Yuu had given him a second task. They had revealed to him that they told Malleus Thanksgiving was a holiday of compromise and togetherness, meaning you weren't allowed to fight on the day. They then told him to do everything in his power to piss Malleus off.

Taking a sip of his beer, Leona glanced at Malleus from the corner of his eyes, “So, gargoyles…”

It almost made him feel bad seeing how quickly Malleus perked up, green eyes wide and sparkling.

“Yes? what did you wish to discuss about them?”

“What's your favored style? I can admit to having a soft spot for animal pieces, but the Savanna uses more geometric and plant designs.”

Malleus could have vibrated out of his seat and into the sun from how excited he became. He quickly launched into a lecture, noting the various styles and the positives of each one. Leona spoke up at points, giving actual opinions and thoughtful insights on the topic.

“I will say Kingscholar, I didn't expect you to have such knowledge on gargoyles! You must come to my club at a later date to speak on them farther.”

“I just might. Talking about grotesques is enjoyable-”

“Gargoyles.”

Leona raised an eyebrow, humming as he took another sip of his beer.

Malleus was still smiling, though his pupils had dilated into slits, “Gargoyles. We are speaking on gargoyles.’

Shrugging, Leona could barely hide his smirk from behind his glass, “Same thing.”

Leona watched in hidden elation as Malleus’s face slowly dropped the longer he talked. It was worth the days of learning gargoyle architecture just to give wrong definitions and terms, each new avenue of knowledge torturing Malleus in his urge to argue and correct him.

Soon Malleus was leaned on the table, head resting on his hands to give himself support while Leona kept talking.

Leona smiled, leaning closer to Malleus, “And you know what really gargles my goyles?”

Malleus gags hard and quick, managing to cover his mouth and steel himself.

“...Did you almost throw up?”

“I did. A little…”

The laugh Leona let out could only make Malleus more frustrated. 

Kalim had completely forgotten about the conversation topic Yuu recommended he try. He remembered as the plate of grilled and buttered corn made its second pass in front of him. Grabbing a cob, he looked across the table, “Hey, Azul. What's your opinion on The stalk market right now?”

Azul paused, closing the note app on his phone to give Kalim his full attention, “Kalim, have you been taking note of the stock market?”

“Yeah. I've only started checking on it the past week or so, but man! It's pretty wild, huh?”

Smiling, Azul moved to place another scoop of pasta salad onto his plate along with a third slice of turkey, “True. The stock market can be a bit of a wild west to the untrained. Do you have any predictions for the new year? My stepfather and I love to place bets on which company will have the worst spring quarter.”

"Hmmm. I don't know. I can't remember the companies by name still. But man, I read about one that lost half of their product due to outside issues. I'm just worried that prices will increase since they had such a bad production period. Other companies deal in their certain type of stalk, but this company was the biggest provider…”

“...” Azul placed his utensils down, giving Kalim his complete attention, “Kalim what sources are you getting this information from?” Azul doesn’t watch the stock market obsessively but he’d at least notice something so severe.

“Oh, I just Miraed ‘Stalk Market’ and started reading. You should really look up some stuff…”

“Jamil-”

Jamil didn’t even look up from his plate, grabbing a second helping of food, “Don’t involve me with this.”

Sighing, Azul turns back to Kalim, “There is no way, such a large shift happened without me noticing. Plus, if only one company is affected in production, then it wouldn’t raise prices if there are other competitors. What is this stock in?”

“Stalks.”

“Yes…Which stock? Do you remember if this company was in electronics? Services? What ddi this company do?”

“Stalks! Azul, do you know what the stalk market is?”

“Kalim, let’s not start that conversation. Tell me, in plain words, what kind of stock you were researching.”

“Corn stalks.”

“...”

Jamil had turned to them, looking at Kalim across the table, “Are you fucking serious?”

Cater had his head in his hands, Trein still beside him listing off old and newer slang that he wanted definitions of. The professor growing more and more disapproving with every new term he learned. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could do this.

“And…’boofing’, do you know what boofing is?”

WHO WAS BOOFING- “Pregnant. I’m pregnant.” Cater nodded to himself, using the trap card Yuu had given him to shift any conversation in his favor.

Trein raised a brow, “Is that what boofing is?”

Idia had locked in the second Cater said pregnant, looking at him in terrified confusion, “How are you pregnant?”

“...” Cater played with his hair, looking away from his boyfriend, “It’s not yours.”

Ortho quickly leaned over to narrow his eyes at Cater, Idia still stunned in silence, “Who’s the father?”

“...” Cater shifted his eyes across the table, silently watching as Trey contently ate his food.

Jade took notice, his own amused smile slowly falling from his face as he realized Cater was focused on Trey.

Feeling more and more eyes on him, Trey looked up mid-bite, “...What?”

Cater sighed, fully committing to his bit, “Trey, I’m pregnant.”

“...” Trey made the mistake of looking to his side, catching the unblinking stare of Jade’s barely contained emotions before looking back at Cater, “Why are you telling me?”

“It’s yours.”

Trey quickly reached his hand out, pinning Jade’s wrist to the table just as the mer tightened his grip on his knife, “Cater, we have…never slept together.”

Rook spoke up from Trein’s left, pouting at Cater, “Monsieur Magicam, how are you not sure it’s mine?”

Vil lost every ounce of amusement, glaring at Rook as though he was poisoning him with his eyes alone, “Why would it be yours?”

“Oh, mon amor. Love is a flighty and fickle predator, it hunts and snatches its prey with little to no warning.” Turning back to Cater, he placed a hand over his heart, “Are you sure it’s not mine?”

Cater could barely keep his face start, nodding as he watched Trey start struggling to hold Jade down from stabbing either of them, “I’m pretty sure. I’ve been craving violets and worrying about the teeth of children-”

Jade hissed under his breath, glaring at Trey and trying to grab his knife with his other hand, “How dare you impregnate someone else!?” 

“I didn’t!?”

Vil said nothing, glaring at Rook as the wine in his hand slowly started to bubble and turn black. His eye twitched as his boyfriend continued to lament and plea for Cater to tell him he was the father of his child.

Idia, breaking out of his spiral of despair and confusion, mumbling out, “Wait, you don’t even like vaginal sex. How’d you get pregnant?”

“...”

Trein spoke up, turning to Rook beside him, “Do you know what boofing is?”

Four glasses deep in the wine he brought, Crewel swirled his glass and picked at the ham on his plate. Eyes roaming the table for someone to target.

“Oi, Beakfish, hand me the red sludge.”

Riddle sighed, glaring at Floyd, “Don’t be rude to our professor and it’s cranberry sauce. Red sludge is very unappealing…Plus, it’s more of a burgundy color.”

“Eh? It’s a sludge though? It’s got chunks and everything.”

Silver raised an eyebrow, pouring more gravy onto his food, “It looks more like a jelly to me.”

While the three students were debating on what to call the condiment, Crewel grabbed the small platter but kept it close to himself, “I’ll pass it if you can tell me the boiling point of a frost potion, Floyd.”

“That’s a trick question. Frost potions don’t boil but they heat to temp.”

“Hmmm. Odd you know that but left it blank on your last test. Along with a number of other questions.”

Floyd groaned, rolling his eyes and moving to reach across the table and grab the platter in Crewel’s hand, “I didn’t wanna! Tests are so annoying, be happy I even wrote on it this time…”

Riddle glared at his boyfriend, “Honestly Floyd. You have to learn to put in more effort in your schoolwork. Your grades would be better for it.”

Crewel turned his eyes to Riddle, raising an eyebrow, “Like how you should be doing more cardio and strength training outside of Physical Education?”

“...”

“You can’t do five pull-ups, Riddle.”

Silver spoke around the spoonfuls of mashed potato in his mouth, “Riddle is able to lift a saddle during club.”

“By himself?”

“...” Silver looked back to his plate, poking at his side of vegetables, “The horses are much taller than him…”

Lilia laughed, his glass full of sangria having been drained for a third time already, “Oh come now Crewel! Children tend to try to avoid difficult things like schoolwork or exercise. We’re having a lovely meal, let’s drop the topic.”

“You have two essays you’ve yet to turn in.”

“...Um-”

“You’re aware that your Mistcord* status is public and shows you play Mortus Behind* for hours on end every night?”

“Well-”

Yuu spoke up, looking over as Deuce went back for a third helping of mac and cheese, “Slow down there, Deuce. Leave some for the rest of us.”

The spade soldier blushed, stopping from getting a second scoop before passing the dish over to Ace, “Sorry. It’s just really good, how many cheeses did you use in this?”

“Four. I call it Mac n Coma for a reason.”

“...You call it what?”

Epel hummed, biting into a deviled egg topped with a piece of ham, “Yur deviled eggs are really good, Deuce! Ah’ve never had them with chili powder before.”

Deuce smiled, “Thanks! My mom always made them with chili powder instead of cayenne. Cater confused me so much when I was making them…”

Taking another two eggs, Epel started to load his plate up again, making sure to refill his glass of apple juice, “This was a great idea. Ah’ve been meaning to get y'all together. Plus, Ah get ta really chow down without Vil bothering me about manners.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, watching Epel pile his plate high, “Eating is important, but you’re kind of…eating a lot. You know we can take leftovers back with us right?”

Ace looked from the side of his eyes, watching Ruggie eat without so much as stopping to breathe, “I mean, if there’s anything left…”

Epel had patted a hand on his stomach, “Well, you know. Eatin’ for two and all.”

Jack hacked and choked, an aborted spit take going down his windpipe. Sebek had dropped his fork onto his plate, looking at Epel with wide and terrified eyes, while Deuce seemed to buffer.

Ace sputtered, his half-chewed food falling out of his mouth, “You’re what!?”

“Oh, it ain’ yours.”

“Thank the Seven…”

Deuce held his head in his hands, staring at the table, “My mom is gonna kill me…”

“It ain’ yurs neither, Deuce. It’s Sebek or Jack’s but Ah’m not sure which…”

Jack still looked horrified, hitting his chest to clear his airway, “E-either way. I’ll step up to be there for you and the baby…”

“...” Sebek glares at Jack, “Why do you assume I wouldn’t be stepping up as the child’s father?”

“Why do you assume you’re the father?”

Slowly, Jack and Sebek’s tension escalated into an argument, the two larger freshmen moving to stand from their chairs or just leap across the table at each other. Both loudly proclaiming they’d be a proper provider for Epel and the child, unknowingly insinuating the other would not be.

While the two of them bickered back and forth, Yuu slipped Epel a twenty note bill under the table.

Sam finished off his second plate, looking around the the table. His task wasn't truly something he had to do, it was more of a get out of jail card for when the table was too rowdy for him. With two separate conversations at each end of the table dealing with possible pregnancies, a debate on if the production of corn counted as the stalk/stock market, and Draconia slowly coming to terms with the idea of manslaughter Sam decided he needed a little air.

He elbowed Crewel, stopping the wine drunk man from verbally dragging his students through the trenches, “I'm gonna go for a walk, you wanna come with?”

“To what? Have sex?”

“...” Sam shrugged his shoulders, “I mean, I was going to just…walk but we'll see how we feel afterwards?”

“...Yeah, ok.”

Floyd perks up, “Ah! Wait, shrimpy told me what your job was. I wanna come too!”

Lilia smiled, finally free from Crewel's judgemental glare, “Oh, a walk? May we join you? I even have my own…walk enhancers.”

Sam shrugged again, already standing from his seat, “Might as well.”

Their small group was barely noticed leaving, only Riddle and Silver taking account. Riddle raised an eyebrow, watching them walk out of the dining room without a goodbye.

“Where do you suppose they're going?”

Silver took the time to grab the cranberry sauce from Crewel's table space, “A walk. They should be back in about ten or fifteen minutes…”

“Why in the Seven would they go for a mid-meal walk? Once they were done eating I could understand, but Floyd's barely touched his second plate…”

“...” Silver looked over to Riddle, brows creased in confusion, “Riddle, They're going to do drugs. That's what taking a ‘walk’ means.”

The gasp Riddle gave was small but clearly horrified.

Dinner had ended, while a handful returned to their dorms (Idia of course, leaving the second Cater asked if he was ready to go, and Vil who finished his plate and dragged Rook out with him) most had decided to stick around Ramshackle.

The only reason he had stayed was the fact he did not have his phone for some reason. He tried to retrace his steps, checking around the now empty dinner table he found nothing but the nearly empty serving platters all covered again. The stray fairy watching him from little spaces, waiting for him to leave so they could pick at the food left improperly covered.

He checked the kitchen, finding only Crewel and Trein standing at the Island both nursing glasses of wine. Pouting, seated at the smaller dining table across from Vargas was Crowley. The headmaster begrudgingly eating from a plate, no doubt cursing Yuu under his breath for not actually inviting him to their massive friends and family dinner.

“Apologies for interrupting, professors. But have any of you seen my phone? White case with a rose popstand on the back?”

While most of the teachers shook their heads, Varga hummed before snapping his fingers, “The lounge! I think one of the kids had it.”

“Oh no…”

Walking into the lounge, Riddle had to hold in a snicker. Yuu had told him their family recipe for macaroni and cheese was known as ‘Mac n Coma’ and he could see why. Leona was passed out on the couch, snoring loudly face down in the cushions. Wedged between the back of the couch and Leona’s side was Ruggie. The hyena silent but sleeping just as hard with an arm draped over the back of Leona’s head.

The children were asleep too, each of them piled on top of Leona and Ruggie in a mass of limbs. Jack’s twin siblings squishing Cheka between them, the grey tipped twin sleepily gnawing on the lion cub’s tail. Deuce was also in the lounge, unfortunately unable to reach a couch or chair as he slept on the floor using a throw pillow as a blanket.

Looking around, he couldn’t see his phone anywhere. Groaning under his breath, he walked out to the back and to the patio. He quickly walked by Trey and Jade, the third-year quietly trying to calm his boyfriend who kept glaring at him. Walking around the garden, he finally saw his familiar white case.

The downside was that it was in Yuu’s hands, Floyd squished tight beside her in the pillow filled hammock swing. The two were whispering to themselves, giggling and pointing at the screen. 

He stood in front of them, hands on his hips and already tapping his foot in annoyance, “I would like my phone back, if you two delinquients wouldn’t mind.”

Floyd looked up, his eyes still rimmed in red from his ‘walk’ earlier, “In a minute, Goldfishie~. We gotta do something real fast.”

“What could you two possibly need my phone for?”

Yuu giggled, tapping on the phone and moving to place it against their ear, “We’re callin' your mom and seeing who can make her say a slur fastest.” “GIVE ME MY PHONE THIS INSTANT!”

*Twist version of Discord

*Twist version of Left 4 Dead

[newkatzkafe2023]

@lara-legomonkiekid

💜:Hey! Remember Your ChooChoo Charles Post 1 and 2?Can you do the Destined One Wukong and Black Myth Wukong in that? Please?

YES THE GENDERBEND PART 3 YOU ALL BEEN WAITING FOR!!!!!🤩🤩🤩🤩

(BMW Wukong) Wukong had been getting a lot of complaints from all her monkey subjects about a giant red spider on the other side of the mountain. Their was a spider who was creepy and loud and kept Scaring the baby monkeys, Wukong quickly grew annoyed and went to deal with the problem herself. She flew to the end of the Edge looking for this so-called spider, and boy was she shocked at first she thought they were overreacting, but then she saw the spider that was described to her. What genuinely creeps her out the most is that the spider just sat in the web smiling at her. Wukong paled slightly, but she wasn't deterred by the large spider. She worked for weeks to get rid of it, from using herbs like peppermint spiders hate to actually decluttering and cleaning FFM and splashing Vinegar, but nothing worked at all. Wukong was stumped on how to get rid of the giant red spider She even considered squishing it entirely, but something is telling her that wouldn't be the best idea. Except one day as she brainstorm a way to get rid of the spider, she heard a voice.

(???) CHARLES!!!!!!!!

Wukong froze the voice sounded like a male, and also who's Charles??? But what also surprised her was the spider moved from its web and went to where the voice was, Wukong followed and saw a male monkey glaring at the train

(???) There You are Charles I was looking everywhere for you😠

(Charles)😙😥

(???) Look I'm not mad, I was just worried.Come on let's go home😒😮‍💨

Before you can leave Wukong came up and demanded an explanation on to who you are and why was your pet was on her mountain

(M/N) the name is Y/n L/N and Charles is not a pet, he's my friend and he got lost from my forest a few weeks back And i've been looking all over for him, So would you be so kind as the move You're fat ass out of our way we need to get home😠

You then literally pushed Wukong, whose jaw was on the floor with a blush and slight nose bleed, a sexy monkey man just insulting her to her face without fear. All of a sudden, having charles around wouldn't be as such a bad idea, and charles thinks so too😉😉😉

(Destined one) She and Bajie were taking a short cut to the next village over but the destined one felt something off, as she kelp her gaurd up and made sure to protect Bajie.

(Fem Bajie) Careful child thier is something very...unnerving about this fog

They two women walked through the fog of the forest until their was a soft whistle and the destined one grabbed her, staff and looked to see something charging directly at the two women and her and Bajie got ready for the potential assault........Until it stopped

the fog revealed a large.......Red.......whistling spider as it stopped Directly in front of the two women and what what made them both pale was the fact that the spiderwas actively smiling at them. You think with all the scary and disgusting creatures and demons They would be a little more jaded to the situation, But the spider just freaked them out that much especially the destined one.

(???) Charles did you eat them yet?!

Bajie and the destined one saw a male monkey walking up to the two women looking a bit frustrated, Making the destined one blushed at you but Bajie.....

(Fem Bajie) THE HELL YOU MEAN EAT US??😠

(M/N) THE NAME IS Y/N L/N AND THIS IS MY SPIDER CHARLES WE PROTECT THIS FOREST AND YOUR TRESPASSING😡!!!!!

It wasn't long before an argument broke out between you and the short pig Lady meanwhile the destined one was blushing up a storm as she continued to stare at you, unfortunately CHARLES was paying attention And mischief is insured😉

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG🚂

[duckprintspress]

“A Truth Universally Acknowledged”: Four, Four Teaser Posts!

A Truth Universally Acknowledged: Queer Fanworks Inspired by Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice” is 80% funded! With 8 days to go! We’re really on a roll, and we’d love to keep that going to reach our goal early and maybe get to a stretch goal or two. Stretch goals are great for us, because they primarily are designed to enable us to raise the pay of our contributors!

In case you were wondering, there’ll be five more of these teaser posts after this one – so we’re almost halfway through the teasers. A lot of contributors means a lot of posts!

Story Teaser: Mikki Madison

Title: The Magnificent Mr. Markham

Excerpt:

“Why, Mr. Markham! How lovely to see you here!”

Mary swallowed a screech and spun to face her accuser. Georgiana lounged in the plush chair by the window in a most unladylike manner, her legs kicked over one of the arms while she leaned against the other.

“What are you doing in my room?” Mary demanded.

“You didn’t want to talk at the party, so I thought I would wait until we were somewhere you might be more amenable.” Georgiana gestured to the room. “Somewhere we won’t be overheard, for example.”

Art Teaser: Zel Howland

Zel is the creator of the spectacular art for the enormous folding fan we’re offering as a bonus! Here’s a bigger version so you can see some of the amazing details:

Zel has also contributed two pieces to the book! We’re only doing one teaser for artists who contributed multiple artworks, so you’ll have to wait to get a glimpse of the other.

Title: A Stolen Moment

Author Teaser: Lucy K. R.

Title: To Her the Pride

Excerpt:

“You could be so pretty!” Annabell offered during one of their small-group tea party practices. “I can bring my hair straightener tomorrow.”

“You’re not touching my hair,” Mia responded, pushing her untouched teacup away.

“Be polite,” Paige warned past her discomfort, glancing toward the prowling Mrs. Morrow.

“Why?” Mia demanded in return, turning those sharp eyes on her. “I asked Mrs. Morrow what it was for the other day, and you know what she said? ‘To make things simpler for people.’ So I said: ‘For who? It’s not simpler for me. Why should I make things harder for myself so other people can take it easy?’ and she didn’t have an answer for that. She just made me go to the reflection corner.”

“…did you reflect on it?” Paige asked, so mortified that she was in danger of getting sandwich crumbs on her dress from how her hand was shaking, but she was fascinated in equal measure.

“Yeah,” Mia allowed with a shrug. “I decided I was right.”

Paige had gone home that day with a spot on her lap from the cucumber slice that had dropped from her sandwich.

Art Teaser: Elizabeth Rose

Title: A Handsome Face

Story Teaser: Shea Sullivan

Title: A Constant, Fearful Longing

Excerpt:

“You’re not afraid of anything, are you?” Georgiana asked with a cautious smile.

“Oh, I’m afraid of all sorts of things,” Lizzy said. Everything inside her churned restlessly. “But I’m not afraid of you.” She looked up at the stars and picked out the shapes that Georgiana had pointed out to her, and then the ones they had made up together in summers past.

She feared finding Pemberley deserted, of losing the truest friend she had ever been lucky enough to find. She had never felt so strongly with Charlotte, or even Jane. No other person had provoked in her such a constant, fearful longing.

A claustrophobic grief gripped her suddenly, that losing Georgiana was inevitable—if not to a riot of terrified townspeople, or to her imminent departure, then merely to the steady march of time.

“Whatever would I do without you?” she asked quietly.

You’ve reached the end of the post! Now check out the campaign to learn about all our contributors and offerings!

[kawacake]

LOVE IS A GAME

Masterlist

Paring: SunaRin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Relationships, Suggestive content (pantie fucking, Reader had recently broken up with Atsumu, Cursing.

!!This will be made into a fanfic sooner or later!!

Listen to Don’t Wanna Fall in Love by KYLE while reading

SUNA Who stuck with you and helped you heal after you and Atsumu broke up.

SUNA Who spent the entire summer with you in your bedroom only leaving to go to his house and get more clothes.

SUNA Who pantie fucked you promising you that he won’t put it in if you don’t want him to but after would say we’re just friends and he didn’t want an actual relationship with you.

SUNA Who made you block Atsumu on everything and delete all the pictures of you and him to help you get over him quicker.

SUNA Who yelled at you after finding out that you and Atsumu were still in contact causing a fight between the two of you and ended with you throwing him out.

SUNA Who called you crying like a baby begging you to let him come back because he missed you and he couldn’t stand another second without you.

SUNA Who was now back in your bed holding you like nothing ever happened while his whole team flamed him and you for ‘talking’ to each other, but who cares because all he needs is you and all you need is him.

A/n: Haii so I’ll only be posting these for the next few days because I’m still working on a bunch of one-shots I have sitting in my GoogleDocs and I’m also working on my fanfics on Wattpad and if you wanted to check them out my Wattpad user is chosowife 🤧(Ntm it’s been my user since 2020), but yeah i will try and publish the one-shots as soon as I finish with them but yeah see you on the next post and please leave a heart and a comment byee mlll💕

[that-trans-autistic-guy]

Dead Boy Detectives x Slugterra Crossover

i promised i would and ive only just gotten enough time to post it here lmao. this post is just gonna be the boys, since i've got the most info on them but i would be overjoyed to post the rest of what i have. so, without further ado, enjoy this mess of my special interests and hyperfixations colliding. (DBD folks if you need reference help, click here)

Character Backstories

Edwin’s Story

His parents were never particularly attentive or caring. Neither of them paid him any kind of attention. He spent most days on his own. Most of them he spent in a library or the wild, learning as much as he possibly could to satiate his curiosity. He found a love for magic and myths, even more so relating to the Shadow Clan. So, he had adventures to try and find any place relating to the Clan. On one such adventure, he stumbled across a group of hunters prowling the woods. He heard them muttering about finding the Enigmo that had been spotted and he immediately perked up. He knew all about the Enigmo, but he also knew what the hunters would do if they found it. So he sprinted around the woods, keeping his keen eyes peeled for a flash of turquoise. And he found it. As it fell from high above him and hit him at velocity. The blurring of his vision frightened him, but he grabbed the slug and tucked it into his pocket. As he snuck out of the forest, he noticed colors surrounding the slugs of the hunters. He realized that he was seeing their auras, an idea he’d found during his many hours of research. Thankfully, the bullies at his school had taught him how to be stealthy, even with doubled vision. He used one of his father’s spare blasters to fire the Enigmo and undo his vision. The slug was affectionate, if slightly clumsy. It was a welcome change to his parents’ uncaring attitude. He named his new companion Thoth, the god of knowledge. A year or so later, he would meet Charles. They became immediate friends, always sharing their ideas and days, a pattern they continued into adulthood. 

Charles’ Story

As a boy, his father was abusive. He was allowed nothing. Even when the other boys his age were befriending and collecting their first slugs, he was forbidden it. One day, his father locked him out for some reason or another. With a bruise on his face, he wandered around to waste time until he could return home. He met an Armashelt. She stuck to him, even when he tried to tell her that he was just a failure. They became fast friends. When he did eventually return home, his father threw his new friend out and slammed the door. During the night, however, she snuck back in through his window. Time and again, his father threw her out and time and again, she snuck back in. However, he never truly had a chance to name her. One day, his father was in a drunken rage and Charles ran away. Out in the forest, the young boy met Edwin. Despite their differences, they became best friends immediately. When Edwin spotted the Armashelt, he asked her name. Charles was sad to say she didn’t have one. So they discussed it. When asked what he liked about her, he said that he admired how she was a shield in many ways. The few times she had met velocity was when the other boys were bullying him. When velocimorphs flew at him, she had dug in her claws and used her shell to shield him. Edwin suggested the name Aegis, the shield of the gods, and Charles thought it was brills. The two would often sneak away together, staying friends into adulthood.

Character Info

Edwin

Uses strategic/magic type slugs

Knows Shadow Clan Language, loves researching their history and magic

Main is an Enigmo named Thoth 

Works as a researcher, rarely seen outside of his home or Shadow Territory

Charles

Uses heavy hitters like Rammstone, Hoprock, Tazerling

Main is an Armashelt named Aegis

Works with blaster and Mecha customization and repair

Other Information

The boys have Frightgeist siblings they bonded with together

They boys made accelerators and fusion models together

Standard Teams (plus pics for the uninitiated) (no megas for this post but they do get them)

Edwin

Enigmo (Main)

Frightgeist

Geoshard

Arachnet

Slicksilver

White Boon Doc

Charles

Armashelt (Main)

Frightgeist

Forgesmelter

Rammstone

Hop Rock

Tazerling

i am cooking up a way to imitate edwin's hell story but this the basics so far. honestly, its so much fun to get back into this show so i might have to rewatch a bit for nostalgia. so, if my DBD people havent watched slugterra, you should! and if slugterra peeps havent watched DBD, you should do that too!!