#it is so validating it’s so warm it’s red hot

[texaschainsawmascara]

when Janet Fitch said love humiliates you but hatred cradles you

[ayrtonswnna]

⠀⠀⠀LITTLE PRINCESS 〃 george russell oneshot.

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⠀⠀⠀george russell x lianna hamilton (hamilton!female oc)

lianna goes on a skiing trip with her brother and his team crew. her historical bickering with george russell turns to something else. ↳ fluff/crack. 4.6k words.

warnings: making out (like... twice. but good provocative making out), author recently started to get some british english studies so it might have gotten a bit carried away, characters with a backstory, lewis hamilton older brother core™ , george being really good with words, spoiled and petty character.

"Imagine you're cold, your brand-new-expensive Moon Boots are wet, you've just lost your favorite Vivienne Westwood necklace, you can't drive to save your life, your hair’s frizzy from the weather, and your older brother keeps talking about how much of a blessing it is to enjoy nature. Life is tough! Too tough!"

Lianna didn’t think joining her brother on this skiing trip would be such a disaster. She imagined cute outfits, sipping hot chocolate by a roaring fire, and maybe getting a few aesthetic paparazzi snaps for good measure. Instead? Wet boots, freezing wind, and an actual uphill climb.

“Lianna, for God’s sake!” Lewis groaned, turning back to stomp a footprint into the snow. “Can you stop whining for five bloody minutes? It’s not the first necklace you lose- and no one forced you to come. And if you don’t stop, I’ll nick those Moon Boots myself, and you can do the rest of the walk barefoot.”

“Wow. Just wow. This is who you call an idol, people? I’d be embarrassed.” She huffed, adjusting her oversized backpack like the world’s most annoyed mountain climber. “Next time, we’re going to Ibiza. Or Mykonos. Somewhere civilised. I’ll start shopping for bikinis as soon as we’re back.”

“Next time,” a voice in the back muttered. “you’ll be in red with Charles Leclerc for company. Keep up, Little Princess.”

Before she could snap back, George Russell breezed past her like he was strolling through Hyde Park, not hiking up a snowy mountain.

“Feeling sad, Mr. Russell? Gonna miss me this much?”

Mutual pining at its finest; that was their thing. George’s endless teasing, her exaggerated reactions — it was like they had their own language.

“You can’t imagine how much, Miss Little Princess,” he replied with a smirk, offering her a hand as they reached a particularly icy bit. “Now come on, or you’ll end up stuck here till spring.”

Lianna sighed dramatically but took his hand anyway. “If I fall, ruin my coat, or twist my ankle, you owe me a new outfit. And not your boring beige nonsense.”

“Noted, Miss Neon Everything.”

When they finally made it to the rented chalet — a cozy wooden house with floor-to-ceiling windows and a roaring fire — it was a much-needed respite. Lianna threw herself into the nearest armchair with a dramatic groan.

Lewis, ever the drill sergeant, clapped his hands together. “Right, we’re hitting the slopes this afternoon. Who’s in?”

Most of the group chimed in enthusiastically, but Lianna didn’t even flinch. “Absolutely not. I’m staying here. Where it’s warm. Like a normal person.”

George, leaning against the doorframe, grinned. “Someone’s gotta keep an eye on the princess. Can’t leave her alone with all this nature.”

Lewis rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. “Fine. Try not to kill each other.”

The door clicked shut, and Lianna and George were left alone in the quiet warmth of the house. The youngest Hamilton groaned, tugging a throw blanket over herself.

At least they had phone area; she had some good real fun with Tiktoks before she could feel the pair of eyes over her.

“What?” she snapped, looking up.

“Nothing,” George said, trying to suppress a grin, coming back from the kitchen. “Just enjoying the theatrics. You could’ve been an actress, you know.”

“It is just not fair, my drama is really valid. You numpty.” she muttered, fidgeting with her sweater. “My boots are ruined, my mood is ruined, and now I’m stuck here with you.”

He chuckled, plopping onto the couch beside her. “Admit it, you’d be bored out of your mind without me.”

“Please.” She rolled her eyes. “I thrive in solitude.”

“Is that why you always find me at events?” George teased. “Or why you made sure it was me driving you home after my birthday?”

Her cheeks flushed, and she threw him a pillow without hesitating. "Everyone else was smashed, and you kept offering, like, three times. I said I’d just grab an Uber, but you bolted to get the keys like it was life or death."

“If it helps you sleep at night…” He just smiled, leaning back like he had all the time in the world. “You’re gonna miss me, though. Once you’re off in Italy with Lewis.”

“Nahhh… Not at all. Maybe just some of your paddock fits, and your private jet- Oh, I love the jet. But you?” her nose crunched, ready to keep the yapping but caught off guard when she took a few seconds to look up at him.

The damn blue eyes and the prince posture, even relaxed by the couch. Something like comfort floating in between them and the freedom the driver had while scanning her face.

Her bravado faltered for a moment; he seemed so sure of what he was doing that he even leaned closer. “Maybe a tiny bit, right? We can agree on that.”

She caught her breath. “Us? Agreeing? No way on God’s green earth.”

“You’ll be gutted when I’m not around, admit it.” he winked, in a cheesy way he knew would make her laugh. He is in fact really good with that. “Unlike you, Little princess, I am fully able to recognize I will miss making fun of your over-expensive clothes and your crying when Lew wins- and the tantrums over food! I’ll even miss that...”

“Oh! You clot! I dress well and I cry a lot - my brother is the biggest winner in your sport and I don’t enjoy much food besides mom’s. And the actual problem here is how obsessed you are with me! That’s a lot of information.”

“Obsessed? Nah, that’s too much” he said quietly, “But I guess I really do notice you a lot. You’ve got a presence.”

She blinked, her cockiness crumbling. “Don’t expect me to say anything like that about you- I only notice your boring clothes and your radio calls because they’re funny.”

“Again, if it helps you sleep at night…” he replied, his head only tilted more and more to the side, closer and closer to her. She’s noticed, of course she did. Suddenly it’s getting hot; and they're in the middle of the snow.

There’s something like tension in the air, it’s weird how they can get to that sometimes. It just never happened in a one-on-one environment. Silence grew thick and his breath could reach her cheek now. It is not like they haven’t been near before. 

They stood together in a full elevator once, her body stuck in between his figure and the wall as she kept conversation with their friends also inside the cabin. Tough time for Mister Russell, he fought for his life that day.

She feels that way when he lifts her up to get across the paddock, through the high-posted gates and the half-walls, or when he jokingly approaches her from behind during parties.

It is actually surprising they didn’t cross any line yet.

“I notice when you see me from the distance and you smile. It happens more in the garage… Sometimes I even forget it’s my job to hate you.” it slid from her lips before she could stop it; but, somehow. It felt right to say. The silence was suffocating.

“You smile back every time. You wave too… Like a Little Princess.”

They might not actually hate each other; in fact, it might be the other way around. Even Lianna could see it, now that she took the courage to lean to the side and stare back. Eye-in-eye action. A bold, strong one.

George’s gaze lingered, sharp but soft in a way that made her chest tighten. His confidence wasn’t overbearing, but there was no mistaking the certainty in his eyes. That kind of focus could stop anyone in their tracks, and right now, it was aimed solely at her.

“Little Princess, huh?” she said, her voice quieter now, the teasing edge fading into something she wasn’t entirely prepared for.

His lips twitched, almost smirking. “You wear the title well.”

Her mouth opened to snap back, but nothing came out. She felt trapped — in a good way. Her heart was speeding up, and there was no denying the pull in the air, like something unspoken was gaining weight with every second.

His hand rested on the couch between them, fingers grazing the cushion as though he was holding himself back. Hers wasn’t far off, her fingers clutching the edge of the fabric. She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or if the space between them was shrinking by the second.

“You’re staring,” she pointed out, her voice trembling slightly, betraying her.

“You’re letting me,” George shot back, the corner of his mouth lifting just enough to make her stomach flip.

She rolled her eyes instinctively, but her attempt at nonchalance was betrayed when her gaze dropped — just for a second — to his lips. He caught it, of course. How could he not?

His hand shifted, the movement slow, deliberate. His fingers grazed curls, moving them to the side before tracing the now free area of her face, featherlight, sending a shockwave straight up her spine. Her first instinct was to pull away, but she didn’t.

Her breath hitched. She wanted to say something — anything — but the words caught in her throat, tangled up in the pounding of her heartbeat. Her throat went dry as soon as he had more skin touching her, hand finding room in the side of her neck, the big palm rubbing against the sensitive part, gently and firmly holding her in place, as controversial it could feel.

The texture of his skin was warm, rougher than she expected, like he’d been gripping the steering wheel too tightly for too long. She’d never thought much about George’s hands before, but now? Now they were all she could think about.

Her own palm pressed lightly around his fist, and the simple connection felt intimate in a way she wasn’t ready to admit. It’s the implying; how his thumb ghosted around her cheek, secretly making way to her bottom lip, hypnotizing, striking. His fingers could get a hold of her hair now and that’s when he knew she was fully melted, just like her head did onto his hand, her eyes almost shutting closed. From the slighted touch. It would form an amazing joke if he could ever think of one at the moment. 

“Still don’t think you’ll miss me?” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the tension crackling between them.

“Not even a little bit,” she lied, though her voice betrayed her again, soft and unsteady.

He leaned closer, the shift so gradual it was like he was giving her time to stop him. His breath was warm against her cheek, and she could feel the faint scent of his cologne — something subtle but crisp, like cedarwood and rain.

They’re closer now, her body betraying her with its natural instinct to lean toward him.

“You’re terrible at lying,” he said, his lips so close to hers now that she could almost feel the words as much as she heard them. “I really thought you were tough. But here you are, practically melting under my touch.”

Her heart felt like it might explode. The weight of his gaze, the heat of his hand against her skin, the sheer proximity — it was all too much and yet not enough. With his hand still holding her in place, his thumb brushed against her lip, as let out a soft laugh, his breath warm against her ear now. “So, this is what happens when I get you alone? Can’t say I’m complaining... but don’t think I won’t use this against you later.”

Her voice came out barely above a whisper, trembling as she said, “Shut up, George.”

And then, as if her words were the permission he’d been waiting for, his lips brushed hers. It wasn’t a kiss, not yet. It was tentative, a question more than an answer. Her brother’s future-ex-teammate leading the hell they’ll turn into paradise, still keeping her where she is as he didn’t let the kiss really happen — driving her crazy. 

A single moment stretched into infinity as her mind raced and her body froze, caught between the overwhelming urge to pull him closer and the voice in her head screaming that this was a bad idea.

Her fingers curled tighter around his wrist, pulling him closer and making him smile teasingly, believing it was enough with the temptation. His lips pressed against hers, soft and warm and everything she hadn’t let herself imagine before.

The world fell away.

She didn’t move at first, too overwhelmed by the weight of it all. But then her body took over, her lips moving against his in a way that felt natural, instinctive. Her hand slid from the couch to his arm, her fingers brushing the smooth fabric of his shirt, and she could feel the muscles beneath tense at her touch.

His lips lingered on hers, teasing, before he pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, both of them breathless. The world around them seemed to fade; there was nothing but the quiet of the room and the rapid beats of their hearts, out of sync but somehow perfectly aligned.

George’s hand slid from her neck to her jaw, his thumb brushing her lower lip, drawing her attention to it before capturing her mouth once more. This time, it wasn’t hesitant. It wasn’t questioning. It was urgent, like they both knew the clock was ticking, and there was no going back.

Her hands were already tugging at his shirt, pulling him closer, her body instinctively arching into his as if it belonged there. She didn’t care about the consequences anymore. All she cared about was the heat of his skin, the way his lips moved against hers, the way his body fit against hers perfectly.

The kiss deepened, and her fingers slid to the back of his neck, gripping his hair, tugging him down as she tilted her head to get closer, to deepen the kiss. It was reckless. It was desperate. But it was also... exhilarating. Her body pressed harder against his, and she could feel the tension coil tighter inside her, like a spring wound too tight, ready to snap.

Just as she felt him pull her flush against him, his knee sliding between her legs, the door clicked.

They both froze.

The sound of the lock turning seemed to reverberate in her chest. In an instant, George shoved himself away from her, his chest heaving as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

She scrambled to adjust herself, heart pounding, cheeks burning with a mixture of embarrassment and desire.

“Hey, you guys, everyone alive?” Lewis’s voice rang through the room as the door swung open, revealing him with a knowing smirk. “Oh- Did I… Did I interrupt something?”

Lianna’s breath was still shallow, her hand clutching the side of the couch like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

George was trying his best to look unaffected, but his disheveled appearance wasn’t helping.

Lewis raised an eyebrow. “You two are weird. Seriously, what is going on with you two? Are we gonna have to start an intervention?”

Lianna shot him a glare. “What do you want, Lewis?” she snapped, though her voice was a little too shaky to sound convincing.

Lewis, oblivious to the tension that had just enveloped the room, shrugged. “Oh, I just came to grab my... uh, charger. Is everything ok down here? You both seem… Weird?” He glanced between them, the smirk still dancing on his lips. “It’s almost like you’re in a friendly competition or something.”

George shot a glance at Lianna, and in a flash, they both tried to cover the awkwardness with false bravado.

“Oh, please,” Lianna scoffed, crossing her arms, trying to play it cool. “Competition with George isn’t competition. I win every time.”

George quickly jumped in, grinning like he didn’t just almost kiss her senseless. “Never won against me on paddle, karting, chess, soccer… You even lose bets. Don’t lie to-”

“Alright, alright. Got it. You still hate each other. Got it.” Lewis rolled his eyes, clearly not buying it, but he played along.

They both nodded in exaggerated agreement, too quickly to be convincing, but it seemed to ease the weirdness, if only for a second.

“Anyway, I’m off,” Lewis said, his voice light and carefree, though he was clearly still enjoying the strange vibe between them. “We’ve all got that race in an hour, and I don’t plan on being caught in a compromising position again.” He winked at them both. “You two might want to stay away from each other until then, yeah?”

He lingered for a moment longer, clearly sensing something was off but not quite knowing what, before turning to leave.

There was a long silence between them after he left.

Lianna let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “God, that was close.”

George just exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I swear, if he noticed anything, I’ll never hear the end of it.” He leaned against the back of the couch, his expression half annoyed, half amused.

“Well, you wouldn’t have to hear anything if you weren’t so obvious,” she shot back, though there was still a slight edge to her voice. The playful bickering was slowly returning, but there was still a rawness in the air.

“You started it,” he said with a smirk, a challenge in his eyes as he crossed his arms. “You’re the one who can’t keep her hands to herself.”

She rolled her eyes, stepping away from him. “You kissed me, George.”

He grinned. “And you kissed me back.”

“Right, yeah. ” she shot back. “You kissed me, I kissed you back, Lewis got in and stopped us. End of the story”

“Fine, It didn’t seem like you wanted to end it before Lew- Ouch, Lianna!” he started normally, but a pillow hit his face half way through it. 

“Yeah, now stand up and let’s go change. You have to snowboard and I have to sit down and look pretty in my Fendi coat. Let´s go.”

That night, long after the others returned and went to bed, Lianna found herself pacing in her room. Her mind was a storm of thoughts, emotions swirling that she couldn’t quite name. Her heart was racing, every step against the cold wood floor seeming to echo through her. That kiss, that moment — she couldn’t shake it.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she grabbed a hoodie, padded barefoot across the hall, and knocked lightly on George’s door.

"Lianna?" His voice was groggy, thick with sleep.

When he opened the door and saw her standing there, his expression softened, eyes still heavy with sleep but already wide awake in that instant. His lips parted, a mixture of surprise and something else she couldn’t quite read.

Without waiting for him to say more, she pushed past him, climbing into his bed like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Don’t make it weird,” she said, her tone dismissive but her body betraying her nerves, every movement stiff as if she wasn’t sure what to do with herself.

“My room’s freezing,” she added, but even to her own ears, it sounded like a half-hearted excuse.

George chuckled, the sound low and warm in the dim room, sliding in beside her without hesitation. "Of course. Wouldn’t dream of it," he muttered, though his voice carried a teasing edge.

The bed creaked under them as they shifted, both finding an awkward comfort in the space between them. It was quiet — too quiet — but the it wasn’t uncomfortable. They lay there in the dark, the moments stretching out between them, until Lianna broke the silence.

“So…” she started, her voice uncertain. “Do you remember that time when we were at that dinner, and you were being all smug because you knew exactly what to order?”

George groaned, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t know you hated the fact that I actually have taste.”

She snorted. “Taste? You were showing off like you were some gourmet chef or something. I swear, I almost choked on my water just to get out of hearing about your ‘expert’ opinions on wine.”

He laughed softly, the sound warm. “I was just trying to share some culture with you. Not my fault you don’t appreciate the finer things in life.”

Lianna raised an eyebrow, turning her head slightly to look at him. “You mean you just like hearing yourself talk.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “But at least you listened. That’s more than I can say for some people.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said, her voice a little teasing now, though there was something in it that made it feel a little too intimate. “I listened. I just didn’t appreciate it. Just like the way you act like I’m some sort of charity case when you give me rides.”

George turned his head slightly, lips barely touching the top of her hair as he spoke, quieter now. “You know, you always act like you don’t like it. But I think you do. You like the attention.”

Lianna’s breath caught, her mind racing. She had always been so quick to brush off anything too personal between them, especially when it came to him. But now, with his voice so close, the words lingered.

She shifted, unsure of how to respond, but then, without thinking, she said, “Yeah, sure, I like the attention. I’m not ashamed of it.”

George smiled, a genuine warmth in his voice when he spoke again. “I noticed. You do like the spotlight.”

Lianna shifted again, her face now resting just below his collarbone. “I never said I liked it. I just like being noticed when I want to be.” Her fingers brushed the fabric of his shirt, and she cursed herself for making it sound so... intimate.

He paused for a second, the tension between them palpable. "I get that," he murmured softly. "You deserve to be noticed."

Lianna didn’t respond right away. Instead, she let the silence settle between them. She couldn’t ignore it anymore — the way he said it, like it was just a matter of fact. Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt suddenly exposed, vulnerable in a way that she hadn’t expected.

They both lay there in the dark, the tension creeping up between them, thick but not unbearable. He spoke again, his voice quieter this time. “I know we always bicker. It’s kind of our thing, isn’t it? But don’t pretend it’s just for fun, Lianna. You know I can’t resist when you get all worked up.”

She turned slightly, her face closer to his now. “Maybe I just like getting under your skin,” she said, her words coming out smoother than she intended.

“Oh, I know you do,” he replied with a soft chuckle. “But don’t pretend like you didn’t enjoy when I noticed you, when I called you out on something. You liked the attention just as much as I did."

Lianna’s heart fluttered, the heat between them escalating with every word. “Yeah, maybe I did,” she said, her voice almost a whisper now. She was almost embarrassed by how much it was affecting her, but she didn’t pull away.

George’s fingers brushed against the side of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. “I noticed you, alright,” he murmured. “Every little thing. Every smile, every look, every time you’d act like you didn’t care, when I knew you did.”

She let out a shaky breath, her chest tightening in response to his words. “I didn’t know you paid that much attention.”

“I always do,” he whispered, his lips so close to her ear now, the words brushing against her skin. “You’re hard to miss, Lianna.”

There it was again. The weight of his words, sinking in as he said it like it was just another casual thing. But it didn’t feel casual. It felt charged, heavy with unspoken meaning.

Lianna opened her mouth, about to reply, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she just let the moment linger, the silence swallowing them both up for a beat before he broke it with a soft exhale.

"You make it hard to keep my distance," George whispered, his lips brushing against the top of her hair.

Her heart skipped. His voice, the way he said it, made her shiver slightly. She didn’t know how to respond to that, so she simply stayed quiet, absorbing his words, trying to figure out what to say next.

But the air around them was electric now. Her body was pressed to his, the warmth of his skin making her chest tighten and her breath catch. Her hand found its way to his chest, lightly resting against him, and it almost felt like a reflex.

Then, without thinking, she leaned in. Her lips met his again, soft at first, hesitant, as if they were both afraid of crossing some invisible line. But the second her lips touched his, everything else seemed to fade away. It deepened naturally, a quiet urgency behind it, as if they both had waited long enough to let this moment stretch between them, just like they knew there’s no going back; ever since earlier on the couch. They started something that’s impossible to just stop now.

Her fingers found the fabric of his shirt, gripping it just a little tighter, and the kiss deepened, slow and sure, like they had all the time in the world. His hands moved, tentative at first, tracing the line of her jaw before cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing the skin with a tenderness that made her heart beat harder.

There was something intoxicating about the way he kissed her—like he was trying to memorize the taste, the warmth of her, but also something urgent, a silent need that they both couldn’t name.

The kiss broke, but neither of them pulled away completely. Their foreheads rested together for a moment, breaths mingling, both of them unwilling to speak. The weight of what had just happened hung there, both of them knowing that it meant something, but neither of them wanting to say it out loud.

She could feel the hum in her chest, that buzzing tension that still lingered, but there was a certain calm, too. The kiss had been slow, deliberate, nothing rushed, nothing forced. And yet, it had been more than either of them expected.

“George,” she whispered again, this time quieter, almost as if she was trying to convince herself.

He chuckled softly, his fingers tracing patterns on her arm as he pulled her closer, wrapping his arm tighter around her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And just like that, the world seemed to slow. Their lips found each other again in the dark, softer this time, less urgent but no less electric.

Before either of them realized, sleep began to creep in. The kiss faded, their breathing evening out as their bodies relaxed into the warmth of the bed. It was as if everything that had been said, everything that had been left unsaid, was allowed to rest, allowed to settle between them.

They didn’t speak anymore, didn’t need to. The quiet stretched on, thick with the unspoken understanding that something had shifted. And as the hours passed, with their bodies tangled together, both of them finally fell asleep, the tension lingering in the silence but no longer pulling them apart.

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[talesofesther]

something worth losing

Neve Gallus x Rook

Summary: Neve didn't ask for much. She didn't ask for attention or for people to stick with her. Yet one taste from Rook got her yearning to bend her own rules and ask, anyway.

A/N: I love them so much. They're gonna be the death of me, I swear. Another little moment between my two babies, this time with a little more personal touch regarding my Rook. <3

Masterlist

"Venhedis", Neve hissed through her teeth, instinctively scrunching her brow when the sharp pain bit at her skin and regretting it soon after, as the motion only worsened her predicament.

Neve had snuck into the dining room of the Lighthouse, where she knew a small mirror lay forgotten on the counter beside the stove. She could have gone to Bellara's room, no shortage of mirrors there, but Neve knew the elf was working on her archive and she didn't want to bring unnecessary worry.

Because, Neve was trying to take off the stitches closing the wound on her forehead.

They needed to come off, Neve decided this morning. The wound she had gotten when she followed Rook to the heart of Solas' ritual was almost healed, even the black and blues around her eye were barely visible anymore, so she figured the stitches could go too.

A mistake, maybe. The small mirror Neve used as her guide wasn't much help, as her fingers accidentally tugged and twisted the small stitches in ways they weren't supposed to go. Her skin around the healing scar started to turn a bit red, still quite sensitive and now hurting because of Neve's less-than-gentle ministrations.

The mage huffed, sitting back on her stool and dropping her hands to her lap. A soft crackle coming from the ever-burning fire of the hearth caught Neve's attention, it bathed the dining room in warm tones of yellow and orange, reflecting against pans and porcelain plates.

It was still a bit of a mystery to her; why she had so promptly and willingly followed Rook into a dangerous ritual upon knowing the woman for no longer than a couple hours back then. Neve spoke of delivering a job well done, and while that was true, she had a feeling she'd have done the same regardless.

Neve picked at her nails, pointer finger to thumb, scraping the teal color—another thing that bothered her since then, she was usually better at keeping it neat.

Rook had a dangerous pull to her, something alluring. It beckoned Neve closer like a lighthouse did to lost ships drifting through tempestuous seas.

Neve pushed the feeling away and stored it in her heart's 'best ignored' drawer. Or she tried to.

The heavy dining room doors were pushed open, disrupting the silence, and in walked the subject of her troubles.

Rook had a whole apple held in her mouth, as the doors closed behind her again, she brought a hand up to hold the fruit, taking a bite out of it. The corner of her eyes scrunched with a smile when she spotted Neve sitting by the corner.

"Skipping dinner, Rook?" Neve teased in lieu of a greeting, a smirk to her lips.

Rook raised a finger as she swallowed, walking up to Neve. "Actually, I was just about to start making dinner." She left her apple on the counter beside Neve and leaned her hip against it. Her hair was damp, half of it haphazardly tied back. Her clothes were casual, even more so than usual; a blue shirt with a few buttons undone, sleeves a little too long almost covering her hands.

Neve hummed. The image of Rook like that—soft and ever so casual under the warm light of the fire, with an easy smile and pinkish cheeks from a recent hot bath—got Neve's heart stumbling in ways it shouldn't. She forced her eyes away. "Then I might be the one to skip dinner today."

"Hey," Rook grumbled in the same beat, crossing her arms over her chest as a stubborn child would, "I'm a decent cook."

"By whose standards?" Neve raised a brow, there was a playful edge to her voice, "I'm not sure the undead count as a valid opinion."

Rook rolled her eyes, but wasn't able to fight the grin stretching her lips. "Alright, it's not like I had that many options to practice with back in the Necropolis. But,"—her eyes lit up rather pridefully—"Lucanis has been introducing me to some Trevisan culinary, and says I'm a natural."

Neve chuckled, a quiet little thing as she averted her gaze back to her lap, where she fidgeted with the small scissors she'd been using to try and fail to cut her stitches earlier. For some reason, the thought of Rook spending time with Lucanis, alone, caused a bitter and heavy twist to Neve's chest. The smile on her lips faltered and faded, and she was glad her loose hair shielded her from Rook's attentive eyes.

Neve felt more than saw the way Rook walked around her, stepping closer, near the stove and the forgotten mirror lying beside it.

"What are you up to, anyway?" Rook asked, picking up the small mirror for a moment and putting it down again—always so antsy. She added, softer; "Hiding from the wisps?"

With a clearing of her throat, Neve schooled her expression back to something nonchalant and raised her gaze. "No, I…" She gestured to the stitches and scar on her forehead with a careless shrug, "I was trying to get these off." A humorless laugh. "Not much luck though."

Rook followed the motion, instinctively taking half a step closer to Neve; and with the detective still sitting on the tall stool, Rook was almost standing between her legs.

Neve gulped at the sudden proximity, feeling a little trapped, a little too hot. Her heart picked up pace and beat loudly in her ears.

"Oh," Rook whispered. She raised a hand before her brain could catch up with her actions, and Neve held her breath when the warmth of Rook's skin was just shy of touching her.

But Rook reeled herself in before it, blinking a couple of times. She lowered her hand and took a step back again, shifting on her feet. The air became something heavy between the two women, almost electrical.

"I could help, if you'd like." There was a timidness to Rook's voice that hadn't been there before, a deeper pink blush beneath the crooked scar across her cheek.

It was a peculiar thing, that scar, starting from behind Rook's chocolate-colored hair and ending just past her lower lip. When Neve caught herself stealing a glance at the end of it, she reasoned it was just curiosity at how such a mark came to be. There were others too, sometimes when Rook had a button or two of her blouse undone—like now, despite Neve trying not to think too deeply on it—bigger and harsher scars could be spotted, seemingly the same on each side of her chest and going lower on her stomach until it disappeared.

And Neve stared at Rook, eyebrows softly furrowing, as if she was a mystery for the detective to solve. A daunting case bound to end in disaster; she had always been a sucker for those.

Neve had taken small notes about each member of their team—a habit that came with the territory and she couldn't shake. Rook's was the one containing the most lines, and a small inquiry about the origin of her scars was among them.

Maybe someday she'd solve it.

Perhaps a little too late, Neve realized she still hadn't answered. Rook looked at her patiently though. Neve shook her head, feeling her cheeks warm up. "It's alright, you don't have to."

An unreadable expression clouded Rook's gaze then; as if taken back to a memory. "It's my fault you got that scar in the first place," Rook's voice became too gentle for Neve's liking. It was dangerous, when Rook spoke to her as if Neve was worth caring for.

Just as quickly, Rook's easy smile came back. "The least I can do is help you take care of it now."

A beat or two passed as Neve weighed her options. Rook offered a tempting bargain, and it was ever so difficult to tell her no.

Just like when Neve's smile gets a little too loose each time Rook makes those terrible puns and jokes, and she can't help but laugh anyway, because it's Rook who said them.

"Alright," Neve shrugged, trying to make light of a situation that had already caused her blood to pump faster and her mouth to go dry, "Suit yourself."

Wordlessly, Rook wiggled her fingers, asking for the scissors Neve still held. She placed it upon her hand and Rook stepped closer.

This time, Neve allowed her to stand between her legs. She was engulfed in the warmth of Rook's presence, hyperaware of a proximity that was foreign territory for both of them. Her hands closed into fists, and teal nails carved half-moons on her palms.

The moment had a sort of intimacy to it that it shouldn't have. Rook reached for Neve, but her hand lingered by the detective's cheek, just shy of touching. "May I?"

The consideration for her feelings made Neve's stomach flutter with butterflies. For the first time, she didn't trust her voice, not when Rook was standing so close, being so gentle. Neve simply nodded.

Only then did Rook's fingers finally found Neve. She brushed dark strands of hair aside, bringing them behind Neve's ear with a type of tenderness Neve had forgotten the feeling of—Rook didn't have to, she did anyway. She then took hold of Neve's jaw, holding her steady in place while she moved to ever so carefully cut through the stitches and pull them loose.

Neve's eyes dropped close against her better judgment, she couldn't fight the way she leaned into Rook's touch either. Neve hardly felt when the stitches were removed, focusing instead on the shape and warmth of Rook's hand against her skin—how Rook absentmindedly moved her thumb back and forth by the corner of her mouth, in a soothing motion, taking Neve's mind off any slight pain she might feel.

It didn't mean anything, couldn't mean anything; Neve insisted on telling herself. Rook was only helping her, nothing more.

It was done. But still, Rook refused to move away. Her hand lingered, holding onto Neve, and for some reason, Neve let her.

The touch moved up. Rook's fingers traced the outlines of the new scar etched onto Neve's forehead. She kept going until she reached the arch of Neve's eyebrow and then the crinkle at the corner of her eye. Exploring, mapping, keeping. As if Rook wanted to carve the shape of Neve's features into her memory.

Neve shuddered under the gesture, as if stars were dancing across her skin. Her throat closed up and held her breath hostage until her lungs ached and then some. Oh, this was dangerous. The tender look in Rook's eyes spelled trouble, the care she held Neve with would be her undoing.

There was a soft furrow on Rook's brows, like caught in a trance, not fully aware of what she was doing or how it caused Neve's heart to seek a new home outside her ribcage.

"Rook…" It bordered on being a whimper, all breathless and teary and desperate. And Neve almost grimaced at the sound of her own voice. Pleading, though she wasn't sure what for.

In the same breath, Rook let go of her, perhaps quicker than Neve would've liked her to. A soft gasp of surprise fell past Rook's lips, her eyes somewhat apologetic.

But that's what Neve wanted, wasn't it? Safety, distance?

Neve tried to tell herself 'yes'. It was a lie.

Neve didn't ask for much. She didn't ask for attention or for people to stick with her. Yet one taste from Rook got her yearning to bend her own rules and ask, anyway.

Rook cleared her throat, gaze shifting between countertops and porcelain plates, nowhere near Neve. Her fingers tapped the side of her thigh in an unsteady rhythm, Neve caught it with a glance.

The silence was loud, thick with unsaid words and actions that spoke better than such. The detective was rarely out of words or a good quip, but right now, her tongue was tied. All she could hear was the thundering of her own heart.

Ever so slowly, Rook raised her gaze. Their eyes met then, and Neve knew she should have looked away, but didn’t. Questions hung, stretched out in the space between them.

What is this? What are we doing?

Do you feel it too?

None knew the answers.

"All done." Rook was the first to speak, a touch of hesitance to her words and the way she fidgeted with her hands.

Neve felt her skin prickle. She clenched and unclenched her hands, slick with perspiration. A beat passed, and she stood up from her stool, smoothing out her pants in an attempt to dry her hands. "Thanks… Rook."

Before Neve did something she would certainly regret, she gave Rook a tight-lipped smile and turned to walk away.

Neve was halfway to the doors when Rook asked, all hopeful and chipper; "See you at dinner?"

Neve had read it once, maybe it was on one of Bellara's serials. A tale of a warrior and his maiden, who were always forced apart; yet each time they said goodbye and had to walk away from each other, they would look back over their shoulders, until they couldn't see the other anymore; looking back to the one they hoped to return to.

Neve stopped in her steps with one last click of her prosthetic on the stone floor.

How dangerous it would be, to have something worth coming back to. To have something worth losing.

For several beats, the only sound was the crackling of the fireplace.

Neve looked back and over her shoulder, her chest tightening when she caught the way Rook's lips stretched in a gentle smile.

"I wouldn't miss it."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

"Something worth losing" means a person, thing, or idea that is so valuable to you that even if you were to lose it, the potential pain of that loss would still be justified because of how much it means to you; essentially, it signifies something precious enough that the risk of losing it is worth taking.

Neve's taglist is open, let me know if you'd like to be added. Or you can follow @talesofesther-library and turn notifications on to know when I’ve posted a new story/chapter.

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

[gingerteafairy]

𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒆 (𝒌𝒂𝒊 𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓)

You’re preparing to tell Kai you want to leave the cult, assuming he’s unaware of your intentions. Little do you know. His perceptiveness is far beyond what feels humanly or even legally possible

tags n warnings: angst, anxiety, health problems, manipulation, est. relationship, validation. word count: 1.4k

Joining the Cult was something else.

You never wanted to be there. Never wanted to be part of it. Where people obeyed his orders like mindless puppets, terrified of punishment from either Kai or God himself. Only He knew what hell it was to exist in that place.

Anxiety gnawed at you constantly, your eyes darting around, desperate to leave the moment the door opened. The air was thick with unease. Taking anti-anxiety pills was like an anesthetic, dulling the growing pain of being trapped in this nightmare. You wanted out—yes, more than anything. So why couldn’t you leave?

Was it the praises? The applause? The validation for your talent? No, you had all that back in college or the pub where you sang jazzy songs to make money. Was it the convenience? Having everything you could ever want—luxurious food, jewelry, revenge for the wicked society? No, it was worse.

Kai Anderson.

Cult leader. Fear impersonated. Hot. Your man—or better yet, your fiancé. You hated how pathetic you felt, whining and obeying his every command, just wanting to be good for him, validated by him. You’d do anything—anything—to see that beautiful face smile at you, to hear the sweet words, Good girl. Yet your altered electrocardiogram screamed for relief, just like your blood tests and mixed-up hormones.

“Kai,” you called weakly from behind him, fingers trembling as they curled around his black sweatshirt.

He turned slowly, his blue hair catching the light like a red signal for your nerves to short-circuit. A damn 3D glasses on a slash-horror movie. “What d’you want, suga?”

You swallowed hard, legs turning to jelly. His pet names always weakened you. “I’m tired, Kai…” Your voice sounded pathetic, a mere whisper.

He smiled, cupping your face with a gentle touch of his thumb, his caress both a warning and a comfort. Kai never did anything without hidden intention—every touch was calculated. “I know, doll. You look like a crushed kitten. It’s so sad.”

Your throat tightened, a twisted mix of emotions bubbling up. “Crushed kitten? What does that even mean? Do I look that ugly?”

“No,” he said, his voice a smooth melody. “You never look ugly to me. You're perfect.” His praise was like honey, dripping from his lips. “You look ravishing, even with those dark bags under your eyes and stress wrinkles. So hardworking.”

His thumb froze against your skin, a cold silence settling between you. His eyes darkened, sharp and calculating, as he examined you with a look that made you feel like you were laid bare before him. He wasn’t oblivious—Kai was far from that. He saw everything, sensed everything. It was unsettling, how perceptive he was. More than anyone legally or humanly should be.

“Kai…” You couldn't hold it back anymore. “I’m tired. I can’t take it anymore.” Your words rushed out before you could stop them. You knew if you let him charm you again, you wouldn’t be able to escape. “It’s the cult. I don’t want to be part of it anymore. It’s exhausting. I’m having panic attacks, I can’t sleep…”

“You want out?” he asked softly, and you knew it wasn’t a simple question.

“I…yes,” you whispered, shivering. “I’ll die if i stay here. All I do is take pills and drown myself in TV shows so I can forget where I am. Where I… where you put me.” The words tumbled out in a rush, but the dread in your chest only deepened.

Kai looked at you, his gaze piercing, as if he were reading the very essence of your soul. His proximity was suffocating, his breath warm on your face as he leaned in, keeping that damn eye contact that always made you feel like you couldn’t breathe.

“And where exactly d’you plan to go?” His voice was velvet, threading through your mind like a shot of blue lagoon, extra vodka and lemons. “Jonestown? Heaven’s Gate? Gonna be a little missionary for the damn Mormons?”

“I… don’t know…” you muttered, surrendering to the intoxicating sensation of his kisses on your face. You were weak, helpless. “I just don’t want to be here… I don't… I want…”

“Just tell me what you want, doll,” he whispered, pulling you closer, his strong arms wrapping around you like a bondage. Intense, carnal, caring. “I’ll do anything you want. You know I always take care of you, don't you?”

“I know you do, love.” You couldn’t stop yourself from melting into him, his eyes holding you captive, making you feel small and precious all at once.

“Then why do you want to leave?” His voice was quiet now, almost gentle, as he kissed the crook of your neck, breathing you in. Drunk in blue freezie in summer. “Why do you want to leave me?”

The question hit like a blow, but you couldn’t ignore the tug of his warmth. “I don’t want to leave you… I…”

“Then don’t.” His insistence was soft, yet his gaze hardened, and for a fleeting moment, something like sadness flashed in his chocolate eyes. It was subtle, hidden beneath layers of manipulation, but it was there. And it seemed to consume him as a poison, the defenseless of love.“Do you remember what you said when I proposed?”

Oh, you did remember. You could never forget. The way he made all your dreams come true on that day, how he made love that night. Leading you to that table with his pinky raised—no kneeling, no humiliating gestures. No. He was the one standing, while you sat, holding his pinky in a bond that would never be broken.

He was the one who started the vow, taking your hand on his heart. “Same bond, same faith. Flesh and bones till the grave. I'll give you my life, because you're the one that I crave”

You blushed, taking his hand to your heart as you completed the little spell. “Go where you’re going. Dream the same dreams. Eat what you eat. Do what you do. You’re the head, and I’ll be there for you.”

His grin was knowing, and he kissed both of your cheeks before returning his gaze to yours. “Yes. And now you’re going to break that contract we made? The one you promised me, wearing that pretty blue silk dress I gave you?”

“No…” you murmured, lowering your head, defeated. “I can’t…”

“Hey,” he said, gently lifting your chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Are you sad to be with me? Is it a sacrifice?”

“No,” you whispered, grabbing onto his shirt, pulling him closer. “It’s not a sacrifice. You’re the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me. I'm grateful for having you, to be the one you chose for being yours.”

“I'm the one who is grateful… I don’t deserve you.” His smile was bittersweet, his hand smoothing your hair before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You’re my angel.”

“And you’re my savior, Kai.” You nestled into him, a tear slipping down your cheek as he massaged your shoulders. “’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, honey.” His voice was low, soothing, as his hands worked along the length of your back. “You’re just tired. Sleep a little, okay? You need rest.”

You pulled away slightly, but only enough to meet his gaze. “But what about the—”

“I’ll take care of everything.” His words were firm, cutting off any further concern. “Don’t worry about anything in that pretty little head of yours. Just focus on being beautiful and happy for our last act. Do you still have that dress I gave you? The one from the proposal?”

You smiled, nodding. “Yeah, it’s in my drawer, right next to the Colt you gave me on my birthday.”

“Good girl,” he said, his grin widening as he ruffled your hair, giggling when you smiled like a puppy. The words you needed to hear. “I’m so proud of you.”

He squeezed your arms in a comforting manner, and in that moment, you felt like everything might be okay. “I love you, babe.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, closing your eyes.

Crazy things we do for love. Even the things that consume us. But in the end, he would take care of you—even if it meant holding onto you as you decomposed, because you were his princess, his wonderwall, the one thing he would be proud to fight for. His one and only perfect muse.

taglist: @ikkyfics

dividers @junabuggy

[jinkiezzsstuff]

TYSM FOR THE LADY GAGA FIC!!!!

I have another song fic request...

Alastor (or anyone else really lmao) has to find reader in order to patch up like a deal or smth idk and he finds them in this jazz club thing performing on the stage to 'Noel's lament' from 'ride the cyclone'? Like she's draped across a piano singing abt when she was living she was nobody but in her dreams she was this absolute femme fatale and alastor just watches her from the back of the crowd??

So niche but I was thinking abt it all night

Lots of love 🤍

i actually loveeee this song eeeee i’m so happy to do this, and i am so glad you liked the last one it means so much to me teehee sorry this took awhile i’ve been busier lately but i hope you enjoyed this, maybe i’ll do a part two but if i do it may be real delayed until i clear my plate lol!

song referenced; noel’s lament

warnings: implied to be succubus reader but their not really to standards of succubus, i don’t believe there are feminine pronouns here but there are certain feminine things (dress wearing, feminine terms like suductresd etc), no psychical descriptions of reader as per usual, minor gore and death, reader is sneaky and slipper, alastor is weird about love as he should king, but he still feels emotion, possible cringe parts idk it’s a songfic and sometimes they can be 50/50. LMK if i missed any!

word count: 2.7K

You had a debt to pay, you had to have known this. Alastors mind reeled as he toyed with the pen in his hand, occasionally scribbling nonsense down as he thought. You were always quite the slippery sinner, never being tied down to one place in the pentagram, but this was just ridiculous. Since he’d been back, and warmed up to the hotel, he’d been searching for you, but no sign. No demon has said a word about you either had he still been in touch with Vox he may have had you found by now.

You weren’t dead, and that’s as much as he knew; he would’ve felt your souls absence if you’d died, the fickle fun of making such contracts. There was little he knew about you personally, he new superficial things but nothing that would give him a clue on where you’d hide, a silly mistake on his part. He knew Mimzy would be were the cash or party was, Husk wherever there was a gamble and Nifty, well, normally she never strayed far anyways. As for other souls they were about the same in simplicity, whether they were murderous or cannibals they always had something keen to them that would lead him to where they were.

Alastor failed that with you, unfortunately he’d found himself a little at loss with you, in more ways than one you boggled his mind. He was used to women and men alike hitting on him or being incredibly provocative, but there was some way you did it that made him speechless. Not like when Angel would hit on him, where Alastor felt that sensation of being caught off guard with disgust and shock. No, on the night you made the deal, you were stalking around the back of his sofa inside his radio tower, your hands caressing his shoulders as you passed, sweetly and mischievously offering a pleasurable favour in return for his help. That was something else, that was unique to you.

He still recalls the memory as if he was still right there on the couch, engulfed in your scent, entranced by your siren-like voice, it made him hot under the collar and tight around the waist. Thankfully Alastor was a gentleman and a businessman and there was no way you were getting out of a soul contract through some silly sexual favours. It was definitely trying to keep his composure as your lidded eyes watched his lips move, but he managed as he always does. The deal was fairly boring on your part- you wanted to be his friend.

Red flags appeared in Alastors mind about the validity of that but shook on it nonetheless, however that was all before he disappeared. He’d not held up his end of the bargain but then again neither did you; you didn’t show when he called on you to the hotel and try as he may, couldn’t seem to summon you the way he could with Husk.

Dropping the pen, Alastor stood from his seat and shadowed into the floor, stalking out the window like a snake. Alastor decided a little stroll couldn’t hurt, after all his mind couldn’t rest and perhaps he could happen upon you out in sin city. Alastor enjoyed his time walking, humming and basking in all the horrors that happened around, however he grew bored fairly quickly, and decided to take a detour into Mimzy’s favourite joint.

Alastor walked in like he owned the place and seated himself at the bar waiting for his dear friend. “Mimzy dear, how’ve you been?” Alastor spoke out excitedly and loudly, catching the attention of his fellow demon who had appeared from the back of the bar. Mimzy squeaked and ran up to Alastor on the other side of the bar, shooing off the other demons trying to pull at her, the trim of her dress flying in all directions as she hopped and scuttled. “Alastor! What brings ya here, big man? Coming for a dance?” His smile was indifferent as she spoke but he was quite pleased to see the doll, someone of routine. He watched the demon plop herself down on the seat beside him, his hand fiddling with the whisky in his cup that he magicked up. “Yes dear, afraid I have quite the slippery soul in my hands.”

With both elbows on the table Mimzy leaned in, an excited smile on her face. Alastors head fell to the side, sighing at her desire for gossip, Alastor pushed up his monocle and explained the situation with you briefly. He probably went into too many details about how you looked, or smelt, or perhaps how he thought of you in his absence because the whole time Mimzy was coy and giggles. “Wow Al, sounds like you’re carryin’ a torch for this gal’,” Mimzy teased, walking her fingers across the table in his direction. Alastor stiffened at that watching her do her silly tease wide eyed. What a juvenile thing to assume, that he had feelings for some sinner. “Mimzy, don't be ridiculous!” Alastor scoffed grin still present as he threw his limp hand her way, head tossed back. “There’s no such thing! Besides she’s nothing more than some sensuous succubus, it’s what those types of demons do. Seduce.”

Crossing her arms Mimzy let out a flat ‘mhm’ clearly not convinced by what was being said. “Well Al, tell ya what! You have my back next time some nasty loan sharks come, and i’ll tell ya where your pretty seductress is.” Alastors nails tapped against the table rhythmically as he silently pondered, it’s not like he’d say no to her, just as she wouldn’t say no to him. Fixing his posture from his more lesuride position, he agreed with a nod, gulping back the last of his liquor.

-

This club Alastor stepped into was very reminiscent of a wealthy man’s speakeasy, something that was nestled safely in the depth of the pentagram in an unassuming alley, as if it were hiding from something or someone. It was nostalgic for him, in a sickening way, Alastor didn’t enjoy remembering mortal life as it seemed so detached from him and who he is now. His red eyes danced across the room manically, his static following in suit with every glance he gave. Searching for his little succubus. Low amber lighting, that stuffy smell of smoke in the air, the velvet chairs, surrounding chatter and the piano playing smooth jazz; Alastors body subconsciously relaxed into the familiar environment, as much as he hated his mortal life there were such aspects like this he missed.

He dragged himself inside and sat in a red velvet chair, immediately he slumped onto the table, his elbows on the table, his chin rested on his hand while the other toyed with the fire from the candle, bringing it up, around, and high and low. His eyes dragged over to the stage as the piano rifted into a new tune, the lights in the room dimming and brightening toward the stage. Inwardly, Alastors frustrations imploded making his skin hot and his antlers grow in size; all the light to see you with now focused on the stage for a performance he couldn’t care less about.

Standing to his feet, Alastor gripped his microphone like it was his life line. With a strained smile he began towards the door as the music began, and a voice started introducing themselves and talking about their dreams, however he was too busy being frustrated, and scanning the room for you to fully pay attention to the voice. That was until- “A hooker with a heart of black charcoal.” A breathy voice finally sang out, grabbing the attention of Alastor as he neared the exit. Freezing the static sounds of radio station channels sounded out from him, his eyes widening at the sound of you.

Turning abruptly on his heel, he looked over the crowd of seated heads and at the stage where you were walking on. There was a light focused down on you as you slunk out from behind a curtain furthest from the piano. Straightening his back, Alastor slipped into the shadows and behind a pillar near the bar, just to wait for you of course, to come off. “I write poems to burn by fire light, drink champagne and guzzle gin, good girls call me ‘The Town Bicycle’- don't knock it til you’ve tried my life of sin,” Alastor watched enchanted as you dragged your heels across the stage as you sung, making your way over the piano with seductive grace, something Alastor wasn’t used to being so hooked by.

“Oh, Claude, my pimp knows neva mess with me,” Your voice, once serene and beautiful now, was demonic and harsh, capturing the audience's attention. “Last prick did that faded quick to black,” Like a switch your voice returned to its sweetness, your arms outstretched just slightly, fingers twinkling to emphasise the ‘fade’ you sang of. Alastor couldn’t look away from how you manuerved your body, how your voice carried through the room, and how the lights sparkled against your jewellery. You were a sight for sore eyes as you teasingly brought yourself closer to the piano, that regular soft bedroom look in your eyes. “I have no idea where to find him officers,”

Alastors brow quirked at that, as your hands came up to cup your face with false naïveté. “But if you do, please mention that I’d like to have returned that pretty knife, that I stuck, ten. times. in his, back!” You grit out, sweet façade falling once more making Alastors tail wag, unbeknownst to him. There was something about the way you pulled and pushed the narrative in the song that made him antsy, excited even, and the fact that this was something you stated you dreamed to be, meaning whilst alive you dreamt of killing, of being bad, oh that made Alastors blood rush.. You waltzed around as you continued to sing the lyrics to the chores, Alastors eyes watched closely as you slithered your body effortlessly up onto the piano.

It was like you were made for performing, singing, and he had the brief fantasy of you in his studio singing on air, sat on his lap as you sung through his microphone for the folks of hell to hear, but he pulled himself out of it quickly, scolding himself for indulging in silliness. Now your body was draped across the obsidian piano that shone the reflections of the light, you sat on your hips, legs folded behind you, hands over your heart. “He said ‘I think I am in love with you’- I’ve heard that lie a million times before,” Your posture fell slightly as did your tone, it seemed that there was some truth and sombre in the lyrics you sang, and in a way Alastor felt like he could relate to that; after all what even was love?

It made him feel weak to pity you, to attempt to empathise with your pain, but there was barely any time to think about his thoughts because just as he did, you’d recapture his attention entirely. “Oh, tonight I give into the fantasy,” Your head fell back, sorrow in your tone as your hand caressed your shoulder, pulling down the strap of your dress. “Take love when you can, when you’re a whore.” After a silent moment the chorus picked up, as did you, sliding yourself off the piano and dancing around with a smile. Unfortunately Alastors mind lagged behind, something was just too vulnerable in the way you sang about love, and considering it wasn’t something he often thought about, it peaked his curiosity just slightly.

It wasn’t until the end of the performance when you sung about your death that Alastors attention zeroed back in on you, his eyes catching yours as the song fell out, your head turned in his direction. He watched as your eyes widened and mouth fell slightly ajar before you sang out one last word: a ‘hey’ coincidentally directed toward Alastor. After that the lights on stage shut off instantly, and the crowd applause began.

Alastor watched you be dragged off stage by two larger demons through the darkness, your legs flailing as your arms were restrained, at the sight the purpose of him being here returned. Pushing himself off the pillar he was leant against, he brushed himself off and straightened the crimps in his pants, before picking up his microphone and making his way towards where you’d been dragged. It was a cruddy little backstage area, he’s under the assumption the performers here weren’t treated as kindly as the guests. Throwing the door open he was greeted by the sight of you, the two demons who dragged you off, and some other third one.

You sat on an ottoman in the middle of the room, your entire essence changed as you curled into yourself, your head hung low. Humming, Alastor adjusted his monocle. “Am I interrupting something?” Oh how Alastor loved to play dumb, he watched the third demon, seemingly imp, stand straight anger evident and radiating off of him. “Yeah you really fuckin are red, get outta here now.” The imp barked throwing his hands up in a shooing motion. Your eyes met Alastors, begging silently to stay. “I’m afraid i can’t do that you silly lug,” Alastor tutted joyfully stepping into the room throwing his microphone around like it was a toy. His shadows crawled out from beneath his feet, sneaking up the walls and across the ceilings making the three men anxious. “This little canary happens to me mine, soul and all.” His voice shifted to a more demonic one as the hues in the room shifted.

You sat speechless, watching the mysterious deer defend you after seven long years of being on hold with him. You were surprised he came at such a time, convenient for you. The two muscle demons were quick to puff their chests and step toward Alastor, but before they could properly swing, tentacles emerged from the shadows gripping the torso and hips of the men and pulling them in two. The screams were horrific, and the sounds of squelch and ripping nearly made you yourself sick, however it did the job for the littler imp as he immediately caved. “Oh okay okay, alright buddy, take the siren, no problem take em! Go!” The imp stressed while pulling you from your seat and toward Alastor hurriedly.

You stumbled against his pushing and found yourself falling accidentally into Alastors arms, tripping over your own heel. Alastor caught you without even looking down, arms wrapping instinctively around you as he glared at the imp with a smile. “Oh good, I would have hated to have caused a scene! Ha ha.” Alastor laughed humorously, although he was the only one finding any joy from this as the imp cowered away from the two of you. Pulling you closer to his body, Alastor fell into the ground with you, your body feeling freezing and damp for a moment before normalcy returned.

You didn’t realise you had your hands over your eyes until you felt Alastors hands grip your wrists, and pull your hands away. You blinked up at him before glancing around the room, it was indeed a room, one you’d never seen. “We're at the Hazbin Hotel dear, time for you to see to your deal.” Alastor said calmly, his tone even and his voice soft, his even his static was at a minimum. “Of course,” You say clearing your throat and backing up from his grasp. He didn’t fight against your distance, letting his arms fall and wrap behind his back as they normally would. “Why did you help me back there? I mean you could’ve just poofed us away?” You ask, rubbing the places on your arms where the demons dragged you.

“Why, thats what friends are for my dear! That was our deal, no? To scare off the threats and protect each other?” Alastor coyly hummed, bending slightly at the waist. Looking down slightly you nodded, hands coming up to sit on your waist. Sighing you shook your head, you should’ve known that this would come back to bite you in the ass eventually. “Alright slick, what is it that i’m doing for you?”

[muzsmocsing]

Reviewing tgcf characters because I have thoughts

I finished S2 recently and I need somewhere to put my not exactly hot but like warm (?) takes because it's taking up too much storage space in my brain.

🤍 Xie Lian 🤍

It's a good thing I'm not into guys because if I was I would be on my knees for this man in every sense of that expression and his pet menace to society would mince me up like garlic.

So I'll try to be brief about my overflowing feelings about him. Xie Lian is the best main character I have come across in a WHILE. He's the embodiment of compassion and kindness. And also a cold blooded murderer. A babygirl. A father figure. A terrifying martial god. A silly little guy. A pathological liar. The most genuine man you'll ever meet. He's everything, and Hua Cheng is 100% valid in his obsession. I'm right there with him.

Rating: 10/10

❤️ Hua Cheng ❤️

Idk if we ever figured out who wrote My Immortal but I'm pretty sure we have our culprit.

"Hi my name is Hua Cheng Crimson Rain Sought Flower Red-Robed Ghost King and this is my evil weapon of death E-ming. I've killed soooo many gods with it!! My dark power is I can summon storms of BLOOD and SUFFERING. I have my own scary city of DEMONS and they all love me and think I'm HOT but I only want my BOYFRIEND who's the only REAL GOD so STOP FLAMING HIM YOU POSERS-"

Needless to say I love him. Being the 8 time winner of the Loverboy of the Century Awards with unbeatable records in the yearning olympics is truly a remarkable feat.

Rating: 9/10

(Bonus: E-ming. Cute little guy. Likes his stepdad more than his real dad. Not afraid to show it's feelings even if it makes it look like a muppet, 10/10)

🧡 Feng Xin & Mu Qing 🧡

Tweedle dee and tweedle dum gets a shared rating because they would hate to be grouped together like that and that's funny to me. Their dynamic is great, they're good characters, I wasn't sure which one was which until midway through the second season. But then also I have a pair of 7yo twin cousins who I still can't tell apart despite them not looking even a slight bit similar so that might just be a character flaw on my end. Oops.

Rating: 7/10

🩵Shi Qingxuan🩵

I'm doubling the rating because she is best boy and best girl at the same time. I love that I can use any and all pronouns for him because he's literally a pride parade personified and therefore all of them are correct. You don't get that type of chaotic fun just anywhere.

He is truly living my dream, presenting as whatever gender they want depending on what's more convenient and/or funnier in the moment. Super useful, for things like gathering intel and terrorizing Feng Xin by being a woman.

And I personally think we should crown her the new emperor. She'd look significantly better on that throne, with her Barbie-like radiance and flourishing Kenergy.

Rating: 20/10

🖤 Ming Yi 🖤

Listen, I hate to say it because I like a sunshine x grump moment as much as the next gay but he's just... not giving what he thinks he's giving. Everyone is whispering ominously about him having some dark devastating secret but MY point is no matter how big his boobs are in his female form, Shi Qingxuan could do better. I'm sorry. She really could.

Rating: 4/10

💙 Lang Qianqiu 💙

Just an honest man with good intentions and a sickass fucking sword. He did NOT hesitate to attack the infamous Crimson Rain Sought Flower on SIGHT and I respect a quick decisionmaker, even if it shows some himbo tendencies. He also has the same distinct energy as Fred from Scooby Doo.

Rating: 6/10

💚 Qi Rong 💚

He's got some odd dietary and moral choices going on. Definitely. But he's just such a fun villain!!! Being Xie Lian's nr 1 source of migraines SHOULD make me like him less but I'm sorry, every time he was on screen I was LIVING. He would do numbers on reality TV. Someone put this guy on Kitchen Nightmares, I need to see him 1v1 Gordon Ramsay.

Rating: 7/10

🌚 Jun Wu 🌚

He has his emperor status & DILF card going for him but something about this man just ain't right. If he came to a party I was attending I would cover my drink is all I'm saying.

Rating: 2/10

🔥Pei Ming🔥

I don't know much about him besides he had that one shady empolyee or whatever (could not hear the plot over the deafening sound of Hua Cheng's yearning) but I'm partial to a good manwhore character. The thought of people praying to him like "Hugh Mungus, who art in heaven-" really tickles me.

I know he's probably straight but I headcanon him as at the very least bi-curious because you can't be that hot with that much game and not use it for evil. (That evil being causing large scale gay awakenings among his soldiers.)

Rating: 7/10

❓Pei Xiu❓

Unreliable, unimportant, unattractive, unemployed.

I remember not a singular thing about him besides fucking up Xie Lian's daughter's life and also being on my last nerve from the jump. If you're going to be evil at like least be memorable about it, you know? You can't be a bad person and a bad character at the same time. Pick a struggle.

Rating: 1/10

📚 Ling Wen 📚

I heard she committed some war crimes but honestly if I had to do an entire realm's tax returns by myself AND teach Pei Ming how to read (I refuse to believe that man is literate, just look at him) I would want to rage on occasion too. I hope she has a hot wife waiting for her at home to give her massages after carrying the whole system on her back all day. It's what she deserves.

Rating: 8/10

Thank you for reading!! Opinions might change once I read the books but as of now this is it. Remembering everyone's names has been a journey and a half so this post is sponsored by @kirstenly 's character cheat sheet go look at it! and everything else too!!!

[lunarduty]

Love your stories, they are so good 💜💜💜

Could I request Delay with Graves please? Thank you

𝙆𝙄𝙇𝙇 𝙈𝙔 𝙄𝙉𝘿𝙐𝙇𝙂𝙀𝙉𝘾𝙀𝙎

☾ graves doesn't want to be late for his hearing. | [ DELAY ]  one muse is trying to get ready to go somewhere while the other keeps kissing them and unbutton/unzipping their clothes.  PHILLIP GRAVES X F!READER TAGS | female reader WC | 764

“you’re not even expected to be there for another hour. that’s plenty of time…”

“on time is late, darlin’. gotta make a good impression on the first day of proceedings, right?”

a valid reason for phillip to gently pull your hands away from the buttons of his shirt, yet the cocky half-smirk he wore told you he enjoyed it a little too much. and as you pout, he doesn’t offer so much as a peck on the lips as a consolation - as if REVELING in the fact that you’ve been needy today and he’s able to shake off any arousal of his own just to keep the upper hand. phillip moves around you with a wink, walking back into the closet to pick out a tie. making a big show of letting his fingers drag over the silky fabric, knowing that your eyes followed him in.

it was hardly your fault. seeing him in his gear, while still ridiculously hot, had lost a lot of its power over time (mostly phillip’s fault, since he loved to the fuck you in it). but a suit? you could count the number of times he’d worn it on one hand, so seeing the stark white of his shirt stretch over his shoulders and tucked against his trim waist was still unfamiliar. still EXCITING to see.

but today was important, that much was true. so you pulled your gaze away, leaving phillip to pick his tie while you returned to your own routine. he didn’t need to try very hard to look good, but you wanted to make sure you reflected well on him. 

that unfortunately meant leaving the fucking for after court and instead trying to busy yourself on making your hair look decent.

“hey, what’ya think? red or gray?”

out from the side of the mirror, phillip appeared holding both colored ties with a tilted head. a shrug rocks your shoulders - a nonchalant response despite the sudden tightness in your chest. trying to seem more interested in taming flyaways than in phillip himself.

but he notices right away. he always does. that’s why his smirk reappears as he comes closer, like a lion stalking his prey. eyes glued on your face through the mirror while looming over your shoulder like an overbearing shadow. “ignorin’ me now? ‘cause you can’t get your way?”

“no,” you reply with a clipped voice, “don’t wanna be on time, right?”

a short hum vibrates in phillip’s chest, and you almost feel it against your back. “then help me pick a tie, sweetie. you know how much i VALUE your input.” he says it with a taste of sarcasm on his tongue, but before you can feel defensive about it, two of his fingers wrap around your upper arm. easily spinning you to face him and lifting the ties so you can see. 

but honestly, it’s his eyes that catch your focus. dark and warm and hard.

“so red? or gray?”

“...red, alright? gray will make you look older.”

“was that so hard? now, be a good girl and tie it for me. you always do it better than i can.”

that’s a lie, and he knows it. but when phillip drapes the red fabric around his neck, and your fingers immediately feel the heat of his body as you bring them up to take it, you can’t find it in yourself to care. he watches as you loop the silk in on itself, trying hard not to let your fingers brush against him. you fail when you tighten the knot and graze the skin of his neck.

and it wasn’t until you try to step away from phillip do you even realize that he had his hands on you - strong and UNWAVERING on your waist to keep you close, knowing you would’ve wanted to try and get some distance. “lookin’ a little flushed there, hun. need to relax. can’t have you so wound up in front the judges - gonna make me look bad.”

his hands start to wander. finding the zipper of your dress and slowly, achingly, pulling it down just half an inch before he leans in. his breath is hot and wet and smells of cinnamon toothpaste and there’s nothing you want more than to taste it.

but just before phillip can reach your lips, you pull your head back. fingers uncurling from the perfect white of his shirt before they can leave wrinkles. “you’re gonna mess up my lipstick,” you breathe out - this time, it’s you who smirks when you feel him panting, “and we’re gonna be late.”

[koolades-world]

Animal lover Mc!

y'all one of the first questions I had when I started playing obey me was "what is going to happen to my pets while I'm gone??" obviously I would find a way to bring them with me I will NOT be separated from my babies just for some hot demon men

currently I have three cats and a dog, all rescues and eight foster kittens, like, who's gonna feed that many critters for the whole durations of the exchange program not to mention I would miss them!

the first question mc is asking is "where is my entourage?" and when Dia asks what, they're gonna continue to describe their pets in a way only a pet owner would understand. Lucifer understands because he himself is a pet owner

"Welcome to the Devildom! Any questions?"

"where is my entourage?"

"What are you talking about?"

"you know, my zoo? my shadows? my cutie babies? my sillies? my children?"

"Oh, do you mean your pets?"

"Lucifer how did you understand that"

life in the HoL is about to get ten times more chaotic let me tell you

since my dog is a rescue we don't know too much about her past but she does not like tall men and omg what a coincidence! the HoL is all tall men!!1! anyone that doesn't look like me is a red flag to her she's super sweet though once you give her time (one time my school bestie shook a posterboard at her like three years ago and she still remember it to this day and hates him for it)

she warms up eventually if you respect her and listen to her whims but girl... we all know Lucifer would be too prideful to conform to what a dog wants that isn't Cerberus. Satan is a cat person, Beel is a literal giant, Levi would be afraid. she would def like Mammon since he kinda looks like my dad, Belphie is always asleep and therefore can't be a threat to her, and everyone loves Asmo! including me and my dog!

idk about other dogs but my dog just loves to beg and I give in every time. Beel is always eating and probably will give her a little too since he also seems like the puppy eyes would work on him.

I feel like dogs love Levi but he's probably afraid

"AWUBCUOBWVCGJ MC HELP"

"Levi we talked about this"

"THAT THING IS THE REAL DEMON"

"Are we talking about the same dog? The one that gets excited every time someone arrives home? The one that does a cute little roll over trick? The one that warms your feet on cold nights?"

"DEMON DOG"

"She's just looking at you"

"IT GOT CLOSER WVADUVJIOSUBSDFO"

"Not helping you"

all of my personal cats are kinda jerks lol... don't get me wrong I love them but like if you aren't used to them (or if they aren't used to you) you will get bitten. two of them have valid excuses, one is an old man, a curmudgeon if you will, and one is a blind kitten so she doesn't take well to new sounds, especially new voices. but my other cat, about three years old now is literally just a brat LOL he once attacked me in my sleep cause i moved a little too much love him tho

just cat things in general, they knock over everything on counters and shelves, they zoom around in the middle of the night, they attack ankles! Satan is in love but Lucifer nearly kicks them

the middle cat loves to sleep in my bed with me, like right on top of me. on my head, on my chest, on my stomach, on my shoulder, on my face. so like, there's no room for anyone else in my bed. yes there might physically be room but my cat's ego is so big there isn't room for another

sorry hot demon men my cat comes first

Belphie would make an excellent pillow for all cats, he's warm, he doesn't move much and he won't care

"Do you know where Belphie is?"

"My room, but don't bother."

"Why?"

"The cats have taken him as their own"

"THAT SHOULD BE ME"

The more Asmo doesn't want cats in his room the more the cats will want to enter his room

omg Satan is about to be your bestie so much quicker than in the original arc. I love the love and care that was placed into befriending Satan but this is the quickest way into his heart

"You must be the exchange student. I... what's in there?"

"My cats"

"Lucifer is letting you have them in the house?"

"Yes?"

"You're coming with me. Bring the cats."

"What does that mean? Do you like cats?"

"there are no words to describe my love for cats as deeply as I care for them. they are magnificent creatures. you have single handily done what I have tried to do for millennia. you are my best friend now"

"We will get along just fine"

This isn't even mentioning all of the strange Devildom critters Mc would def befriend

They drag a different brother along each time to feed weird animals that show up in their yard

Feeding stray cats with Satan!!

Dia would totally take them on expeditions to go see Devildom animals in the wild even during school days

Speaking of that, Dia also makes regular trips to the HoL to visit any and all pets

He will never hear the end of it from Barb oh god he will die from all the animal fur he brings back with him

I love rodents but Barb does not...

Nobody tell him that Mc may or may not have a rodent

Mc rescues all of the rats that Barb tries to eliminate and sets them free far away from the castle

the possibilities are endless with this might make a part two

[blorbocedes]

i wish u would write: more lesbians!sico 🙏🏻

"Would you still like me if I was a worm?"

Seb asks stupid questions like this, lying belly flop on Nico's dorm bed.

"No. Worms are disgusting." Nico rolls her eyes, carefully cutting out Britney Spears' image from the glossy magazine cover. She's going to mail order that halter top later.

Seb turns to look at her all sad with her freakish blue eyes and floppy hair, about to launch into an explanation about why worms are very important for the ecology, actually. Nico revises her answer. Blame Lewis for insults being her love language.

"I would put you in a terrarium. Plenty of enrichment. Good soil."

"We cannot date if I'm in a terrarium." Seb pouts. Her tee shirt rode up as she moved, exposing a stripe of pale skin. Seb's always pale while Nico gets a flush golden tan in Monaco. Sebastian has gotten this strange impression that simply because they have sex and spend time together afterwards that they're 'dating.' Nico hasn't corrected her on it yet.

"It's frowned upon to date worms." Nico finishes her scrapbooking, scooching over to the squeaky twin sized dorm bed.

"Well, I would date you if you were a worm. Maybe it would be better, I could finally get you to come watch the Return Of The King with me." Seb smiles, linking one of her legs with Nico's, jeans against bare skin.

"How would you get a terrarium in the theatre, genius?" Nico hates that she's playing along this stupid thought experiment, when there's a young, hot body in her bed and she doesn't have class until the afternoon. She runs her fingers against Seb's bare stomach, feels her get goosebumps at the touch.

"I'll-- uh," Seb is momentarily distracted, blinking at Nico, licking her lips, and they really are so red and biteable. "Sneak you in my pocket. Keep you warm."

It's 2004 and none of their jeans have real pockets.

"Yeah?" Nico crawls on top, eyes dark. "Keep me here?" Nico pulls on the fake pocket of her low rise jeans, exposing her hip bone, circling her thumb over it. Seb writhes at the touch. It's very validating, she goes pink wherever Nico touches her, as if Seb isn't the one whose fucked everyone on campus while Nico's relatively new to carpet munching, but a diligent learner.

"Or here?" Nico asks, sliding her hand under Seb's shirt -- squeezing her tit, impossibly warm like a molten core.

"Damn you. Everywhere." Seb begs, promises, pulling Nico down to put her tongue in her mouth.

[shiyorin]

I just want to preface this request with the information that these are not two separate requests. I just wanted to give you some options to choose from so that you could choose the one that most interesting to you and seems like it would be fun to write about

Now my understanding is limited as I’ve only had the wiki as a source of information, but I tried to come up with some interesting ideas for these character with what I was working with. Because of what little I’ve read and seen of them they are great characters.

So there are two ideas, one for Thiel and one for Gavriel

So for the first one, Thiel. Thiel gets a lot of admonishments from his superiors for his way of doing things and it cause his self esteem to sink a little bit. So maybe a loving session with a female partner who lavishes him in praise is exactly what he needs.

Secondly, Gavriel. Now Gavriel isn’t very aware about the effect his body has on other people, as evidenced by him letting a female remebrancer into his room while scantily claded and not understanding why she was so flustered.

So maybe him interacting with a chapter serf or scribe who becomes increasingly red in the face due to his state of undress and with her explanation why she so flustered around him eventually culminating in sexy times.

#Aeonid Thiel x F!Reader

#Thiel is the best boy!

#PwP, NSFW, comfort sex because he need that, a little femdom!

#Again, I don't have summary.

Aeonid Thiel's chest rises and falls with labored breaths, his muscular frame tense from the rigors of today's battles. Through the dim chamber light, beads of sweat glisten across his physique. As his hardened eyes stare distantly at the ceiling, your petite form drapes atop him, your curves molding to the ridges of his torso.

You nuzzle your cheek against the warm, unyielding plates of his neck, your unruly locks spilling over his skin. Exhaling a stuttered sigh, Thiel relaxes almost imperceptibly under your soothing weight and gentle caresses. Your delicate fingers trace idle patterns along the grooved expanse of his chest, nails lightly raking across the scarred terrain.  

Your hushed murmurs of praise intermingle with the ragged cadence of his breathing. "You are brave today, my sergeant..." You plant a reverent kiss against the column of his throat. "The Emperor himself would be honored by your nobility and valor."

A gruff rumble stirs deep in Thiel's broad chest as your words find their mark. Though his stoic exterior rarely falters, the validation from you holds unfathomable sway over his psyche and body. As if by instinct, his hips give an upward twitch, the thick ridge of his growing arousal grazing your inner thigh.

You let out the faintest moan, grinding yourself against the scorching hardness straining beneath the coarse material of his fatigues. With aching tenderness, your fingers trail down the ridged musculature of his abdomen towards the prodigious bulge, so immense it could likely stint your tiny wrists.

"You deserve more  than that..." You coos against the fevered skin of his neck, your hot breath sending delicious shivers cascading down Thiel's body. 

Hooking your fingers into the waistband of his trousers, you tug them lower with deliberation until his gargantuan cock springs free in all its pulsing glory. A pearlescent bead of pre-seed glistens at the slit of the flared head.

Unable to fully encircle the monstrous girth with your petite digits, you settle for skimming your palms over the searing hot length with featherlight caresses. Thiel can't stifle the guttural groan that wrenches itself from somewhere primal and untamed within his core.

"Shhh..." You murmur against Thiel's navel as he starts, a guttural groan rumbling through his chest. "That's my good boy. I've got you."

You engulf the first few inches in your hands, feeling the ravenous heat radiating from that titanic shaft. Slowly you begin pumping in languid, twisting strokes, coaxing more of that slick nectar from its woefully neglected depths.

Thiel's breath hitches, ribs swelling against your body as you glide along that slippery, pulsing flesh. Try as he might, his self-control is a corded sinew stretched far too taut...

With a strangled gasp, his hips stutter and that huge cock erupts in your pumping caresses. Thick ropes of viscous seed come gushing forth, scalding jets that paint your hands and arms with lurid stripes of cream. Spurt after spurt, Thiel's long-withheld climax crashes over him in thunderous waves of ecstasy.

Abruptly, you can feel him tense in a paroxysm of embarrassment, his face flushing as he recoils from the aftermath of his rapture.

"No no, my love." You soothe, slick palms cradling his cheeks. "This pleasure is yours to indulge, without shame..." 

Trailing glistening fingers down his heaving torso, you gather more of the still-oozing pearls dribbling from his tip.

"You are doing your best..."

With those words, you smear the fresh offering of his essence across Thiel's lips, leaving them slick and glistening with his own spend.

"Breathe into it, take your rapture into yourself. That's it..." You said, watching his eyes flutter at the musky taste. "Good boy... now relax... and let everything for me."

[vibratingskull]

Yandere!Thrawn x F!reader chapter 11

Yandere AU - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

Tags : Yandere behaviors (duh), gaslighting, masturbation, dub-con, fingering, forced orgasm

You grumble, turning and turning on the silky bed. 

You’re so bored! 

Thrawn is away working, you’ve played the board game to death, you’ve read almost all the holos and nothing is interesting on TV.  

There is another thing, too… 

You’re terribly frustrated.  

Sexually frustrated.  

You didn’t have any action in quite some time. Masturbating with your non-dominant hand has proven more difficult than first anticipated. It can’t satisfy you anyway, you’re too used to your vibrating toys to derive satisfying pleasure through your poor simple hand. 

You sigh between your teeth, your cast reposing on your chest, it’s stupidly heavy and gets in the way of everything… You turn again on your side, your valid hand caressing your tummy. 

Mind absently it starts grazing its way lower, tracing circles on your venus mound. You left the datapad Thrawn lent you in the living room, and you can’t get it to put on a holoporn, or something enticing… You pull on the hem of your dress and enter your panties with another sigh, tracing your slit. You're dry but hot, bothered, and annoyed. You keep drawing the line of your pussylips before entering your warm cavern, it is moist but not wet. Are you addicted to your toys? You don’t have them in hand, they are in your cabin and you can’t possibly ask Thrawn to bring them to you! You’d die of embarrassment! 

Thinking about him sends a tingle to your core.  

Thrawn…  

He truly is a handsome man, you finally admit. A whole meal to devour with that physic and that haughty face. You breathe through your nose, mentally drawing his features like you would paint a canvas… His turned up nose, his sharp cheekbones, his dignified temples, his thin, rosy-blue lips, his hypnotizing red eyes… You finger yourself painting his gorgeous face. 

The vision of his mighty body the other day imposes itself on you once again, his broad and muscular pecs, his carved abdominals, his large and long arms... How his powerful muscles contracted under the efforts. You bite your lips, if you had more self-control and didn’t ogle him like you did you would maybe not be in this state today! 

A gasp escapes you as you think of his shining gaze on you. When he looked at your naked body to bathe and apply cream he seemed detached and bored, truly uninterested but you try to imagine him with his eyes burning, calling you a “good girl” for him again… You try to recall the warmth of his hands on you when he presses your two bodies close in the cold night. 

You press your legs together, trying to add some pressure on your pussy, but nothing does it. You bite your lips, ashamed. How would he react if he learned you were trying to masturbate thinking about him??? That is not what friends do, he would be so disgusted. It would be such a stab to his thrust in you. You feel your core clenching at his frowned gaze on you, disapproving. You admit you like his authority and how he can command a room with a single glance. You push a second finger, feeling your wetness starting to spread.  

You imagine him seated at the chair of his desk looking at you up and down, inviting you to come closer with two fingers and a mute order. Would you combust under his gaze? Would you melt in a puddle before reaching him? 

You imagine him pulling you on his lap, kissing your neck and caressing your thighs and ass, groping your soft flesh, his hands slowly sneaking under the fabric of your attire. He would grab the back of your neck to force your ear to his mouth, “Good girl.” he would murmur slowly, licking the shell of your ear.  

“Thrawn…” you exhale. 

You flinch on the bed, working yourself up with your fingers, you feel pleasure building up and you're sprinting after your release, your breath is short and a new shudder strikes you as you envision Thrawn kissing you, his hand exploring you deeper. You accelerate the motion of your fingers, trying to reach your orgasm, focusing on his red rubies. 

Come one, come one, come… 

Damn!  

You exhale, frustrated. You didn’t reach it, it escaped you last second. You growl, exasperated, pulling the covers over yourself. This stupid hand is no use to you.  

“Do you want some assistance?” a voice you know so well raises in your back. 

You jump out of your skin, turning to Thrawn observing you with his hands clasped behind his back. He looks at you very seriously, slightly bowing, while you're just spurting nonsense, trying to come up with a convincing excuse as to why you were masturbating in the bed of your Grand Admiral. 

“I… I was just… There is nothing…” you trip on your words, pulling the covers to your chest, your cheek heating furiously. “I know very well what you were just doing.” He cuts you short, “I asked if you needed some assistance.”, “No!” You shout, “No, no, no, no! I need nothing, it’s okay, it’s good-”, “It is? This did not look like an earth-shattering orgasm.”He simply assesses. You flinch at his words, you’re gonna die of shame, how did you not hear him coming?!  

“I heard you calling my name,” He hisses menacingly.  

You want a hole to swallow you! Your heart is beating fast and your cheeks are burning, you feel his heavy gaze on your body, face buried in your hands.  

“Face me.” He orders. 

You shyly and slowly raise your gaze to meet his eyes and immediately turn your head away. You can’t face him. This is so humiliating! “I see how it is.” he ominously says. 

He unbuttons his jacket and gets rid of it, never stopping looking at you, squirming under his scorching hot gaze. He enters the bed and seizes your arm as you try to evade him. “Stay here.” He coldly orders “Face the consequences of your actions.”, you try to wiggle your way out but he grabs your hips and pulls you under his weight, while you consistently refuse to meet his gaze. “No…” you plead, as his fingers slide the braces of your dress off your shoulders, “Please…” 

But he doesn’t listen. He lost it when he heard his name pass your lips as you were pleasuring yourself. He remained silent, waiting to see when you would realize he entered the room and his blood froze when you called for him. 

Finally! 

He has been patient. Carefully planning each of his moves. But this is finished. He has been more than patient in fact, letting his hunger grow into a beast raging on inside him. But tonight he will quench his thirst. 

You’re still trying to push him away so he applies his whole strength, keeping your arm pushed into the mattress. “Look at me.” He hisses between his teeth. You close your eyes shut, head buried in the pillow, refusing to bless him with your eyes full of desire. He attacks your neck with kisses and love marks, nibbling your sensitive skin, making you gasp in surprise and pleasure. His second hand traces your jaw, follows the curve of your neck, grazes your bosom, and caresses your tummy through the fabric of your dress until he reaches the hem. 

You wriggle under his large body, pleading for his mercy. His gaze was terrible! You saw such darkness in his eyes you couldn't look any longer. This is not your friend, not the tender and polite man you came to know. You don’t recognize this man! He’s a stranger to you! 

His hand scoops your sex, feeling the damp fabric of your panties. He hisses in your ear disapprovingly, “It has been half-done, you are barely wet. What did you hope to achieve?”. Your valid hand grabs his arm when he pulls down your panties trying to stop him, but he has way more strength than you. “I truly have to do everything for you.” You jolt at the feeling of his warm hand on your bare sex, feeling two of his fingers spreading your pussylips open, you pull desperately on his arm, to no avail.  

His fingers quickly locate your clit and start massaging it immediately while he licks your neck with the flat of his tongue. “You are lucky I am good at this. My fingers can give you so much more pleasure than you ever could.” He whispers almost threateningly in your ear. You gasp and curl up at his hot finger trailing your slit, “Ah! Thrawn, please, don’t…”, “Keep pleading, maybe it will save you.” He bites your ear. 

What is going on???! 

Your Grand Admiral caught you masturbating on his bed and calling for him and now he is all over you, forcing you to endure his assaults. You did not consent to this, you didn’t say “yes”, so why? 

Why are you getting wetter? 

“You are a dirty girl. How dare you finger yourself in the bed of your Grand Admiral and not even invite him to join?” He berates you, brushing your slit furiously, spreading your wetness all over your pussylips. “I’m sorry Thrawn! I won’t do it again!” you plead, “You will need to do better than that if you want me to forgive you.” He bites your ear.  

You feel him pushing a finger inside you easily. Why does it feel so easy when it's him? Why does your body welcome him? You try to pull on his hand desperately, but it remains firmly in place deep in you, in response he curls his finger knuckles deep inside your pussy, caressing your g-spot. You jolt in reaction, feeling his hot body pressed against your back. 

You feel a hard mass at the lower of your back that he starts grazing against your ass. 

It is bad, it is wrong! So why do you feel so much more pleasure at his hand than yours? Why doesn't your body reject him? 

 He roughly circles your g-spot with his fingers and applies pressure, he feels you leaking on his hand, your slick dripping along his arm. “You are getting wetter.” He notes darkly “This is how you do it. Should I really be teaching you how to touch yourself properly?” He asks coldly, entering you with a second finger and scissoring you thoroughly, stretching you to your max. 

“Thrawn… Please stop… I-” You’re silenced by two of his fingers entering your mouth. “Your pussy is more honest than your mouth. It lets me toy with it as I please.” He hooks you and starts brushing your g-spot like a madman earning indignant moans and, much to your dismay, pleasured ones.  

He attacks your sensitive neck again, licking and biting like an animal, letting you hear his guttural and satisfied moans while you whine with his two fingers in your warm wet mouth. He is conflicted. A part of him chastises him for treating you like that, his darling, his goddess… And the other part argues that you wanted it, calling his name like that. That he waited long enough and this was his reward. He is also furious. How dare you call his name so casually? How dare you call for him without knowing he crossed the desert for you? How he kneeled in front of your likeness each day in the hope of catching one glance of you! How he hoped for your touch, as innocent as two hands just grazing! How can you have such fleeting fantasies about him without knowing the extent of the pain you caused him?! He is not a toy for your sick pleasure and he’s gonna teach you! 

He fingers you even more roughly with a growl as you whimper, drooling all over his fingers. “You better give me a good performance if you do not want to spend the night like that.” He threatens, completely drunk on you, your little whines are driving him up the wall and the tightness of your pussy around his fingers is making him crazy, how good it would feel with his cock inside! How right it would feel! Your cunny starts convulsing and clenching around his digits, swallowing them even deeper. He inserts a third finger in your completely drenched pussy, it welcomes it easily like it was begging for it and he starts fucking you properly. 

“Stop whining. You do not touch yourself in the bed of a man if you cannot own up to your actions.” 

You recoil and start at the ministrations of his hand, conflicting emotions raging on in your chest. How can your body be so reactive when you do not want it in the first place? Why is your pleasure building up so rapidly? Why is your body refusing to obey?! The hand that tried to pull on his arm stopped a while ago, now holding on to him for dear life, trembling before the waves of pleasure and confusion he is spreading. 

“You called my name yourself. I am simply accessing your desire, there is no need to balk like that.” He slides into your ear, nibbling its shell while his fingers play you like a fiddle. You shudder terribly as he scratches deep inside your pussy, reaching deeper spots with so much more ease than you ever could. “It is like everything else: Let me take care of it, let me help you.” He murmurs while you moan around his fingers, biting them in your confusion. You feel him hump your ass and back, taking pleasure in the frictions of your two bodies. 

You try to press your legs to deny him but just imprison his hand in place and you feel him massaging your inner walls, letting no surfaces untouched, caressing every crook and cranny of your sweet cunny sending you over the edge, fingering you like a madman. “You are creaming all over my fingers.” He darkly chuckles, “You cannot do anything by yourself, you need my help.” You snivel like a child, powerless, defenseless before this man, before his melodious voice. “Stop whimpering. You asked for this.” He castigates with a growl, “Take responsibility for your behavior.” He then licks your skin from your jaw to your temple as he rides your tight ass in his constricting pants.  

You bring him so much pleasure, whining like that, and your little ass is so firm and plump against his painful erection, so soft against his pulsing shaft that it is such a delight to rub himself against your panties with the hem of your dress pulled over.  

“Be a good girl and come for me.” He finally orders in your ear, blowing his breath on your sensitive skin. And like that, you come hard with a shudder at his command, fireworks exploding in your pussy, fire spreading in your veins. You cry, muffled by his fingers, white lights exploding behind your closed eyelids and your toes curling. You squirt on his hand and he freezes behind your back, his whole body contracting with a raspy breath. He gently kisses your neck as your pussy finishes clenching and releases his hand, your clit pulsating really hard. 

You pant, taking shallow breaths, your mouth and his fingers are soaked with drool, and you made a mess on the pillow and the sheets. You never came like that, with anyone or any toys…  

He forces your face to turn to him and he releases your mouth of his fingers only to claim it with his lips. He kisses you languorously, robbing you of your breath, his tongue invading your mouth to hug yours. You pull in the kiss while he moans, deeply satisfied. Once again you made him come gloriously. Only you can bring such higher pleasures!  As you part with him to breathe he licks your lips with a growl and starts peppering kisses on your jaw. 

“Ask me next time, it is not that difficult.” He reprimands you before kissing your cheek and rising from the bed. He needs to change his boxers and pants, your moans have such an effect on him! He takes his shower, letting you process what the fuck just happened. 

You’re half naked, soaked with juices of all sorts, trembling and shocked. Cowering, you pull the covers over yourself. 

Your mind is still in the fog when he exits the bathroom, bare-chested, water still glistening on his pecs and abs when he comes to sit next to you. He brushes a strand of air out of your face with a sly smile. You are so soiled, but you never looked so ravishing to his eyes with the proof of your shared passion literally dripping out of you. 

He won’t bathe you tonight, he will let the proofs of your love on your skin for the night. He’ll just clean your face with a wipe, but he wants to smell the raw scent of sex on you. 

Unless you ask him to bathe you... 

But something is telling him in the back of his mind it isn’t happening 

@Bluechiss @blueninjablade3 @al-astakbarstakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @twilekchiss @pencil_urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay @obbicrystaleo  @germie2037 @davesrightshoe

[ssho197]

pt.1 showering with my fav genshin men

contents: gender neutral reader, slight nsfw, nudity, injury (xiao), slight public nudity (xiao), praise (kazuha), degradation (scaramouche), body shaming (scaramouche)

pt.1 xiao, kazuha, scaramouche

first post abt charas other than xiao ??? hope this does well (i’m actually roasting and burning to a crisp here it’s so hot augh)

xiao

starting off strong w my fav ofc,, so when you often to shower with him to help clean the blood off his wounds, he declined immediately since he didn’t want to trouble you with cleaning him but you insisted,,, also doesn’t have to be a shower it could be bathing in a lake,,

when you first took your clothes off to get into the shower/lake xiao turned away instantly and just refused to look at you so you turned his head towards yours and gave him a little kiss as confirmation or jus a sign of like “it’s ok xiao don’t worry”

his clothes were stained red in some parts so you also helped wash them after you two showered/bathed together,, you helped clean every inch of his body and you made sure not to put too much pressure on his wounds

as for how he acts while showering together,, he was pretty flustered but he does praise you or validate you if you’re insecure about your body,, he would also let you be under the shower head to ensure that you’d be warm he wouldn’t dare hog the water

kazuha

he’s one of my favs because he’s just so sweet!!!!! jdjcjsnsjdixa so he first offered to wash your hair after you had an extremely long and difficult day and of course you accept his offer,, after you settle down and put away your work/day/school stuff he’s already got candles going in the bathroom, he somehow dimmed the lights and got your comfy pajamas ready

just seeing your boyfriend treat you like royalty brought tears to your eyes,, you got into the bathroom with kazuha waiting for you patiently and he went in for a quick kiss to comfort you and he then brought you to the bathtub or shower and he offered to help you take off your clothes to which you agreed,, he’s super gentle with you and he makes sure he folds away the clothes he takes off you,, he also takes off his own clothes and then takes your hand and steps into the shower/bathtub with you going in first

bathtub ver: he lets you lay on his chest as he rubs the shampoo into your scalp while giving you a scalp massage,, it’s so comfortable and relaxing you could just fall asleep in your boyfriend’s arms as he washes your hair for you,,, he makes sure to wash your hair with both shampoo and conditioner, he tends to your scalp and tangles delicately, as if he were holding a butterfly.

shower ver: he lets you stand under the shower head and he holds you with one hand by the waist as the other washes your hair,, he makes sure to be careful while grabbing the next bottle as to not make you slip on the wet tiles

he’s not flustered or embarrassed at all, he loves you for who you are and praises your body all the time,, he kisses your scars or marks that make you insecure and tells you you’re beautiful, even when you’re as vulnerable as when you’re showering

scaramouche

oh boy. this is going to be a wild ride. you had to offer to shower with scaramouche first and after he thought about it for a week he finally agreed. he thought it was stupid and weird that you wanted to shower with him. “ugh you’re so fucking clingy. fine. i’ll do it. are you happy now?”

he finally got another haircut and you have to wash his hair to get rid of any stray hairs that might still be on his head,, you explain this to him and after a tiny passive aggressive argument, he agrees.

you drag him to the bathroom and take off your clothes, when you finish, you look at scaramouche who is still fully clothed, scowling at you and looking you up and down. “what?! what the fuck are you looking at? take your clothes off and hurry up scara” he finally does and god. his body left you stunned. his waist and chest were so nice to look at.. AHEM?? “now what are YOU looking at?

he hogs the hot water and you have to push him out of the way so you don’t freeze to death,, you take care of his scalp and make sure not to pull too hard on the minor tangles and knots in his hair as you rub the shampoo into his hair. he throws small insults at you, degrading you and your body,, “ugh.. you take up so much room…” or “why do you look like that… ugh..”

[ivylation]

Love in Chaos (Carlos Olivera x Reader)

Tws- mentions of blood

2nd post, hope you enjoy <3 ill be writing alot carlos in the future so lmk whatd you want you want to see with him !!

-----

You and Carlos both faced the dangers of Raccoon City side by side, Carlos's confident flirtatious tendencies and your quiet self created an almost movie like relationship. He would throw cringey pickup lines your way, met with bright red faces, small giggles, and occasional eye rolls at his worst lines. Amidst the chaos he never stops throwing jokes at you, he lives to see you smile, you just didn't know that.

One evening, as the setting sun painted the broken skyline in hues of orange and pink, you and Carlos found yourselves on the rooftop of an abandoned building. The air is thick with smoke and an almost calming sensation, which is rare in the chaos filled time.

Carlos, true to his nature, leaned in with an exaggerated flourish. "You know," he began, both gazes kept locked on the setting sun in front of you both. “You look really cute today” you turn to him caught off guard by the sudden compliment,  “you say that everyday” you roll your eyes, ears pink. Carlos still looking at they sky, his dark shaggy hair blowing in the soft breeze. “Thats because youre cute everyday” he shrugs and turns his head to look down at you. “Bullshit” you smile softly “im covered with mud and blood” you look down at your bruised body thats full of a mix of yours and the victims of your knife.

His gaze softens as he takes in the sight of you. "Even with the mud and blood, you manage to be the most captivating thing in this city," he says, his tone sincere. Carlos reaches over, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a gentle touch. You always assumed he was joking but something felt different this time,the look in his eyes, he was being serious. 

You gained a small crush on the large man over the weeks of being together, how could you not? He had dark eyes that seemed to only soften on you, he was funny, determined and kind and holy shit was he hot. His large arms as he held his gun to fight off the zombies that suddenly caught you off guard, his pretty skin that is coated with shine due to the fires. His large hands as they gripped your wrists to pull you out of dangers way. He was hot. Like really hot.

You never pursued the crush and pushed it out of your mind as there was a literal zombie apocalypse happening and there was no time for a silly little crush. That was hard when you see the man everyday.  

You can't help but blush at his words, a mixture of embarrassment and appreciation filling your chest. The apocalypse had left its mark on both of you, physically and emotionally, yet Carlos's unrelenting flattery remained a constant; it made you feel validated and loved even when you're at your lowest of lows.

"I mean it," he continues, his eyes tracing the contours of your face. "You're like a survivor goddess amidst all this chaos. Mud and blood included."

You chuckle, couldn't help but cringe a little  at his use of words, still a bit bashful under his gaze. "Survivor goddess, huh? I'm not sure about that."

Carlos nudges you playfully. "Oh, absolutely. You fight off zombies and still manage to look adorable. It's a rare talent."

You shake your head, smiling at his antics. "Well, if I'm a survivor goddess, you're the charming rogue who keeps distracting me with compliments."

He grins, leaning in once more, this time planting a soft kiss on your lips. "Guilty as charged," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. You just stared at him, taken aback, your face bright red and hot. You knew there was no passing over this crush. 

 As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the broken city, you couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth in your heart. In the midst of the apocalypse, amidst mud, blood, and chaos, there was an unexpected connection that transcended the grim reality--one Carlos Olivera himself created.

_____

[bloodlessbelmounte]

Eternity Will Bring You Near - Chapter 2

Masterlist

Summary:

Wade understood that Logan was from a world where Alpha, Beta and Omega were everyday terms, not exclusive to red-pilled incel fuckheads who kept inventing new performative male genders. Wade would’ve been classified as a Beta. Logan, however, was an Alpha - Wade’s read enough fanfiction and yaoi manga to know what that means. Though it doesn’t explain why Logan keeps sniffing him.

Pairing: Alpha!Worst Wolverine/Deadpool Genre: A/B/O, Smut, Domestic-ish Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, Blood, Lots of Logan Biting, Mutual Masturbation/Frotting, Blow Job

Beginning Note: It's been a hot minute since I last wrote any smut and I can't remember if I've ever written a blow job scene before so I dont feel too confident. Also sorry for any errors. I didn't want to subject my girlfriend to the smut scene.

Cross posted to AO3

Welcome back frienderinos, so many kudos on the first chapter in twelve hours – the author hasn’t experienced that before. The comments are appreciated too, sadly this failed excuse of a human can’t take a compliment and so never knows how to respond. The validation made them quite happy though. How was that vacation by the way?

Well considering that I was working on this in my non-social times, pretty okay. I got a mosasaur tooth and screamed at Poseidon.

Nerd.

Oh fuck off. Don’t make me get the spray bottle.

Okay, okay! Fine.

Wade awoke – still clinging to the offered arm – to a solid mass against his back, an arm slung heavy across his waist and warm steady puffs of air on the back of his neck.

“Oh my God fellas, I’m being spooned by The Wolverine!” Wade whisper-yelled, trying not to wake the sleeping man and ruin the precious moment. In fact, he tried to nestle in closer to the older man and eliminate as much space as possible. Ass to crotch as nature intended. Logan remained blissfully asleep despite the jostling and nuzzled his nose into the nape of Wade’s neck, which sent an involuntary shiver down his spine. Don’t get a boner. Don’t get a boner. Don’t get a fucking boner. There was no way he could jack off in good conscience knowing a minor with fucking super hearing was sharing a roof with him. Oh he’s going to have to sound proof his room once they found a bigger place because fuck that. It was at that moment Logan simultaneously sniffled, groaned and canted his hips into Wade.

“Sweet,” he mumbled, his voice husky – thick with sleep.

Shit.

So much for that valiant effort. Abort mission. Abort mission! Wade extracted himself from Logan’s almost steel grip with a surprising amount of effort as the other man’s hold on him only tightened with his struggle. But Wade prevailed, and fell to the floor very gracefully with a dignified “Oof”. Needless to say Logan woke up rather confused, wiping the sleep from his eyes to better glare at the idiot tangled in sheets on the floor.

“Bub, it is too early in the day to be dealing with y'shit.” His voice still had that sleepy roughness to it. Could this man stop being sexy for even one second?!

“Well maybe don’t hump my ass in your sleep! I’m not into somnophilia and we have a child in the next room!” Wade hissed back, covering his lower half with the blanket he was tangled in, “Last thing I need is her being even more sus about me than she already is.”

Logan had the decency to look embarrassed, averting his gaze from the merc, “Sorry. I’ll sleep on-”

“Hey! I don’t mind the spooning. I love being little spoon. You don’t have to sleep on the floor.” In hindsight it was Wade’s fault as he had snuggled closer. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to take a rather cold shower.”

Logan watched as Wade turned away and bundled the blanket around his waist. God, the merc confused him sometimes. Not a word about the stiffy he had when they were tied together but all modest about his morning wood. Wade escaped into the bathroom leaving Logan alone in the living room. He stretched out on the bed, joints cracking in protest.

He took a moment to lay there starfished as Wade’s scent and warmth clung to the bedding. Logan breathed in deeply. Gunpowder, leather, petrichor, the sour note of cancer and something sweet underlying that. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on but it was familiar and grew stronger when Wade was aroused. Yet that sweetness wasn’t there in the Void. He didn’t taste it in his blood. So maybe it was something about Wade’s universe that brought out the undertones. That sweetness had invaded his dreams, clouded his thoughts as he imagined burying his face into the scarred man’s neck, biting down to give him no escape as he drove his-

Yeah… shouldn’t linger on that.

Logan rolled off the bed and sat on its edge, scrubbing his face like he was physically trying to scrub away the inappropriate thoughts. He got up with a grumble and set to work putting the bed away, placing the bedding in a pile to the side. He had just moved the coffee table into place when the ladies of the house – Mary Puppins included – emerged from their room. Althea had Mary under one arm whilst her other hand wrapped around Laura’s elbow, allowing the teen to help her navigate. Logan laughed softly at how their pyjamas matched. Althea must’ve had spare sets. He briefly wondered how they were matching as he doubted it was Laura’s idea. The mystery would be solved later in the day during idle conversation with the elderly woman, Wade had sewn Braille into the labels so she could identify her clothes. Surprisingly thoughtful for someone who refers to her as ‘Blind Al’.

“Is Wade in here? I heard the shower going so it’s either him or the new guy in there.” Althea asked Laura as the girl deposited her in an armchair.

“Wade’s in the shower,” Logan answered for her, “would anyone like a coffee? Least I can do.”

“The offer itself is a damn sight more than what Wade does on the daily. I’ll take my coffee strong with sugar, no milk.” Althea responded, stroking Mary’s only patch of fur between the ears.

Laura curled her feet up under her and yawned, “I’ll just have a glass of water or juice.”

The bathroom door creaked open and Wade stepped out with nothing but a towel around his waist. Call it paternal instincts or whatever, Logan covered Laura’s eyes immediately. His eyes, however, roved over the merc’s form against his better judgement. Well toned musculature and lean. Built for his style of over-the-top gymnastic violence. If he had been an Omega in Logan’s universe he would have been highly sought-after by other mutant Alphas. Mary barked as her tailed wagged happily, breaking the older mutant out of his revere.

“I heard an offer for coffee?”

“Put some clothes on, Red.”

“I’m not naked. All my clothes are in Blind Al’s room, couldn’t exactly waltz in there and grab a change of clothes.” Wade countered, adjusting his towel ever so slightly, “Anyway, I like my coffee how I like my men: Strong enough to beat the shit out of me. No safewords.”

With that Wade exited into the bedroom and Logan lifted his hand off Laura with a sigh. He walked over to the fridge to find the young mutant her juice. Inside, he noticed a few bits and pieces that could be scraped together to cook enough breakfast for everyone, so he grabbed those too.

I’ll stop you there, dear author, because I know that you don’t know how coffee or tea is made in America since you’re British and have those doodads called ‘Kettles’.

Squirt. Squirt.

Fuck, that burns! What have you got in that bottle? Acid?

Boiled water from my kettle you cunt.

Now that’s just mean.

I told you to fuck off.

Wade re-emerged from the bedroom dressed in jeans, some kinda horse graphic white t-shirt with a red and black cardigan. He was greeted to the smell of freshly made coffee as well as eggs and bacon. Logan was stood over the stove tending to a saucepan and a frying pan while Laura buttered toast and put more pieces of bread in the toaster.

“In the words of that bad bitch Nobara: ‘Rejoice, boys’. For I have returned to save you from the mundanity of Honey Badger’s inner monologue,” Wade joked, taking the only coffee mug on the counter top, which he assumed was for him, and sat down on the sofa. “So what’s the itinerary for today? Jointly sign-up for sobriety programmes? Creating false identities for you’s twos? Booking apartment viewings?”

“We’re taking Laura clothes shopping and, yes: getting the TVA to give us different identities. I don’t need your Logan’s enemies on my ass.” Logan replied with a pointed look, flipping the bacon.

“Oh Snookums, he’s not my Logan. There’s only one Wolverine in my heart and that’s you.” Wade kissed the tips of his pointer fingers and shot them in Logan’s direction.

Logan abruptly turned away grumbling to himself and focused on cooking breakfast.

Look – we need to speed this up because we’re at nearly one-thousand-five-hundred words and I’m not missing out on fucky-fucky action in this chapter. Show don’t tell is going out the window for this bit. So here’s the run down: We have a lovely family breakfast consisting of scrambled eggs (I would say I like mine fertilised but I can’t exactly do that on account of all the cancer ravaging my body) on toast with a side of bacon cooked by GirlDad and DadGirl. Logan threw on some of Blind Al’s dead husband’s clothes. She was a widower, weird I know. Never took her for the type of girl to settle down. Anyway, back on track. The TVA was our closest stop on the day’s list so we paid them a little visit first. Turns out they had already set up bank accounts and identities for the timeline hoppers. Very efficient, very mindful, very demure of them. Logan Howlett was now James Logan – not abundantly imaginative of the author. Laura got to keep her first name and was given Logan as a last name. We then went on a fathers-daughter bonding shopping trip to Hot Topic and some place that sells outdoorsy clothes. And after all of that we sat our asses down to look online at potential apartments until there was a knock at the door.

Thank all that is holy that I’m not having you abducted again.

Why do you hate me so?

Who insulted me in the intro to the previous chapter?

Don’t blame me for your self-deprecating tendencies. You wrote that monologue.

…

Wade opened the door. Outside was, well, everyone. Peter, Vanessa, Colossus, Negasonic, Yukio, Dopinder and the others. They must have arranged it all in the group chat. God, Wade really needed to get a new phone already. It had been three months since the last one got lost on top of a car at the dealership. Peter had a crate of beer in his hands.

“Hi Wade,” Yukio waved with her always bright smile.

“Hi Yukio,” Wade gave her a smile and wave in kind, “Before y’all come barging in here, there’s some people I’d like you to meet. Peter met one of them already. Now they have super hearing so don’t talk all at once in case you spook them.” Wade instructed as he ushered them in.

Negasonic was the first to react, brows furrowed and jaw set, “When the fuck did you get to know Wolverine? He’s meant to be on a mission right now. Are you slacking off, old man?”

Wade stepped in front of her, his face set in a somehow playful scowl, “Cool your jets teen rebellion. This here is my Wolverine,” He stood behind the kitchen chair Logan was sat and patted one of the other man’s nippleoons. He noticed how intently Vanessa watched the interaction, her gaze lingering on his hand.“He’s from a different universe. Me and this fella saved the Marvel Multiverse together.”He gestured to Laura who was seated next to Logan, “And this munchkin here who is about your age and just as spiteful is Laura, your Logan’s biological lab-conceived daughter. But things for her are a little complicated because she’s technically travelled back in time. Last but not least,” Wade bent down and picked the dog up from the floor, “We have Mary Puppins aka Dogpool. In our efforts to save the world she tragically lost her father to… other Deadpools.”

“Shame really, the Deadpool Corps are great,” Peter piped up with a grin.

“Of course they are, they’re all me,” Wade motioned for everyone to find a seat, “That’s the three newest members of our group introduced. Shall we all settle in? Or are we all going to stand around awkwardly?”

Wade took the available seat next to Logan and was somewhat surprised Vanessa came to sit next to him. For the most part they talked to the people around them, Wade was definitely trying to avoid any small talk with her. He still wasn’t used to the new dynamics of their relationship turned friendship. How do you navigate going from engaged and failing to start a family to just friends? Especially when you didn’t start off as friends. There’s no baseline to fall back on. Can’t exactly do the old routine of overtly sexual flirting and trauma bonding when she had a new fella. At some point pizza had been ordered and everyone helped themselves to it.

Logan, apparently, read Wade’s hesitance differently, “Give me the fucking dog, talk to the girl.” He demanded nodding towards Vanessa, his hands already gently grasping Mary and apprehended the pup before turning to Laura who laughed and poked Mary on the nose.

There goes his anchor. His hands gingerly rested on the table now that they were empty. What should he say? What can he say? Was there anything to salvage? Wade glanced over to Vanessa and accidentally made eye-contact which caught her attention.

“Oh, hi,” She said softly, humour in her tone and a gentle smile on her lips, like she thought she’d spook him.

Wade forced a smile, “Hi.” It came out as a wheeze as if the lump he felt in his throat was a physical barrier not a mental hurdle. He cleared his throat to dislodge it.

“You’ve been busy.” She glanced over his shoulder, still grinning.

He nodded. What the fuck should he say? What would she want to hear? Perhaps…

“I did it for you. Even if you don’t want me, I did it for you.”

Her smile dropped briefly, her hand enveloping his with a reassuring squeeze, “You did it for all of us. Can I have a word with you in the hallway?”

“Uh, yeah sure.”

Wade followed her into the hallway outside the front door. She had her arms crossed as she looked up at him, eyebrows pinched together like they always did when she was concerned about him.

“What was that? Seemed like you were masking in there.”

“I’m bad with complicated emotions, we both know that Ness.”

Vanessa snorted, looked to the floor and pinched the bridge of her nose. Oh she was getting frustrated. Not good. “If you’re trying to make your boyfriend jealous, please don’t use me. I don’t need the drama.”

“B-Boyfriend?” Wade choked, utterly blind sided by the statement, “What boyfriend? You’re the only one here with a boyfriend.”

“Right, so that’s not what’s going on then,” She mumbled to herself. She grasped his arm and made him properly look at her, “What’s the situation with Logan then? You were draping yourself all over him when we arrived.”

“Nothing! I like him too much and he hates me but we kissed-”

“You kissed?”

“Yeah, it was after the whole sacrificing ourselves thing and I was afraid he died. Obviously he didn’t but he had been hurt and I was just so relieved he was okay and there was the thrill of surviving against all odds-” Wade quick fire rambled, rubbing the back of his neck while blood rushed to settle across his cheeks.

“You love him.”

“No I-”

“Wade, I know you. When you fall it’s hard and fast-”

“Just like how I fuck.”

“Exactly. The way you look at him is just like how you looked at me in the beginning. Logan looks at you the same way, I’ve seen it at that table. But I’ll let him talk to you about that himself.”

A cough came from the doorway which made Wade startle and jump as Logan stood there, hip cocked and smirking. He hadn’t noticed that Vanessa had left the door ajar.

And how was Logan able to sneak up on me when he had metal bones and weighed at least four hundred pounds?

Wade looked backed to Vanessa for an explanation.

“Super hearing.” She said simply.

“You set me up!” Wade cried in faux outrage.

“I just got the ball rolling,” she shrugged, she patted Logan on the arm as she moved past him back into the apartment, “it’s in your court now big guy.”

The door shut behind her.

“C'mon, let’s go somewhere actually private,” Logan stated, grabbing Wade by the wrist and pulling him down the hallway and up the stairs.

Wade was struggling to keep up, tripping over his own feet and stumbling up the steps as he was dragged behind the older mutant. He had to catch himself on the handrail a couple times to stop himself from defying gravity and falling upwards. How was Logan going so fast?

Was he taking them two at a time?

In nearly no time at all they had made it up onto the roof. The cold evening air welcoming them. As the door slipped shut behind Wade, Logan turned to him and slammed a hand onto the door boxing the younger man in.

Wade turned to the arm caging him in, “Kabedon,” He murmured addressing you readers, “Veteran fans of shojo anime and manga will know what I mean.”

Logan lightly gripped Wade’s chin and made him face forwards, “I know what y'mean, I did live in Japan for a while. I know the language. But I’m not much for words. I prefer action.”

He wasted no time in capturing the merc’s lips, his grip moving to instead cup Wade’s cheek, a calloused thumb tracing over the scarred tissue beneath. If Wade could physically melt into a puddle on the ground, he would have done as tension he had been unconsciously holding seeped out of his muscles. Taking the bull by the horns as it were,his hands rose up to tangle his fingers into Logan’s kitty eared cowlicks trying to deepen the kiss, noses bumping into each other.

He should definitely grow them out, he looked so cute with bigger tufts when he was younger.

Logan nipped at the younger mutant’s bottom lip. One of those little fangs of his nicked it, drawing just a drop as blood that was quickly swept up by a flick of his tongue. Wade’s lips parted in a gasp that Logan took full advantage of. A hand fell onto one of Wade’s hips, pulling him into the other while he was being pressed into the door. Logan rutted into him, his arousal brushing against Wade’s.

Yeowza. Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place.

Unfortunately, despite being functionally immortal, both mutants still needed to breathe. The two broke apart, Wade panting and oxygen starved focused on bucking his hips to match Logan’s rhythm. Logan traced mouth along Wade’s jawline and down into his neck where he started to nip and lick at the rough skin, teasing out moans and groans. Wade gave a particularly harsh tug to the hair still in his grip when the bites got hard enough to break skin. Then there was hands working Wade’s jeans open, pushing the offending material along with his boxers down far enough for his cock to spring free.

“I’m not sure you know this Logi, but I’m not a natural bottom – as the readers have seen me say nearly a thousand times already – and I very much doubt you are either, being an Alpha and all that.” Wade babbled. How was he still coherent in this situation? He’s about to have Wolverine’s hand on his dick. “So I don’t know what the procedure is here. How are we going about this?”

Logan tore himself away from where he was futilely trying to litter Wade’s throat with marks that healed far too soon, his pupils blown into molten tar and a faint hint of crimson tinting his lips, “I guess I’ll just have to train ya, Princess.” He growled.

Wade’s brain must have short circuited because in the next instance Logan had freed his own member and had it pressed against Wade’s. It was longer than his by a good few inches, and Wade wasn’t average (nor was he below it). It was thicker too.

Hoe my God! The glimpse I got yesterday through those sweats did not do him justice. That’s a weapon. He wants that in me?!

Logan held up his hand, eyebrow raised expectantly. Wade gathered the saliva in his mouth and gave it the ol’ Huktuh into the waiting palm. Logan wrapped that hand around both their cocks and started stroking them slowly. Wade whined at the glacial, almost teasing pace, one of his own hands reached down to thumb at Logan’s tip which was starting to leak precum. Wade’s, however, was dripping wet which added to the slick glide. He briefly wondered what Logan thought of the texture of his dick against his, of the hand giving attention to his head. But again his mind went blank when Logan picked up the pace and began to thrust up into their hands. Wade’s head fell against the door with a thud, his eyes rolling back. Fuck. The friction felt amazing. Logan grunted lowly as he worked their shafts, his mouth back on Wade’s throat.

“Logan- shit. I imagined something like – ah – this happening when your suit exploded yesterday. Hngh- Dreams really do come true,” Wade groaned, fucking up into Logan’s tightened grip.

Logan huffed out a chortle, raising his head only to rest his forehead against Wade’s, “Here I thought I’d found away to shut y'up, Bub.”

Wade’s gaze darted between the other man’s eyes and lips, his tongue peaking out to wet his own, “Make me then, Honey Badger.”

There was a growl from the mutant, almost primal sounding, followed by hungry searing lips seeking to consume him. And God, did Wade want to be consumed. To let this man take as much as he wanted from him then and there. But it was all getting to be too much, he was getting close. The telltale signs of his balls tightening and the heat pooling low in his stomach. He abandoned his attentions on the other man’s tip to clutch his back.

Wade yanked on Logan’s hair, regrettably pulling the other away, saliva bridged between them, “I’m gonna- fuck! I’m gonna cum,” He whimpered.

Logan readjusted his grip, letting go of his own straining cock to focus solely on Wade’s, “It’s okay. I got y'. That’s a good boy.”

Wade’s vision whited out as he came with a shout. His fingers raking through Logan’s hair and across his clothed back. His back arching like a bow drawn taut while Logan wrapped his hand over the head of Wade’s cock. He slumped against the door, took a moment to catch his breath and cracked his eyes open. When had they shut? Afew seconds later the world came into focus but oh he was not mentally prepared for the sight before his eyes.

There was Logan licking his cum of that glorious hand like it was a fucking treat not to be wasted while his other hand lazily worked his still present hard on.

“I think I must’ve died and gone to heaven,” Wade panted, “Because no way is this real.”

Logan just grunted in acknowledgement. Either he was close or concentrating on getting there.

“Would you like a hand with that? I might not be the Blowjob Queen of Saskatoon but I can give Truthful Timmy a run for his money.” Wade offered, pushing off the door to flip their positions.

“Do y'think y'can take me, Mouth?” Logan teased with a grin.

“As long as you don’t knot my throat and give me a really unfortunate case of lockjaw while we have guests over.”

“Y' don’t have to worry about that Bub, only happens when the person I’m fucking is ovulating.”

Wade dropped to his knees and lifted the material of Logan’s shirt and under-shirt to reveal those Hawaiian rolls, finally running the flat of his tongue up them like he’d been dying to do, “So what you’re telling me is that if I ever wanted to be stuffed like a Twinkie fit to burst, I just need to buy some sort of pheromone or hormone perfume. Noted.” His teeth grazed over one of the muscles.

Gotta love ‘em while they’re still there ‘cause I’m gonna make sure Wolvie is properly hydrated.

Wade nuzzled into the coarse hair of Logan’s groin. He took a deep breath, savouring the heady musky scent as drool pooled in his mouth. He lightly gripped the other’s member with both hands, mouthing along his length, teasing kitten licks and kisses. He paid special attention to lap at the underside of the tip. Logan groaned making Wade glance up at him. His eyes were squeezed shut, fists balled up at his sides.

“You can touch me, you know,” He snickered then swept his tongue from base to tip before enveloping it in the warm wet heat of his mouth.

“Fuck!” Hands shot down to grip his head, thighs twitching in what Wade could only assume was restraint.

This is where I miss having hair at times. Maybe I should alter one of my spare masks to have a mouth hole. That’ll give him some leverage.

Relaxing his throat, he tried to take in as much as he could. His jaw already ached. Damn he was out of practice. But then he’d never had a log quite like this before. Good thing his gag reflex was no longer existent. Wade hollowed his cheeks and began bobbing his head, taking in an inch or two more when he could, spit leaking from the corners of his mouth. He removed his hands and rested one on Logan’s hip, moaning and pulling him forward. The other dropped to massage his balls. A choked gasp came from above him. The grip on his head tightened, holding him in place as Logan began thrusting, shallowly at first but quickly becoming rougher. Wade choked when Logan hit the back of his throat but the whorish outcry from the other made it worth it.

Relax, breathe through the nose.

He tried to swallow and tighten around the thick length, rewarding him with desperate bucks and low growls.

“Shit. Fuck. Can I cum in y'mouth? Would y'do that for me? Swallow everything I give ya, Red.”

Wade moaned, eyelids fluttering as he made himself take Logan down to the base. A few more thrusts and salty bitter spend spilled into Wade’s waiting maw which he eagerly swallowed down. He pulled away, working to clean up whatever lingered. Trembling hands dragged him up onto his feet. Logan wasted no time in drawing him close to lap up the cum that had dribbled down his chin, catching him in a kiss, the taste of both of the mingling. It was messy but brief.

“You nasty. I like that.” Wade heaved when they separated.

Logan gave him a crooked smile, humming in amusement, “We should get back down to the party. They’re there for y'after all.”

“I don’t want our little romp to end though, Wolvie.” The younger pouted.

“There’ll be more to come later. I’ve got to break y'in don’t I?”

Logan shot him a wink and tucked himself back into his pants, Wade doing the same.

“We uh, should probably brush our teeth when we get in. So Laura doesn’t uh… So we don’t make her uncomfortable.” Wade suggested as they made their way back down to the apartment.

“Won’t stop us from smelling like sex, Bubba. Her sense of smell is just as strong as mine.” That response was far too casual.

By the time they had made their way back, the party was winding down. Vanessa smirked, eyeing both men with a knowing look. She had been in conversation with Laura who had turned pale when they entered, her face a mix of abject horror and disgust that comes with the realisation your parent is boning. Poor kid. To give her a small mercy he retreated to the bathroom with Logan hot on his tail. He tossed a bottle of sandalwood body spray to him while he got to work brushing his teeth more thoroughly than he had ever done before in his life. Once he was done they swapped. Most of the evidence of their activities erased. What a shame, he would have loved to brag about it but he didn’t want to traumatise the kid any further.

It wasn’t long before people were calling it a night and saying their goodbyes. Wade gave Vanessa an extra tight hug and a whispered thanks. Really, what would he do without her? Laura had evacuated to the safe space of the bedroom with Al and Mary, which was understandable. Wade and Logan had another beer each then set up the sofa bed. And when they settled in for the night, Logan pulled the merc to rest against his chest.

“In case it wasn’t clear, I like ya. I can’t say it’s love ‘cause I’m honestly not sure. But moments like this and the roof, I could get used to it.”

“So should we be looking for four bed or three bed places. Oh! I should ask Hank if he can invent some sort of sound barrier device for us!”

Logan rolled his eyes, “Dumbass.”

Again the ending with a bedtime scene!

Hey, someone needs to remind the readers to go to bed. Anyway next chapter will take place after a short time skip okay?

Fine! But there better be some penetration or I swear I’ll-

Squirt.

[ollypopwrites]

if you're still taking requests, can you write a fic where Gale has a cold and the others have to take care of him and cook instead 🥺

Anon I've been working on this for so long! My actual partner got very sick and then we had a move and then a weekend wedding getaway -- it's been hectic. But I've got about 3k words of Gale being doted on for you.

A Wizard in Need

Pairings: Mostly gen but also Bloodweave

Rating: M (language mostly)

CW: chronic illness, common colds, self-worth issues, slight body-horror imagery.

Read on Ao3

His whole body shook with the sudden heat, limbs beginning to jerk and shift, and hot liquid pouring out of his mouth, his nose, his eyes — damn, even his ears. Their time has run out, he realized, as his insides churned and changed, the pain unbearable as his bones broke beneath the skin. Soon he would be no more than another thrall, moving to the whims of some Elder Brain and without his own to think for himself. 

But the hunger of the orb swelled beyond anything else he could comprehend. The transformation could not even offer a reprieve. His last dreadful act as his own person is the orbs' imminent final stand – a deafening roar numbed his body to the pain and everything went white. 

Gale shot up suddenly in his bedroll, a strangled cry becoming a hacking cough, as he gasped for breath. His camp clothes were soaked with sweat, he felt them sticking  to his too warm body.  His hands felt at his face, the familiar scratch of his beard, his nose and lips were all present — no tentacles. Gale shuddered in relief, catching his breath. 

But Gods, he still felt terrible. Feverish, his mind in a haze and his head feeling as if it were stuffed full of cotton. 

There was a rustle at the flap of his tent and he saw the slight glow of red eyes. The rest of Astarion’s face was  backlit by the fire outside, hiding most of it in shadow. Gale felt too unsteady to be sure but he thought the perfect lines of his companion’s face were creased in concern before he schooled them back to his usual half-lidded stare. 

“Thought the tadpole might have finally had its way,” he said quietly. 

“For a moment there, I did as well,” Gale breathed a sigh. 

“It’s the orb, isn’t it?”

Gale rubbed at his chest. It ached, surely, as it always did. But the hunger clawing beneath his skin was more of a background feeling rather than whatever this was. 

“No, not this time,” he replied. “It’s-“  he sneezed abruptly, several times in a row, and afterward his entire head throbbed.

“Oh, darling,” Astarion seemed half-amused. “I believe you have a  common cold.”

“That’s — “ 

Preposterous, and above all else annoying. They had tadpoles in their heads threatening to change them every day, a cult on their heels, he had an orb of netherese magic stuffed in his chest and now he had a trifling bug which made him feel like his entire head was about to burst. 

“Inconvenient.” Gale finished lamely. 

“Will you survive?” Astarion asked sarcastically. 

Too ill to even pretend to be jovial, Gale rolled his eyes and started getting out of his bedroll. “I just need some tea and a quick wash up.” 

When he tried to stand, however, the world began to spin. With a quickness that did nothing to help his dizziness, Astarion leapt forward into the tent, keeping him from falling sideways. He helped Gale down, seemed to hesitate with his hand out and then pressed it on the wizard’s sweaty forehead. His hand was shockingly and soothingly cool. Gale couldn’t help but sigh at the feeling. 

“You’re scorching.” Astarion noted. 

“I question the validity of your knowledge on the matter,” Gale sniffled. “You’re freezing.”

“Vampire,” Astarion gestured to himself as if he had forgotten. “But I know a flush when I see one, and yours is decidedly not one of debauchery.”

There was a clever remark somewhere he could retort with, just on the edge of flirting, but all Gale could think of was crawling back to his bedroll. He grabbed his waterskin, taking heavy pulls to soothe the scratching in his throat. After which he found no energy to do much else.

“Rest,” he muttered. “I need rest.” 

Astarion said nothing as Gale flopped back into his bedroll. He should tell him to bugger off, Astarion was on watch after all, but he didn’t send him away. The vampire sat still, unnaturally so as he always did, before grabbing his waterskin and walking out of the tent. 

Gale shifted between consciousness, exhaustion taking over but a fit of coughing or sneezing kept him from fully submitting. He felt more than heard Astarion come back, placing his waterskin by his hand again and a cool wet cloth pressed against his forehead. It could have been the fever and the ever changing state of his wakefulness but Gale was certain Astarion kept taking the cloth and cooling it between his hands before placing it back on his forehead. 

As if he had shifted through time itself, Gale woke up what felt like moments later. Except there were birds singing outside his tent rather than the tune of crickets. Sunlight didn’t quite pierce the cloth of his tent but it lit it up from the outside, and he could hear everyone moving around camp. 

He still felt dreadful. Blindly reaching for his water he found it full, and drank as much as he could before slumping back. For a while he tried to use his considerable willpower to sit up, get dressed and greet the next day of horrors which awaited them. But he simply did not want to. 

Just as he was about to force himself up, just outside his tent he heard, “Gale? Are you awake?” From Shadowheart. 

“Yes,” he croaked. 

“May I come in?”

“Yes.” 

There was the slightest frown as she peered in first. “Astarion says you have the plague.”

Gale didn’t even have the energy to roll his eyes. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Just a fever,” he tried to assure her. “A bit of rest and it’ll pass, I’m sure.

“Sk’va it’s the transformation,” Lae’zel hissed just outside. “We should give the wizard an honorable death before it takes hold.”

Gale wanted to remind her that an honorable death would mean a decidedly unhonorable explosion which would wipe out their entire camp and beyond, but Wyll spoke up before he could.

“It’s a cold, Lae’zel,” Wyll said. “Nothing some hearty broth and rest can’t fix.”

Everyone seemed to be standing just outside of his tent. Out of view but definitely not out of hearing range. 

“If he is cold we have extra blankets,” Lae’zel said firmly. “Why do we waste our time with broth?”

“No,” Karlach said, “a cold, mate. A bug.”

“Then smash the bug.” 

“It’s not a real bug,” Wyll explained. “It’s a turn of phrase. Gale’s ill, with a common and mostly harmless sickness.”

“Tch’k.”

Sometimes Gale wondered if Lae’zel’s ignorance to Faerunian turns of phrase was merely a bit she was fully committed to. He couldn’t help but breathe out a small laugh but that triggered a coughing fit that stole his breath and shredded his throat.

Shadowheart gently pushed him down with a hand on his shoulder. “I’m more a battle healer, less a medicine woman,” she frowned. “Are you hungry? Wyll’s starting a bone broth but we have porridge.”

“Porridge sounds lovely,” Gale attempted a smile. 

“I’m on it!” Karlach yelled and he heard the heavy stomps of her boots trail off. 

“Halsin went to find some herbs for a tea he thinks may help,” Shadowheart told him. 

That was rather kind of Halsin to go out of his way. Gale thought for a moment he should try to make an attempt to tough it out. They did have very important things to do, after all. But as he woke with the ever present pain of the orb on top of feeling so dreadfully, he was not sure he could stand on his own two feet for long. Typical. Washed up, burdensome old man that he was: he would be the one to get ill on the road. He wasted valuable magical items, was  a constant threat of blowing them off the face of Faerûn and was now too sickly to move. 

He offered what he hoped was a convincing smile. “When Halsin returns, have him leave the herbs with the supplies, I’ll fetch myself a cup later.”

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow. “If you’re sure.”

“Quite sure.” 

“Astarion filled your waterskin, drink it,” she said blandly, then disappeared from the tent. 

“We’ll leave you to rest,” Wyll said through the cloth. “Shout if you need anything.”

It was quiet for a bit, the unintelligible murmur of everyone about camp and the birdsong outside would have been comforting if he didn’t feel so dreadful. He closed his eyes, and focused on his breath, trying to ignore the fact that his nose was too stopped. Heavy thumping footsteps and a flood of warmth in the tent alerted him to Karlach before she even said anything. 

“Delivery!” She boomed. “I warmed it up for you. One benefit of being a walking inferno.” She clanked on the metal in her chest. 

“Thank you, Karlach,” he said. 

“Of course, bomb buddies gotta stick together,” she gave a toothy grin. 

“Karlach let him rest,” Shadowheart called. 

“Oops, sorry,” she smiled sheepishly. “Shout if you need anything, yeah?”

Gale nodded. Bomb buddies. He wished he had her exuberance in the face of certain death. After she was gone, he willed himself to eat and had a mind to try and get up to wash his plate, but politeness would have to wait in the face of the dizziness he felt. He drank down some of the water and laid back, trying to breathe again. His chest ached. His fingers rubbed around the mark of the orb, not doing much to aid in the pain but now a habit more than anything. 

It was quiet, almost peaceful. Until suddenly his body wrought out a coughing fit so powerful he thought he may vomit. Suddenly the orb throbbed, his entire body seemed to vibrate and then — he woke up again. Still coughing. A cold, firm hand pulled him to sit, shocking him slightly at the unannounced presence. 

“Easy,” Astarion said simply. “Breathe.”

Gale closed his eyes, catching his breath. He still felt horrible. Astarion placed his waterskin in his hand, helping him lift it to his lips and drink some down. It was a heavenly sensation, the cool liquid soothing his throat and slaking the dry raw feeling from the cough. 

The day had changed into evening, not quite late enough to engulf his tent in darkness but enough that his gaze had to adjust to the low light. 

“Halsin made tea,” Astarion commented. “I’ll have Karlach warm it up for you. Wyll’s broth for you should be done soon, took me ages to find something big enough to boil down.”

Gale shook his head. “We need to make for the mountain pass,” he said, his voice sounding foreign to his own self. Raspy and nasal. “You all should have sent a scouting party, not wasted time playing nurse.”

“Now is that any way to thank us?” Astarion simpered dramatically. “Lae’zel and Karlach found a path to the crèche, once you're done lazing about we will all head there to see if her little device works. When it inevitably fails, we will head to the Underdark at Halsin’s behest.” He tilted his head, not unlike a curious cat, Gale noted. “We can’t do that without our resident wizard, now can we? Who else will I bother on the road?”

“There’s plenty of people to bother in camp, if you must.”

“They’re not as fun as you.”

Gale was grateful for the fever. It could easily be the reason he suddenly felt his cheeks heat up if Astarion noticed. Without saying anything, Astarion held out the water again. Gale peered past him as he took a drink to a mirror he had in the corner of the camp. It was strange to see Astarion in front of him and not in the reflection. If Gale didn’t know better he’d think him a hallucination, a result of the illness that made Gale’s own reflection have the sunken in look he saw. 

“You should clear off,” Gale muttered. “The last thing we need is for illness to spread through the camp.”

“I haven’t been ill in nearly 200 years, Gale.” Astarion waved him off. “But if you want me to leave, I won’t stay where I’m not wanted.”

Gale didn’t want him to leave, but he was on his way out anyway. Not much later he returned with a piping hot cup of tea. It was not a pleasurable mixture, slightly sour and earthy, the only reprieve from the flavor was the sweetness of honey in the aftertaste. He was not going to doubt Halsin’s knowledge, nor did he want to appear ungrateful. 

Astarion never left. Halsin came in, broad body taking up so much room in his tent he couldn’t even see Astarion behind him. He offered him more tea, some kind words and another cold cloth before leaving. Thankfully Astarion didn’t seem to want to chat, he simply thumbed through a book and lounged on some pillows. Every so often he would cool the wet cloth for Gale, or run to fetch some more water.

Wyll came in with broth and some bread. Gale found it in himself to sit up long enough to eat and let the others check in on him. The Blade of the Frontiers made quite a decent bone broth; he’d said the cook at the Ravenguard estate had taught him the recipe after many days spent sick in his youth. Lae’zel had grabbed his face and inspected it, as if looking for some errant tentacle that had escaped everyone’s notice. She gave one of her low growling hums out and told him he needed to rest, as if he had been trying to sprint the length of the lake the entire day. The healers had offered teas and potions to help him sleep.

Karlach had shyly offered her beloved bear Clive to sit with him since she couldn’t without burning his tent down. It was sweet, and childlike of her to do so, but he appreciated it more than he would have imagined. It seemed no one had realized just how much he was weighing them down. Perhaps they just didn’t want to mention it.

His chest ached. 

“Do you need a magic item?”

“What?”

“You’re rubbing the mark.” 

Gale immediately stopped, having started the pointless effort to soothe the pain without thinking. “No, I’m alright.”

“Don’t be stoic,” Astsrion said. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“What does suit me, in your esteemed opinion, Astsrion?” Gale couldn’t keep the slight lilt of sarcasm out of his tone despite himself. 

“An unfevered flush, I’d imagine,” Astsrion replied immediately. “Does it hurt terribly?”

“It always does,” Gale replied, his raspy voice tired and defeated.

“Drink your tea,” Astarion simply said. “Halsin says it’ll help you sleep. Probably tastes like dirt, though. I don’t envy you.”

Gale took a sip, shuddering at the flavor. “It is…earthy,” he conceded. “But the effort is appreciated.”

Astarion’s lips twitched into a smile. 

“Astarion,” Gale began cautiously, “why are you still here?”

Astarion looked at him for a long moment, eyes rounding out as he seemed to think. “Someone has to make sure you’re still breathing.”

“It’s a cold,” Gale said, “I’m not at risk of falling over dead just yet.”

“With those grey hairs you can't be too sure.”

“Oh,” Gale breathed out a soft laugh, “you certainly know how to keep me humble, don’t you? And while I’m ill? Your bedside manner could use some practice.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m here, isn’t it?” Astarion smirked. 

“Happy to assist,” Gale replied. “Word of advice, don’t mention dying to your ailing patient, it doesn’t inspire much comfort.”

It was quiet for a bit as Gale drank the tea down as quickly as he could. It was not a pleasant taste, and he wanted to be done with it as soon as possible. He gently stretched after setting the cup aside, his back stiff from laying all day and shoulders wound up from tensing them in his sleep. Gods, he wanted to bathe and sleep but he felt the energy draining from him. Halsin’s concoction was working quickly to lure him into a gentle sleep. 

“Say what you will about the flavor,” Gale yawned, blinking blearily. “Halsin’s skills as an apothecary are quite impressive.”

“I’ll pass your compliments along.”

“Without embezzling, if you please.”

Another quiet moment as Gale laid back, ready to let sleep wash over him. He was used to Astarion’s presence now, not sure what the real point of it was, but it kept the worst of the anxious thoughts at bay. And it was a comfort, Gale tried not to linger too long on that, but it was nice to have him there. 

“Everyone offered to care for you, you know,” Astarion said without preamble. “No one complained. Except me, of course, but I’d rather bring mine directly.”

Gale frowned at the ceiling of his tent, unsure what brought that comment on.

“Burdensome is debatable, darling, I’m hardly one to cast judgment about dietary needs,” Astarion tried to hide behind a casual tone, “but washed up is a bit harsh,”

“The tadpoles.” Gale winced in realization.

“Little blighters,” Astarion agreed. “We’re in this together, Gale. Whether we like it or not. We’d all take the bleeding heart kindness you’d offer any of us without blinking,” he tilted his head a bit, “it’s only right that you accept ours.”

That seemed like flawed logic; Gale was, with few exceptions, the most volatile besides Karlach. Even having him with them was expensive and dangerous. But his thoughts could not linger too long on it, as Halsin’s tea had his mind slipping towards blissful rest. The last thing he felt was the gentle coolness of a hand on his forehead, and the soft whisper of Astarion’s voice. 

“Sleep tight, darling. We’ve got you.”

Thank you for reading!

[cod-dump]

Tbh imagining Price, who’s never questioned his sexuality (but has always been a relaxed person & ally to his queer buddies) slowly falling in love with Nikolai to the point where he’s both shocked & joyfully surprised (think: crying) that he’s been/is queer…IDK, it makes me happy. Like, yeah, he had healthy relationships with women & his identity/sexuality is valid regardless of what happens next, but…him finding his soulmate (who just so happens to be a man) when he’s past being a kid…it’s fucking romantic to me! 😌

P. S. IDK if you heard but I’ve decided that NikPrice’s official ship name is Nickels, hehe

(Nickels is fucking adorable I might start using that)

Soulmate

PriceNik ficlet

___

It hit him after a successful mission. Everyone went out to celebrate drinks and all the food they could eat. Price was sitting in the corner by himself, happy to watch everyone laugh and smile after such a long and gruesome mission that none of them thought would ever end. He was nursing a beer when Nik came over, sitting next to him with a loud groan.

"Tired?"

"Exhausted."

Price laughs as Nik leans back in his chair, closing his eyes and just relaxing. Price couldn't help but stare at his friend, heart warmed by his presence. He wasn't sure how he would've gotten through this mission if Nik wasn't there. Sure, Nik was an extraordinary pilot and Price trusted him to get him and his team to wherever they needed to be and to be there to save their asses when needed.

But Nik just being there, at his side supporting him, that's what helped Price push through. Apparently he was staring too long, long enough for Nik to notice. He cracks an eye open, smirking at Price. Price felt himself grow hot in the face as Nik sits up straighter, Price choosing to look away and take another drink.

"I wonder, John..."

"Wonder about what?"

"If you're in love with me."

Price chokes on his beer, coughing heavily. It draws attention to them. Nik looks at those who chose to stare and they look away. Finally, Price's coughing slows, him turning to look at Nik.

"What?"

"You're not very subtle. Kate and I have been talking about it."

Price's face was on fire, he wonders if his face was a shade of red that matched the heat.

"What-What makes you think I'm in love with you?"

Nik chooses to stand instead of answer. Price stares at him as he leaves the pub, mind stirring with confusion. Has he really been giving off the impression he was in love with Nik? How come he's never noticed or why hasn't anyone brought it up before?

Price quickly climbs to his feet, all but running after Nik. He finds him outside, leaning against the side of the pub. He has a cigarette between his lips, lighting it. Price dumbly walks over to him, feeling like he was looking at Nik at a new angle that he didn't even know existed. Nik takes a drag from his cigarette, sighing as he blows out the smoke. For the first time, Price wasn't looking at him as just a friend.

"This is what I mean by not being subtle. The way you look at me..."

Nik speaks softly, coaxing Price to come closer. Price obeys the unspoken request, coming up to Nik's side. Price finds himself lost in Nik's deep brown eyes. They were so full of emotion. With uncertainty and hope.

"I wondered if you even knew. With your girlfriends you were never afraid to flaunt around."

Price could hear jealously in Nik's voice, something he's never heard before. Price breathes out, leaning on the wall next to Nik. He could tell that Nik was trying to not look at him, instead focusing upwards at the late evening sky.

Price could finally see it. What's been in front of him this entire time.

"I think I am in love with you."

Nik quickly looks to him, his cigarette almost flying out of his mouth with how quickly he turned. They stared at each other for a moment, neither saying anything or daring to make a move. A minute passes before Price reaches up, taking Nik's cigarette and putting it to his mouth. He takes a drag, holding in the toxic fumes for several seconds before finally releasing it. When he breathes out the last of the smoke, Nik moves.

Their lips press together, slow and uncertain. But it doesn't stay that way. Out of all the women Price has kissed over the years, this was the first time he felt that spark everyone talked about when kissing the one they love. Fireworks going over, feeling like he found that missing piece, the end of the red string--

He feels like he found his soulmate.