#not that you heard this from me. they can't know i exist here

[wakacreations]

Infernal Drunks:

Tav just wanted a peaceful night out. What happens when (Zevlor, Rolan, Raphael, Haarlep) go to a tavern? Turns out they can't hold their liquor. This was so much fun to write.

Zevlor:

“Zevlor! Get down from there!” You turned around to see the Hellrider stood proud atop the bar counter. The bards strummed away at their strings. The patrons drunkenly joined in drumming along on the tables. “When the sirens are calling! They'll ask for your wedding band! They say oh no dear you can never settle down! You have made a sailor's swear! We live by the honors of our sailor’s code!” The Commander belted out to their fellow patrons.

"We live our lives ruthless and free! Beware the bitch queen, Umberlee!” The patrons hollered back. You elbow your way through the tight crowd as Zevlor continues to sing. “We are no mere ruffians or just another gutted chum. Well what do we do, sailors?” He gestured to his audience. “We do fuck all till the crack of dawn!” The sailors roared. He waved a hand at you when he saw your head poke through the wall of happy drunkards. “We are the proud sailors! We call the seas home! We raise our tankards high till the taverns run dry in the Sea of the Sword Coast!” They cheered, guzzling down their tankards. The Hellrider followed suit. “Another song, Horns!” The bards yelled out. Zevlor gave a boyish smile as he held his hand out to you. “Care to sing with me for the next musical number?”

Rolan:

“You know there is a saying that one should never receive a kiss from a tiefling.” You feel the brush of his spade against your ankle. The last song of the evening was winding down. “Is that so,” you teased, raising a brow. “You’ll find a love like no other.” Rolan took a finished sip of his glass, setting it down. “Is that an offer, Rolan?” Your breath hitches as he moves his face in close to get a better look at you. The tiefling wizard’s cheeks were rosy as his eyes met yours. “Would that make you happy,” he grinned. “I.. Are you drunk, Rolan?” He pulled his face back, cocking his head processing your words. He took your hand into his own. “Only on you,” he purred, grazing his lips against the back of your palm. “Your hand is too cold,” turning your hand over to cup his flushed cheek. “There much better, all warm,” Rolan hummed blissfully. You glanced around making sure no one peered at your booth. “I think it's about time to take you home.” If anything it is better to see him at home and forget this evening than to see him lock himself away in the tower for a tenday or more at his own sheer embarrassment. You moved to withdraw your hand feeling your face burn. His hand didn't budge. “Why? I don’t want to,” he huffed, moving his tail to wrap around your ankle.  A pout quivered his lower lip. “I don’t want to wake up,” he grumbled. “Wake up from what? Do you feel tired then we better leave then.” He shook his head in an aggressive no. “When I open my eyes after I fall asleep you’ll be gone,” Rolan whined, squeezed your hand. “I'll see you again in the morning, Rolan. Who would I be if I didn't check up on you?” He shook his head again. “Like how the moon says goodbye to the sun.. When they rise from the horizon.. This moment will be no more. Only to return when I shut my eyes…” The wizard swallowed, concentrating on finding the words. “But never to exist in the waking morning,” his eyes moved to the hand he held. He sighed and pressed a kiss to the inside of your palm. “I said to you after the death of my master, please what is mine is yours.” He looked at you once more. “Well my heart is my own and is yours should you ever wish to keep it.” Guiding your hand from his face to gently pressing your fingers to form a fist. With both hands he held your palm closed, “My love will always be here within your grasp.”

Raphael: 

“Mouse!? Where are you!?” You heard a deep timbre voice yell above the strings of the tavern. Turning around you see a disheveled man swaying towards you. “Are you alright, Raphael,” raising a brow. He leaned against the bar to steady himself. “Why are you here?” Given how rosy his cheeks have flushed, the stained undershirt and missing doublet, he did make his rounds.  “You,” he growled, clenching his jaw. Tilting your head, “what for Raphael? I have already paid my debts to you,” taking a swig of your tankard. “What? Did you lose the crown already?” The devil sneered, brushing back a hair that had fallen out of place. “Only a fool would lose such a precious relic. No, there is something I need from you.” What could he possibly need? “I need you home.” You sputtered into your drink. “WHAT,” you coughed, hacking out the last bit of alcohol in your lungs. “It is how I said it, mouse." The flicker of Hellfire shown in his unfocused gaze. You felt something bound off your head. Looking down you see a crumpled up paper. “Who done that!?” You scanned the faces from the direction it flew. “Done, what? What are you accusing me of? I’ll have your-” “No, not you.” You waved off the cranky devil. From the crowd you spotted a familiar warlock from across the tavern. “Korrilla?” The devil’s warlock gestured to the piece of paper. Unraveling the paper it read He won’t leave unless you take him. Squinting your eyes at the text in hand and looking back at her. “No,” you shook your head. She mouthed back at you, “he’s your problem.” Turning your eyes onto Raphael who was groaning clutching his head on the counter. “He’s your patron!” Looking back, the dwarven warlock had vanished. “Fuck!” Your face fell into your hands. The jiggle of bells came closer. “Tav… I am not feeling so well..” You felt a tugged at your sleeve. “Can we go home now?”

HAARLEP

“Haarlep? Where are you going?” The drunken “tiefling” stumbles away from you. “To find more food, Mousey,” they yawned. “Haven't you eaten already? The bards would be singing about the tiefling who wouldn't leave the tavern without kissing all the patrons.” You walked in pace with them. “Please, that is a regular night for a bard. Only an appetizer for an incubus. There are plenty of tasty morsels to feast upon,” they tumbled forward. “Oh, look there, that one looks quite delectable,” they shimmed free from their wingless guise. “No, come here Haarlep!” They shook their wings. Stretching them to their full wingspan, Haarlep flaps their wings preparing to take off. “You want a hug!?” You extended your arms spread wide. “Haarlep, please!” If they flew, who knows where they would end up. “Mousey!” They waddled back towards you. “Yes, that’s it Haarlep! Who is my favorite little fiend?!” Somewhere you swear you heard a tut of disapproval. “Mousey… I am still,” they yawned over your ear. “Hungry,” dropping their head atop your shoulder. “Let's not go home just yet,” they mumbled. “I know, Haarlep. I know,” moving their arm to hang over your shoulder. When are they ever not? “Where are you taking me?” They groaned as you slowly dragged the incubus towards the Devil's Fee. “You'll eat when we're home, Haarlep. Could you at the very least attempt to walk,” you huffed looking up at the long uphill dirt path. Would it be too late to call for Korrilla? Or Yugir perhaps? “If I do Mousey will you sleepover? Who is to check on I if I were to fall desperately ill hmm?” Pressing the pad of their claw into your cheek, you rolled your eyes. “You know the little brat is helpless if I were to fall sick and no one wants to deal with his petty little tantrums,” they slurred. Would killing Haarlep make them teleport to the boudoir or somewhere else? You shivered from a warm gust of air, a low growl filled your ear, “yes.” Am I hearing things now? “Those are dangerous thoughts to be having, little mouse,” Haarlep purred. You felt their tail wrap snugly around your waist. “So, very naughty of you,” nuzzling their cheek against yours. “Pretty please? I will be as good as my little impies?” The Devil’s Fee was in sight. “Your impies destroyed my pack last time I left it in the boudoir,” you sighed. “I promise, mouse,” they yawned. Just a couple of steps further. Making your way past the gate, “We made it, Haarlep. We’re almost home.” No noise came from the incubus. “Haarlep?” You turned to see their head hung low, drool pooling at the corner of their mouth. “Goodnight then,” you chuckled. Knocking aggressively on the door outcame Mammon’s warlock with a look of agitation. With a toss of a pouch from your hip, she ushered you in. The warmth of Hellfire blanketed you, both. “Just for tonight, Haarlep. I will stay. Who knows, if he’ll allow me to let you out again,” pressing a kiss to their temple. “I might as well,” you yawned, laying down beside them. You watched their slow steady breaths being lullied by its calming rhythm. They stirred in their sleep reaching out to you. “My Mousey,” pulling you to their chest. “Haarlep,” you breathed, suffocating in their tight embrace. “My sweet Mousey.”

[sketchytea]

I really enjoyed the show and wanted to know where I can find more content of the buges/creatures? or if any of the other artists are also on Tumblr? I really liked how cohesive they were with their environments and how fleshed out the universe felt.

most scav artists are on insta! i did a cursory search and @/petesharp.universe has a couple of creature designs on his page, and @/clevermongoose has a number of colour designs on hers

co-creator and art director charles huettner has a tumblr @/charleshuettner. he's collected a ton of bts posts from almost all the artists on his instagram reels on @/charles.huettner. @/sarakipin was also a colour designer on the show--those are the only artists i know of that are on tumblr :>

[valwrote]

PICK YOUR DOMESTIC HUSBAND 🛒

WHICH HUSBAND IS ON THE DOMESTICITY MENU TODAY?

featuring: diluc, alhaitham, zhongli, wriothesley, neuvillette.

synopsis: glimpses into married life with the genshin men.

warnings: implied fem!reader, occasional pet names, ooc (I have a sparse idea how diluc works, mention of "activities" (just mention I can't write smut pls), silly goofy ah loser coded men, mild swearing (damn, heck)

a/n: *stretching my back and crunching my neck.* I'm back from the dead. apologies for the choppy writing. thanks for the support on the other posts, if only I could write 50-page essays thanking everyone. <33 :')) not proofread.

DILUC 🍷

PRODUCT NAME: BREAKFAST AND KISSES IN BED. Diluc always hated the Knights of Favonius… 

He hated how most of them just stand around like buffoons and do not partake in any actual work that involves saving Mondstadt. He wouldn’t admit that he enjoys playing Batman. He hated them all except for one.

One he was willing to forgive all flaws of. "Knight of Favonius…always so inefficient,”  He scoffed at the pathetic sight of the hilichurls trying to dry roast a few knights roped to a wooden stick for their dinner. “Seriously, You’re so right Master Diluc.” Diluc’s head turned so fast at the sound of a new voice. When did you get here? Were you always there and how did he not sense you around?

That’s simply how you always were. A hard worker amidst slackers – he always termed despite Jean trying to explain that others work hard too. Perhaps that’s what caught his attention, honestly, he would never know what did. “G’morning…” He murmured against your skin, head buried in the crook of your neck, your flushed bare back pressed against him. “5 more minutes…” he heard your soft and groggy voice evoking a chuckle from the usually passive man. “Have I ever told you…how beautiful you are?” Diluc muttered against your skin. You smiled and turned around, “You always do. I remember my Dark-Knight Hero crying at the altar.” You pressed a finger against his chest, while he scoffed at the memory. “Don’t remind me about that, Kaeya doesn’t let me live that down…” He sighed, his brother consistently brought up the matter of him crying whenever he was losing an argument. Foul play if you ask anyone. “So…breakfast downstairs or in the bed?” He planted a kiss on your cheek while you hummed out a response, “Bed, you didn’t exactly go easy on me the previous night.” You recalled the events of the passionate night the day before. The honeymoon phase never seemed to end. “I am so sorry–” He panicked,” You're not in pain are you? I promise I’ll be gentle– I knew I should’ve been more considerat–” You stopped him by pressing a kiss against his lips. He groaned at the feeling of your soft lips touching his hands tangling themselves in your hair.

“I’m kidding silly… you should stop taking things so seriously unless you want me to start searching for grey hairs amidst those red locks of yours.” You snickered out seeing him release a breath of relief.

If the Darknight Hero really does exist, he's probably just someone in disguise. When he gets up in the morning to brush his teeth, it's the real him. He was his real him in front of you. People may call him a loser for such vulnerability…he was a loser for you.

ALHAITHAM 🌱

PRODUCT NAME: READING BOOKS OUT LOUD. One would say married to someone like Alhaitham was nothing short of a nightmare. They weren't 100% right. Shrouded beneath the aloof and meticulous personality resided someone who was in complete denial towards being loved. He loves it.

Who was he kidding? Nobody in a million years thought someone could put up with his insufferable personality — said Kaveh, his unpaying tenant. That was until he ran into you during his time as the newly appointed Scribe. You were like a painter, splashing heaps of paint in his 90s black-and-white life. Was eating ice cream always this enjoyable or was it because it was with you? Was the gossip between co-workers always this interesting or was it because it included you?

Why was his heart having an entire Queen’s rock and roll concert talking to you? Was it cardiac arrest or– He almost shuddered at the thought of it being what they called love.

“You’ve got flour on your face, sweetheart.” His teal eyes blinked amusingly into yours, a faint smile curling up his lips. You must have saved a nation in your previous life to land this man as your husband. Beige shirt perfectly sculpting around his abs – contrary to him calling himself “feeble,” hair slightly tousled and slight sleepiness in his eyes. He might not act like it but he was a little child whose needs had to be tended to like the coffee mug in his hands which you made, like usual. You wouldn’t want a cranky Alhaitham now, would you? “Hmpf, not my fault, this cooking book is completely bogus!” You rubbed your cheeks with the back of your hand, wiping away any remaining flour. “This is so boring…if only someone could provide their poor wife with some entertainment.” You always resorted to theatrics to get him to do things for you, albeit begrudgingly. “No, the same tactic is not going to work again.” “Please…” “No…” He groaned, tone almost pleading not to put him through the torture again. “During better or worse!” You resorted to the ace up to your sleeve. WEDDING VOWS! “Stop quoting the wedding vows.” He sighed in defeat. The most intellectually gifted man in the nation couldn't win against his own wife. Ironical. He got up and grabbed a book out of the bookshelf; a small fraction of his much larger library.

“Miss Elizabeth,” Alhaitham lazily flipped through the pages earning a rebuke. “More emotion! You are ruining the scene.” Alhaitham sighed and cleared his throat, “I love you most ardently…” His tone was feathery soft, emotion surging in it. A smile crept up as he stared at you endearingly.

“That’s much better. Though I seriously think Mr Darcy should’ve said– Miss Elizabeth, allow me to kiseth thy lovely lips.” You mimicked the deep voice of the character with the failing British accent. “Please have mercy on Jane Austen’s ghost and let her enjoy the afterlife.” Alhaitham chuckled and continued reading as you continued baking.  It was a shame that a man of such talent only paid attention to the truth itself and not to the people around him. If only the searching eyes of the ordinary say the exception to his indifference, you.

This was your biosphere, just you, him, novels and food encapsulated inside your small home.

ZHONGLI 🪨

PRODUCT NAME: ALWAYS ON HIS MIND. What is the best but the most useless flex you have? Being married to the Geo Archon. The inability to just tell the whole world that you are married to the frigging god was painful. You yourself were surprised by your ability to control yourself. Zhongli was a man of carefully curated words. Instead of words, straight-up poetry flew out of his mouth. Everyone knew how much he adored his wife, every vendor, every acquaintance, heck even Venti. Wangsheng Funeral Parlor's mysterious consultant. Handsome, elegant, and surpassingly learned. Excellent memory. A master of courtesy and rules. The amount of poor women who have tried to grab his attention. "Mr.Zhongli, how does this look?" the woman, who he remembered meeting over a history discussion 17 days ago. "Hm?" his amber eyes shifted to gaze at the hairpiece the lady was holding. "Most exquisite.." He remarked, seemingly going into deep thought. Instead of a compliment, he said something that made the woman back away, "Such beautiful craftsmanship...may I ask you to tell me where you found this? I wish to buy one for my wife–" he paused, seeing the lady vanished after pointing at the shop where she got it from. "Zhongli, you should be able to tell why people approach you..." Hutao sighed, standing beside the rather oblivious gentleman. "Let's just continue...we've got customers to find!" Hutao started walking alongside the railing, hoping to find people in need of funeral services. "Maybe we should go and ask peopl– Zhongli??" Hutao looked around for the Consultant, who was caught up chatting with a shopkeeper over some earrings. "Zhongli!" Hutao called out to him, causing his head to turn towards the director. "Oh, apologies...It seems I got too carried away. These earrings caught my eye...I'm sure [Name} would love them.." he mumbled, staring at the jewellery. "I'll take them." "Mister Zhongli? What about the payment..." The shopkeeper meekly asked, causing Zhongli to turn his head fully at Hutao; gazing expectantly. Hutao should've expected this... "Zhongli, we are out here to find customers! Not buying gifts for [Name], her birthday is months away!" "They say the best things should be done first. After all, why must I wait for one specific day to express my love for my beloved?" Zhongli asked curiously and Hutao shaked her head; love was clearly out of her expertise. Zhongli, he is particular about everything. He only attended the best operas and focused on the perfect ratio for the creation of an authentic dish.  On a typical day, all you will glean from him is a few pieces of useless trivia, because he particularly enjoys sharing these fun tidbits with you. He was particular about you and your likings. A smile on your face was what he wanted by the end of the day. For being someone alive for 6000 years, he could proudly say that he loved and cherished something– someone.

"Wait here, Director Hu...Perhaps I should get those flowers over there to accompany the hairpin and earrings..."

WRIOTHESLEY 🐺

PRODUCT NAME: BATTLE TO BUY A DOG OR NOT.

"Wriothesley, I want a dog!" You crossed your arms, staring down at the Duke who was glued to the chair in his office. “But why? That’s just unnecessary responsibility…” Wriothesley sighed, rubbing his temples. This was the 3rd time this month you’ve brought up this topic. Was he that incompetent in terms of filling his role as your significant other? Perhaps not with the never-ending paperwork. Oh, how he wished people would just stop committing crimes. “I get lonely in the Fortress…I want a child.” You put forth your point by using the term ’ child’. Child, dog same thing. You hoped to finally convince him this time.

“We have Sigewinne.” Wriothesley pointed at the head nurse prepping tea in the room with the back of his pen. “I am sorry, Your Grace but playing the role of the child is out of my job description.” The Melusine replied indifferently, pouring freshly seeped tea into the three cups. “Fine, we will go get one…I’ll schedule a meeting with the owner of the pet shelter. Happy?” He asked you, chin resting on his palm. Perhaps getting a dog was a good idea as he was guilty of being unable to spend quality time with you… “No way…” “Isn’t that..?” “The Duke of the Meropide–” “He rarely appears in public..” Wriothesley held out the door to the shelter for you, hoping you would go in and it would finally save him from the gaze of curious onlookers. The two of you walked in, only to be pounced upon by a big dog. “Kal! You sly dog! I knew I shouldn’t have let you out!” The caretaker yelled at the big ball of black fur who had tackled Wriothesley to the floor and was aggressively licking his face, tail wagging in delight. “Are you okay?” You asked your fallen husband, who just chuckled in response. “I am good just– Okay stop! I understand your gesture of love.” Wriothesley got up as the dog encircled him. “This one is so adorable…” you gasped at the cuteness radiating from the dog and its big brown eyes. “You’ve got a keen eye! This is Kal, Shiloh Shepard, one of the finest dogs out there.” The caretaker combed her fingers through the thick and groomed black coat of the canine. “He seems to have taken a liking to the Duke.” The caretaker continued as the dog ran back to Wriothesley, peppering his face with licks. “He even looks like you.” You teased as Wriothesley stared at you in disbelief. You did not just compare him to a dog…he even did a double take at the dog to confirm. “We will take this one then…” He chuckled in amusement. Never had he imagined marrying you and on top of that getting a four-legged beast. Needless to say, Wriothesley proudly walked out of the shelter, holding the big dog in his hands like a child. It felt complete ever since getting Kal; like your own little family. Wriothesley wouldn’t admit it but he loved the dog, despite it hogging all of your love and attention. He didn’t expect to be fighting over cuddling rights with a dog!? 

He watched you and Kal sleep peacefully on the couch, keeping him company while he finished up his work. He felt a sense of gratitude…people of the Fortress knew little of the crime he once committed. The only one who still remembers it like yesterday is Wriothesley himself. And no matter how much glory or repute he has earned, he still considers himself to be the same old Wriothesley he's always known.Neither a good person nor a complete villain. He's just another soul, still living on in this world. However, your eyes always reassured him in ways he couldn’t describe. Everything was perfect…

[Name]!! YOURDAMN DOG PISSED ON MY COAT!! Maybe not that perfect…whoops.

NEUVILLETTE 🌊

PRODUCT NAME: HELPING THE OTHER DRESS.

Monsieur Neuvillette, The Iudex of Fontaine, always wondered how his life had come to this. 500 years of serving his position as the Beacon of Justice, a lovely, beaming baker somehow broke the monotony. Well, calling you just a baker was now an insult. With your ring finger bejewelled, with one of the rarest gems– an ode to his undying loyalty and representation of his eternal love. “It’s astounding how a covert mission conducted by melusines could’ve landed someone such as myself a lady like her…” He muttered to himself, seeing his full form in the mirror. “Talking to yourself, again?” You leaned against the door frame, lopsidedly smiling at the peculiar antics of Fontaine’s most distinguished man. “Ah, apologies…I didn’t think you would notice me conversing with myself. Now I find myself in a rather awkward predicament.” He chuckled. Dear god, this man was so beautiful that his beauty was almost blinding with the morning sun perfectly hitting his face.

“Say ah,” You requested and he complied. Who better to take constructive criticism from other than your husband? “New filling?” He covered his mouth while chewing on the croissant. “Yup, how is it? I was experimenting with some Rainbow Roses and these Inazuman berries I bought.” You blinked curiously, waiting for some input. “Hmm it is very pleasant, it is fascinating how you manage to maintain the freshness of the fruit…” You smiled at his compliment, before noticing him struggling with the jabot around his neck. “Need help?” You offered and he nodded his head. “This is absurd..it usually isn’t this difficult.” He frustrated replied, it was amusing to see the cool and collected man all worked up about clothing. “I suggest simplifying your outfit.” You attached the jabot and secured it in with the teardrop brooch, fixing the ruffles. 

“Thank you. I do prefer my outfit as it conveys the message I wish for it to convey.” He explained before staring at you. You knew that look, he looked at you with his eyebrows slightly creased when he was hesitating from saying something. “What is it?” “Do I get a goodbye kiss before I leave?” “Pfft! I didn’t think you would take that seriously!” Conclusion: this man was wayyy to cute.

Neuvillette is a solitary person. Neuvillette is not known for his personal desires.

He was deemed as someone with unassailable impartiality. If only they knew that perhaps the Iudex was just a wee bit biased.

a/n 2.0: the crust will come off...hopefully. i wonder if it's possible to guess which one of them is my favourite??

don't steal, copy, plagiarise, or translate.

©definitelysel

[ebodebo]

Hot For Teacher!

—professor!simon riley teaching anatomy… MDNI

(DISCLAIMER: in this fic, the reader is getting their master's, so reader is an adult! that said, this is still a student-professor relationship, so beware!)

"I heard he was from Germany….or somewhere."

"He's probably sooo old."

"I can't find his rate my professor anywhere!"

"I heard he only has one leg!"

Murmurs can be heard spread around the room; your fellow graduates flooded the lecture hall seats, not an empty seat out of fifty in site. They were itching with anticipation and anxiously awaiting the arrival of your new gross anatomy professor, including yourself.

You were even more nervous than when you had to present your senior thesis for your bachelor's to four of the most knowledgeable, bright minds you had ever come into contact with.

That was intimidating, but this somehow feels worse. You find yourself sinking into the squeaky plastic chair, praying that whoever walks through that door is as gracious and kind as your last professor.

Heavy steps echoed down the hallway, slowly and steadily etching closer and closer to the room you sat in. Your eyes nervously shifted up to look at the wide open front door, and you tapped your foot, restlessly, to a non-existent beat in your head.

The footsteps became louder and louder until the man finally stood in the doorway, sparing the class not even a singular glance. He steadily turned to the right and walked up to the chalkboard, back towards the class, carefully etching something onto the board with a small piece of chalk.

The murmurs around the room seized as the screeching noise of the chalk against the board bounced off the walls and went straight into everyone's eardrums.

It was a quick, illegible scribble.

He set the piece of chalk down and turned to face the class, eyes roaming around the room, allowing you to get a better look at him.

He wore a black surgical mask just below his nose, covering his lips and jaw. And, God, was he tall. He had to be at least six-two, maybe even six-four. He wore a charcoal gray button-up tight enough to display his broad shoulders and buff biceps, with kaki cargo pants that did nothing to hide his thick thighs. 

Fuck, he was hot.

"Your last professor was quite lenient," his gravelly voice echoes around the room as he begins, leaning his hip on the table before him. "Don't expect that from me."

His eyes roamed some more, and the murmurs you heard about how hot he was seized as he spoke again. "If you think this class will be easy, you're sorely mistaken. Excellence is the bare minimum I expect from each of you," he sternly says. "I don't tolerate excuses. You're in the wrong place if you can't meet the deadlines."

You didn't know the first time meeting your professor would just end up with him lecturing you about his obscure conditions and rules like this was a damn military base.

You try to remember if this course was even required for your degree: it is.

"If you miss class, don't bother returning," he continues. The mood in the room had shifted entirely. There was no excitement left; it had been completely sucked out and replaced by regret and anguish. You swore you even saw some people with their computers quickly going to your university's directory, hoping they could still withdraw from a course.

"Lastly, mediocrity has no place in here. Push yourselves or find another course," he gruffed, pushing himself off the desk he leaned on and maneuvering back over to the chalkboard.

"What are the instructions on the board?" Your eyes snapped to a random girl raising her hand adjacent to you, and you were surprised by her bravery in speaking.

The professor glanced at the girl.

“Ah, yes. These are instructions on how to withdraw from this course if you so choose," he said. "Save me the headache and you, your dignity, and withdraw now if you cannot abide by my terms," he almost seemed disinterested. "Also, you will call me Dr. Riley."

He picked up the chalk, quickly etching a strand of words onto it. "These are my office hours," he says, setting the chalk back down. "Any questions?" He asked, turning to face the class.

Not a single peep can be heard. There was only a tiny squeak from one of the chairs. He crosses his arms. "Alright. Quiz tomorrow. Class dismissed," he concludes. You freeze up in your chair as everyone around you starts moving as quickly as possible to get out of there.

You're wondering what you learned today that could be material for a quiz. Instead of waiting behind to ask, you shuffle your things in a bag and speed walk out of there.

This was going to be a long semester.

It was three months in, and this class was kicking your ass. 

No, that's not right. The class was outwardly blistering your entire existence. You pulled countless all-nighters to try and keep up with the material, but it was too much. There weren't enough hours in the day to study the copious amount of material.

It didn't help that Dr. Riley was a bit of a dick. He gave no leniency. Can't make the exam? Too bad. F. Didn't make class? Yikes. Get ready to recite the last lecture in front of the class when you return! Can't answer a question he asks? Well, well, it looks like we have a slacker on our hands. Have a lovely time writing an entire essay on the topic question you failed to answer!

"Can anyone explain the process of bone repair following a fracture?" Dr. Riley questions, taking his eyes off the chalkboard and turning towards the now half-full class. You snap out of your daydream, carefully looking back to your computer to continue typing what he writes.

Everyone averts their eyes from him to avoid getting called on. "No takers?" He asks once more, eyes narrowing slightly. You look over the top of your computer, eyes wondering over the messy array of notes he wrote to try and decipher them. "You," he says, flicking a finger towards you. "Give it a go."

Your eyes flick to his before widening in horror. Shit. You hadn't even gone over this week's slides because you were still working on the hundreds of slides from last week. 

"Preferably today," he raises a brow, impatience written all over his face, crossing his arm over his chest. You take a deep breath, quickly scan your notes, and sublimely thank God you found what you needed.

"Well, first the bone goes through clot formation, then callus formation, then new bone tissue forms, then finally the bone remodels," you explain, issuing a polite smile after you finish, breathing out a sigh of relief as he nods.

"Uh-huh. It's a very interesting process. And do you know which of those processes has the longest duration?" He says blandly. You tilt your head a little, surprised to see he has another question.

"Well, I think that would be the bone remodeling," you affirm, shifting in your seat a little.

"And the shortest?" He quickly supplements. 

"Clot formation?" You say unsurely. 

"You seem unsure of your answer. Do you truly think it is clot formation?" He crosses his arms over his chest. 

You were sure of it, but then again, why would he ask you if you thought it was wrong if it was right? You open your eyes wider, almost like you have just had an epiphany. "I—no. It's callus formation," you say matter-of-factly.

"Incorrect," he says, uncrossing his arms and turning his back to you. "I suggest trusting your instincts next time." You sink deeper into your chair, hoping that somehow it will shield you from his scrutiny. 

"On that note, class dismissed." You quickly gather your belongings, but not before Dr. Riley pulls you aside to assign you a three-page, single-spaced essay about the formation of a bone after having a fracture due in two days.

"Also, be sure to discuss clot formation heavily," his voice carries a condescending tone. "So that when you present to the class, they understand the concept better than you did." 

Your brows furrow a little. "Wait, I do understand—" You begin, though he interrupts.

"That's all," he cooly says, turning to grab his things from the desk in the front before switching the light switch off and stepping around you to leave the room. "See you and your paper Wednesday." You scowled as he turned away from you to go to his office.

This was such bullshit. You answered all his question, but God forbid you answer one incorrectly—well, not even incorrectly; he just made you feel it was wrong.

This was far from over.

"Dr. Riley. I, um, I don't understand why I have to write an essay," you found yourself saying later that day in his office, around six p.m. or so, when most of the faculty had already called it a night and left. His eyes stayed laser-focused on some papers he was going over.

"You didn't answer my question," he says, scribbling something on the paper. 

You find yourself coming in, shutting the door behind you, and sitting on the chair before his desk. "Yes, I did. I answered all one hundred of them," you say matter-of-factly. The corners of his eyes crinkle as they finally flick to yours, clearly amused by your exaggeration. 

"One hundred, huh?" He sets the pen down, leaning back in his chair, threading his fingers together. Your eyes wander to his arms. He had rolled up his sleeves to reveal his veiny forearms covered in tattoos. 

You flick your eyes back to eyes in a panic, praying he didn't notice you essentially checking him out. "Yes, sir," you tried to keep your voice even.

"So, you want out of an essay I assigned to you? 

"I—well. I was hoping…" You trail off, eyes averting his.

"No," his tone is authoritative, final. You release a small breath, sagging into the chair, feeling defeated. However, you caught your eyes wandering back to his forearms before moving up to his biceps. Fuck. They would have busted out of his button-down if they were any bigger.

He was a massive asshole. But, so fucking hot nonetheless. Had the most enormous thighs and arms you'd ever seen. Taller than anyone you'd ever met. Had a gruff, thick English accent you drooled over. Not to mention his raging ego, which did something for you.

"What is it?" Your eyes snap to his. Oh, God. Not again. 

"Nothing," you said quickly. He looked puzzled. You sat back in the chair, smiling awkwardly. He followed, leaning back in his seat and spreading his legs wider to get more comfortable.

You find your eyes drifting down, observing his clothed cock in his pants. "Nothing? Huh?" The corner of his lip quirks. You stare back at him; your face is hot, and your hands are clammy.

This time, there was no denying what it was you were ogling so intently. 

"Listen," he sits up a bit, placing his elbows on his desk and threading his fingers together. "I sympathize with your situation." You raise a brow because there is no way in hell he was sympathetic. His lip quips at your expression. "So, I believe I have a solution to your dilemma." That has you perking up in your seat, feeling a sense of hope.

"It's a bit...unorthodox," he mumbles, eyes boring into yours.

You squint your eyes in confusion. "Okay..." You trail off uneasily, sitting up a little straighter. "What did you have in mind?" He tilts his head up a little, carefully observing your face, before standing up and gripping the knot of the tie and carefully pulling it down so it rests lazily on his sternum. 

"Tell me," he prompts, easing his way around his desk to lean against the side you sit in front of. "What is it that caught your attention earlier?" You raise a brow, not only at his new position but also at his question.

"Pardon?" You prod. He lets out a small, scruffy, breathy laugh, crossing his arms over his chest and showcasing his huge biceps again. You release a slight breath as your eyes wander back to his arms. He tilts his head back as he examines your facial expression, dragging his eyes down your line of sight. He gives a breathy laugh as he realizes you are shamelessly checking him out. 

"Mhm," he hums. You snap your eyes to him in an instant, though this time you aren't embarrassed at the notion of him catching you. No. You wanted him to notice. Maybe, just maybe, then he'd finally find the courage to fuck you over his desk like you'd wanted since the first day he had arrived. "Your mind seems elsewhere," he observes.

"No, I'm—I'm just thinking," you whir, sitting in your chair.

He tilts his head back slightly. "What about?" His tone dripped with condescendence. He most definitely knew. He could read you like one of those fancy anatomy books he frequented. You lean back in your chair, legs spreading ever so slightly. His eyes glided to leer at your slightly agape legs. 

God, you had on that little fucking skirt you wore every so often. The damned thing was a couple of pieces of denim fabric. Not too short, but, ya, if you opened your legs at just the right angle, you could get a nice shot of your panties underneath. How lucky for your professor, who was at the receiving end of that.

"Oh, I don't know. Just things, you know?" You spread your legs just a little wider, and you swear you hear him release a breath. "It's the first day of fall tomorrow. Did you know that?" You casually say, spreading your legs that much further so he could get a better view of the wet spot already growing in your panties at him watching you. 

"I did." His voice was dry; he was surprised to get a damn word out. 

"Crazy, huh? Also, I'm thinking about our lecture tomorrow. What's it going to be on anyway?" You find yourself dragging your hand up your leg to the buttons of your shirt, carefully unclasping each of them gently. He could feel his cock straining against his jeans seeing you, legs spread, fingers fiddling with your cute little button-up top with frilly sleeves.

"Sexual reproduction," he gruffs, fingers moving to undo the buttons on his shirt. You get the final button of your shirt unclasped, carefully sliding it off and onto the floor, revealing a lacy bra that matches your panties. You honestly thought you'd be more nervous, but with a guy that hot and educated staring at you like you were the sexiest thing alive, how could you be?

"Maybe I should get a head-start, no?" You proposed as he unclasped his final button, slipping his shirt entirely off. Good-God. The man was chiseled and hairy. The scars etched into his skin only made him that much sexier. He reached for his tie next. "No, no. Leave it on," you voice, getting up from your chair to stand before him. 

His greedy hands instantly sought refuge on your waist, dragging his fingertips along the waistband of your panties, giving them a little pull. You release a slight whine as the elastic slaps back onto your skin.

"Like fuckin' music to my ears," he groans, pulling you flush to his body, ripping his mask off to encapsulate your lips with his hungry ones. 

You yelp into his mouth at the sudden sensation, though you find yourself getting into a rough rhythm. His hand's paw at your ass as yours covetously grips his shoulders. Although you were flush against him, you sought more contact. "I need—I need," you whined in his mouth. 

"Need me to what? Say it," he urged, hands slipping to thread through your hair, pulling it gently. Your mouth falls agape at the action, allowing him to slip his tongue in your mouth. You moan into his mouth once more.

"I need you to—to," you stutter, unable to speak from how out of breathe you were.

"Say it," he hissed, pulling your hair harder.

"Fuck me. Please," you finally managed to say. He wasted no time picking you up by the back of the thighs and hastily placing you on his desk, flinging the loose papers and books that dawned it on the floor.

You reached between you to undo his belt and pant button as he slipped your panties down so they dangled loosely around your ankles. 

Your lips never disconnecting once. 

Once you got his pants undown and he your panties, he gripped your waist, hoisting you so he could pound his cock into you. You both moan at the contact, gripping each other tighter.

"Fuck," he groans, "Feel so good." You press your lips back to his as he makes work pummeling into you, his hands digging into the flesh of your hips to get as much friction as he can.

You were sure you'd have purple and blue bruises tomorrow.

He brings his mouth to nip and kiss at the side of your neck, his teeth gently grazing against the sensitive skin. "Drivin' me fuckin' insane," he grits, teeth nipping your skin again. You whined, bringing your hands to thread through his hair.

"I drive you insane?" You breathe out, dumbfounded, his cock still sliding in and out of you at a hurried pace. His tongue brushes your neck until it reaches your lips, quickly bullying itself into the sanctity of your mouth.

"Such a good student. Aren't you?" He gruffs into your lips; your mouth hangs agape at the feeling of him in you. "Always do such good work. Don't you, sweetheart?" You moan at his words; he presses a thumb to stimulate your clit. "Fuck—you, you drive me mad," he grits, moving his thumb faster.

You let a string of incoherent words, too caught up with his cock in you and thumb on you to form any real words.

"Huh? Ya, ya. But you must know that already. Or else you wouldn't have worn this—" he signals to the matching bra and panty set you had worn, "to meet with me," he finishes. You respond with another pathetic whimper, feeling your impending climax.

The moment he whispers into the shell of your ear, "Better come quick, or I may change my mind about that paper," you're a goner. You clamp around him at record speed, gripping his shoulders impossibly tighter, as you loudly moan in his mouth. His fingers dig deeper into the fat of your hips as his orgasm chases yours.

It takes both of you a second to catch your breaths, both heaving and chests rising with much pace. After you have caught your breath, he helps ease you off his desk, deftly reaching for your panties that slipped off your ankles in a frenzy and softly putting them back on you, followed by your skirt resting on the floor nearby.

You slipped your shirt back on, buttoning it as he focused on dressing himself. It didn't feel awkward like you had thought it was going to. Sure, it was quiet, but it was comforting.

You grabbed your bookbag, giving him a slight smile as you walked over to the closed door. "I appreciate you meeting with me. See you tomorrow, Dr. Riley," you kindly say.

He nodded, pulling his tie to rest neatly on his neck. "Don't forget about the paper," he plainly said, moving to pick up some of the loose papers on the floor.

A confused expression overtook your face. "I thought—" you began.

"I don't play favorites, sweetheart," he interrupted. "Write the paper."

Okay, he was still a dick, but oh well, sure, you'd write the damn paper, maybe even put a couple of errors in it so that he could deduct some points off, and you could request to meet with him again.

Ya, that sounded like a fine plan indeed.

a/n: inspired by a lovely who commented on my poll about professor!simon <33 @aiqsa (this took me so long omg)

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

FYI artists and writers: some info regarding tumblr's new "third-party sharing" (aka selling your content to OpenAI and Midjourney)

You may have already seen the post by @staff regarding third-party sharing and how to opt out. You may have also already seen various news articles discussing the matter.

But here's a little further clarity re some questions I had, and you may too. Caveat: Not all of this is on official tumblr pages, so it's possible things may change.

(1) "I heard they already have access to my data and it doesn't really matter if I opt out"

From the 404 article:

A new FAQ section we reviewed is titled “What happens when you opt out?” states “If you opt out from the start, we will block crawlers from accessing your content by adding your site on a disallowed list. If you change your mind later, we also plan to update any partners about people who newly opt-out and ask that their content be removed from past sources and future training.”

So please, go click that opt-out button.

(2) Some future user: "I've been away from tumblr for months, and I just heard about all this. I didn't opt out before, so does it make a difference anymore?"

Another internal document shows that, on February 23, an employee asked in a staff-only thread, “Do we have assurances that if a user opts out of their data being shared with third parties that our existing data partners will be notified of such a change and remove their data?” Andrew Spittle, Automattic’s head of AI replied: “We will notify existing partners on a regular basis about anyone who's opted out since the last time we provided a list. I want this to be an ongoing process where we regularly advocate for past content to be excluded based on current preferences. We will ask that content be deleted and removed from any future training runs. I believe partners will honor this based on our conversations with them to this point. I don't think they gain much overall by retaining it.”

It should make a difference! Go click that button.

(3) "I opted out, but my art posts have been reblogged by so many people, and I don't know if they all opted out. What does that mean for my stuff?"

This answer is actually on the support page for the toggle:

This option will prevent your blog's content, even when reblogged, from being shared with our licensed network of content and research partners, including those that train AI models.

And some further clarification by the COO and a product manager:

zingring: A couple people from work have reached out to let me know that yes, it applies to reblogs of "don't scrape" content. If you opt out, your content is opted out, even in reblog form. cyle: yep, for reblogs, we're taking it so far as "if anybody in the reblog trail has opted out, all of the content in that reblog will be opted out", when a reblog could be scraped/shared.

So not only your reblogged posts, but anyone who contributed in a reblog (such as posts where someone has been inspired to draw fanart of the OP) will presumably be protected by your opt-out. (A good reason to opt out even if you yourself are not a creator.)

Furthermore, if you the OP were offline and didn't know about the opt-out, if someone contributed to a reblog and they are opted out, then your original work is also protected. (Which makes it very tempting to contribute "scrapeable content" now whenever I reblog from an abandoned/disused blog...)

(4) "What about deleted blogs? They can't opt out!"

I was told by someone (not official) that he read "deleted blogs are all opted-out by default". However, he didn't recall the source, and I can't find it, so I can't guarantee that info. If I get more details - like if/when tumblr puts up that FAQ as reported in the 404 article - I will add it here as soon as I can.

Edit, tumblr has updated their help page for the option to opt-out of third-party sharing! It now states:

The content which will not be shared with our licensed network of content and research partners, including those that train AI models, includes: • Posts and reblogs of posts from blogs who have enabled the "Prevent third-party sharing" option. • Posts and reblogs of posts from deleted blogs. • Posts and reblogs of posts from password-protected blogs. • Posts and reblogs of posts from explicit blogs. • Posts and reblogs of posts from suspended/deactivated blogs. • Private posts. • Drafts. • Messages. • Asks and submissions which have not been publicly posted. • Post+ subscriber-only posts. • Explicit posts.

So no need to worry about your old deleted blogs that still have reblogs floating around. *\o/*

But for your existing blogs, please use the opt out option. And a reminder of how to opt out, under the cut:

The opt-out toggle is in Blog Settings, and please note you need to do it for each one of your blogs / sideblogs.

On dashboard, the toggle is at https://www.tumblr.com/settings/blog/blogname [replace "blogname" as applicable] down by Visibility:

For mobile, you need the most recent update of the app. (Android version 33.4.1.100, iOs version 33.4.) Then go to your blog tab (the little person icon), and then the gear icon for Settings, then click Visibility.

Again, if you have a sideblog, go back to the blog tab, switch to it, and go to settings again. Repeat as necessary.

If you do not have access to the newest version of the app for whatever reason, you can also log into tumblr in your mobile browser. Same URL as per desktop above, same location.

Note you do not need to change settings in both desktop and the app, just one is fine.

I hope this helps!

[always-just-red]

Hii! I've seen some Pregnancy scenario with LaD's men, but I have this HC-- personally for Sylus. That when fem!reader got pregnant, he didn't really understand how the Pregnancy hormones work, until he experienced one and he got confused how he should act or react because it's feels like he's walking on landime, one wrong move/word, she'd throwing tantrum or being sulky at him

I've heard from my Friend who got pregnant before, when she craving something and her Husband showing any form that he can't fulfill what she's craves, she felt her heart broken, and she'd sulk and acted as if he just cheated on her. The problem is, she always craved something that didn't even exist at that moment😂, she's craving certain type of Mango while it's not even that Mango season, so nobody selling it. He literally being desperate to negotiate with her cravings

So... Can I request a scenario smiliar like that? It doesn't have to be mango, or any foods. Just... how Pregnancy hormones or Cravings could make Sylus got frustated lol

Aaaaa anon this is adorable, thank you! We love making Sylus suffer in cute and harmless ways. He's always asking for trouble, so let's give him some! 😌💅

Something Sweet

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: Sylus knows how to get what he wants. Getting what you want might be a little more tricky...

Genre: fluff!

Warnings/Additional tags: female!reader, IMPLIED pregnant!reader (pregnancy not actually mentioned or described- just hormones being hormones ✌), established relationship, canon pet names, a lil bit of roleplay because Sylus refuses to leave his Mystic Adventure era

| Word count: 2.1k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Sy, d’you know what I’m craving right now?”

“Always, sweetie.” Sylus doesn’t look up from his book. “Not now, though. I’m tired.”

Morning sunlight streams through the gaps in your living room curtains, casting pale yellow shapes over the floor. A shard of it has been inching over the sofa towards Sylus, the sharp edge now grazing the side of his face. He shifts, ever so slightly, away from its touch. His eyes are open but heavy.

“No,” you scold, leaning forwards to swat at him with your book. “That’s not what I meant, you narcissist.”

He chuckles with his usual low timbre— his gaze still not lifting— and the sound is deeper for how close he is to sleep. He wants to give in to it, you can tell. When he turns a page, the movement is languid, soft. You’re losing him.

“Sy,” you say again, then with more of a whine: “Sylus.”

His eyes flutter closed as he draws in a deep breath. His hand raises, his fingers stretching to pull his reading glasses from his face. They’re set down on the arm of the chair beside him, along with the book, and he turns to you with a smile. “What are you craving, sweetie?”

You rest your book on your stomach. Your legs are stretched out over Sylus’s lap, and his hand finds one of your feet, massaging an ache from it as you begin your speech. “Do you remember that café we used to go to? The one we found when it started raining in the park that day? We didn’t think it was open, but then the owner knocked on the window and said we could—”

“Yeah?” His hand moves to your other foot.

“Well, they make these—”

“Macarons.”

“You remember?”

His smile widens like he remembers vividly. “Kitten, how could I forget? I’m still jealous of that sweet little treat. You’ve never made that face for me, and believe me—” he wiggles one of your toes— “I’ve tried.”

That had been one of the only times you’d truly caught him off-guard, back when your feelings for one another were unnamed and uncharted. The rain had been drumming against the café window, and you’d heaved Sylus’s damp coat from your shoulders— giggled at the raised eyebrow and the sarcastic ‘…thanks’ he’d given in turn. One hot drink later, you were lifting a pastel pink macaron to your lips, taking a delicate bite and failing to stifle a tiny, almost euphoric moan.

You remember realising yourself: blushing profusely and expecting some remark, some ridicule, but none ever came. Sylus’s eyes were wide, dark, fixed upon your still parted mouth.

After a few of the longest seconds of your life, he’d dragged the plate with the rest of the macarons away from you and muttered something about how you had better not do that again.

“They’re still the sweetest things I’ve ever tasted,” you tease now, just as you’d wrestled him for that plate back then, set on eating every last macaron.

He makes a hmph as he idly runs a finger over the part of your foot he knows is ticklish. His expression is distinctly grumpy, but it falters as you laugh and try to writhe away from him.

You’re quickly out of breath. “Sylus?”

“Mmm?”

He glances up at you and you smile sweetly, head tilting. “Please?”

His coat on a rainy day. The entire plate of macarons in the end; he’s never been very good at denying you anything. For the first time since you’d stirred him from his book, however, he appears genuinely regretful. “You’re forgetting something, sweetie,” he murmurs gently. “Why did we stop going to that café, hmm?”

You shrug.

“It closed, kitten,” he sighs. “Months ago.”

“What?”

Not only did you already know that— you actually visited the café on its final day. The owner was telling you stories: he was moving somewhere warmer, closer to family, and he needed all the funds he could get. Sylus had snuck an obscene amount of money into the man’s tip jar whilst you acted as a distraction. You both had fond memories of that place; it was nice to make one more.   

It's all coming back to you and you’re struck by a wave of nostalgia. You want to go back there. You can’t go back there. It doesn’t exist anymore, and you’ll never taste sweetness like that again.

Your mouth has gone dry.

“Sweetie?” Sylus prompts, because he notices you’re far away. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” your voice wobbles, “I just really wanted… I mean, I really needed one of those—”

“… Macarons?” he finishes for you.

You burst into tears, and one day, you’ll tally this as another time you took the man by surprise. His face drops instantly— lost, for a moment— before he slides your legs from his lap, allowing him to lean closer. “No, no, no,” he coos, “don’t cry, kitten, please. I didn’t mean to�� well, I didn’t realise…”

He doesn’t know what to say, and he always knows what to say. He set you off with a single word and now he’s stuttering like sentences are all possible landmines. He tries his luck again, putting a foot forward: “Listen to me. I’ll go to the store. Would that be alright? Or perhaps there’s another café that could—”

You explode: sobbing even more viscerally. Your whole body shakes with it.

Sylus has frozen. He watches on helplessly as you cry, blabbering about the macarons you can’t have and the café you can’t return to. Across the room, even Mephisto has hunched down on his perch, though he issues a few, spirited squawks, maybe in solidarity with your breakdown, or maybe in protest of it.

It’s like a catalyst. You cry more: burying your face in your hands because what the hell is wrong with you? It’s not a big deal. It’s not a big deal, so why do you feel sick? And then there’s Sylus— your Sylus, devoted and adoring— and here you are, punishing him for something beyond his control.

You look up from your hands, desperate to apologise, but he’s gone. More shards of sunlight paint his empty seat and catch all that’s left of him: a few crow feathers, glistening like onyx. Mephisto is gone too, and the room is quiet, save for you snivelling and feeling sorry for yourself.

“Sylus?” you call out into the empty morning.

It isn’t his fault, not really. You wouldn’t want to be around you, either.

…

Something brushes over your cheek, and your tired eyes open.

The sun has ebbed back behind the curtains and the ceiling light has taken its place, casting artificial highlights over everything in reach: the coffee table, the closed-up flowers at its centre and a mug of tea that’s gone cold. Sylus is in front of you too, backlit and soft like a daydream, and he—

He left you.

“Sy?” you whisper warily, because the context is coming back to you slowly, piece by piece.

“Hey,” he coaxes, voice as honeyed as whatever’s turned the air sweet.

You blink, rubbing sleep from your eyes and relishing the warmth of his hand on your face. Then you slap his shoulder. “Hey, really? That’s all you’ve got— hey?”

He’s kneeling for you— on the floor, beside the couch— so you can meet his eyes. He settles his chin thoughtfully on the edge of the seat, his nose almost touching yours. “What would you prefer, sweetie?” His lips are close to yours too. “Good evening, my beloved? Greetings, my queen?”

“How about sorry?” you snap, because he isn’t cute and he isn’t charming.

He pouts. “Why sorry?”

“Because you left, Sylus!” You sit up straighter, and your phone tumbles out of your lap. Its screen is still lit-up from a few hours ago, showcasing a very one-sided conversation and a rant you never actually sent, because it’s still in the text box.

You vaguely recall writing it, so you try to snatch the phone from Sylus’s hand as he plucks it from the floor. He’s more alert than you. More co-ordinated. He keeps it out of your grasp as he reads the unsent message, an eyebrow raising.

It was a lot of things— colourful, creative— not entirely tasteful. “My, my, your highness,” he tuts, “so this is the treatment your valiant knight receives for undertaking your quest?”

“You’re not valiant,” you rebuke, and you manage to wrestle your phone from him. “You’re—”

“A heartless prick,” he finishes casually, quoting your message with a chuckle. He takes your free hand and kisses the back of it, refusing to let you pull away. “And whose fault is that, I wonder?”

“You can have your heart back.”

“Nope. You’re stuck with it, sweetie. With me, too. Now—” he sits back on his knees— “would you please ask me about my quest?”

The analogy is lost on you. You sit fully up, looking down at him. “What quest, oh valiant knight?”

His lips form a smirk; he just loves when you play along. “Close your eyes.”

You do— whether you’re queen or not. You hear him shifting aside, and then there’s a snap of his fingers. The air changes, warping like thick, liquid smoke, and you know he’s using his Evol. “Open,” he commands.

And there on the coffee table, freshly teleported, is a plate of macarons the colour of cherry blossoms. As if anticipating the comparison, Sylus pulls a handful of pink petals from his pocket and blows them up into the air so they can spiral down on the scene. He watches them. Then you. “Ta-da,” he proclaims, his tone dry but full of humour.

You’re prone to hyperbole nowadays, but this is without a doubt the best thing you have ever seen.

“Sylus,” you gasp in disbelief, “how did you—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says; the story isn’t for today, and he’s very, very tired. A few weeks from now he’ll tell you about how he tracked down the contact information of the owner of the old café. How he spent an hour on the phone bargaining for a certain macaron recipe, and several more hours in the kitchen, trying to get them perfect. “Now, they might not be exactly the same, sweetie. But I did try to—”

You surge forwards, capturing his lips in a kiss. It’s so impulsive— so reckless— that you almost tumble down from the couch, but he catches you, steadies you, and your hand is gripping the soft of his hair as he kisses you back. Slowly, his mouth not leaving yours, he lifts you back into your seat.

“Easy, sweetie.” His voice is low as he pulls away, and though he turns his face from you, you can make out the blush on his cheeks. He settles back into his kneeling position on the floor. “I have one more surprise for you. Do try to control yourself.”

He retrieves a small, complete flower from his pocket, albeit one a little dreary from its journey. Sylus smiles triumphantly as he holds it out to you, and he was right; you do want to throw yourself at him. Instead, you take the flower and lean forwards, tucking it behind his ear before he can protest. He’d tilted closer to help you, and he sits back with an exasperated tsk when you’re done.

“It suits you,” you grin.

He yawns. “Everything does.”

You don’t want to get into trouble, so you shimmy to the very edge of your seat and carefully— showing tremendous restraint— reach out to take his face in your hands. “You’re amazing, Sy. Thank you for doing all of this for me, but…”

“But…?”

“I missed you. I like macarons, yeah,” you smile, “but I’d much rather have you.”

This time, he can’t hide his face and the way it goes pink, like the blossom behind his ear. His cheeks are warm beneath your palms. “You couldn’t have said that before I spent the whole day—”

His voice is strangled as you keel towards him— slow and deliberate— to thread your arms around him and pull him into a hug. He tenses for a moment, then wraps his arms around you too: holding you tightly, keeping you from falling any further. You can feel his hand stroking your back and he hums as you give him a gentle squeeze.

“Such a lovely moment, kitten,” he muses, your head on his shoulder. “I do hope it’s sincere, and not— say— an excuse for someone to get her paws on the macarons behind me.”

There’s another moment of quiet.

“Don’t be silly, Sy,” you retort, but your mouth is full, your cheeks are stuffed, and not a single word of it is intelligible.

[radiance1]

"Danny!" Danny turned around to find Plasmius, gunning straight for him on his motorbike, and came to a quick stop as if he wasn't about to run him over. "You need to keep your alternative self on a leash. You hear me?"

Danny took one long sip of his tea, staring Plasmius straight in the eyes, savored the taste for a moment before swallowing. "Nuh uh."

"What do you mean 'Nuh uh'!?"

"Nuh uh."

Plasmius straight up hissed, red eyes glowing from beyond his pair of sunglasses as he stared the teenager down. "Do you know how many times he's woken me up, before the sun itself is up, just to annoy me into spending valuable hours of my time with him!?"

Danny took another sip of his tea, reaching a hand under his shirt to scratch his stomach. "That sounds like a you problem, really."

"Da-"

"You know he's also made from you right? If I had to fight him, you're going to be annoyed by him." Danny stated plainly, making a gesture with his thermos. "Also, it's a bonus for me since you're too busy to do your frootloop things-"

Plasmius grabbed Danny by the back of his shirt and wrinkled his nose. "You really need to get better pajamas than a simple shirt and oversized pants." He placed the boy under his arm and took the sky. Danny idly shifted to Phantom as he took another sip. "So like, where're you taking me?"

"To go and put stop to that imbecile."

"You know I had plans today."

"Ice cream for a month, all from my card."

Phantom humed. "Make it two."

"Deal."

Phantom flexed his fingers. "...Three..."

"Doable."

"Oh, you're actually serious about this."

A drive later

You see, Dan was having the time of his life. Strongarming that old man at the asscrack of dawn, driving to Metroplis and causing mass amounts of property damage with the crown jewel being that he got to chase around Superman in an attempt to run him over.

He should've expected something to go wrong.

One moment, he was casually minding his business, trying to trample one of the Earth's greatest heroes under his motorbike. The next he was nearly knocked off of it when something slammed into him.

"Ello." Phantom said calmly, as if he wasn't just thrown by Plasmius right into his alternative self from a future that no longer exists. "Twerp." Dan also said 'calmly' as he grabbed onto Phantom and lifted him off of him.

Then dropped him.

Superman was very quick to catch the boy. "Thanks." Phantom said, and Superman smiled. "You're welcome! Are you here to pick him up now, or are you just waiting?"

"I'm getting three months worth of ice cream if I stop him now so like, pick him up I guess."

Superman help him up under the armpits and faced him towards Dan. "He's here to pick you up, by the way!"

"I fucking heard that!" Dan shouted at Superman before turning his attention to Phantom. "Also, what the fuck! You can't just do that! Did that old fuck put you up to this!?"

"Whaaaat? Noooo, he would neveeer..." Phantom glanced around, looking for Plasmius before clicking his tongue. There was an unfortunate lack of said halfa to throw under the bus. "If you stop for like, now, I'll share some of my ice cream with you."

Dan genuinely considered this proposal. "Know what, fine." He yanked Phantom from Superman's hold and dropped him onto the seat beside him before driving away.

"Enjoy your ice cream!" Superman shouted.

"Shut the fuck up boy scout!" Dan shouted back.

[thecameronchronicles]

A Cup Of Sugar

TW: age-gap (reader's over 18.), dirty talk, sex without condom, manipulative behavior.

SUMMARY: Your next door neighbor and crush asks for a favor and leaves with something else...

A Cup of Sugar

The blue house with the white shutters has always been a staple to your cul-de-sac community since you could remember. Block parties pulled everyone together through fake smiles to save face for those who would more than likely be thrilled to not have to speak ever again. But in the politics of jealous wives and HOAs came one glimmer of peace in your existence.

The man in the blue house and white shutters.

Rafe Cameron.

He stood classified to his thoughts, his eyes always dancing over some shaven blades of grass paid to appear so perfect. He offered the waves to those to his caliber and always left you with a kind smile before slipping back inside. And this is how it had been for two decades. Since you were the little girl with pigtails who walked over with your parents to welcome him and his wife to the neighborhood before you could even look him in the eyes. And now, you dreamed of those eyes looking down on you for an entirely different reason.

You were always on the cusp of being noticed, putting increases effort when it was least expected. Even going out to check the mail you made yourself flawless in what you could, only ever getting the politeness from him.

At least until your eighteenth birthday. You caught his gazes lingering, your heart picking up speed, and his words a bit more adult than normal.

-------

A knock pulls you from the mundane afternoon where even the recent slew of TikTok trends over your FYP page do little to pass the time. Once opening the door, you silently curse not giving yourself a once-over in your camera before pulling it open.

"Mister Cameron. My dad isn't here..." The corner of his lips pull upwards.

"I know. I'm sorry to bother you, uh...do you have any sugar?" You stare, helplessly lured and anchored into the beckoning of him. Having always been attracted to the forbidden man across the street of blue eyes full of intimidation and cautious hands silently strong, you find it difficult to keep from showing it.

"Sugar? Um...let me check..." You move inside and hear him follow in uncertain steps before the door finally closes.

Once you come to the cabinet full of baking ingredients seldom used, already aware if you have any sugar it is probably more in brick form than edible, you play the time anyway to keep him in your company.

"Is Madison making something for Cheer or-"

"Let me help..." He stands behind you, shadowing you enough to nearly swallow you in his height alone, as he reaches over the cabinet.

"This cabinet?" You nod, facing him. His smirk remains on you as he makes no effort to actually seek out the sugar and simply holds his hand beside you as if to block you in.

"Mister Cameron..."

"Did you know that when your window is open at night that I can hear you in my backyard?" You blush, trying to imagine if there was anything embarrassing you had done. Played music too loud? Argued with your (now ex) boyfriend and it keeping him awake? Talked to yourself? Only God, it wasn't about him was it?

"Did I? I'm sorry. If I was too loud-"

"I can hear everything from the concerts you put on...to that which you do after you think everyone has gone to sleep..." He leans against you, his cologne dizzying you.

"I..." There is no mystery to his thinly veiled innuendo.

"You heard..." You can't say the words aloud, never having the chance as nobody else has ever been so brazen.

"Everything, Y/N. Or at least enough to know exactly what it is you need..." You blink in disbelief as all words thicken on your tongue, refusing to formulate.

"I-"

"You don't have to deny it. I know exactly what you need....Let me give it to you?" You swallow hard, trying to understand how this is happening. Manifestation truly works if your silent prayers had gone unanswered.

"I don't know-"

You are lifted onto the counter and he stands between your parted legs. It is a quick moment that feels as if it is in slow motion to the feeling of his hands on you.

"You want to know what else I know?" You swallow and nod, curiosity succeeding over logic.

"You can only come with my name on your tongue..." He kisses you with intent. Not to be gentle or loving but to claim. He doesn't wait for you to find breath or even steady against him as he uses the grip on your hips to pull you to him. You hold at his shirt for stability and it only makes him growl as your nails find him instead.

"You need what only I can give you, isn't that right, sweetheart?" You nod, too intoxicated by his touch to want to tempt fate to sober.

"I know nobody will be home for at least a few hours. You know how I know? Because I made sure of it. Now open those thighs for me-" You open and he scoffs, rubbing his jaw as he sees you not only eager but ready as you've completely soaked through your panties.

"I've had to listen for months while you got yourself off thinking nobody could hear you. But I did. And I wondered if you were doing it just to fuck with me or if you were really REALLY that desperate to come...next time, you say my name I'm taking it as a call and I'll make you come. Bet this sexy fucking ass on that." He grips the part of your ass exposed to him before he leans forward.

"Because I've had to hear you and now, you're gonna show me..." He pulls your panties to the side and rubs his cock up and down those lips.

"God, you're so fucking wet, it's almost pathetic." He moans before pushing the bulbous head of his dick closer to your entrance.

"Yesssss." He hisses as you gasp. He's wide, thick, and hot in every sense of the word. The coarse hair usually hidden to the naked eye is now stroking against you as he pulls back far enough to see the slickness you left behind on him.

"That's it....coat my fucking cock." He groans as he continues to thrust brutally and withdraw in almost torturous strides as you are breathless and wordlessly in awe. It is erotic, and almost painful, before he huffs.

"You sound so much better stuffed with me than whatever you were doing. What was it? Hmmm? Your fingers?" You nod, embarrassment rising up your body.

"And it was only me you thought of, yeah? None of those useless boys who can only dream of filling you like I can, right?" When you don't answer, he grips the back of your neck. "RIGHT?!"

You nod as he hoists your flat feet up to the counter so you're completely wide to him. His speed is no longer traceable as he's just pounding into you. Hand stabilizing himself in the cabinet above you, he rams into you with the force awakening something bold within you. You claw at his back and through his hair before kissing him again, instigating it all as he reciprocates with heady excess.

"Trying to get me to notice you in those bikinis and shorts like I could ever ignore you? Fuck, Y/N you're so wet for me aren't you? Gonna come hard? Maybe I should make you wait like you made me." He patronizes behind a humored growl. His head comes back, throwing it in pleasure as his face comforts, mouth wide and almost in disbelief as he grips the flesh of your hips with a punishable clutch.

"You need to come, you come to me. For me."

"Mister Cameron-"

"You call me Rafe when I'm this deep inside of you. Understand?"

"Yes R-Rafe."

"Good. Now scream it while I make you come and then I fill you up." The kitchen shudders around you as he thrusts and retracts, in and out, hard and deep. You were already sore but now you feel expanded and exhausted as he grips the back of your neck and pushes his mouth against yours. Not to kiss, to inform, and maybe even earn through a clenched repetition of "mine".

"Say it!" He calls out as you nod, agreeing in desperation as he showcases his approval on the final snaps of his hips before you feel him flood your womb in all that you were responsible for.

"Ahh fuck, yes I needed that..." He sighs as you keep your eyes on him as he pulls out of you. Without a care to clean up anything more than the space between you, he conceals himself back within his pants and shakes his head.

"So fucking sweet." He walks to the door and you're suddenly left half naked and empty.

"Wh-what about the sugar you needed?" You question, hoping it'll make him stay. With his brilliant smile and tempting lips purposed to a smirk, he grins.

"I got what I came for,. sweetheart." You sit in awe, realizing he took more than he left, including the fact you hadn't come. It was a play for power you gave him willingly and as much as you wanted to be the one in control, you knew you'd falter against him. Having a taste of him, you were eager for the next. Suddenly addicted to the man across the street you've loved and lusted for in equal measure since you could remember...

MASTERLIST

[loulovingho]

“Hey, Cutie. What's your name?”

Buck stopped digging to look up at the man, using the back of his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “Buck,” he replied simply, sucking in a deep breath.

“Buck?” he questioned. “Just Buck?”

Buck sighed. “Evan Buckley. Most people call me Buck.”

The man smiled. “Evan's nice. I like Evan. I'm gonna call you Evan.”

“My boyfriend's really the only one who does that.”

The man stepped closer, invading Buck's personal space. “You're already taken?”

“I- I am,” Buck replied, tripping over his words. Now that he was closer, this man did have some beautiful blue eyes. They nearly stared right into his soul.

“Hm.” The man shook his head. “That's a shame,” he looked Buck up and down. “You're really... really hot.”

“Pr- Probably from the wildfire th- that's nearby.”

The man laughed. Damn, even his laugh did something to Buck. “Maybe,” he shrugged. “But I think you'd look good no matter what.”

“I really, um, I need to get back to digging, so the fire doesn't spread.”

“Looks like you could use a break to me.” The man pulled a bottle of water from his pocket, and the sight of it nearly made Buck's dry mouth start to water. “Ice cold, just for you.”

And well, it would almost be rude not to take the water. So he did.

He twisted the cap off and drank nearly half the bottle down. He couldn't help but notice the man watched every gulp, staring at his throat like he wanted to lick the sweat right off.

“Thank you,” Buck said once he finished. He went to hand the bottle back, but the man shook his head.

“That's yours,” he said. “Can't have a man as handsome as you passing out from dehydration. Someone may have to give you mouth to mouth.”

Buck swallowed hard. “Th- Then why'd you give me the water?”

Buck watched the man's blue eyes darken, his breathing picking up. He reached out, tugging on the collar of Buck's wildland gear to fix it. “You've gotta be careful, Evan. I don't usually go for taken men, but I might have to change my mind.” His hand slowly ran down Buck's chest as he pulled away from him.

Buck's breath hitched. He couldn't look away from this man. Couldn't help all the feelings bubbling up deep in his gut. “I... I don't even know your name.”

“Might be better that way,” the man replied, taking another step closer. His eyes moved down to Buck's lips. “I'll be able to remember you forever, and you can go back to your boyfriend and forget I ever existed.”

“I- I don't know if I could do that.”

“What? Go back to your boyfriend? Or forget me? Cause-”

“Dear God,” Eddie interrupted, exasperated. “You know other people can hear you, right? Get a room, or better yet, get a truck. I'll cover for you if it'll get you two to stop... whatever the hell this is.”

Buck sighed, resting a hand on his hip as he turned to Eddie. “We were just getting to the good part.”

“You've done this before?!” he exclaimed.

“Two days ago,” Hen informed him as she passed by. She gave a wave to the man. “Hey, Tommy.”

“Hi, Hen. Eddie,” he greeted with a nod and a smile.

Eddie groaned. “You two are pathetic.”

“Oh, are they doing that weird roleplay thing again?” Chimney asked as he walked up beside Eddie.

“You've heard it too?”

“I think half the firefighters in the county have heard it by now.”

“Three weeks!” Buck reminded them, holding up three fingers for emphasis. “We've been here for three weeks without more than a few seconds alone. Let me have this.”

Eddie raised his hands in surrender. “I'm gonna go get me a water since, apparently, it doesn't matter if I pass out from dehydration.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “I'll bring you a water next time.”

“What about me?” Chimney asked. “Because, if I remember right, you'll have to give me mouth to mouth if I fall to the ground.”

“I will bring everyone water next time.” Tommy spoke loudly, so everyone around could hear.

“That's better,” Chimney said. He patted Eddie on the shoulder. “Come on, let's give the lovebirds a minute.”

Tommy turned back to Buck. “As much as I'd love to finish the scene,” he said once the others had walked away, “I do have to go. I told my group I'd only be five minutes.”

Buck couldn't help his pout, but he also knew he had to get back to work too. “When we get home, if we ever get to go home, we're not putting on clothes for three days.”

Tommy smiled, nose scrunching up. “Deal,” he agreed. He leaned in and gave Buck a quick peck on the lips. “I gotta go. Love you, Cutie,” he said with a wink.

Before he could walk off, Buck grabbed his turnouts and pulled Tommy back for one more kiss before letting him go. “Love you too. Be safe.”

[aayakashii]

soooo I wrote this for the art god @devotion-disorder because

1- they're one of my favorite artists ever!!!!!!! And they're someone who portrays yanderes in such a 😙🤌 chef's kiss way that I can't help but admire

2- I am obsessed with their oc kuuya

but if you'd rather I delete it, just let me know!!

Warnings: NSFW, yandere behavior, unhealthy obsession !!! Minors DNI !!!

Part 2 of this fic here <3

The skin on the nape of your neck prickled, making you shiver at the strange sensation.

The steady gaze outside your window was so piercing and unmoving that it could be as sharp as needles nicking your skin.

Although, if you were to be fully honest, it felt more like a knife.

It would be just another night, if it wasn't for the fact that your co-worker lurked outside your house.

"Kuuya", you mouthed his name, just to feel how it moves against your lips, because you could never really say it during daytime without having him spiral headfirst into a meltdown.

Kuuya was a disaster.

He never talked to you.

You would sometimes catch him staring at you during work, which made him blush like an anime schoolgirl, but that was the extent of his interaction with you.

He was a regular employee, didn't stand out much, nor caused problems. He was just... there. Constantly looking exhausted, with his back hunched and in the verge of a mental breakdown.

And you were so attracted to that mess of a man.

Your friends would probably frown and sigh if they knew, but they were also pretty much aware of your type: sickly victorian-looking men, anemic, with extremely dark circles under their eyes, who probably sneeze a lot and shake like chihuahuas.

And, hey, that was Kuuya to a T. How could you not have a crush on him?

You soon realized, however, that he probably had a few screws loose.

It started slow, a few things going missing. First it was a pen, then some of your hair ties, then old post-it notes you had forgotten about, until their absence reminded you of their existence.

These things were inconsequential.

You wouldn't even notice their disappearance, if it wasnt for the fact that one day you saw Kuuya with a fluffy hair tie that looked way too similar to yours to be a coincidence. It even had the same little star charm that yours had.

And then you noticed the pens, carefully placed inside a cup near his computer.

And the erasers, the post-its, the pencils, all the other office appliances that you were pretty sure were yours.

But they weren't, right?

That was just your fertile imagination playing tricks on you.

Right?

One day, just to erase this silly idea from your head – I mean, you were probably just paranoid – you waited until you saw Kuuya take a break from his assignments and make his way to the bathroom.

You observed through the corner of your eyes how he stared at you while making his way to the other side of the office, anxiously shaking your leg as you mentally egged him to hurry up and go to the damn toilet.

As soon as you were sure he was inside and you were out his sight, you bolted towards his desk, earning a few pissed off glances from your other coworkers.

You had to work quickly though, since you didnt know how long he would take to come back. Looking over your shoulder constantly, you opened the drawers under his desk, searching for something and feeling silly all the while (what if you're the crazy paranoic one for real?), until your hands haphazardly touched some papers and you heard the sound of crinkles.

Looking over your shoulder one more time to make sure he wasn't around, you lifted the papers and mouthed a silent "oh." as you saw what was underneath them.

Dozens and dozens of candy wrappers, discarded notes and even more of those old post-its laid organized in what you could say was impeccable fashion, if it wasnt for the fact that it was all trash.

Your trash.

In the back, you saw some plastic bags with questionable contents, but your anxiety was in an all time high and you decided to just put things back were they were and close the drawer.

You had your confirmation. He WAS crazy and you were still paranoid, but at least you were right.

You made way back to your desk and sighed, sitting down.

Conflicted feelings pooled in your gut.

You knew all of that meant that he was indeed crazy and obsessed and potentially dangerous, but also... you couldn't really deny the excitement that made butterflies fly all around in your stomach and the giddy feeling that made your heart race with expectations – of what, you didn't know.

And as these feeling swarmed you, you failed to realize the pair of eyes that were locked tight onto your figure from the very start.

If Kuuya could properly express his feelings, he would be moaning and whining in pure despair.

They saw everything. They saw where he keeps all his treasures he had been collecting for the past months.

But why?! Why did they even think about looking for that? Has Kuuya been acting too obvious? But he made sure he wouldn't be too creepy! Well, at least not as creepy as he truly wanted to be. How was that happening all of a sudden?!

The taste of copper interrupted his mental breakdown and he looked down at his thumb, where tiny droplets of blood appeared after he anxiously chewed it.

"It's okay, it's fine" he kept repeating in his mind, like a mantra. He'd just need to see how you'd act around him after that.

If you stopped interacting with him (even if most of those interactions were just good mornings and good evenings coming from YOU), he would probably just... end it all for once. Or maybe kidnap you so you wouldn't run away. Whatever crossed his mind first.

With his heart beating loud on his chest, Kuuya walked back to his seat and forced himself to work, spreadsheets and numbers flashing on his mind, unnoticed.

All he could think was of your hands rummaging through his drawers.

Oh god, your hands touched his things.

Kuuya exhaled sharply, rubbing his thighs together to alleviate the sudden discomfort in his groin. What would he do if you never even looked at his direction again? Sure, you could even report him to the HR, but not being able to see you was a fate worse than being fired!

His mind tumbled, wandering through every worst scenario possible, and in his despair, he didn't notice it was already time to clock out.

"Good evening, Kuuya." You say as you pass by him, nodding your head, with a tight smile.

'Huh?'

Kuuya stares at nothing in front of him, until the fact that you talked to him registers in his mind.

'HUH?'

You talked to him?

Wait.

Did you really see what was in his drawers? Was he just hallucinating? No, there's no way he was. He saw how your colleagues stared at you when you ran to his table. They SAW you. Just like he did. So you saw everything. And you don't hate him? What the fuck. You don't find him disgusting? What? What the hell.

He didn't understand.

He couldn't understand.

He had to understand.

And so, he led himself towards your house, hiding in the bushes right in front of your bedroom window.

How lucky was he that you didn't live in an apartment building?

He was there to understand you better. Just for that. And it'd be just this time, he swore. Just to see what was up with you.

His breath was ragged and heavy and his cheeks burned red. He bit his bottom lip tightly to keep any moan from escaping as he palmed himself through his pants, while he watched the way you stripped yourself of your work clothes.

Quickly undoing his belt buckle and his pants, he let himself be completely overtaken by pure lust and began pumping his dick mercilessly as he was graced with just a little bit more of your skin, right in front of him.

He saw you sigh as you got rid of your pants and his eyes rolled back, imagining how you'd sound if he was the one taking your clothes off.

Oh, what would he give to be able to jump through your window and grab one of your dirty clothes and get drunk on your scent...

The thought made him buck his hips forward clumsily, and he gritted his teeth, hard.

Well, fuck.

He panted, while he observed the way his cum dripped from the leaves of the bush, and as coherent thoughts started flowing back to his mind, he suddenly hoped he wasn't moving too much to catch your attention.

You hadn't even looked his way, so he was safe, right?

Right?

You rubbed your thighs together as you kept your back turned to the window. The windowpane was open, in order to allow the wind to flow through your bedroom, and due to this little fact, you could hear a faint sound coming from the plants right in front of your window.

A quiet, almost indiscernible (if you weren't paying close attention) plap plap plap sound.

You bit your lip to keep your grin from spreading through your lips.

The dumbass was masturbating! Right there! Right in front of your room!

You sighed, feeling the heat pool in between your legs, but controlled your instinct to pull him out from wherever he was and fuck him silly in your bedroom.

You desired him so fucking much. You thrived in his attention, like a sunflower leaning towards rays of light.

The thing is: while you loved his obsession, you were also deathly afraid that he would lose interest in you as soon as he found out how much you also wanted him.

Much like a cat who discards a prey. Except this cat was wet, sad, pathetic and still, you were ridiculously eager to keep playing dead so he would put his grimy, sticky little paws on you just a little bit more.

How would Kuuya feel, you wondered, if he knew you were as obsessed with him as much as he was with you?

[earth4angels]

𝐂𝐨𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫

modern!jacaerys x ballerina reader ─── first clumsy kisses on the bleachers, fluff, MAJOR FLUFF, jace is a little piece of shit in the beginning, aegon is the best friend we all need sometimes, blind date, jace acts possessive - major simp too.

summary: it takes a very braggy best friend who says he is the best cupid to ever exist for you to finally accept a blind date. however, you did not expect to cross paths with the one male who everyone wanted, a reputation of a lady-man but what could be worse? right?

a/n: this one i do want to make a series but i'll see how it's treated first so pls lemme know. listen to lovesick by laufey as you read (trust me)

jace tag list: @jacaerysgf @star611, @jules420, @gracexthoughts, @astrxq, @reyndaisy , @hxtd , @smurfelle , @nanaldy @valdezthg @littleblackcatinwonderland @nixtape-foryou @starrgurl46 @ethereal-athalia @stelleduarte @canyonmoon-2 @ambrosia-v-black

"Y/n, again. You are not lifting your leg high enough!"

You turned your head to look at your dance teacher who stood behind you, with a scolding face. You sighed, already irritated that you had to skip your friend's home welcoming party for practice.

As the music started playing again, you twirled. Your feet glided through the marble floor, the music becoming you, and for a while, you created a storyline with every bounce, and twirl you made. The final note was played as your body twirled then bent upward with your hands elegantly stretched outwards.

You looked like a painting and the few lookers that were in the room with you stared in awe. You breathed heavily through your nose as you remained in the final position until your instructor spoke.

"Amazing y/n! I feel like you hit the emotion straight in the face! I think we're done here," your instructor said, "Get out of here, enjoy the weekend off, I will see you Tuesday morning for the last rehearsals. Your audition will be on Saturday, do not forget!"

You smiled giddy that you could go early as you missed your best friend. He was finally home after visiting his grandparents, and though you and he stayed connected through Facetime, you longed to hug him.

"Thank you, Miss Royce, I will be there!" You scrambled to grab your bag; you bounced in your ballet shoes as you fell onto the floor untying the laces at a rapid pace. Your phone rang then, and you sighed in annoyance yet still picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"I cannot believe the one person that I wanted to see the most is not here. What do you take me as?" Aegon whined making you smile widely.

"Aegon!!!! I promise! I finished practice early! I'm heading over to you as fast as I can!" You slipped on your ballet slippers moaning softly at the difference between your pointe shoes and your soft slippers that relieved the pain on your feet.

"You better! Helaena and Aemond are bitching off my ear how you're not here!"

At that, you heard the voices of his siblings yelling over the phone asking about your whereabouts. You laughed at Aegon yelling, "that's MY best friend you idiots! Quit bothering!"

"Hurry! You don't have to call or anything when you arrive, the door is opened, just come to the back!"

You laughed again, hanging up after saying your goodbyes. Your velvety nude sling bag bounced with every running step you took as you ran to your car.

The house was lit up in pretty lights, you figured it was Helaena's doing along with Rhaena's, they were always the decorators when it came to parties. As you parked your car in front, you moved towards the door finding yourself hit with strong alcohol and loud music.

A scream was heard and then you were suddenly surrounded by long limbs. You huffed as the breath was taken from you, "Ooof!"

"I can't believe you are here! I have missed you so much!"

You moved your head back to see who had hugged you and when you saw their face you squealed. Both of you now bouncing, squealing together like young girls.

"Oh my gosh! Hels! You look so beautiful!"

Helaena rolled her eyes, "You are so much more beautiful! I have missed you so much, I will never leave longer than 2 months I promise!"

You hugged her tightly again muttering into her chest as she was taller than you were - how much you missed her.

"Come, the boys would want to see you!"

As you were taken to the backyard of the house you found yourself with a large crowd of people, you realized this was no longer a small gathering but rather a party. You scoffed, ah Aegon. You arrived at a ping pong table where Aegon was playing against Aemond, cheers were thrown left and right every single time they landed a shot.

You quietly stood in the middle of the table, eyeing the brothers' match, grinning softly at them throwing insults at each other. You knew it was all child's play as you knew they loved each other, but they were competitive.

"Fuck! Seven hells! You cheated!" Aegon exclaimed as he missed the shot, Aemond smirked shrugging his shoulders.

"Tough luck brother, now are you taking the shots or are you too wuss to?"

Aegon sneered, yet he never backed down, he leaned forward and grabbed all six shots, one by one they went down his throat. He shook his head and lifted his arms up as the crowd went wild. Aegon screamed with them as he was smiling boastfully.

You cleared your throat, "It's come to my attention that the jackass has not left you."

Aegon turned towards you, his soft uniquely lilac, with green-tinted eyes glimmered with joy, "Oh how much I missed you!"

You laughed as he swung you around in a tight hug, Aemond ran towards you as you were now wrapped in a group hug.

"I missed both of you idiots."

Aemond clicked his tongue, "You missed me more though, right?"

Aegon scoffed, "Shut your big chin up, again, she is MY best friend."

Your head moved from his face to Aemond as they bickered, your smile never faltering, "I missed both of you, I can't believe you guys left me for so long... I hate your mom for sending you to Oldtown."

Aegon huffed as he stuck a tongue out to his brother who did it back, "Careful babe, mom will punish you by denying you any sweet treats she bought you from home."

You gasped, "No way?" Aegon smiled as he nodded, "She bought me back treats? Why!? She didn't have to!"

Helaena who snuck her way into the group with a shot glass in her hand shoving it to your hand and nudging you to drink, "Mom loves you. I think she still wants to hook you up with Aegon."

You swallowed the tequila down, feeling the burning sensation for a few seconds before you and Aegon exclaimed together, "EW."

"She's like my sister."

"He's like my gay best friend I can never!"

Aegon stopped, before he looked at you in shock, "WHAT?"

You smiled teasingly, "Kidding," you whispered to Helaena who was grinning from the playful jabs both of you were making at each other, "Maybe."

"Okay, enough of that, let's have fun and we will catch up later, y/n sweetie, you will stay over tonight! No exceptions!"

You groaned as you got pulled into the crowd towards the homemade bar by Helaena. You did not remember much from that night besides maybe dancing too much, and accepting a body shot from some guy named Jake, or perhaps it was Jace? All you remember was how soft his lips were and how his arms held your thighs as he held you against the ping-pong table.

You groaned sitting up from the soft pillows, your head spinning in endless swirls, "Oh god... I am never drinking again."

"Sure, you're not."

You blinked, your head in your hands as you spotted Helaena next to you smiling at you teasingly. You groaned again falling back into the softness of the bed, scooting closer to her, making yourself in a small ball.

"Tell me how much of an idiot I was last night."

Helaena softly patted your hair, her finger combing through the rough tangles of your hair, "Ay. You didn't do much, you kind of deserved to have some fun. You are always practicing or studying."

"You know how badly I want to be a professional ballet dancer, I can't be a complete mess," you muttered into her chest where she continued combing your hair.

"You are perfect, not being a biased person here because you know, we're almost like sisters but I think you will be the best ballerina to ever exist, everyone will love you."

You kissed her cheek, muttering a soft thank you as you groaned again, hot flashes appearing, "Really though... how much of a clown was I?"

Helaena laughed then, "You practically made out with my nephew."

You shot up from her hold, your head spun again but paid no mind to the swirls, "Huh?! When?! I don't remember..." You trailed off mid-sentence as you forced your brain to remember said situation. You scrambled your hazy memories until it finally hit you.

You moaned in embarrassment as your hand gathered your forehead, "Oh... I remember... this is so embarrassing..."

Helaena laughed, "Relax, I think he won't remember either, both of you were pretty locked in though, until you..." She started laughing harder, "You vomited on his shoes."

You stared at her as she laughed, she was clutching her stomach from the ache that began to grow from the hard laughter she released. You sat in embarrassment, all the while you moaned from the pain and the shame that came to you.

You slapped your friend on the shoulder as she was heaving from laughing too much, "Hels! That's not funny!"

Wheezing she replied, "Relaaaax. I don't think you will ever see him again; my sister does not come around too much, she's busy running the family's business. So, chances of you ever crossing his path are 1 out of 10."

You hid in the pillow as the moaning came from the headache you were going through. What you did not expect was how quick you saw him again.

The library was calming, if there was any other place anyone would find you that was not the dance studio, you would be found in the library, reading. You slurped on your smoothie silently as your eyes scanned the words of the book, intrigued.

A rough bounce beside you made you gasp out loud, dropping your book onto the floor, your interruption grinning at you teasingly.

"Call me the best cupid to ever exist, I just got you a date!"

You rolled your eyes, picking up your book and settling back into the couch, your legs tucking under your behind, "No one asked, and no I am not going."

Aegon clicked his tongue, "I was not asking, I was informing you."

You looked up from your book, finding your best friend looking at you with mischief in his eyes, "Why would I do that? I am too busy anyways."

Aegon removed your book from your hands, putting it up in the air out of reach from your grabby hands that began to fight him.

"Exactly why! You are always practicing! You need a little spice, some drama in your life!"

You huffed as you gave up trying to get your book back, falling back to the couch and crossing your arms, "I am fine, thank you very much! I am fine being on my own, it does not interfere with my dance rehearsals, you know how much I need to nail this audition to be accepted to the ballet academy."

Aegon smiled softly, his blonde curls falling over his hazel, lilac eyes.

"I love you, y/n, I really do. But you need to get out there, you never know what you can come across with. Maybe it will be the best decision, maybe it will not. But the fact that you went through something new, is exciting. So please, enlighten yourself, go on one date."

Both of you stared at each other before you sighed, "Just one date? Then you'll leave me alone?"

He nodded rapidly, "Just one. Promise."

You leaned your head back, closing your eyes in thought, you figured, it wouldn't hurt to try having fun.

"Okay."

"Okay? Okay as in I will do it?"

You peeked an eye open finding Aegon bouncing on the couch in excitement, "Yes. I will do it."

He did a fist bump in the air as he cheered quietly, "I promise you won't regret it."

"Hopefully so."

Maybe it was a bad idea. The person who sat in the booth was in fact the person who you thought you were never going to see again. He sat with a sly smile. You were clenching your hands together in irritation, you found him incredibly annoying, yet he was so beautiful.

"Ah. I am so glad I came instead of Cregan."

You snapped your eyes up in anger, "What?!"

"Cregan was your blind date. Not me. He was just occupied sucking face with his ex-girl again that he did not come here, so I came. I wanted to see what prize I would get for being a best friend. I admit it is quite a treat for me."

Your hands itched to slap him but held back the anger that was filling your stomach, you almost wanted to cry but again, you held back. The male sitting in front of you crossed his arms, he was lean but muscular at the same time, he had very nice curls, and small but bright brown eyes that were easy to get lost in.

You were too into the drinks the night of Aegon's party to remember him but his lips... that you did remember. You blushed.

"Well," you cleared your throat, your eyes darting to the exit door of the restaurant, "this was fun, but I got to go for practice." You stood up, grabbing your bag and phone before a hand stopped you.

"Don't go. Look, I am sorry for being an ass. We can make use of the time and chat a little. If you don't want to stay after 10 minutes, I won't hold it against you. But I want to know you, I have seen you around."

You had two choices. Stay and get to know this guy or leave and swim in the shame of being stood up. You decided to hell with it, as you sat back down the booth slowly.

He smiled widely, his slight bunny teeth showing making you grin.

"My name is Jacaerys Velaryon, but you can call me Jace, everyone does anyways," he rambled, your lips quirked at the personality seeping out of him slowly. You introduced yourself, feeling a little flutter when he repeated your name softly.

The waiter came by to take your orders, Jacaerys was kind to ask what you wanted, recommending you the best choices. You felt more relaxed in his presence, he made it easy for you to open up. The food came in then, but the conversation never stopped.

He talked to you about his games, and his connection to your best friend. You found out he was in fact the co-captain of the soccer team. You heard a lot about the soccer team, how they hosted parties just to hook up with girls, or the famous captains that every girl wanted to make their boyfriends.

You grimaced at the thought you were now on the list of girls who he had dated. Shaking your head you continued to listen as you took small bites into your food, replying when asked a question.

"I have seen you. You dance very... pretty."

You choked on your pasta. His eyes widened as he reached out with a napkin whispering 'Oh shit, are you okay?' Your eyes watered but you gave a thumbs up.

"You've seen me dance?" You asked shyly.

"Have I seen you? Y/n, you are all they talk about in the halls. The next big performer of Westeros? You do not realize how much popularity you actually have do you? I have seen you once, practicing. You quite literally took my breath away."

Jacaerys muttered the last bit, he scratched his neck in shyness. You were practically red-faced; you did not dare to face him. His hand was placed on your right hand that was placed on the table, "I believe it though. You will make it big."

The flutters in your stomach made your toes curl, you wanted to hide and scream by the way he was staring at you. Jacaerys was grinning, his dimples showing slightly. He was beautiful.

"Thank... you?" you whispered, holding his hand now, watching him smile his hand now holding yours fully.

"You're welcome."

You did not want to admit it, but the date was in fact fun. You got to know him better as did he, you. You laughed at his attempt at making a whipped cream beard only for it to fall into his shirt and as he groaned, your heart fluttered. Jace, like he begged you to call him, was in fact the prime example of not judging a book by its cover.

When the check came, he quickly paid offering to take you home. In the car you sat listening to the radio in comfortable silence, you did not realize how much his hand twitched to hold yours.

"Well, we're here now."

You glanced at your home, silently cursing the time for going too quick. "Thank you for the ride, Jace. I had a lot of fun."

He smiled before it started to fade, you unbuckled your seatbelt slowly hoping that maybe... he would beg you to stay longer. He hesitated, your hand going for the door handle losing hope he was going to say something.

"Wait... y/n."

You reacted too fast for your liking, "Yes?"

"Meet me after the game? I'd like to take you somewhere."

You sat stunned before you stuttered, "As in... another date?"

His lips quirked to the side, the frat boy side slipping, "No. Just to hook up." That caused you to open your mouth to tell him off when he rolled his eyes, "Yes a date y/n."

You blushed; you did not know how much of his teasing you could take, "okay." You giggled into your hands as you closed your door, your cheek on fire holding a soft kiss made by the guy you never expected to make you feel so giddy inside. You hoped to see him again soon, and as you slept you dreamt of a curly, tall male with pretty freckles and brown eyes that looked like gems in the light.

You found yourself sitting in the bleachers surrounded by hordes of people. You had your ballet slippers on, your silk ballerina jumpsuit being covered by a skirt and a hoodie. You rushed after practice, sighing in relief when you only missed the first twenty minutes of the game.

Your classmates began looking at you not expecting to see you at a game. You never did come, Aegon begged you many times to go, to support Daeron who was also on the team. You always put practice as an excuse, but this time was different, Jace was playing, and he invited you.

You cheered whenever Jace scored, and as if he heard you, he would always throw his celebratory victories to you. Whether it was a wink or lame gun fingers. You jumped up and down as the team won their home game.

You waited by the bleachers, your feet dangling enjoying the chill of the night until you felt a jacket be dropped onto your shoulders. Jace sat next to you, his hair damped indicating his rushed shower. You sat in silence, his hands holding yours, with his thumbs caressing the front of your hands.

"Did you enjoy the game?"

You nodded, feeling too overwhelmed to speak.

"Let's make a deal yeah?" He leaned forward bending his head to face you clearly, your face growing hot when you spotted his bright brown eyes, from this angle you saw his freckles more clearly.

"Come to every single game of mine, and I will come to every dance recital, and rehearsal of yours. We will be each other's cheer squad."

Your heart grew warm, the appreciation and growing adoration for him becoming more intense. You only nodded, muttering a sincere promise as your hand reached towards his curls, brushing it to the side to avoid the droplets of water from his hair falling into his eyes. He grabbed your hand pulling you closer to him, your noses brushing.

You did not move as you did not want to seem desperate. You felt the minty breath of his, his hand holding yours as the other reached to cradle your face. You closed your eyes the moment you felt him move, your lips were wrapped with warmth, melting away every worry, growing the mass of butterflies that flew in your stomach. You met every movement of his lips, pressing yourself closer to him.

"Yo Jace! Quit making out! Are you coming to the party or not?" Cregan yelled from beneath the bleachers

You felt mutter a curse as you giggled. He pulled away still holding your hand, now intertwined with his. "Not tonight, I will be with my girl."

Cregan stopped, his jaw slacking, "Wh-at?" You even looked at him shocked. Jace only shrugged when he faced you before he looked towards his best friend, "Oh, and tell jack-ass Lannister that if I catch him sexualizing Y/n, I will beat his ass so bad he won't be able to play the playoffs."

Cregan only stood with his mouth open, shocked to see the one playboy who never wanted to commit to serious relationships in a deep make-out with a girl who he was serious about. Jace pulled you who was also stunned to his car, as both of you passed the still shocked Cregan, Jace patted him on the shoulder.

"Thanks man."

That night you sat in the back seat of his car, deep in make-out sessions, going over ice cream cones and listening to both of your favorite bands. As you sat wrapped in his strong arms you decided to question him your doubts.

"Why did you tell Cregan that?"

Jace hummed and if like he said nothing wrong, he responded lightly, "That we were together?"

You nodded, "And Lannister? What's that about?"

You felt him tense before he let out a big breath, "I plan to make you, my girlfriend. I can't stop thinking about you since I've met you. Lannister..." he huffed, "... is a jackass. A douche with no respect for anyone, if you ever cross paths with him or any of his goonies, turn the other way, and let me know if he ever does anything, promise me."

You swore you felt your heart wanting to explode, you wanted to confess your true feelings as well but felt too cowardly to do so, you only responded with a soft 'okay.' He pressed a kiss on your head, pressing you closer to his chest, you closed your eyes, hearing the soft thumps of his heart.

You fell harder for Jacaerys Velaryon that night, but you will never know how much he already loved you from afar. How when he saw you the night of Aegon's party he was shocked to see you there with a pretty light floral dress - he just did not expect to get so hammered like you were. And you definitely will never find out how Aegon texted Cregan the night after to meet you for a date when Jacaerys himself was using Cregan's phone.

You will never find out how quickly he deleted the message and went to meet you instead because this was finally his chance to talk to you, since you never turned your eye to him every time, he tried on purposely to catch your eye. You will not find out how he always stood by the door of your dance rehearsals seeing you twirl, and bounce as if you were flying in the air so prettily.

Jacaerys Velaryon has loved you deeply for a long time and he planned to love you always, you were the person he wanted to take to his mother and proudly say he wanted to marry you.

[tgcg]

the master baiter

TG: dont be mad

TG: ok thats like asking water not to be wet but

CG: WATER ISN'T FUCKING WET GOD DAMMIT.

TG: look whatever remember when you said you would die for me

TG: is that karkat in the room with us right now

======

CG: I'M DYING "FOR YOU" EVERY SINGLE TIME YOU PEEL OPEN THOSE SHIT-EATING LIPS YOU KEEP PULLED TAUT OVER YOUR DRONING IGNORANCE SHAFT.

TG: heheheh

======

CG: YOUR WORDSLUDGE SPEARS EVERY PARTICLE OF MY BODY WITH PINPOINT STRIDERIAN IDIOCY.

TG: oh shit here we go

CG: A VERBAL BARRAGE THAT PULVERIZES MY FLESH INTO A FINE RED MIST, KILLING ME INSTANTLY. WIPING ME THE FUCK OUT, TO SUCH AN INCREDIBLE DEGREE THAT PALEONTOLOGISTS CAN'T FULLY DISCERN IF A "KARKAT" FUCKING EXISTED IN THE FIRST PLACE.

CG: THEY'D BE SCRATCHING THEIR NUGBONES OVER IT FOR FUCKING SWEEPS, IF NOT FOR THE SHOCKING REALIZATION MERE MINUTES INTO THEIR DEBATES THAT NOBODY ACTUALLY GAVE A SHIT.

======

CG: AND YET THE TEMPORAL DEVICE STILL SWAYS TO AND FRO IN CONSTERNATION. VEXED BY THE COMPLETE MENTAL VACANCY PUT BEFORE IT BY MY HUMBLE SACRIFICE, BOUND BY ITS COSMIC ROLE, BEGRUDGED BY MY UNSOLICITED DEATH CLOCKING IT INTO OVERTIME. IT HAS BETTER SHIT TO DO, GOD DAMMIT! IT HAS A LUSUS AND A HIVE TO GET BACK TO!

CG: "WHAT IS THIS. WHO LET THIS ASSHOLE IN HERE," IT SAYS. THEY AREN'T EVEN QUESTIONS, JUST ORBITAL SIGHS OF AN UNCARING UNIVERSE. A REALITY NOW KEENLY AWARE OF ITS OWN LAUGH TRACK.

CG: AND ITS PENDULUM TEETERS, TENTATIVE IN ITS OWN DISBELIEF AND PROFOUND APATHY.

TG: damn

======

CG: "THIS SCUMBAG ISN'T EVEN GODTIER YET," IT POINTS OUT. THE AUDIENCE FLIPS THEIR COLLECTIVE SHIT, AGHAST AT THIS REVELATION.

TG: hahaha

CG: IT WELLS UP SUCH A THRUM OF FUCKING ENNUI THAT THE TIMEPIECE FLIPS OFF-KILTER, LANDING SQUARELY IN THE "DUMBASS" ZONE WITH A "FUCK IT" LOUD ENOUGH TO REVERBERATE THROUGHOUT PARADOX SPACE.

======

CG: IT THEN ELECTS TO KICK MY PATHETIC FUCKING HALF-CORPSE BACK INTO THE LIVING PLANE AND FORCE ME, VENGEFULLY FROM THE AUDACITY OF MY OWN IDIOCY, TO REPEAT THIS CYCLE AD NAUSEAM

CG: UNTIL EXISTENCE ITSELF FINALLY CROAKS UNDER THE COMBINED WEIGHT OF OUR COLOSSAL STUPIDITY.

CG: BECAUSE WHO THE FUCK WOULD I BE IF I EVER GOT TO HAVE A BREAK?

======

TG: yep there he is thats him offincer

TG: the man after my own heart

TG: thats a karkat brand "soft yes" if i ever heard one and i know my karkatisms dude im a goddamn graduate in karkatology

TG: i got my degree in this shit

TG: im rocking up to our convos with the dumbass black square hat thing cocked 45 degrees

TG: literally incapable of snapping it back kinda by design of the stupid thing but damn if im not doing it anyways im emanating the snappitudes

TG: im rocking my intelligence right now

TG: also water is absolutely wet dude its like the wettest thing on the planet

CG: I'M NOT REPEATING MYSELF AGAIN

TG: yeah you are

CG: FUCK. I AM.

======

CG: I SAID THE LAST THREE TIMES IT'S A CONDITIONAL TERM--

TG: and im saying its common sense like being wet isnt conditional when youre the perpetual thing of wettening

CG: NO

TG: and brother it is THE wet

TG: like following your conditional argument

TG: if water isnt wet then the other water molecules are constantly making each other fuckin wet so its a moot point

TG: great philosophical debate

TG: which came first the water or the wet?

CG: DAVE

TG: think about it all those particles are wetting each other up all the time and shit

TG: its a fucked up display

CG: ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

======

TG: pretty much a perpetual orgy of the elements

CG: DUDE.

TG: that sounds kinda sick actually if you dont think about what it means

TG: h2orgy

CG: HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO VETO THIS STUPID DISCUSSION--

TG: tell me im wrong dude

CG: I'M UNIVERSE-APPOINTED TO HOVER AROUND YOU POINTING OUT EVERY DUMBASS TAKE YOU HAVE FOR THE REST OF TIME.

TG: thats so beautiful to me

TG: i could cry

[witchesverse]

my happiness is all of your misery

pairing: dark!agathario x fem!reader

summary: you hadn't seen your kidnappers in centuries, but of course, you just had to be summoned right to them.

content: noncon, mentions of physical/mental/sexual abuse, mentions of suicide, manipulation, mentions of death, pain (slapping), spitting, praise, HEAVY TOPICS, crying, fingering (r receiving), blood licking, kidnapping, orgasm control/ruining, cum eating.

a/n: just pretend the others don't exist on the witches road pls. only agatha and rio here.

masterlist

"Oh, I mean. No complaints from me."

Your skin crawled at the sound of a voice you hadn't heard in centuries. Agatha Harkness.

You felt like you would be sick at the sound of the second voice.

"Interesting."

Rio Vidal.

Without a second thought, you were on your feet and sprinting away from them. You dodged through trees and bushes, cursing when you heard footsteps following.

It had been centuries since you last saw the pair, and you wanted to get far away from them.

When you first met them, you were dead. Death had come to reap your soul but she didn't. She resurrected you and kept you as her pet. You met Agatha a few weeks after that.

They were awful and cruel owners. Your body never healed, even after you escaped. You hated thinking about what they did to you. But you hated even more that you loved them for it.

Rio slammed into you and sent you flying to the ground. She buried her hand in your hair and sat on your stomach, pinning your arms down with her legs.

"You can't run from us, idiot." She laughed her wicked laugh. "We're on the Witches' Road."

Agatha appeared by her side.

"Let me die, please." You begged.

"I'd never let you die," Rio whispered.

You sniffled. She had never let you die. Multiple times you had killed yourself to end their torture but she brought you back each time. Your death doesn't exist when Death does.

Her lips connected with yours and you hated how perfectly they morphed together. Her hand drifted down to your pants and you made a noise of discomfort.

She hushed you and tugged your pants down enough to reveal your panties to her. She ignored cries as she pushed them to the side and collected your slick on two fingers.

"All we've done is kiss and you're already wet. Looks like someone missed me." Rio grinned.

"I hate you."

Rio and Agatha rolled their eyes in sync. Their synchronisation was something you always loved about them.

Agatha crouched next to you. She lovingly caressed your cheek with a small smile. Then the smile was replaced by an angered frown and she slapped you.

"We gave you everything and you left us for two centuries. You're such an ungrateful little bitch." She snarled.

You flinched. The pain from her slap was somewhat comforting.

"I hate you. I hate you both." You fought against Rio's hold. "I wish you both would die. You don't deserve to live."

"That's ironic telling Death that you wish she was dead," Rio said.

Agatha grabbed your jaw and squeezed until it dropped open. You cringed as her spit hit your tongue, but held it obediently until she told you to swallow.

"Good girl. It looks like you haven't forgotten your training after all this time."

You wanted to roll your eyes and snap back the question about how you could forget their training. It was still so drilled into your mind that you caught yourself still acting how they trained you to act even when they weren't there.

Tears prickled in your eyes as Rio pushed a single finger inside of you and pumped a slow, steady pace. You kept eye contact with Agatha, afraid she would get angry if you looked away.

"You should know that crying doesn't get you anywhere," Agatha said, wiping your tears away with her thumb.

"I can't control it," You meekly replied.

They laughed.

Rio added two more fingers, stretching you out perfectly. Your walls clenched around her fingers and you whimpered from the pain. Her thumb pressed against your clit and you squirmed in her hold.

Agatha pulled Rio into a heated kiss. There was a small fight for dominance that Agatha won. When they pulled apart, you saw that Rio's lip was bleeding. Agatha cupped her jaw and licked the blood away.

Your whimper pulled their attention to you.

"Feeling left out, huh?" Rio asked.

Her thumb rubbed circles on your clit and she pumped her fingers faster. She curled her fingers upwards and pressed against your g-spot.

The familiar feeling started to build in your stomach.

You bit your tongue. You weren't going to beg, not this time.

"Don't get fucking bratty." Rio snapped. "Beg for it."

You ignored Rio.

"Come on, sweetheart." Agatha cooed.

You ignored Agatha, too.

Rio ripped her fingers from you and slapped your cunt, making you cry out. She stood and licked her fingers clean, disappointment painted on her face.

Your ruined orgasm made you want to cry.

"Get up." She said in a monotone voice. "We have a road to walk."

You pulled your pants up and cringed at the uncomfortable wet feeling as you scrambled to your feet.

"And don't you dare think you're going to escape." Agatha shoved you towards Rio, who was walking ahead. Agatha walked behind you, keeping you caged between them.

You stifled a sob.

You would never be free from them. They owned you and you couldn't do anything about it.

All you can do is accept it.

[aerithmybbgmypookiemywife]

Genshin SAGAU where they hide in the Fortress Of Meropide in order to live a normal life.

not proofread pt2

Creator! Reader who woke up confused in Fontaine. "What the fuck..." you mumbled as you were trying to piece everything together, why were you here? Is this a dream...?

You soon realized that you died in the real world because of Truck-Kun. Now... You have to adjust into this world...

It took a little bit of time to adjust but with the help of an old fisherman living in the mountains who took you in, it didn't take long before you accepted this life.

Creator! Reader who wants to live their life in peace and don't ever want to be found by the Archons or... Any of the main characters for that matter! It'd be a headache if they found out... You didn't want people being overprotective over you.

You wanted freedom...

Creator! Reader who gets found out by the old fisherman as the Creator by accident. You looked at your bleeding hand in horror as it spew out golden blood. The old fisherman quickly grabbed a cloth and wrapped it around your finger.

The old fisherman seemed to connect the pieces together, "So this is why you don't want to go to the city... And why you just popped out of nowhere in the fields..." the old man mumbled. "I- please... Don't tell anyone...!" you cried out. His eyes widened, "Oh! No! Your Grace I would never! But... You're not safe here... There will come a time that you will be found..." The old fisherman sighed.

Creator! Reader who conducted a plan to fake a robbery. The plan was to make it look like you 'stole' from the old man. The old fisherman would report you and you would be sentenced as a thief and banished to the Fortress of Meropide, living in the shadows... Like a ghost.

When your case was being heard, you saw Furina there, that means the traveller hadn't arrived yet... That'll be a problem for you in the future but you brushed it off, promising yourself you'd avoid the traveller like their the black plague.

When you arrived there, Childe was already gone... This was bad... That means the Traveller is coming soon.

It didn't help that you also saw Wriothesley face to face, his observing stare making you nervous... But with how he let you off easily, you don't think he found anything suspicious about you.

Creator! Reader who can't seem to not help Aether and Paimon along with the three siblings, Lynette, Lyney, and Freminet. Always leaving small clues so that they can advance to the story faster, or making sure they don't get hurt or get into an accident. You already knew what the story of Fontaine was but with your current existence... You were unsure if there were some things that'll change.

Creator! Reader who gets found out by Aether...

Your body flinched as he called your name... He knew your name... "You're... Them right...?" He added, you dared not to turn around, getting ready to run away since he hadn't seen your face yet. "You are them... The creator..." he spoke out again, "Please... Don't run away..." he begged as he walked closer to you. You slowly turned around to face him, "...How did you know it was me...?" you asked.

"That... Warmth... That lingering feeling... I felt it. It lead me towards you... I-I thought you were gone, or that you were upset since I hadn't felt you in so long..." He replied as tears rolled down his cheeks, he eventually hugged you, to which you allowed him to. Rubbing his back to comfort him.

Creator! Reader who tells Aether to never tell anyone about you or your existence to which he obliged. You watched everything unfold, from the start to the aftermath of the flood. Everything went well, and not a single soul other than Aether and the old Fisherman know of your existence.

"Everything went well... Neuvillette made sure Furina had an apartment near Palais Mermonia." Aether reported to you, "That's great news." You smiled at him, "Ah! You need to go, people would probably find it suspicious if they found you talking to a random prisoner for no reason." you added to which he nodded, he was about to leave but you stopped him for a moment and gave him a head pat. He was like a younger brother, he blushed and remained standing there for a few seconds, waiting for you to stop.

You let out a small laugh, "Sorry, I got carried away." he only nodded and quickly left, too flustered to even muster a response. You watched him as he left your prison cell.

You then walked towards your bed, looking for your work clothes as you were planning on working again for tickets. You then hear footsteps, you didn't bother turning around as you assumed it was Aether.

"Aether, did you leave something?" you asked, "Aether? You mean the traveller?" you froze... That voice wasn't from Aether... You slowly turned around to see... Wriothesley. You blood ran cold as you stared at him, your mind scrambling as it tried to find words to say.

"You don't have to say anything." He added, slowly walking towards you. "You know... I thought there was something so weird about you... Something about you kept pulling me in and I didn't know why... At first I thought you were just a Fatui spy but now..." he was only a feet away from you now, "I realized that you're them... The creator."

part 2...???

[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter One: News Crashing

Poly!TaskForce 141 x Omega!Reader

The Omega Pack Plan Masterlist

Summary: A change in procedure around base causes you to spiral as your world comes crashing down. There's only one way out of this and it starts with telling the truth.

Words: 4.4k

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anxiety, Existentialism, Misogyny, Dismissive Attitudes, Angst, Rage

Mentions of: Medication,

A/N: Honestly, I'd been inspired by a few series (Standard Emergency Protocol and Pantry Solutions) I've read those and it caused me to want to write my own ABO COD AU, so I started this as a sort of funny fic awhile ago. I'm haven't entirely plotted out the whole story, but I have some ideas for the first few chapters. I was finally inspired to finish and post it because @cringeycookies liked the snippet I posted in a wip tag game. So thanks to everyone who inspired me, and a special thank you to @penelopepine for helping me with the dialogue and Price's reaction as I try to begin writing for them.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," the nurse responds, "we're no longer authorized to refill suppressants of any kinds for any purpose." With a push of the empty orange pill bottle back across the counter in your direction, she offers you an ugly forced smile.

"Is there really nothing we can do?!" You complain incredulously, "Nothing at all? What am I supposed to do with this?!" Taking the emptied bottle into your hands, you stare at the nurse with widened eyes and a wild look.

"There is no 'we'..." she rolls her eyes in response, focus returning to the papers before her. "But if you insist, you can always bring it up with your CO, or the Base Commander." She scribbles something out on the page, but you can hardly focus when your world is virtually crumbling apart around you. "Now if you don't mind, some of us actually have work to do around here."

Still stunned, you can't help the way your breathing picks up as your heart begins to race. About a month ago now there was a base-wide meeting where they'd finally cracked down and implemented a new program the government is trying out: OPP. The Omega Pack Plan. While it's uncommon for Omegas to even be recruited into the military to begin with, such a thing does exist. Regardless, the Base Commander gathered everyone in the Auditorium for a presentation to talk about the new program and how the army would implement it into the troops. Luckily, considering you're on an elite Task Force, it doesn't apply to you. At least... it didn't.

"What the hell is this?!" You yell, tossing the orange bottle in his direction.

He'd heard the stomps all the way down the hall and smelled you coming, so he's neither surprised by your appearance, nor startled by the toss of the bottle. John swiftly catches it in his hand as he looks up at you. "What?" He inquires, finally glancing down to examine what he's caught. "A pill bottle?"

"Captain, it's empty! They won't refill it- I can-"

A groan tumbles past his lips as he drags a hand down his beard. "Look, Panther-" referring to you by your callsign, interesting move. "There's nothing I can do, it's over my head now. I wish I could do something, but I can't." Sitting back in his leather chair, Price places the bottle on the desk; a faint rap of the plastic hitting the wood is the only sound between you momentarily before you hurriedly shut the door.

Panic begins to flood your system as you're not sure how to handle this. It's your turn to freak out. You know how this goes, you know the story now; ever since they'd implemented and dispersed the Omegas into the troops, they'd started implementing them into the Task Forces, and now they have to do so with the One Four One. Fingers curling in and out of shapes as you try to process your next move, you speak before you can even begin to plan what you're going to tell him.

"I- I'm- I..." You're pacing his office now, the heavy gaze of your Captain upon you as you try to prevent yourself from hyperventilating. The thing is, you're usually good with pressure- really good. It's your job to be good. It's just... this is different. This is your life, your livelihood at stake, the livelihood of all your future generations to come.

A sigh resounds throughout the office before you hear the low timbre of his voice. "Dove," he calls out with a gentle tone, "I want you to take a deep breath for me. Alright?" With the calm and even sound of your Captain's voice and the assured look on his face, you comply. Exhaling the last of your breath, you close your eyes and focus in on the deep intake of air through your nose. With the parting of your lips you slowly release it before giving yourself a moment.

When you open your eyes he gestures to the seat before his desk, though you know he won't take offense if you decline. Hesitant, one hand finds its way to the other, wrapping around your arm as you listen to him speak. "Now, can you explain what has you in this state? I assure you that there's nothing that can't be dealt with." You want to trust him, you know him--John Price--your Captain. He's always had your back, always made sure you felt comfortable in the Taskforce, always made an effort to check on you after things got rough.

You nod. Licking your lips, you search his blue eyes as you tentatively take the seat across him.

"Whatever it is, we'll deal with it, alright? I can guarantee you that unless you're trying to tell me you're an Omega, nothing you say is going to shock me that warrants the amount of panic you're putting yourself through," Price chuckles. He's obviously joking, trying to break the tension with humor. Lips drawn upward into a small smile, the Captain stares at you expectantly.

"What if I am?" You whisper, eyes unable to tear from his visage as you try and gauge his reaction. Unexpectedly, silence fills the space between you and feels deafening in the small space. The growing comfort of his office these couple of months now feels like a cage you're forced to stay in, under watch, as you stare down your superior on the brink of a battle to the death. And that's what you do. His blue eyes bore into yours, skeptically shifting between your left and right as he seems to try and get a read on you.

All of the sudden you jump at the smack of his hands hitting the desk in front of him. He laughs at you.

He's laughing at you.

And you're sitting there with your guts spilled out, dread eating away at the pit in your stomach... and he's laughing. It feels like forever is passing you by as you stare at him in shock, this moment between the two of you frozen in time as nothing else persists.

"I understand what this was now," Price explains, still chuckling to himself as he shakes his head. There's a warm smile on his face that feels eerie considering the dire context of the situation at hand. "You got me! I fully believed you for a second there, too."

Eyebrows furrowing in dark realization, you can't help but stare at him wildly. "Wha-" You begin to question him and his line of thinking, but he cuts you off.

"This was all a prank, right? The bottle, the hysterics- you really outdid yourself, Sergeant." Leaning back in his chair, he props his ankle up on his other knee. "Because let me tell you, this was good. Better than anything Soap's cooked up in awhile. Did you come up with it yourself?" There's a cheeky grin on his lips. "Ah, I know you did."

Lips opening and closing like a fish out of water, you sit in the armchair across from him pale with a dazed look across your face. He doesn't actually think that this was...

"Well, with your little triumph in your pocket, I say we get back to work, yeah? I've got some new leads from MI6 that've just popped in." With that, the man stands from his desk and rounds it. "Garrick should be back around Tea. I'll see you in the Command Station then," he informs you. It's then that he passes by, a genial clap on your shoulder while he's at it.

Left stunned in silence, you can't help but grit your teeth, consequentially pronouncing your jaw as anger ebbs through your bloodstream. Breath getting heavier, you can't help but loathe the meeting tonight. Your Captain might be satisfied with the conversation, but all you feel is discouraged. He's abandoned you, left you alone in his office with a humiliating sense of betrayal and shattered trust. Almost like you hadn't just told him your biggest secret at all.

Punching the standard heavy punching bag hanging in front of you, you grunt, ignoring the pain that gnaws at your knuckles underneath the reusable hand wraps. Sweat builds on your brow as you continue to unleash your pent up anger on the gym’s equipment. How could he?! When had you ever pulled anything even similar to this? Never! And the fact that you’ve only been on the team for a handful of months only exacerbates the abandonment you’re feeling right now. He’s your Captain! Regardless of your feelings or the situation at hand, isn’t he supposed to be there for you? He’d promised from the get go to help you with whatever you need, and now the one time you go to him for aid it backfires in your face and leaves you without any sort of solution going forward aside from straight up telling the whole team the flat out truth, and God forbid! You can’t even begin to fathom how that’d go.

A pent up and frustrated yell almost akin to something of a growl emanates from you as you tear into another round of swift jabs and punches. Regardless of the situation at hand, you’ve been trying to build up your upper body’s strength and letting out the anger you’d accumulated over this morning’s events seemed like a perfect opportunity to let loose.

The stretches and treadmill routine didn’t take a lot out of you, but the weights, and now the punching bag definitely is starting to take its toll. Sweat beads at your forehead in rivulets that drip down the sides of your neck, down your scalp past your neck and between your shoulder blades. Tank top soaked in sweat, you breathe hard as your heart pumps rapidly in your chest. You would’ve wound up here at some point or another tonight, but the Captain’s discourteous response certainly led to an earlier workout time.

While others sparsely litter the gym’s floor, you pay them no mind and vice versa. It’s not uncommon for soldiers to be found blowing off steam or aiming to beat their highest reps on the weights. Yet, this gym is reserved for higher standing members of the Force, the gym on the far side of the base where there are less people, offices, and considering the regular army men train in the bigger gym closer to their quarters, it’s mostly other higher ranked officers in here.

“Captain’s lookin’ for ya,” Markowski, another Sergeant that you’d come to befriend on base announces from the doorway, having poked his head in after leaving a few minutes earlier. He belongs to a different Task Force.

A groan tumbles out of you as you realize it’s already that time. Just as the door clicks shut, your phone chimes loudly with the alarm you’d set earlier going off. A few quick swipes of your fingers, you turn the alarm off and unlock the device, seeing a number of messages flood your notifications.

Kyle: You hear they’ve bumped up the timeline? 😯

Johnny: “ https://Tiktok/Shattered.Rat567 ” Had me rollin’ 🤣👏🏻 Gotta check it, Bonnie

Simon: You coming to the meeting or not? 🤨

Johnny: Where r u? You’re usually first here 👀 Cap’s getting peeved, watch out

Not looking forward to the inevitable mess of a meeting before you, you don’t bother rushing to join the men. With a wash of your face in the women’s locker room, a speedy bathroom break, and a grab of the items you’d brought with you, you’re heading for the Command Station.

With the time Price set the meeting, you won't get to eat dinner till afterward. You'd be lying if you said you weren't annoyed by this entire situation, your agitation from neglecting your hunger earlier has certainly come to bite you in the backside.

While you don’t have time to respond to their texts, having set the alarm with only enough time to get back to your team’s Command ‘station’ albeit more like your headquarters before heading out. Speed-walking through the orderly halls with a haste perfectly common around here, you navigate with a well practiced knowledge. Though you’ve only been here coming up on six months soon, you’re well acquainted with this part of the base.

Rounding the corner, you’re in the hall, close. Yet, the worry of being late lingers in the back of your mind and adds another layer of annoyance on top of your residual anger buried deep down from this morning’s situation. You’d inevitably come up with your solution. It’s not one you like… but it’s the only logical option. Another turn and you’re striding into the big garage-like room.

“Nice of you to finally join us, Sergeant,” Price calls out to you. Lifting his eyes from the map laid out across your station's table, he glares in your direction.

“What took you so long?” Soap snaps, his brows slightly furrowed as he stares at you from the opposite side of the table, hands lazily wrapped around his vest’s straps.

A look at your watch tells you that you’re not even late, the meeting doesn’t officially start for another minute! But you are usually waiting on them. He’s got you there.

“Yeah, you’re usually the first one here. It’s not like you,” Gaz whispers under his breath as you sidle up alongside Ghost, Gaz standing diagonal to you right beside Price at the head of the table.

“Focus,” Ghost orders the men, his hands tucked in his hoodie’s pocket. You don’t fail to notice the way he subtly takes a step further away from you as soon as they start talking again. Price goes back to talking plans as Gaz is questioning the circumstances of the information the Captain had acquired earlier when he’d had to leave the office.

“Which is exactly why-”

A heavy exhale on your behalf leaves the men frozen as their eyes drift back to you. “Do you have something you’d like to say, Panther?” The Captain questions. Jaw clenched, you tear your eyes from the map they’d settled on.

“We’ve got a big problem,” you announce, cutting off the Captain as you finally raise your gaze to meet Price’s slightly widened blue eyes.

“Well, if you see something that needs changin’ then let’s hear it,” he responds. A ‘hmph’ follows as he crosses his arms over his chest and sits his weight back onto his heels.

“It’s not about the op,” you correct him. Tilting your head side to side you attempt to crack the kinks in your neck while standing a little straighter to appear more engaged and serious.

“And it’s more important than this? What we’re doin’ right now?” Soap questions, his hands dropping to rest on the table as he looms over it, eyeing you with frustration obvious in his irises.

“What is it?” Gaz asks, a quirk of his eyebrow garnering your attention for a split-second. He’s genuinely asking, and there doesn’t seem to be a hostility in his scent as he turns his attention to you. Then there’s Ghost, who you don’t even need to look at to feel his heavy gaze on you, waiting expectantly.

“Actually, it is,” you argue with Soap, anger beginning to boil in your belly, the frustration and angst having been left to simmer all afternoon. “I can’t believe you didn’t take me seriously when I came to you earlier,” you turn your anger on Price. He looks taken aback by the outburst, something you’re not known for.

“Dove,” he calls calmly, hands out in an attempt to pacify.

“Don’t-” you bark, starting to raise your voice without realizing it. “I came to you in confidance! Trusting you when you said you’d be there to help me if I ever needed it! How could you?” Gritting your teeth, you don’t realize how hard you’re breathing as your chest heaves with anger.

“Woah, woah-” Gaz sputters, “What-” holding his hands out to try and diffuse the argument.

“I let myself be vulnerable-” You continue to shout.

“Isn’t this something that shoul-” Soap attempts to dissuade, backing down as he puts his hands out.

“-and tell you the truth, and-” you’re lunging for him across the table. You’re held back by a massive hand on your shoulder. “You laugh in my face?! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You're suddenly pulled back, off your feet, and shoved into a metal chair that'd been nearby. Your Lieutenant is hovering over you, his cold eyes now tinged with a spark of anger as they bore into you scrutinizingly. There's the sound of commotion behind him, multiple voices overlapping, yet you can't see anything with that utter giant in front of you!

“Does anyone wanna explain what the bloody hell is goin’ on here?” Ghost snaps. It's only then when the man steps aside that you can see where everyone is. With both of you in your respective corners, you simply glare at the Captain from over your crossed arms out in front of you.

“Are you bleedin’ kidding me, ya Scally?” Price grunts as he shrugs Gaz’ hand off his shoulder. “You’re still on about it! When w-"

"That doesn't explain what happened, Cap," Gaz interrupts, stopping him from going off and getting them nowhere.

He groans, running a hand over his face once more before composing himself. Everyone waits for an explanation—you too—he’d been the first to speak, and you’re curious to hear what he comes up with. “She came into my office, bloody cryin’, tossing me a pill bottle, muttering about, saying she’s a-”

You don’t dare let him finish, not wanting him to be the one to finally say it, exposing your truth to the team. "Omega. I’m an Omega, ” you finish his sentence. While you’re scared to meet their faces, you take a deep breath and force yourself to do so.

"Christ," Price curses, fingers coming up to pinch the skin between his brows as he hangs his head.

Ghost's stoicism is nothing unordinary, and in fact, is somewhat a comfort considering you'd expected nothing less from him.

Gaz looks stunned for a moment, eyes flitting about the other’s faces before the serious look on his face morphs. Lips slowly drawing upward, you shouldn’t be surprised when he starts laughing. "Yeah right," Garrick teases, "and I'm actually the Prime Minister."

Yet, it's not just him. The uproarious laughter from your right only adds fuel to the already burning flame as the two other Sergeants laugh like idiots. All as if it's some poor joke with no consequences to anyone's life, and yet... it's the truth. At the end of the day, it doesn't change anything. At the end of the day, your life is still in jeopardy and they're treating it like some joke. Unable to form any sort of retort, you simply blink; stuck in a stupor raw, stung, and with a dumb look on your face.

Soap, rounding the table slaps Gaz on the back, his face flushed red from laughing so hard. "Yer makin' my stomach hurt. God," he eggs the other on between his dying chuckles and attempting to catch his breath.

"You're really just gonna stand there and laugh?!" You finally burst. Anger surely must be coming off your scent in waves, but you don't care. Standing from the chair, you don't flinch as Ghost swipes his arm out in front of you in case you were going for the Captain again. There will be no physical altercation on his watch.

"She already pulled this on me earlier, mind you, and now what? You're trying to pull it over on the lads' too, eh?" Price goads you.

"And I was telling the truth! You're the one who said I was joking," you point out. The volume of your voice is lost on you, partially blinded by the fury bleeding out.

"I suppose you never did admit to it being a prank," Price reasons, fingers grazing his beard as he runs them over it repeatedly in thought. "But how do you expect us to believe that when you clearly smell of a Beta?"

"Even on the battlefield, after everything we've been through-" Gaz starts.

"After yer all sweaty from a workout, too. I think we'd notice, Pan," Johnny argues, illuminating a legitimate point of consideration.

"Oh please," you mutter quietly to yourself. Shaking your head, you can't believe they're really all being this daft right now. "Like you have heard of those Scent Spritzers.”

There are various perfumes on the market specifically designed to alter one’s scent. Most use it smell like an Alpha when they’re not, or an Omega when they’re wanting to seduce an Alpha when going out. But Omegas posing as Betas was rarely heard of. You’re more than sure it happens more frequently than people know of, they just haven’t been caught. And in your line of work? It’s scarce. People are thoroughly vetted, but… you’d been on suppressants for a long, long time. And a Beta perfume only perfected your hiding.

“Did you forget we’re Alphas, love? We’d be able to smell you across the room if you were,” Gaz taunts. There’s a puff of his chest that makes his cockiness even more annoying than usual.

"You really want to be an Omega? Dumb yourself down to some weak fragile thing?” Johnny jokes, nudging Gaz’ arm as he shakes his head.

“A doll who can get whoever she wants? Want to be nothing more than good for knockin' up and popping out pups?” Gaz adds on.

“Are you serious right now?” You test, seething under your skin as your hands ball up into fists. “How could you say that?!”

“It’s what people say,” Ghost comments.

“Nobody would want that and you’re out here lying about it,” Johnny pokes.

“We’re only trying to point out the flaws in your little rouse, Pan,” Gaz says, a smile lighting up his features as he crosses his arms over his chest.

"And what if I was lying, hm? Would that change anything you just said to me? How you feel about Omegas?" You scoff.

“This isn’t about your designation,” Price finally speaks. Fingers still weaved into his beard, his blue eyes lift to meet yours. “I see what this is about now, but there's nothin' to worry about, Dove.” Your Captain takes on a softer tone and all of the sudden you feel yourself start to get emotional as a twinge of sadness, of the hurt bleeding through upon understanding makes you feel seen.

“I know it's intimidating, the thought of having your first unmedicated heat, but we have medics here. It's natural. Heats, ruts, we all have them. And, hey... at least you're not an Omega, right?" Whatever relief you’d momentarily experienced sinks back down in your gut with the speed of a rollercoaster drop. It’s as silent as a stakeout, the only sound being people’s breathing. And the lack of yours.

It takes a moment to gather yourself, everyone’s eyes on you with the serious topic change. While sex and the downsides to a designation are something discussed with the boys, you’d often been left out. And to your comfort. "You know what? I can’t do this,” you retort. Backing from the group, you toss your hands up. “I guess you'll just have to wait and see," you bite back. With a whip of your hair over your shoulder, you head for the door.

The room is silent once more as everyone gawks. You’d never reacted in such a manner, had an outburst like that… this is… certainly different, and something they’re not at all used to.

“It’s because they took away her suppressants today,” Price explains. It might not have been something the group should be privileged to know. A private matter, really… but with the way you acted? He felt the men deserve an explanation, at least.

“That makes sense,” Gaz responds quietly, eyes still on the door you’d gone through.

“That’s no excuse,” Johnny counters, arms crossing over his chest with a scowl on his lips.

"Well... that went better than I thought,” Ghost comments with a shrug. “Back to the plan? We can fill her in later.”

[azmageddon]

I Can't Lose Him (Part Three)

Pairing: Ariel x Cassian's twin!healer!reader

Summary: Finally, Ariel wakes up.

Warning: Painfully inaccurate to the original storyline.

a/n: Part three of I Can't Lose Him! Let me know if you'd like to hear more about the pair!

The commotion in the tent gets louder as you rush toward it. There’s an argument happening inside, and the sound of shattering glass reaches your ears. It isn’t until you hear Nesta shout at Azriel to “Sit down!” that you realize you’ve left the two most stubborn fae in all of Prythian alone together. 

When you whip the tent flap open, you’re met with a dizzying scene. 

Azriel, leg still splinted straight and right arm bandaged tightly to his torso, has a white knuckle grip on the wooden chair beside the bed. It groans under the pressure as he puts all of his weight on it to help him stand. Nesta, however, is attempting to form a human shield, with two hands splayed on his chest, attempting to push him back down to the bed.

“Damn it, Azriel, sit down! You’re half dead; do you want to be all dead?” Nesta pushes with all of her strength, but even injured, centuries of training is not lost on the Shadowsinger as he refuses to be forced down. Clearly, the two have not heard you enter the tent, as their arguing only continues.

“Tell me where she is, Nesta,” Azriel hisses through clenched teeth, trying to ignore the pain that you’re sure is ravaging his body.

“Y/N is going to kill you herself when she finds you out of bed. Plus you’ve smashed the pain tonic. Now for the last time: Sit. Down. Right. Now.” Nesta pushed with each word, anger lacing her voice, but still, your mate would not relent.

“I don’t care if Cassian is with her, tell me where she is. Knowing him, she’s probably worse off than being alone.”

“What is going on in here?” you shout, rushing to Azriel’s side. “Are you insane, Az? Sit down before you rip your stitches out!” 

Both Nesta and Azriel instantly stop their arguing at the sound of your voice. The hazel eyes that meet yours were ablaze with worry and confusion, but instantly soften to relief when he sees you. 

“Thank the gods,” Nesta said, dropping her arms to her sides and stepping away from Azriel. “You have the most possessive and unreasonable mate in existence.”

“Oh, like yours is any better,” you joke, convincing Azriel to at least sit on the side of the bed for the time being.

If Nesta was affected at all by your words, she didn’t let on, her face as neutral as ever. “He’s not my mate,” she deadpanned. 

You felt a smile working its way into your mouth and you quickly turned away so she wouldn’t see. “Sure he isn’t, Nesta,” you replied, amused by both her’s and your brother’s blatant ignorance. You winked at Azriel, hoping to lighten the mood and reference the countless times the two of you had whispered about Nesta and Cassian. But your attempt at making the joke was met with a look of displeasure from your mate. 

“Are you going to tell me where you were? Why did you swear Nesta to secrecy?” Azriel interjected, his eyes boring into you with frustration and pain.

You signed. “Honestly, I’d rather not,” you replied, pushing his dark hair away from his sweat soaked forehead. 

“Rhys and Cassian took her to Devlon’s tent to heal him.”

“What?!” Azriel made to stand again but you pushed him back down with one hand on each shoulder. Centuries of training hadn’t been lost on you either, despite your exhaustion.

“Nesta!”

“See you later,” she said, fake innocence in her voice as revenge for calling Cassian her mate. She flipped her braid over her shoulder and spun away to leave, pushing the tent flaps open and closed with more force than seemed necessary. 

“Why would you do that for Devlon?” Azriel asked, eyes roaming over you for signs of the Lord of Windhaven and his less than respectful approach to Illyrian females. 

“Relax, Az, he barely tolerated me near him, let alone him wanting to touch me.” You took this opportunity to get Azriel back into bed, swinging his legs up and helping him reposition himself. “Besides, Cassian and Rhys were with me. Cassian almost ripped his head off for much less.”

He chose not to respond, instead closing his eyes and taking deep, calming breaths.

“Why didn’t you take the pain tonic I left for you?” you asked, already knowing the answer. It was at your feet, the bottle shattered in a million pieces and the liquid seeping into the dirt floor. 

“I’m fine,” was his only response. Stupid, prideful, Illyrian baby, you thought.

Digging through your medical bag, you found another tonic and touched it to his lips, encouraging him to drink. But the moment you brought it to his mouth, he pulled his head away, refusing to drink it.

“Don’t make me force feed you, Az. I need to check your stitches,” you warned, hoping it would convince him to drink it.

“No.”

“Don’t be stupid, it will help you.”

“Why did you close your side of the bond?” he asked, opening his eyes and cocking an eyebrow in your direction. You were taken aback by the sudden change in topic. You turned away and placed the tonic on the side table with a quiet clink before sitting on the side of the bed, admitting defeat.

“I didn’t want you to know where I was in case you woke up. I know how much you hate Devlon. But obviously that didn’t work out as I planned.” 

“You never close your side of the bond. I thought something had happened to you. And then when I woke up, Nesta was there, not you. She refused to tell me where you were or what happened. I tried to reach out, but you were completely closed off to me. I thought… I thought something…” he stopped, his good arm flying up to the stitches on his side and hissing in pain.

You reached for the pain tonic, and this time, you gripped his chin and tipped it inside his mouth. “Drink it,” you demanded. With a swift bob of his Adam’s apple and quick dart of his tongue across his bottom lip, you were satisfied.

The two of you sat quietly for a few moments, Azriel’s confession laying heavily in the air between you. After what felt like forever, you knew you were going to have to be the one to break the silence. Azriel was, afterall, a spymaster for a reason.

“I was scared,” you admitted, dropping your gaze to your hands. “You fell 200 feet out of the sky. When you were first hurt, I thought I was going to lose you. And then you were screaming. I had never heard that sound come out of you before in my entire life. I had both my arms inside your chest, Az. I had to cut you open while you screamed for me to stop. I couldn’t be your mate in those moments; I couldn’t hold your hand and tell you it was going to be alright. I couldn’t send comfort through the bond. At that moment, all I could do was scream at Cassian to hold you still while I butchered you.” You turned your hands over and stared at your palms, remembering the blood you had to wash off of them after you had finished putting him back together. “I had both my hands inside your chest,” you repeated, trailing off into a whisper.

“You promised me,” you continued, allowing the vulnerability to become present in your voice. Your eyes were rimmed with wetness as you thought of how close to death your mate had been. “You promised you’d come back to me.”

“Technically,” Azriel started, reaching a scarred hand up to brush a piece of hair out of your face. He cupped your cheek and pulled your gaze away from your hands and back to his eyes. The mountains and valleys of his scarred skin felt comforting and familiar. “Technically, I kept my promise. There were just a few bumps along the way.”

You blinked, letting out a weak laugh and let the tears flow over. You leaned your forehead to his and closed your eyes, inhaling his familiar scent. Opening your side of the bond, you felt a wave of emotions wash over you from him. Love and appreciation filled your soul, spreading from the center of your chest where the golden thread that connected the two of you were joined. 

 “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

“I’m sorry, love,” Azriel said, lacing his fingers through your hair and holding you to him. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

For a few moments, the two of you stayed like that, soaking in the rare time alone together. It wasn’t until he shifted in the bed again that you pulled back, wiping your tears and getting up to check on how he was healing. 

“Oh gods,” Azriel groaned. “I feel like the morning after Cassian’s birthday at Rita’s.”

You let out a laugh, still choked with leftover tears, but felt yourself send a jolt of amusement through the bond unintentionally. 

“Hey! That’s my birthday too, you know,” you joked, unwrapping the splint that held his leg tightly in place. His fae healing truly was remarkable. You were able to bend his leg up to his chest, still being careful of the damaged lung and healing stitches underneath the dressing wrapped around his torso. 

“Yeah but you’re not the one insisting I keep drinking.” He grunted through the stretches, allowing you to rotate his hip out, around, and back a few times. 

You shrugged, a smile spreading across your face. “No one ever said you had to drink them. You could just dump them and tell Cassian they were delicious.”

His eyes narrowed at the suggestion. “And is that what you do? Because I seem to remember that for the past few centuries, you've been roaring drunk on your birthday. Last year you refused to come home with me because you thought I was a random stranger trying to pick you up for a one-night-stand.”

You threw your head back in a boisterous laugh, remembering how you woke up with a horrible hangover and found Azriel asleep on the floor at the foot of the bed. A smile spread across your mate’s face at the sight of your joy, despite your fingers massaging deep into the tissues of his leg to work out any lingering pain. 

You worked your thumbs into the muscles of his thigh and swore the moan of relief that left Azriel’s lips stirred something deep in your belly. You shook the feeling off and kept going. 

“Should I mention some of the times you’ve drank too much? How about that time Rhys kept buying you shots and you kissed me in front of all of Rita’s, almost blowing our secret of nearly 300 years?”

Azriel smiled and you felt the memory wash across the bond. The vision of you giving into the kiss before hastily reminding yourself that your match was supposed to be a secret, played in your mind. Thankfully Cassian, the only other person besides you and Azriel that knew about the mating bond, faked the possessive brother act, pushing Azriel off of you and dragging him outside where, instead of telling him off like everyone thought, had actually dunked his head in the icy barrel of rainwater to help him work off the alcohol. 

You gasped in surprise and shook your head to clear your mind of Azriel’s memory. “You never told me he dunked you underwater. No wonder why you came back soaking wet. Cassian said you fell face first into the Sidra!”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “Of course he did, that bastard.” 

After a quick peek at the stitches along his left flank and a thorough stretching of his right shoulder, you flopped yourself onto the bed beside him. Exhaustion washed over you again and you felt Azriel’s concern flood your senses. You ignored it, instead choosing to wrap a blanket around yourself and close your eyes. Shuffling closer to your mate, you came as close as you dared without worrying about hurting him. 

You felt a scarred hand thread through your hair to scratch at your scalp. A pair of lips touched your forehead and your mate’s voice sounded deep in your ears. “Sleep, love. I’ll be right here.”

Without another word, you fell headfirst into a deep, undisturbed sleep.