#this idea came to mind and i just had to do it

[onceinablueberrymoon]

made for this | husband!salesman x pregnant!reader

scenario: pregnant!reader has a doctor’s appointment and wants to help husband!salesman by recruiting some new players at the clinic. the salesman has a different idea in mind… setting: a couple months after the events of season 1; sequel to this but can be read as a stand-alone fic warnings: pregnant!reader; a bit of spice and a lot of fluff; both reader and salesman feel morally superior to others; no use of y/n; second person POV word count: 931 notes: thank you all for the love on the first part! i hope i didn’t make the salesman too ooc, i try to keep things as accurate to the show as possible! but i think he is somewhat capable of having soft moments, although very rarely. i have at least one more idea for this series (if it can even be called that), so be on the lookout for that ٩>ᴗ<)و (also if anyone has any ideas for this ship, send them my way!) please enjoy! borders by @strangergraphics-archive

“Hey, can I borrow some business cards? I have an appointment at the clinic today and thought I’d pass some out.”

At your call, your husband walked into the bedroom to find you standing in front of the mirror next to your shared bed, adjusting your outfit for the day. He crossed his arms.

“I don’t think so. Any public involvement with the Games could endanger you,” his gaze lingered on your swollen stomach. He sighed, “You can’t defend yourself in your condition, no matter how much you think you can.” 

You just rolled your eyes and shot him a piercing look. 

“My pregnancy doesn’t impact my job, though. I can take care of myself just fine.” You took a couple steps towards him. “Who’s the one who befriended Gi-hun again? You?” You looked around the room before you pointed at yourself. 

“Me, that’s who,” you grinned proudly, only for your husband to cover his face with his hands, his patience clearly running thin.

“Besides,” you shrugged, “it’s not like I’ll be playing ddakji and smacking people. No, my dear husband, that’s your thing.” You brought a finger up to your lips. 

“I have my own ways to play.” You flashed a wicked smile towards your husband, causing him to shiver. 

Right there and then, you knew that you had won the battle.

…or so you thought.

In the blink of an eye, your husband swept you off your feet and pinned you on the bed with only one arm. Your startled expression pleased him judging by the wild look on his face. His unoccupied hand came to gently press on your growing stomach, adding to the tense situation. He brought his lips up to graze your ear.

“See how vulnerable you are? Just think,” he lightly bit at your helix, “others won’t be so nice.”

It was your turn to shiver. 

When you didn’t respond, he continued nibbling at your ear with his hand still firmly planted on your belly.

Soon after, he lifted his head and asked, “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” He kissed you deeply, only breaking away to gasp for air. The most smug expression was plastered on his face. 

“Oh wait, I do.”

How cheeky of him. And cheesy, too! 

You huffed, “Wow, already starting with the dad jokes? And not even the good ones either.” His eyebrow quirked upwards before he bent down to press his nose against yours.

“Do you really want to play this game?” He whispered softly, causing you to shudder. “You know I always win.”

Turning your head to the right, you let out a small chuckle.

“Oh really?” You retorted, “Prove it.”

This sent him into a borderline frenzy as he started planting kisses down the side of your neck. You threw your arms around his neck, a smile on your face. Sometimes it was just too easy to manipulate him.

As he was about to leave a mark, a sharp movement stopped him in his tracks. He blinked, snapping out of his trance. You were both confused when there was another movement, although not as sharp as the first.

The two of you looked down at your rounded stomach, and your husband removed his hand. The baby’s kicks continued nearly every minute, while you both just watched, not moving a muscle. Then, your husband lifted himself up off of you, moving to sit on the bed beside you. You sat up and, taking one of his hands, gently laid it on your stomach. Your husband carefully wrapped an arm around you, now acting as if you were made of glass.

“They’re so active. Do you think,” he paused, then in a whisper, asked, “Do you think I hurt them?” 

“No… I think they’re just making themselves known,” you kissed him on the cheek. 

Both of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, only to soon realize that you were now running late for your appointment.

“Is there any chance I can still get those business cards?” You pleaded. 

Your husband chuckled, “Absolutely not. In fact, I’ll accompany you.” 

“I thought we weren’t allowed to be seen together in public?” You furrowed your eyebrows. 

He let go of you and turned to open his briefcase at the foot of the bed. Pulling out some files, he nodded, “There’s quite a few prospective players residing at that hospital. You attend your appointment, I’ll recruit more players.” He flashed his signature smirk, putting the files back in his briefcase.

“Wow, I thought you wanted to come to my appointment with me!” You laughed, giving him a light shove.

Your husband gave you a knowing look, “I can’t do that. But I expect a copy of the sonogram.” He stood up, holding out a hand for you to take.

“What a gentleman.” You took his offer and stood up.

Placing a hand on your husband’s chest, you teased, “Try to take it easy at the hospital, hm? Most of the prospects there are already on the verge of cracking. We don’t want to break them before the Games – it wouldn’t make for a good show.”

Wrapping his arms around your waist, your husband pouted, “But where’s the fun in that?”

“Giving them a tiny sliver of hope, only to eventually rip it away…” You looked him straight in the eyes. “The suspense is so thrilling, don’t you think?”

“And here I was starting to think you weren’t cut out for the job,” he chuckled. He checked his watch, noting the time.

“We should get going – it’s rude to be late.” 

a/n: by the way, i don’t think i have it in me to write full-on smut, the most i can probably do is a bit of lime lol

tags: @preppyfella

[fear-is-truth]

BEING IN A POLY RELATIONSHIP WITH THANOS & NAM-GYU l headcanons

pairing — thanos x reader x nam-gyu warnings — (mild) s2 spoilers. smut author’s note — i wrote some corny lyrics for this lol

──⟢  fear-is-truth — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

thanos recruited you into his “team” because of his attraction to you. the rapper didn’t try to hide that he found you hot, and he made sure you knew it, throwing compliments your way. his flirting was over-the-top and shameless. he’d call you “senorita” or “babe” in a sing-song voice, leaning in close to make sure you couldn’t ignore him. his favourite move was to serenade you with cheesy raps that made everyone cringe.

one day, thanos sidles up to you, a wide, cocky-ass smirk plastered on his face. he’s got his hands on his hips, like he’s about to drop the hottest bars in the universe. “yo, senorita,” he starts, “you’re the queen of my world, can’t you see? ain’t no one gonna take my throne, you and me, together, baby, we’re destiny!” while nam-gyu, in the background, is rolling his eyes so hard he could probably see the back of his skull. but thanos keeps going, totally into it, “baby, we can rule the game, you and i, got them all thinking i’m the reason they’ll die. you’ll be my queen, i’ll be your king, together we’ll make this whole thing sing!” it’s a miracle you don’t combust from secondhand embarrassment.

nam-gyu, as thanos’s second-in-command, was pissed from the start. in the beginning, it seemed like he was just territorial—angry that you were disrupting the group dynamic. he’d throw side comments like, “oh, great, now we’ve got a distraction,” and give you cold, assessing looks. his irritation was obvious, especially when thanos started giving you preferential treatment, like sitting beside you during meals or casually throwing an arm over your shoulder during group talks.

he tried to act more “mature” than thanos (spoiler: he wasn’t). his idea of flirting was to act tough, which mostly involved bullying weaker players to look impressive. it was like watching a middle schooler try to flex for their crush. in reality, he just looks like an asshole, and you feel annoyed by his attempts to bully someone into submission to show off. he catches your disapproving glare and immediately tries to backtrack, but it just makes it worse.

thanos wasn’t subtle about his future plans for you. “after we win this thing, you’re coming with me,” he promised you confidently. “i’ll make you my official girl. the fans will eat it up—thanos and his queen.” he didn’t ask if you wanted that, just assumed you’d go along with it lol. nam-gyu, on the other hand, played dirtier. when thanos wasn’t around, he tried to plant seeds of doubt in your mind, leaning in to whisper confidentially. “he’s a scumbag, you know. all talk, no loyalty. don’t let him fool you,”

during meals, both of them insisted on sitting next to you, even if it meant practically wrestling each other to the ground. there were no tables, just groups eating near the bunk beds or stairs leading up to them, and you always ended up sandwiched between the two guys. thanos would slouch with his arm around your shoulders, smirking at anyone who looked your way. nam-gyu would mutter snide comments under his breath, low enough for you to hear, but not enough for thanos to notice.

then came the game “mingle,” where the players had to group up based on a random number announced over the PA system. when the voice said “two,” both thanos and nam-gyu grabbed your arm at the same time. “she’s going with me,” thanos barked, pulling you toward him. “what the fuck about me?” nam-gyu shot back, tugging you in the opposite direction. if it hadn’t been for se-mi, who quickly pulled you into a room with her (the two boys found a room next to you), the four of you would’ve fucking died.

the tension escalated at night. at first, both of them insisted on sleeping next to your bunk bed. but as time went on, they started fighting over who got to sleep in your bed. it started as bickering—“move, she doesn’t want you here,” nam-gyu would snap, trying to shove thanos aside. “speak for yourself, bro,” thanos would shoot back, climbing up anyway. it’s like a power struggle between two self-proclaimed alpha males, but it’s over you, which just feels awkward. each one tries to subtly imply their superiority by making the argument about who has the better “qualifications” to be your bunkmate. eventually, the rivalry reached its peak when they both tried to squeeze into your bed at the same time. you ended up stuck between them, neither willing to back down, and neither particularly caring how uncomfortable it made you.

despite the rivalry, the situation eventually settles into some sort of… equilibrium. neither thanos nor nam-gyu backed down completely, but they seemed to reach an unspoken agreement. the two of them started “sharing” you, like some fucked up custody arrangement.

you start to realise that maybe—just maybe—this unholy triangle might not be such a bad thing after all. meal time turned into a prelude for something else entirely. when everyone was distracted, one of them would catch your eye, silently signaling for you to follow. you’d find yourself slipping away to meet them in the bathroom stall.

thanos is all energy, and unable to shut up—being balls deep inside you, his dirty talk came easily, an endless stream of words that tumbled out in rapid succession, that had you equal parts flustered and irritated. especially with how careless he was. you’d have to kiss him just to silence him, pressing your lips to his until his words were replaced by muffled groans. whenever you grabbed his hair, his reaction was instant—a breathy whimper that only seemed to spur him on more. but almost as quickly as the sound left his lips, he was smirking, leaning in to tease you. “don’t mess it up, baby,” he’d warn, his voice playful yet smug. “this shit cost a lot to style.”

nam-gyu, in contrast, was rougher and far less interested in theatrics. he wasn’t one for words—far too focused to waste time on anything unnecessary. he had you pinned firmly against the partition wall, the cool surface digging into your back as beads of perspiration formed along his brow. the thin structure trembled violently under the sheer force of his movements, creaking with every thrust as though it might give way at any second. the silence between you was broken only by a few curses and grunts that escaped him.

[zorilleerrant]

"You consider me your priestess?" the girl - the old woman, now, but you can still see her rosy cheeks the first time she came to visit you - asks you. It's hard to determine her tone of voice. She doesn't sound offended, at least, although she also doesn't sound like she believes you're a god. That, at least, is expected.

You wave your hand vaguely. You didn't get the gesture quite right, but humans always change their body language, and it's been too long since you needed to be human for anything. "It's not that you are. But you're the closest I've had in generations, and I would mark you one, if you want me to." You sit, casually, on a bench that wasn't there a moment before, hoping she'll do the same.

The old woman eyes it suspiciously. She's been here for every birthday since she found the place, and many informal days besides, and she knows there was never a bench here. Still, with a weary sigh, she sits beside you. "I'd like that, I think. I never had the test scores to join any of the big priesthoods. Get one over on them, a little bit." She laughs, and her teen years, writing scathing takedowns of theological papers, come back into view for a moment.

You touch her hand. There's a spark of magic. You don't need to, you never used to, but humans are more skeptical these days, and even your most devoted follower doesn't remember the old ways.

For a moment fleeting even by her standards, you wonder if she might have brought them back. But the fishing town isn't what it once was, and no one much makes the hike up here anymore, save curious children and nostalgic adults.

"Do you want me to do anything?" your priestess asks you, a wry smiling wrinkling the still plump curve of her cheeks. "Carry a sign, maybe? Rush into the town and curse their names for not giving you your due respect? I can do a mean scolding these days."

You laugh, hand still resting over hers. "If you like." The idea of her running among the fishmongers, giving over amulets with every sale, making rude gestures when they're refused, is incomparable. The only thing she really needs is The Book, though. You fold open your altar, the way she's done so many times, and bring out the box she admired enough to start polishing gently when she came to visit, telling you about her travels and her art.

"Oh, you again," your priestess says, in delight, laying a delicate hand on the smooth wood. "I learned woodworking and inlay because of you, you little scamp." When she draws her fingers down the sides, this time, the box opens, with a click she can barely hear. Her ears aren't what they once were. Her gasp is the same as it ever was, though, and she taps The Book reverently.

"I never had many rules, even back in the beginning," you tell her, opening the cover so she knows it's safe. "What ones I had don't matter so much, I think - although I'd ask you to be careful where you summon storms, if you try it." You don't know if she has the power for that, anymore. She delved deep into magic in her mid-life crisis, but you've rarely seen her use it since, and you don't know if hers has waned or blossomed in her twilight years.

She looks over the spells. She can read the annotations, still, at least. "It's a lot of power for one person." She flexes her fingers, summoning wisps of what might be the core of some major working, if she concentrated a little harder. "Would you mind if I taught these to people? Not to join your priesthood, mind, just so there could be a little more magic in the world."

You pause. You should have considered that. Many of your siblings have left their words and their magics to the world as their respect faded away, and even more have begun recovery as lost arts. You didn't know your priestess was a teacher. You knew she'd taught a few times, when the calling struck her, but never that she felt the need in her heart. "Of course," you say. The spells are mostly weak now, you think. The time for hiding them is long past. If there's something in there that can help, so be it.

She grins at you. Her teeth are still hardy, and the candlelight flashes pleasingly against them. "Of course you'd mind, or of course you wouldn't? Don't give me any loopholes, now, Your Divinity," she laughs at her own joke, the way she started doing when she broke free of childish attempts at maturity, but still, she waits for your answer, taking your hand in hers again.

"Share them however you'd like," you tell her, knowing that it means she'll record it down to scans and recreations, "the knowledge within is yours." It's clear she'll get years of delight out of it. You don't know how much she might change the world of the handful of enthusiasts she chooses to work with her. It's a nice bookend for a life full of adventure, you think, a discovery like that.

She kisses the book, gently, on the gilded cover. Then, almost as an afterthought, she kisses your cheek as well. "Thank you," she says. Then she opens it again, absorbed in the pages, well past when the evening grows dark. You keep the candles burning higher for her, so she never has to stop her perusal. It's soothing, to watch a priestess once again hard at work. She looks up. "Is this the gift?"

"What?" you ask, caught off guard. Even through all your disciples, you never managed to learn which times connect to each other in the mind of a human. You'd thought that question long forgotten, and hadn't planned on answering right now.

"The gift you said you wanted to give me. Is The Book the gift?" she asks, in confusion. Books are wonderful, powerful things, of course, but they aren't secret. Hidden, often, and protected, and sometimes held to only the most intimate of worshipers, but they're nothing unexpected, not for a deity to give.

You lean back on the bench you never rose from, and wonder if you should bring in desks for those she plans to teach. "No. I was going to offer you your choice of afterlife, when the time comes." You watch her as she frowns. You wonder if she already has an answer in mind. You wonder if she knew since she was knee high with a scraped arm, or since she was a teenager bent on escaping her classmates, or since she was learning to grow and just choosing her passion. She just looks at you, not answering.

Then, weary minutes later - weary for her, where each night brings aches the day didn't; you're happy to wait - she asks, almost rudely, "not soon, I hope?" Her chin juts out as it used to.

"Not so soon for you," you say, thoughtfully, "although too soon for me, I must admit."

She nods, still cradling The Book carefully. "I thought, once you'd made me your priestess, I'd end up going where all your servants go," she says, sounding, of all thing, patient about it. You don't know how much she knows about your afterlife. You've never discussed it with her. Even when you were popular, once, that was never much of the details that caught people's eye.

"Normally only monks go there," you say, not that you'd discourage her, if she wanted to stay always by your side. "It's a place for quiet contemplation, mostly. Even of my priesthood, only the ones who valued their silence ever stayed." You can see her, in a long gown, roaming the halls in a circle, thinking. You can't see her enjoying it for more than a short time.

"You'd have to send me away," she says, ruefully. Then she pauses to think. "You won't pick for me? I can pick?"

Still, you think, she might have you picking her home, anyway. So many of yours did. Even the ones who earned the highest honors left everything in your hands, and here she is a priestess of moments only, ready to upset everything. Or nothing, if you ask her not to. You close her hands around The Book again.

"Think on it," you say, and wait for next year.

While other god's shrines are magnificent, yours is a bit too humbling. And yet a little girl visits you every year after stumbling upon it, never missing a year even as she grows old. Deeply moved, you decide to give her a parting gift greater than what any other God would dare to give.

[submattenthusiast]

listen loser!virgin!matt

the sexually submissive sounds that originated from matt were so satisfying to hear especially knowing that you were the cause of them. though it was his hand stroking his cock in the audio you received, you were the reason he was whimpering so pathetically. you loved every single thing about it, and you wanted to make sure he enjoyed it just as much as you did. a sinister idea came to mind when you were mindlessly scrolling through your messages, replying to the unanswered texts from earlier in the day to literal weeks ago. knowing he would do just about anything when he wanted to cum, you knew it would work out with little to no trouble. now you just needed to get him there.

matt nearly knocked down the door with how he rushed in, the wood door swinging open and quick footsteps tapping against the floor. as he walked in he threw his jacket, backpack ,and keys all on the desk in the corner. the loud noises were a clear attention grabber, and you fell right into the trap. "what's your deal?" you speak, interrupting whatever he had going on. your words didn't seem to register in his mind as he continued to undress and get more comfortable now that he was home. not even turning his head to where your voice echoed from.

his mini tantrum was seemingly over with, seeing as he stopped fidgeting and throwing things around. he calmly walked over to your side of the bed. standing silently and broodingly over you he sighed, the air he blew out tickling you slightly. his eyes burned holes into the side of your face until you looked at him. with the new contact he reached out for your free hand to place it on his crotch. a airy sigh left his lips as he whimpered out a please.

the material of his jeans felt quite uncomfortable under your hands as you felt him up, feeling said boner he was begging for help about. his mouth dropped open at the touch, feeling relief that he couldn't provide for himself. you fondled with him until he started to enjoy it a little too much, stopping to start excuting your plan. "take your pants and boxers off and sit down" you instruct.

with quickness matt was only left in the grey t-shirt, pants and boxers pooling at his ankles. the cold air began hit him as he fidgeted uncomfortably in his place on the bed. your arm wrapped around his shoulder to pull him into your side, using that same hand you held it out in front of his mouth so he could spit. silently he gave you enough to coat his cock. "good boy" you praise, wrapping your fingers around him. a soft moan blessed your ears in return. before he became foggy brain he muttered out a thank you and tucked his head into the crook of your neck.

strategically you built up a pace, hands moving at an angle that would get him to cum quickly. the makeshift lube of spit helped your fist move faster and to add onto the rushed movements you whispered endless amounts of praise to him. telling him how much of a good boy he was and how good he was being, and how you were glad he came to you for help. his pretty sounds filled your ears once again, the whimpers that came from his mouth when you rubbed over his tip and the moans when you stroked his cock faster. drips of drool began to pile up at the corner of his lips from his mouth being constantly ajar. "i'm close mommy i'm sorry" he half warns half apologizes. you smirk at this, knowing he must've really been worked up to be this close already, and knowing that you helped him get there.

"that's okay baby i got you' you coo, slowing your hand down but not completely removing it. sensing the change in pace, matt untucked his head and looked to you for an answer. "why'd you slow down?? please please just let me cum i can do it again, but i just need it now" he rambled, hand covering yours to speed you up. chuckling at his eagerness you purr, "you're still gonna cum alright, mommy just wants to try something". hesitantly he nodded and moved to release you from his grip. you stop him immediately, moving his veiny hand back on his needy cock.

his eyes followed yours as you reached for your phone, silently wondering what you were doing. after finding the audio and pressing play you rested the device on your thigh. a pink blush rose on his cheeks as he realized what he was listening to. his hand froze and his head found it's way to your neck again, embarassment flooding his body. a pained whine left his lips as he tried to block out the sounds. "you sound so pretty sweetheart" you tease. shaking his head he whines more "nooo m embarrassed now".

"oh you are?, so you don't want to cum anymore?" you ask, going to pause the audio. his nose brushed against your neck as he shook his head. getting desperate now, he started to jerk himself off. you smile down at him as he touches himself pathetically to his own whimpering audio. "please let me cum i'm sorry" he pauses, keeping eye contact with you. "that's a good boy, keep going hm" you speak, caressing him softly.

as the audio went on it ironically matched up with his state now, precum was oozing from his tip and soft whimpers of mama escaped his lips as he touched. the squelches from the clear substance and the spit added onto the multiple sounds in the room as his hand moved faster. sweat began to drip onto his shirt and his body twitched as he neared his orgasm. his blue eyes disappeared from your vision quickly, his eyes squeezing shut, allowing him to focus on his pleasure. "really close a-ah please mommy" he begged.

identical moans left your phone and his mouth as he gave a strong last few strokes, begging for your hand and to cum at the same time. "can't hold it please" he whined, gripping his cock to hold as best as he could. "look at me" you command. you wanted to see him fall apart, see the way his eyes rolled to the back of his head when he reached his peak. with no hesitation he opened them and held the best eye contact he could. "there he is, such a pretty boy".

the blush on his cheeks increased at the compliment, making his cheeks and cock the same colour. "i am for you i am" he adds on. "then cum for me pretty, make a big mess like you did before". the praise and the sultriness of your words sent him tumbling over the edge. one big stroke had him spurting out white. higher pitched moans came deep from inside him as the liquid coated his hands, thighs and part of his shirt. it was a big one, so big that a drop was on your phone, pausing the audio.

coming down from his high, he heaves out a heavy breath. you comfort him as he curls into you. the room was oddly silent, looking at your leg you realize what sound was missing. jokingly you show matt, "the audio didn't finish baby, i guess we gotta do it again"

[aerynwrites]

Cravings

John Price x Pregnant!Reader

A/N: Based on THIS idea that came to me. This is most likely going to be an on going little interconnected one shot series as I already have other ideas for John and his cute lil' pregnant neighbor. Hope you all enjoy this one! Word Count: 3k Warnings: mentions of pregnancy/being pregnant, fluff, soft john price. Next Part

The ceramic plate feels unusually heavy in your hands, but so does your fist as you bring it up to knock on the door in front of you before dropping it again, internally battling with yourself. 

What the fuck are you doing?

That’s the first thought that runs through your head as you stand stupidly in front of your neighbors door, the smell of…something so tantalizing wafting through from the other side making your mouth water. 

Ah, right - silly pregnancy brain basically forced you from your apartment with a plate in your hand because while you don’t know what your neighbor is cooking it smells so fucking good that you fear you might die if you don’t have some of it. 

It’s silly, you know it is, it’s outrageous really - what were you planning to do? Waltz up to this man's door, knock, and then hold out your plate - “alms for the poor pregnant lady please?”

You sigh, dropping the plate by your side as the thought runs through your mind. You almost turn to walk back to your apartment empty handed, but then a faint memory surfaces for just a moment. Your neighbor isn’t a stranger, and while he isn't quite a friend, either - he’s been kind enough. You actually hadn’t run into him all that often, your first interaction with him being a couple months into your pregnancy actually. 

You’d been grappling with a large box, trying and ultimately failing to get it up the stairs to your second floor apartment, stranding you on the landing between the stairs as you stared up at the last flight. You were leaning against the wall, hand on your slightly rounded belly when you heard John’s door open and close, him appearing around the corner shortly after, surprise coloring his features at the scene before him. 

“Need some help with that?” He asked, a bemused smile on his lips. 

You huffed out a small laugh, giving him a smile of your own. “Only if you’re offering.”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to let you do it by yourself, not in your condition.”

You let out a soft ‘hmph’ at that - hating when people refer to your predicament as a condition. You’re pregnant, not bedridden. 

“Where is your better half anyways?” He’d asked, picking up the box with such little effort it made you jealous, “I outta teach him a thing or two about manners-”

You wave him off, the mention of your baby's father leaving a sour taste in your mouth. 

“Not in the picture,” you say simply, quickly putting an end to the line of questioning.

Your neighbor paused at that, but decided not to push it, staying silent until you reached your door. You unlocked it and told him he could leave the box at the door but he’d insisted on at least putting it inside the apartment. 

“Do you…” he paused for a moment, rubbing his beard chin in thought. “You need help getting it put together?” 

You glance down at the box, it’s just a crib, it’ can’t be that hard.

You give him a warm smile, shaking your head. “You’ve been plenty of help, I should be able to get it from here.”

He nods, turning back towards the door before stopping just past the threshold and holding his hand out towards you. “John Price. I’m over in 2C if you need anything. Don’t hesitate to ask.”

You shake his hand, and smile before he heads back down the stairs. 

John Price…

Your interactions past that had been spread thin - although you did end up asking for his help with the crib - it was in no way a one person job. But other than that…it was just friendly conversations or waves as you passed one another in the hallway or stairs. 

But as you stand here, the smell of food getting stronger and more inviting, his words replay again. 

“Don’t hesitate to ask…”

Fuck it. 

You reach up and knock on his door before you can stop yourself, clutching the plate against your chest as you hear a faint call from inside, and then the smell of whatever the hell he’s cooking is hitting you full force as the door swings open. 

Your name falls from his lips as he looks at you, that slight look of surprise on his face once again as he takes you in on his doorstep. You probably are a sight - leggings, oversized sweatshirt, only in your fuzzy socks and a plate in your hand. 

“Look, I know this is going to sound so stupid,” you begin, rushing to explain yourself. “But I was in my apartment and I started to smell whatever it is that you’re cooking and it just smells so good, and I tried to just make something else but it didn’t seem nearly as appetizing and I just-”

You let out a frustrated huff, holding out your plate in shameful defeat, “Can I just…Can I just have a little of whatever it is that you’re making? because now I’m craving it and I don’t think I will be able to stop thinking about it.”

The silence that follows your request makes you want to shrivel up in embarrassment, but it’s soon washed away as gentle laughter meets your ears. You watch as John has to almost physically support himself on the doorframe as he tries and fails to contain his laughter. Heat rushes to your cheeks, but before you can protest or bite back, he’s stepping back into his apartment, opening the door a bit wider. 

“Why don’t I do you one better and invite you in for dinner?” He says, eyes bright with amusement.

Pulling the plate back to your chest in a mock hug, suddenly unsure. “Are you sure?” You ask, voice small, “I don’t want to intrude.”

He shakes his head, reaching an arm out to guide you inside, “Nonsense, I made too much for one person anyways,” he says, closing the door behind you once you enter. 

“I hope you like Indian food,” he says, moving to slip past you towards the kitchen, “Does spicy food bother you?”

At the mention of Indian food, you can feel yourself practically drooling. You’ve had an affinity for spicy foods as of late, and curry has been your go to. 

“God no,” you practically groan, moving to follow him into the small apartment kitchen, “Spicy food is the one thing I can’t get enough of as of late.”

The kitchen in this apartment is identical to your own. It’s attached right to the living room, separated only by a half wall breakfast bar type set up, so you’re able to watch as John turns his back to you to tend to the food still on the stove. 

There’s a small empty space off to the side of the kitchen and living room - clearly meant to be a small dining area of sorts but John has turned it into a makeshift office. A small desk littered with papers and folders haphazardly stacked together and an open laptop, screensaver up on display. 

“Make yourself at home,” John calls over his shoulder, the soft clinking of dishes accompanying his words, “food’ll be done in a moment.”

Put slightly more at ease by his words, you finally set your plate down on the breakfast bar top, taking a moment to look around the space. 

The living room is sparsely decorated, clearly a man’s apartment - but it’s more than that. It’s utilitarian, almost…cold. You’ve started to notice that John is sometimes gone for long stints of time, maybe that’s why it’s so impersonal, he doesn’t spend much time here. Yet, despite the lack of decor or personal touches, you do notice small things that just scream John - at least from what you know of him. 

The fancy crystal ashtray on the coffee table, half smoked cigar sitting unlit in the well. The half empty glass of dark amber liquid sitting right next to it, condensation pooling on the coaster beneath it. There is a simple leather couch up against the back wall of the living room right across from an entertainment center and TV. Two small bookshelves bracket the entertainment center, and without thinking, your feet carry you over to them. 

They’re filled with books of all sorts - mostly nonfiction - but you catch some classics among the plethora of autobiographies and self-help books. Catcher in The Rye, The Nickel Boys, and Moby Dick, to name a few. But the one that draws your attention the most is one book sitting on the shelf closest to the door, lying face down as if he had been in the middle of reading when he was interrupted by something. 

The Hobbit. 

You smile, turning from the book as you turn to walk back towards his makeshift office space and thus, the kitchen. 

“Didn’t take you as a Tolkien fan, John.”

He turns to look at you as you come to the entrance to the kitchen, giving you a small smile, and a sheepish shrug before turning back to stir the pot.

“One of my coworkers recommended it to me,” he defends, before adding, “although I’ll admit it’s growing on me.”

As he was speaking you turned and took a few more steps into his office space, eyes drawn to the screensaver on the laptop. It’s four men in military gear, arms around each other’s shoulders, and it only takes you a moment to spot John among the bodies. He’s smiling wide in the photo, arm wrapping affectionately around the neck of a dark skinned man to his left, while his other arm is wrapped more casually around another man to his right. This man is also smiling wide, piercing blue eyes crinkled in delight as he seems to be laughing, the sides of his head are shaved and he has a short mohawk. Your eyes finally trail to the last member of the group, who’s one arm is around the man with the mohawk, while his other arm is rested casually atop the rifle hanging around him. But what stands out the most is the stark white skull mask on his face, hiding everything but his dark eyes. 

“You’re in the military?” You ask, moving to stand up straight once more, wincing at the slight twinge in your back as you do so. 

You hear John approach from behind you, footsteps muffled by the carpet as he comes to stand next to you. 

“That I am,” he says, and you don’t miss the way he tucks some papers beneath other folders. Not for your eyes apparently. 

You smile when you look at the picture, “You look happy here,” you say, pointing to the screen.

John nods beside you, smiling fondly again. “It was a good day,” he says simply, shrugging his shoulders, “mission went well for once.”

He reaches out and points to the man on his left, “That’s Gaz,” he moves to the one to his right, “Soap,” he finally moves to the man with the skull mask, “and that’s Ghost.”

You hum, slightly confused by the names, but recalling a faint knowledge of military personnel getting nicknames sometimes. You choose not to question it, instead giving in to your teasing nature as you point to John in the picture. 

“You skipped over the handsome one,” you say, voice teasing. 

You watch in silent triumph as John clears his throat, and if it weren't for his beard, you’re sure you’d see red adorning his cheeks. He waves his hand at you, shaking his head as he chuckles. 

“Oh, come off it,” he chastises lightly, “Dinner’s ready.”

You turn and move towards the kitchen where John already has two plates of butter chicken and rice plated up and ready for you both. You move to help him but he brushes you off with a small ‘tsk’ sound before sliding past you and leading you back into the living room. 

“I hope you’re alright eating at the coffee table,” he says sheepishly, setting the plates down, “Never got around to getting a proper dining room table.”

You smile at him, trying to be reassuring as you take a seat on the couch, “perfectly fine with me. It’s where I eat most of my meals too.”

He seems to relax at that before disappearing back into the kitchen and returning shortly with two glasses of water, setting one in front of you and then his own plate before taking a seat next to you. You wait, not all that patiently for him to get comfortable before you finally dig into the food that started this whole silly debacle, and the moment you do, you can’t stop the groan that slips past your closed lips as you chew. 

It’s fucking amazing.

Better than the Indian restaurant you frequent, and much better than anything you’ve ever tried to cook. The seasoning is perfect, the curry is the right consistency too and it’s just-

“Holy shit, John,” you manage after swallowing another bite of food, taking a sip of your water as he laughs around his own bite. 

“I take it you approve then?” He asks, blue shimmering with amusement. 

You hum happily, taking another bite before replying. “More than approve, this is phenomenal, better than any indian take away I’ve had.”

He smiles at that, “I’ll take the compliment then.”

You nod, now trying to force yourself to slow down and savor the dish in front of you. “As you should.”

It’s quiet for a moment before John reaches for the remote laying on the table. “Fancy anything in particular?”

You think for a moment before shaking your head, “whatever you usually watch is fine.”

He nods, turning the TV on and switching to a streaming service before flicking through the various ‘recently watched’ shows. You can’t stop the way your brow raises when you see The Great British Baking Show among the list. 

“You watch baking shows?” You ask, unable to keep the surprise from your voice. 

John chuckles, looking at you from the corner of his eye, “call it a guilty pleasure,” he jokes before clicking on the most recent episode. 

The rest of the meal passes in an air of comfort, the only sounds at first being the scrape of utensils against plates and the show playing on the TV. Neither of you really notice when you both finish eating and lean back into the couch, eyes glued to the screen and critiques falling from both your mouths. 

“She forgot the fucking eggs!” You cry at the TV, incredulous that one of the contestants forgot a key ingredient in their cake. 

John practically groans beside you, “it’s probably for the best,” he says, cringing slightly as it switches to another baker whose cake is crumbling apart as they try to decorate it. “She tried to pair pickles with a chocolate mousse last episode-”

“She what?” You look at him surprised for a moment before sinking back into the couch. “Wait…that actually might not be that bad-”

This gets another laugh out of the man beside you and you hear him mumble something about ‘weird pregnancy cravings’ before you both go back to watching the show. 

The evening passes much like this, both of you watching a few more episodes before your eyes fall to the clock on your phone, eyes widening at the time. 

“Oh my gosh it’s late,” you say, sitting up straighter, hand falling to your belly when the movement causes a twinge. 

You must make a face because, John is sitting up now too, eyes falling down to where your hand lays. “No need to rush,” he assures you, moving to stand and offer you his hand. “I’m not kicking you out.”

You smile up at him as you take his hand, fighting the heat that rushes to your cheeks, “Well you could have,” you say softly, “I definitely overstayed my welcome.”

The man before you just shakes his head, “none of that now,” he assures you, “If I’d wanted you gone, I would’ve said something. I..” He trails off, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, “I liked having the company.”

Now you really blush, ducking your head as your hand rubs absentmindedly over your stomach. “I..I liked it too. Nice change of pace. Thank you for inviting me in,” you tug your lip between your teeth before continuing. “I know it was a weird request and you could have turned me away - should have probably but…Thank you.”

You look up then only to see John giving you that warm smile you’ve come to be familiar with, blue eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“Anytime,” he says softly, before he shifts, as if remembering something. “Almost forgot-”

He hurries back to the kitchen, pulling something from the fridge before returning to you. He holds out a Tupperware container, obviously filled with leftovers from dinner. 

“Saved some for you,” he says, urging the container into your hands when you don’t take it immediately.

“John I-” you shake your head, looking down at the container, “You already fed me, I don’t want to take your leftovers too-”

He waves his hand sharply, cutting you off. “I made plenty,” he promises, “I still have some. There was plenty left to give you.”

A small silence falls over you, gratitude and warmth filling your chest with a fuzziness you haven’t felt in a long time. Not since your last relationship, not since you got pregnant. It’s been too long since someone cared for you instead of the other way around, and the simple gesture makes your eyes burn with the threat of tears. 

Not now, pregnancy hormones!

You smile, clothing the container tightly to you before looking up at John again. He still has that soft look on his face, and before you can think better of it, you lean up on your tiptoes to plant a chaste kiss to his cheek. 

“Thank you, John.”

And then you turn and exit his apartment before either of you can find time to feel embarrassed about your actions. 

But, you left so quickly you missed the blush on John’s cheeks, and the way he brought one hand up to touch the spot you kissed. 

Fuck.

He’s a goner. 

[wtfaniii]

Sweet But Psycho

Summary: You are only nineteen years old but life has made you intelligent, life and your father.

Warning: slight smut, innuendo, blood and a somewhat toxic relationship, I haven't checked this yet so sorry for any spelling mistakes

The salesman x fem reader ¡!front man's daughter

A sigh escaped your lips as the handsome black-haired man in a suit pushed you onto the bed and positioned himself on top of you.

—You don't know how much I've been waiting for this —You said with a wide smile taking the man's face to pull him towards you and kiss him with need.

—I know —he replied arrogantly as he caressed your body torturously slow.

From the first time you saw this man at a meeting he had with your father, you knew you had to at least kiss him.

There was something about his personality that made him so attractive besides his physique, maybe it was that arrogant and mocking smile that he sometimes formed or that contemptuous look that he gave to everyone.

A gasp escaped your lips as he managed to strip of your clothes, however, you didn't want him to have all the power.

Being who you were, you didn't like to give up control, you were above him and you made that clear when skillfully turned around on the bed to make him lie beneath you.

—Well well... someone is having a hard time adapting to other roles —He mocked, tightening his hands on your hips, sure to leave a mark.

—I prefer to be on top and keep the pace —You said flirtatious.

You lowered your hands to him pants but just as your fingers reached for him belt buckle the door to room suddenly opened.

Your heart raced, and not in the way you would have wanted, when you saw your father open the door and make an expression of annoyance and embarrassment at the scene before him.

—Hi... —The two greeted at the same time, you with a nervous smile and he with a mocking expression.

Sure, your dear boyfriend was more than proud to fuck his boss's daughter.

—Both have five minutes to get dressed and get out of here, or I'll have to find a new recruiter for this afternoon —The front man warned and then closed the door again with a thud.

The man below you would be lying if he said he wasn't afraid of your father, the front man was far above him and although it fed his ego the idea of ​​having you in the palm of his hand he still wasn't willing to risk having a bullet in his head embedded by him.

—You heard him, sweetie —He sighed, gently pushing you away from him to get out of bed.

—Coward —You told him mockingly as you stood up.

You liked to provoke him, to make him angry so that the tension between you would be even greater, but in this case it wasn't like that, he wasn't ready to die.

—What I want to do to you will take me more than five minutes, love —He justified himself while adjusting his tie.

You sighed and both of got dressed again, when you saw yourself presentable you opened the door and right there was In-ho, with a look that would freeze anyone.

In-ho was against this relationship, the salesman was almost twenty-five years older than you, and he knew the kind of man he was, he didn't want him with you but seeing you so enthusiastic about him made him silence all his complaints.

He haven't seen you this happy since your mother died.

Life had treated you badly, your mother fell ill and died, your father was fired and left you with your grandmother for five months until he came back for you and brought you to this island.

At first you didn't want to be a part of this but you didn't want to leave your father alone in this duel either, you were also having a bad time and before you knew it you were already wearing a pink suit, a gun and a black mask with a quadrate printed on the front.

Before long you became addicted to this new life, In-ho almost instantly regretted having taken you there with him because he didn't take into account your vulnerable state of mind you were in, you became a completely different person and he regretted it every day.

—You have to get back to work —he said to the man in the suit, who nodded, bowed slightly, and left almost instantly —And you-

You quickly interrupted him with a wide smile.

—¿Can I go with him?

—No.

—¡Oh come on! I've been on this fucking island since I was twelve! —Your irritated screams didn't bother him at all, he was already used to it —I need to see ¡civilization! —You yelled at him furiously one last time as he walked calmly to the control room.

Even if he didn't let you go, you would run away anyway, he knew it, he had no way to control you without causing you harm because he would also easily tell all his guards to subdue you so couldn't leave here but he didn't want to go to those extremes with you, he still loved you with all his soul, you were the only bit of humanity and of his old life that he had left.

So he just grabbed his cell phone and called your sadistic boyfriend.

"She will go with you to the city, take care of her, if something happens to her you will return for your farewell"

The man at the phone cursed mentally, he knew that being fired was also synonymous with certain death, but he refrained from contradicting the frontman.

—Understood, sir.

He hung up the phone and leaned back in the boat seat where after a few minutes he saw you arrive with your characteristic smile and shiny teeth.

—¿Would you like this to be a casual date? —You asked, sitting next to him.

—I'd rather not, for now it's just business.

He didn't want to mix work with his private life but he didn't refuse every time you stole a kiss from him.

You alone accompanied him to every part of the city he went to recruit more trash to entertain your guests, you found it fun and even helped him with some objectives, however you always made sure that no one who had met you before saw you.

Although deep down you wanted to go to your grandmother's house, see your uncle Jun-ho and give them a hug but your father was very specific about those ideas, you don't have to do that, for them you no longer existed.

—¿Are you okay? —Your boyfriend asked cautiously.

He found it curious to see you pensive, silent and even depressed in a period of only ten minutes. He knew you to be quite extroverted and even impulsive, seeing this side of you sparked his interest.

—Yeah... we just have to recruit this last one and that's it, ¿right?

He raised an eyebrow but decided to ignore it for now and both continued walking through the train station.

—Yes, this is a famous ex-youtuber who lost and owes a lot of money, it will be the last one and we will go buy some things.

You nodded silently and when they found the target you stood a few steps away watching them play Ddakji, a malicious smile appeared on your lips every time he slapped the young man.

When he finally gave he the card you grabbed his arm and pulled him towards you to give a kiss on the cheek.

—¿What did I tell you about public displays of affection? —He said pretending to be upset but he just couldn't, sometimes you were hateful and annoying but it didn't matter, he could get used to that.

—If you complain I will do it more often —You threatened him playfully as you continued walking.

But you felt some glances on the two of you, on some occasions you looked surreptitiously and could confirm that two men were following you.

—Dissimulate, after shopping we will take the gentlemen to a more private place —He whispered in your ear and you nodded silently.

You thought that would be more fun than making homeless people choose between bread and a scratch card, you thought it was funny and a joke how people could be ambitious, they could have eaten that day but they preferred to gamble with luck.

—Idiots —You whispered rolling your eyes.

After done him little social experiment, you and the salesman hopped in a cab and headed away from civilization hoping those two men would still be following you.

They were very predictable and once got the chance you let your boyfriend beat those two until they were unconscious and badly injured.

—Nice way to release tension

He winked at you and straightened his jacket and tie.

[...]

—That's the man who's been looking for us for the last three years —He said as he looked indifferently at the man who was searching around in anguish.

You and him were on the roof of an abandoned building, still in the same alley where you kidnapped the other two who apparently worked for this man.

—A headache for your father —He said seriously.

—¿Should I shoot him? —When he turned to look at you, you already had the gun ready and pointing it at the head of the man who was still floors below you.

He shook his head and put his hand on your arm to get you to lower the gun.

—Not yet, I want to know what he wants, for now... ¿Would you like to go on a date with me and the two gentlemen we have tied up down there?

You smiled again and gave a small bow as he took your hand.

You were cruel, and he loved that about you, so he could share moments like this with you.

The poor screams and stifled pleas of these two men brought smiles to your boyfriend and to you, the adrenaline of the moment and the power over the lives of others made your body tingle, made you nauseous and at the same time made your heart race like crazy.

"Rock, Paper, Scissors, Minus one" was music to your ears and you couldn't help but jump slightly every time the man next to you pulled the trigger.

You loved every part of this man, yes, he was a sadist but he looked so attractive every time he acted this way that it made you wet.

—¿Can I play? —You asked with a fake pout as you rested your chin on him shoulder.

—Your father won't like that.

—¿And? ¿You're his dog to do whatever he says?

He tightened his lips and the attention of the two gagged and bound men fell on you with their eyes wide at what you had just said.

You liked to tease him but this time you did it at a less appropriate time.

—Repeat what you said —He said in a low, threatening voice.

—Awww... ¿did I hit a nerve? ¿You don't like people calling you... ¿dog?

In the blink of an eye he grabbed you by the neck and lifted you a few inches off the ground, the tips of your feet barely touching the surface.

—The frontman forbade me to kill you but... now I can say that one of these two men killed you inadvertently.

You gasped as the air began to catch in your neck, him firm grip excited you as much as it terrified you.

—Go ahead... —You spoke with little air —Prove that you are not his dog

He wanted so much to fuck you like that and kill you right now, you were desperate but also beautiful and he wasn't going to deny it, you had taken over his head and part of his heart.

He let go of you and you barely managed to stay standing, you gasped for air and when you looked up you saw the tip of the gun pointed directly at the face.

You laughed amusedly.

—Ouh... Looks like I really got on your nerves this time.

—Just apologize —He said seriously and with a sly smile —Come on, do it so we can finish this.

—And if not, ¿what? —You took a step forward to let the cold metal of the weapon touch your lips.

—Just do it, I don't want to break that pretty face of yours.

Once again you smiled and opened your mouth to allow the tip of the gun to enter.

With your eyes you asked him to pull the trigger.

He could have shot, he could have still told your father that one of those two killed you and gotten away with it, but he didn't.

Even with that cold, carefree look you kept on your face, he knew you were still a girl who had lost everything and hated her life, a poor girl who had formed that personality to pretend.

He knew it because you were just like him.

And he wasn't wrong, you really would have liked him to kill you right then and there but he took the gun from your mouth and shot one of the two men in the side of the head causing the other to gasp.

—Coward —You told him sternly and disappointed.

After that tense moment you remained silent until night fell, he asked you to return to the island but you didn't, you decided to follow him because you knew he would go see that man who caused so many problems, you deduced why he let one of those two strangers live to interrogate him.

You kept an appropriate distance, luckily for you the motel where him went to see that man was full of windows so you were like a sniper from the roof of another nearby building.

This time you accepted that you weren't doing it out of curiosity or personal benefit, you were doing it because cared about him.

You saw them talking and playing Russian roulette, it was him favorite game but this time it made you goosebumps on end for some strange reason.

You counted each empty shot and when you saw that there was only one left and it was your boyfriend's turn, your heart skipped a beat.

—If you do this, I'll kill you —you warned the air while keeping your hand on the gun, you were definitely going to intervene.

You saw that the man said something to your boyfriend, something that caused him to point the gun at himself to shoot himself one last time, but before doing so, you shot him hand.

The salesman groaned in pain and screamed, dropping the gun when he saw the hole in his hand.

—¡Damn bitch! —He shouted, turning his head towards the window where he saw you in the other building waving at him with a hand and a smile —¡¡¡You're seriously a fucking bitch!!!

You mouthed "I know" and blew him a kiss before running off to get him.

—¡¿What was that?! —Gi-hun said, taking the gun with the remaining bullet from the ground and looking towards the window, now there was no one.

—My fucking girlfriend —He muttered, looking at his bloody hand.

The door to the room suddenly opened and Jun-ho appeared with his gun raised so Gi-hun raised his gun as well.

—Police, ¡put hands up! —He demanded, looking at them randomly an the two raised their hands instinctively.

—Hi... ¿am I interrupting something? —You said entering the room with biggest gun that brought with you.

Until your gaze fell on the policeman, you cursed at the sight of your uncle.

He was just as surprised as you, he knew In-ho was behind all this but he didn't expect you to be too.

—It seems I have the advantage here so why don't you guys put down your weapons and we can talk like civilized people ¿does that sound okay? —You said with a closed-lip smile but your eyes remained fixed on Jun-ho.

—¡I just want him to take me to his owner! —Gi-hun demanded, pointing at your man in the seat, who was bandaging his hand with a handkerchief.

—I am him owner —You said arrogantly —I'm sorry, honey —apologized to him without lowering your gun or your defensive stance.

—Liar, you enjoyed doing it —He said through clenched teeth and annoying.

You winked and turned your attention back to your uncle but before could say another word you felt a strong blow to the head that knocked you unconscious.

—¡That bitch is crazy! —shouted the man they had previously tortured, still tied by the ankles and half naked, he had hit you with a fire extinguisher —¡She and his deranged boyfriend killed my friend! —He added, pointing at the black-haired man in a suit.

—¿Boyfriend? —Jun-ho asked quietly as he approached you to make sure you still had a pulse.

—I'm dead —the salesman murmured as he watched you lying unconscious on the floor.

If they didn't kill him, your father would.

[hgfictionwriter]

Revelations: Part Two

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie's confession leaves you reeling. It changes everything and you don't know how to even begin to navigate the emotions and hardships that come with it.

Warnings: Angst. Language.

You blinked several times and your mouth fell open to speak, but zero words came. Your jaw remained slack while a frown slowly formed as your thoughts ricocheted inside your head. You stared at Jessie, vaguely processing the deep look of concern on her face.

"I-I had no idea," she began to speak with a new urgency spurred on by your silence. She shifted closer to you and held out her hands in her lap in emphasis. "I just," she shook her head as she tried to find her words. “I arrived for a game and she was there. I-"

“Wait. Who,” you finally spoke as your frown deepened while your mind struggled to comprehend what was being said.

“Um, well, Sara,” Jessie said as you saw her trying to compose herself again. “My um, ex? I guess? I don’t know what to call her, really. But, um," she swallowed hard, gaze fixed on the floor as she spoke, "she told me we needed to talk." She glanced at you, eyes pleading. "I-I didn't know what to do with that information. It seemed so weird - I hadn't seen or talked to her in years and all of a sudden she just showed up wanting to talk? And you know how things are at the doors, I just rush through, so I just kinda nodded, but moved past. I didn't even exchange information with her."

She swallowed audibly again and began to wring her hands together. Her voice quivered.

"I didn't think much of it. I thought maybe she wanted to catch up and I dismissed it because, I don't know - she and I were connected so briefly," she said as her voice rose in pitch and she rubbed her face roughly.

Her shoulders visibly rose and fell as she took a second. She looked at you more fully and her eyes glistened with mounting tears.

"She showed up at the next game - same thing. But this time she held out her phone to me." Her pace slowed and her eyes drifted briefly to the floor. "She had a picture up."

Your heart pounded so heavily in your chest that you felt for sure she could hear it. You watched wordlessly, jaw now clenched tightly as she retrieved her phone. She eventually turned it over to you.

Somehow you managed to lift your hand, a tremble in the action, as you took the phone. Your breath held stagnant in your throat as you looked down to see an image of a little girl with dark, wispy curls looking up at the camera with a familiar smile. Her cheeks were tinged pink with freckles adorning them and her nose.

The synapses in your brain fired rapidly as pieces fell into place. You tried to swallow, but nearly choked at the effort. You stared at the photo so long that her screen locked. Your stunned expression reflected in the darkened screen for several seconds before you looked up at her.

Jessie stared at you, eyes wide and searching. She looked terrified.

"What am I looking at?" You eventually asked, voice wavering with how dry and tight your throat was. Jessie inched closer to you, knees now touching yours. She gently retrieved her phone from your limp grasp.

"That's-that's Zoie," she announced softly, her voice nearly a whisper. "My daughter."

It was her second time confessing it, but this time it hit you hard and square in the chest. The feelings that had been simmering and forming just beneath the surface came rushing up. You shook your head several times and let out a weak laugh.

"I-I don't understand. What are you talking about?" You shifted your gaze up to the ceiling and waved your hands about in confusion and desperation. "How do you even know? That could be anyone's kid!"

The weight in your chest undermined your words. The image you just saw on her phone was near impossible to deny despite every fibre of your being wishing for this to be some horrible misunderstanding.

Jessie didn't respond immediately and you snapped your head back down to see her eyeing you remorsefully.

"I know," she said quietly, casting her gaze down as she opened her phone to look at the photo again. "It's a lot to absorb. I-I didn't believe it at first either."

You realized that your jaw was clenched so tightly that your teeth were starting to ache. Your fingers dug painfully into the tops of your thighs. Tears began to burn behind your eyes and you stared hard at Jessie. She didn't cower, but her shoulders were hunched as she stared absently at the photo.

"She's mine, Y/N," she said softly, looking up to you once more. "Sara and I-"

The mention of this other woman brought out a visceral reaction in you.

"Wait - hold up. Who the hell is Sara again?" You interjected. "I don't remember you ever mentioning her." Jessie sighed wearily, picking at the corners of her fingers.

"She," Jessie started, waving her hand around aimlessly, "was, kind of just some girl. She was on the track team and we met during my last couple of months at UCLA. We'd really only been on a few dates before I got signed to Chelsea and left for London. I stopped hearing from her not long after I left. I didn't really know why. And I didn't really question it either - we weren't committed, I was busy - new life, new career. I didn't give it more thought." She exhaled somberly. "Now I know why."

Your pulse was still pounding loudly in your head as her words settled in.

"Just 'some girl'?" You asked as your raised your eyebrows. "Some girl - who happened to have your kid," you said with surprising steadiness as you stared her down.

She winced, recoiling slightly and burying her face in her hands before lowering them.

"I know this is a lot to dump on you. I-I'm so sorry, babe," she said. She huffed irritably. "This is why I didn't say anything for so long. I had to wrap my head around things and I just couldn't even begin to fathom what to say to you."

You sniffled and sat up straighter. "So what. You fuck this girl. She gets knocked up. But...you're in London when she finds out? And what - she just doesn't tell you? She just carries on - lives her life, has your kid. And all of a sudden decides to confront you?" You asked bewildered.

"I know," she said sullenly as she closed her eyes. "She chose not to tell me because I was so far away and I had no intention of coming back to LA. And, I don't know, she said she just didn't see how it would work and didn't want me to abandon this great opportunity." She sighed. "But when I transferred to Portland, she thought it was time. Zoie's starting kindergarten in September - other kids have their parents and, Sara just thought it wasn't fair to Zoie..."

Your throat was dry all over again. As she talked it dawned on you that she'd been having all of these conversations and developments with this woman. Her ex. The mother of her child.

"So all of this hiding around, secret calls and texts, late nights - all of this bullshit - you've been sneaking around talking with her?" Saliva pooled in your mouth as you thought about it.

Jessie fidgeted. "Yes. But - it was all about Zoie. Trying to figure things out. There was absolutely nothing else going on. I swear," she said adamantly as she grasped your hands. You might've pulled away if your limbs didn't feel numb. "She knows I'm in love with you. So in love with you. And that we're engaged."

You stared vacantly at the floor as you gave a slow shake of your head. None of this was making sense. This just couldn't be real.

"I don't - I don't even know what to think," you said. "What does all of this mean? W-what now?" You asked as you tried to keep your voice even and calm.

Jessie held your hand tightly as she retracted the other to rub her mouth in thought. Her voice cracked as she started to speak.

"She's staying with her aunt up here and is looking for a place to live. Zoie's enrolled in a school up here now. And," Jessie released your hand to clasp hers together, shoulders rising with a breath, "I...I'm going to be a part of Zoie's life. She's my daughter. And I'm going to help raise her." She took a deep breath. "And I pray that you want to do that with me."

You opened your mouth to speak, mind still reeling. Your jaw flexed a couple of times as you tried to find your words and Jessie forged on in your silence.

"I love you so much," Jessie said, voice breaking once more. "And I know you didn't sign up for this. I don't want to lose you, but, I can't walk away from this. Now that I know, I can't just pretend or try to make this all go away," she said with increasing breaths. Her eyes filled with tears, "And it's been killing me to lie to you. You're the love of my life, my best friend, and to keep this from you the past few weeks has been torture. You're the one who I talk to when things are hard, when I need advice, and to know that this could hurt you," her voice grew taut as tears began to fall, "and that it would change everything..." She took a shuddering breath. "All I ever wanted was to make you feel loved and safe. And now..."

Her shoulders shook as she began to cry fully. Despite the shock and concoction of still-unnamed emotions coursing through your body, you still found yourself reaching out to comfort her. It was automatic. Natural.

She cried harder as you placed your arm around her and she curled into you, clutching you desperately to her in a way she never had before. You blinked, nonplussed, but embraced her nonetheless.

Your mind flashed back to a moment all those weeks ago. Suddenly, that moment took on a whole new context.

You slowly blinked, waking as you heard rustling at the front door. You yawned and stretched out in bed.

"Jess?" You called, voice slightly hoarse with sleep. You rubbed your face as you reached over to check the time on your phone.

1:45am

"What the fuck," you whispered as you stared at the time with a wince. You sat up and looked out into the darkened apartment.

You'd been at her game that night and was planning to wait for her, but she'd texted you right before warm-ups telling you that coach wanted to speak with her after the game. She told you she loved you and to not to wait up. She'd meet you at home.

"You can turn on a light, Jess - it's fine," you called. She didn't respond, but soon you heard her slowly pad into the room. You frowned as you made out her silhouette. "Are you okay? Why are you home so late?"

"Uh, coach had us do a debrief and study plays. And then Janine and I just stayed after and talked," she said blandly and with a heavy breath. She wordlessly got changed and climbed into bed, curling into herself at the far edge. "I'm sorry to wake you," she said softly into her pillow.

You gave a small chuckle. "It's fine, babe. Just glad everything was okay," you said as you laid down behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist. She stiffened, but you chose not to chalk it up to anything. "You must be exhausted," you added.

"Yeah," she said quietly. A second passed and she added. "I love you, you know."

You chuckled once more and kissed the back of her shoulder. "I know."

You fell asleep again, but awoke sometime later to hear retching coming from the bathroom. You sat up and tossed the covers off, walking towards the sliver of light coming from underneath the bathroom door in the dark. You pushed open the door to see Jessie bent over the toilet, one hand bracing herself against it and the other holding back her hair as she heaved though nothing came out.

"Oh my gosh," you whispered as you rushed over and dropped down next to her, only now noticing the tears streaming down her face. You held back her hair for her and rubbed her back soothingly. She sobbed and coughed. "Jessie, oh my God. What's going on?"

She swallowed audibly as she tried to compose herself. She wiped hurriedly at her face.

"I'm just not feeling well," she said quickly, giving you a cursory glance as she tried to catch her breath.

"Is that all? You're crying," you said as you kissed the side of her head and handed her some toilet paper. She dabbed at her face as she shook her head.

"I'm fine. It's just from the dry heaving. My stomach's not feeling well," she insisted. She stared blankly forward before looking over at you, staring at you even. "I love you," she said again.

"I know, baby. I love you, too," you said with a soft smile as you kissed her head once more. She was pale and shaking. "I'll go get you some water," you said. You were about to rise when she grabbed your hands urgently, tugging you down.

"No," she said firmly, before clearing her throat and quieting. "I just - I don't want you to go. Can we just stay here for a sec?"

You frowned. She really must not be feeling well. Jessie could be very affectionate, but she wasn't clingy. You nodded readily, scooching closer to her and caressing her cheek.

"Of course, baby."

Your mind continued to reel as Jessie cried in your arms. She was distraught. Nearly hyperventilating. You'd never seen her like this. She was always so calm and even when she was upset, it was a quiet upset and often tightly controlled. Nothing like the woman who was sobbing in your embrace as you blankly stared at the wall.

During that time, something came over you. The initial anger and bewilderment took a backseat as the woman you loved clung to you for comfort.

When she eventually calmed, the weeks of emotional turmoil and lack of sleep caught up to her. When she forced herself to sit up, her eyes were puffy, bloodshot and they were heavy with exhaustion.

You tried to ask her a few questions and she did her best to respond, but she was visibly struggling in the haze of her breakdown. She looked like a shell of herself.

You found yourself speaking.

"We should go to bed."

It took a moment for your statement to register and she gave you the faintest look of question. You cleared your throat but held her gaze.

"You're exhausted. And, I don't even know what I'm thinking or feeling, so...," you trailed off, your gaze following suit. She started to protest, but you cut her off with quiet resolve. "Jess."

She stared at you, eyes darting across your face in apprehension.

"I'm terrified you're going to leave me," she said, her voice thin as her eyes welled up again.

Your heart raced, but you didn't waver. "I'm here," you told her evenly. "We have a lot more to talk about. But, maybe not tonight."

It felt like an out of body experience as you two retreated to the bedroom and got into bed. With the lights off, you lay stiffly on your back staring up at the ceiling. Out of the corner of your eye you could see her on her side watching you but too afraid to close the space between you.

Again, this understanding that she needed you somehow subdued all of your other impulses. You lifted your arm and wordlessly beckoned her. She hesitated for a second before rushing in and wrapping herself around you, her head on your shoulder. You held her in much the way she often held you.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice tight with emotion. "I promise I'll do everything I can to make this work. Whatever time you need - whatever you need - it's yours. I know we'll adjust," she expressed. "And Zoie - she's so sweet. And funny. And bright. You're going to love her, Y/N. And she's going to love you so much. I know it."

A lump immediately formed in your throat and your grip on her tightened. You hoped it just felt like a reassuring squeeze.

"Let's get some sleep," you managed to say.

You stared up at the darkened ceiling still in a state of delayed shock. It was only when Jessie's breathing gradually deepened and slowed as she fell asleep that you allowed silent tears to start flowing.

Your jaw ached as you ground your teeth together and you fretted as your chest hitched with a shaky breath; Jessie didn't stir.

You never would've anticipated this in a hundred years. You always felt Jessie would be a great, dedicated parent. You'd talked about it together at length. You'd imagined it many times.

You just always pictured that it would be your child - the one you and her had together. Not one she had with someone else.

This changed the entire landscape of your relationship. Your future together. Everything you envisioned was now wildly and forever changed.

It was no longer just you two. Jessie had a family now. But not with you.

Right or wrong, you wished she'd been cheating. Then you could've been righteously furious, upset, betrayed. And - in theory - it could be something you two could work to put in the past; to forgive, forget and move on. But this?

There was nothing temporary about this. It was permanent. Painfully permanent. She was a parent and forever would be. And this woman - someone who'd been a blip in a minor, negligible story of Jessie's past - was actually tied to her for the rest of her life and in so much more significant a way than you.

Suddenly, your world went from being focused and centered on you two and the future you'd build together, to now you being a bystander - an extra - in your own life.

Your throat seized up and you choked back a sob.

What was the rule book for this? You felt like your emotions and your wants needed to take a backseat. Much like this evening. Now you, your feelings, your needs, paled in comparison.

Jessie had a new role to step into. Something far more important than your girlfriend or fiancée. And that little girl's well-being and right to have a loving parent in her life trumped your hurt. Who were you to hold Jessie back from being an important and fulsome part of her child's life?

Her child. Her and some other woman's child.

It hurt to even think it.

Your mind spiraled throughout the night and your stomach twisted in knots over and over. While Jessie somehow slept straight through the night - maybe finally at peace to some degree after her confession - you could barely sleep a wink.

You were already awake by the time your morning alarm pierced your ears. Jessie jolted awake, but you remained stoic. The alarm continued to blare and you stared absently at the wall ignoring it. The bed shifted as Jessie reached over you to turn it off.

You laid still and unblinking even as you felt Jessie observing you as she sat back.

"Hi," she greeted softly, tentatively.

The impulse to reply was a mere flicker and the muscles in your throat twitched briefly before giving up.

She laid a hand gently on your arm, but didn't speak, surely uncertain of what to say. You heard her swallow as she absently caressed your arm.

"Are you going to work?" She asked quietly. You gave a feeble shake of your head. "Mm," she voiced and you saw a glimpse of her chin dropping towards her chest. "I understand. I missed practice the next day. And more, really, since I've been all over the place with various meetings, and yeah," she finished even quieter, belatedly realizing she'd said too much.

She never told you she missed practice. As far as you knew, she was at the facility training. As far as you knew, she was always where she said she was. Clearly that wasn't true.

You wordlessly lifted your inert form from the bed and willed your limbs to carry you to the bathroom. She remained still for a moment, but soon heard her rush after you. You shut the door firmly behind you and locked it with a deafening click before she reached it.

"I can stay home with you," she offered through the door. "I want to. I know we have a lot to talk about. And I want to be here for you."

"Go to practice, Jess," you told her dully before a flicker of anger rushed over you. "Or wherever the fuck you want to go."

You leaned against the wall, catching a glimpse of your reflection and immediately looking away, deeply unhappy with what you saw in the mirror.

"Babe, please," she implored. "Can we talk? I don't want to leave you."

Your anger flared once more, but you worked to temper it, your fingers digging painfully into your arms as you hugged yourself tightly. You sniffled.

"Have a good day, Jess. I'll see you later," you said with finality through the door as you opened the shower curtains and turned on the water.

"Babe," you heard her call through the door. Several moments passed before you her muffled voice filtered through one more time. "I'll miss you today. Please text or call me if you need anything. I'll be here in a flash."

You got undressed and stood outside the shower. The seconds passed as you remained there. The tension in your body continued to mount and you had red, angry divots in your skin from where your nails dug in. You waited. You wanted her to leave, just being around her hurt, but her actually leaving felt like some kind of unsettling confirmation.

Your stomach sank as heard nothing further from her and you stepped into the shower and cranked the heat.

It only took seconds for you to double over as tears came once more, except this time the scalding hot water washed them away.

You audibly sobbed, comforted to know that the sound of the shower would muffle your cries in case Jessie was listening in. The water burned, pellets bouncing off of your skin like sharp pinpricks, but it felt satisfying and good. It distracted you from everything going on inside of you right now.

You looked down and realized you still had your engagement ring on. You hadn't taken it off last night. A strangled noise escaped your mouth and you envisioned ripping off the ring, drawing back the curtains and throwing the ring across the room. The fingers of your opposite hand gripped the ring tightly, ready to pull, but eventually fell to your side.

She hadn't betrayed you. She'd given this ring to you, this promise, in good faith. She still loved you. She still wanted you. She didn't know this was coming.

Somehow it still hurt and you cried harder.

When you eventually exited the shower, your skin battered and abused, you got changed and collapsed onto the couch. You spent the better part of the day trying to distract yourself in front of the TV, but even in your catatonic state, you couldn't truly settle.

Jessie texted you a few times throughout the day saying how much she loved you, asking if there was anything she could do, that she missed you.

You never responded.

She came home early that day with your favourite take-out in hand and looking oh so sweet and hopeful as she offered it to you. You mustered up a flat 'thank you', but could manage to only eat a few forkfuls. Suddenly, Jessie's recent lack of appetite all made sense.

You talked further. You learned that her family knew, Sinc and Janine knew as well. It felt humiliating that you were so far down the list, though some deep-seated part of you understood her logic - that there was so much more to lose in telling you.

You learned she was already into conversations with lawyers about custody, child support, the list went on. At some point, her voice just became an echo in your head, your mind far too overwhelmed to properly process everything.

"I should stop talking," she eventually said gently as she watched you while you stared absently at the floor.

You sighed heavily and rubbed your eyes before dropping your hands into your lap. You sat motionless for a second before saying, "I don't even know, Jess. I have no idea what to say or do."

You heard her exhale. "I know, baby. I'm sorry." You didn't respond, but she leaned in and gave you a soft, tentative kiss on your temple. You still didn't react and she withdrew with another soft sigh, her hand lingering on your leg before pulling back altogether.

"I can sleep on the couch tonight," she offered.

This drew you out of your passiveness. You shot her a glare as your body tensed with irritation. Her brow furrowed in confusion and hurt at your visible scolding.

"What?" She asked, her own upset and frustration starting to show. "I-I don't know what you want or need. And I wish I knew. I wish you'd tell me, because all I want to do is to fix things and I don't know how right now," she beseeched.

You turned on her. "It's been one fucking day, Jessie. One day! You've had fucking weeks to process all of this and you got to control how you were going to handle it, when you were going to tell me, how - all of it. I have zero control," you seethed. "Not only do I have to wrap my head around you having a kid and how that changes everything for us, but you've also been lying to me and I still don't know everything. I don't know what to think or feel. So I'm sorry that you feel uncomfortable, but I need more than one fucking day to adjust."

Your outburst silenced her and she fidgeted slightly under your steely gaze.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I just...," she reset, looking at you now, "I just want to do whatever I can to make this as painless as possible."

You bit back a bitter laugh. You knew she meant well, but 'painless' was an impossibility.

"I don't know if you want me to go or to stay," she added vulnerably.

You took a shaky breath, feeling sorry for her again. "I know," you said and rubbed your face. You exhaled quietly. "I don't want you to go."

"Then I'm not going anywhere."

A/N: Tag request - @valuyhh

[mortallyfuzzytyrant]

Expanding on being Olrox's best friend.

My genuine belief is this friendship would form on mutual respect. It's clear Olrox is someone who doesn't take his true loyalties lightly. And he is beyond tired of people who are power hungry or buy into group mentalities.

I believe you would have met Olrox during a time of hardship for yourself. You being a humble individual who merely wanted to exist. Though, of course, the world wouldn't make such a thing so simple.

Olrox has basically spent his entire life forming alliances to get by. He found you trapped as an abstract entity being used by vampires. He found it distasteful but didn't do a thing at first.

Discovering you had a consciousness was a point of intrigue for him. You could think and feel. Hearing you speak wasn't surprising but amused him nonetheless.

You two held conversations now and again. It became obvious to you that Olrox merely sought out for himself and couldn't care less about the ambitions of the vampires that held you. You decided quite quickly you liked him.

He quipped about your abusers and boasted about his lover. Admittedly, it rubbed you the wrong way he sat by as you were made into a toy. But this man was the closest thing to what it was like to be treated like a person, so you clung to your brief interactions.

Plus, he was funny. At least you were getting something out of this. Olrox was keeping you sane.

You within an inch of your mental capacity each day. You were in pain and long past tolerant of others.

You were aware of what happened to Olrox's lover. You have no idea why he told you. He did it so matter of factly.

The way he always smirked when talking to you was replaced with a bitter scowl. His demeanor was a far cry from how playful and snarky he was before.

Instinctively, you offered your wish for his peace with the matter. You even complimented his lover. You saw him briefly. You were....more perceptive than average, let's put it that way.

Olrox's expression was unreadable but it was clear he absorbed your words.

Olrox had been put in charge of commanding you at some point. You spent more time together. Your being was still confined but your consciousness good stretch for eons.

You didn't mind Olrox commanding you. He was far kinder and just did what was necessary. Perhaps he wasn't exactly overly familiar. But he treated you as something akin to a lieutenant. Rather than a dog.

You formed a habit of calling him "master".

He never said anything. But somehow you could tell it bothered him. You thought it was because he wasn't fond enough of you to even consider you a servant. Still. You were attached and refused to stop.

One day you were pushed too far by the vampires that kept you. You were in agony.

After they left, you begged Olrox to set you free. You called him master like you always did. His green eyes pierced into you. You must've looked absolutely pathetic. Even without a face or body.

Something about the way he stood there enraged you. And the next time the other vampires came to make use of you, you did away with them all. Many more came to attack but your blind rage stopped them.

Olrox's smile as he watched you was irritating.

As much as you liked the guy, you were beyond tired of being viewed as a pass time. You aimed for him. And funnily enough, you did your fair share of damage.

Olrox got close enough to your prison. Imagine your surprise when he released you.

"You almost killed me." The laugh in his voice was baffling.

You had a better chance of doing that now that you were free. You didn't find it worth being impressed over. At least, not from his perspective.

You blinked as he simply turned to walk away.

Odd as it was, you instinctively thanked your master. Your previous rage was dwarfed by your confusion at Olrox's contradictory actions. All you could muster in your daze was gratitude.

Olrox replied with saying he had no idea who you were referring to.

You blinked.

"You're smart enough to slaughter a group of fools beholden to their delusions of grandeur. And another who stood by even as your screams carried over the ocean." Olrox smirks. "I think you're long past that."

You blinked. Smart, he says.

Olrox shrugged at your confusion. "You choose now of all nights to end them. Or us. I suppose I'm included in that. You've been watching the moon, haven't you? Being free now...Why, I don't think the night has ever been so beautiful. Wouldn't you agree?"

You were baffled at what he was implying. You insisted on calling him master.

He tutted your fixation on that.

"That's what no one ever told you. You don't need masters."

You gaped.

He smiled. "You figured that out all on your own. Everyone here is dead. You made an attempt on my life for my inaction. In what world does someone like that need anyone?"

You went quiet. Olrox was going to leave. You watched him go.

"You may follow me. If you wish." Olrox said without turning or stopping.

Your breath hitched at him reading your desires so easily.

"On one condition."

You bristled. Of course no one ever offered company without a catch-

"Never call me 'master' again." Olrox frowned pointedly at you.

You gaped. An odd request. But...You found yourself silently agreeing, following quickly.

Olrox smiles. A lot softer than you were used to. "I would like to see an actual form in front of me."

You blinked. Was that his way of...encouraging you?

You flushed, solidifying yourself the moment you were outside.

Olrox hummed. "Imagine hiding something this captivating. You're foolish about the strangest things."

You felt you should have been offended. But tears found their way to you. As shrewd as he put it, he undoubtedly called you beautiful.

You two knew each other for centuries and now you were attached to the hip in the open world. You were there for the murder of Julia. Olrox thanked you greatly for assisting in tracking her down but told you to stay out of the fight. You kept to the shadows and proudly watched your beloved friend triumph.

Richter was hardly conscious of everything around him. He froze at Olrox kneeling before him. Your presence felt more like a dream rather than what he was actually seeing. He wasn't sure he had actually seen another vampire there. It was intentional on your part, you hadn't wanted to give Olrox trouble and used your abilities the moment you spotted Julia. Your eyes have haunted Richter's nightmares for years. Though he is unable to tell if it was Olrox's or not. He doesn't remember you.

Mentioned this before, but Olrox allows you to hang onto him.

It's incredibly common place for you to rush to Olrox and put your hands on his chest and lean on him.

He responds with a hand on the small of your back. He'll fully embrace you if you've been separated during battle.

He will full on guard you with his body if it is needed. Though, it's rare. You are a strong vampire.

Full disclosure if he despises someone that flirts with you. Massive protective brother energy.

"Cunts need washings before they speak."

"Olrox!"

Olrox and you use endearments on one another. "Love" and "darling" are the most prominent. But pick your poison of birds, flowers or gems you compare each other to.

You were not amused by Olrox targeting Mizrak. Out of all the men he chose to ove on" with, a hypocritical human of the cloth wasn't in your pickings of the list. You saw Olrox running into his bad habits with him. It worried you.

You had a distaste for Mizrak from the start. It was sealed when he barked at Olrox.

You hissed. "Small mutts shouldn't bark so loud."

Olrox couldn't find it in himself to listen at first. It had been a while, but you knew he was still grieving.

You stayed by his side to offer support but you were waiting for him to throw the whole man out.

You whimpered and touched Olrox's forehead after what Drolta did to him.

"Olrox, love, your pretty little head is hidden."

You were enraged but simply allowed Olrox to take a breath and hold your hand while offering a soft kiss.

It's actually funny how much you have a "you can do better" attitude regarding Mizrak.

To a point Olrox has tickled you with a feather when you go on too long.

Thankfully, your intervention wore Olrox down and he was thinking far more clearly.

Either you healed Mizrak or let him die peacefully.

Regardless, he was weighing down your best friend over your dead blood sucking body. Watching Olrox chose immortality for someone a second time wasn't something you were going to allow.

I feel like being Olrox's best friend would be so nice. Olrox having all that love and trust in you to keep you close and being able to vulnerable. Olrox is the type of friend that you would be attached to the hip with at all times and would be so gentle and caring. Especially considering it's clear Olrox's orbit is scarce due to his past and how he feels about people in general. So his best friend is someone he'd be incredibly protective of and would cherish.

Olrox and his best friend would have tons of witty banter that both pokes fun at the other while also remaining wholesome and affectionate. Though the ones directed at others is ruthless and cutting. Olrox is for sure that friend you sit by and judge others with. You two have this telepathic connection (either literal or metaphorical) where you don't even need to look at each other and you just- react the same way to situations and people's stupidity, both facial expressions and body language. You two are menaces when it comes to being in other's presence. Regardless if it's holding a conversation or being in combat.

Olrox has gently tutted you to behave yourself on rare occasions but you can tell by his grin that he was absolutely encouraging your mischief. He even whispers his own quip in your ear every now and then, adoring when you giggle in response. You two are the biggest gossip buddies in private, making each other howl with laughter discussing what you think about recent events or the people you've ran into. Olrox would be helping you either bathe, do your hair, or simply sharing the bed with you all the while.

Olrox's voice is noticeably softer and thinner with you. Olrox keeps you close by having a gentle hand on your shoulder, waist, or having you cling to his arm. Olrox will often pull you to him and kiss your temple. Or on the side of your cheek. Either as a simple gesture of affection or giving you a swift goodbye in the rare times you two have to separate. Olrox will also hold you to his chest if you're hurting. Olrox seems harsh but for you he actively practices the utmost tenderness when comforting you.

Goodness forbid someone else caused your distress. Olrox will be absolutely feral if anyone dares cause you harm. You are his dear friend and he cherishes your spot in his life. He'll be damned if he lets someone disrupt that, even in the smallest ways.

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

Could you do a one-shot where alastor is super nervous when meeting reader, not really on his face but more his body language where when she shakes his hand he continues shaking it or doesn't let go immediately. nervous smile too lol, thanks love your stuff!!

Heeey I wrote it hope you don't mind some interpretation on my part! You didn't mention why Alastor was nervous so I just did whatever ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Tags: Oblivious Alastor, Cartoonist Writer, Humor, awkward affection, Alastor is either oblivious or in-denial, Nifty is Nifty and you should all love her

-----------------------

Alastor’s introduction to you was not a willing one. Charlie had started a bit of a bookclub at the Hotel as some odd attempt at bonding. Alastor wanted no part of it, but after the 532nd time Charlie asked him he said something particularly scathing and the princess was cruel and told Vaggie, and the ex-exorcist would NOT stop stabbing his door until he finally relented.

Of course, his choice of book was one called ‘Blank’. It was a notebook with nothing written in it. Very easy to discuss at a bookclub.

Charlotte was not impressed and Vagatha once again starting throwing vague threats in his direction. How tempted he was to just kill both of them, but alas this hotel has been the greatest form of entertainment he’s had in years (is what he tells himself.)

Darling Nifty came to his rescue, offering up a variety of different light-reading to be discussed in the future. Most of which were….not to his taste. Nifty’s interests highlighted most definitely, but Alastor quickly chucked the books out the window when the story turned to ….that.

As the number of books dwindled, he was just about prepared to give up on this stack entirely and fetch something meaningless to pretend to read (who’d check, anyway?).

He picked up one, a flimsy comic-book like thing and rolled his eyes once before giving it a go. The story wasn’t anything particularly interesting. The plot was just two bunnies going to get some ice cream. But the wordplay, the exaggeration of all the smallest obstacles, how self-aware and absurd it was gave him a good laugh. The Radio Demon’s first introduction to your work.

Although the bookclub idea ended up going nowhere, Alastor found himself seeking out more of your works. Another about a man just making a taco, one about a woman folding her laundry. So many little, day-to-day situations amplified to a ridiculous amount. Clever one-liners and humorous puns sprinkled throughout kept it intelligent enough for him to maintain interest despite the absurdity of it all.

Eventually he got a cartoon you drew that seemed just the same as the rest. Some random cute cartoon raccoon drawing some random little cartoon things. There was a scene in it though that stuck to Alastor’s mind (and dare he say, heart) like glue.

In it, the raccoon was confronted by a shark. “Why do you bother making these?” the shark sneered “No one reads these but you, no one looks at them but you, there’s no point.”

“Why does there need to be a point?” The raccoon said. Alastor’s ears straightened up on their own accord as he read “Even if no one sees it, it’s something I made and it’s some I enjoyed making.”

“Even if you put it out there, no one will care about it.”

“Someone will. They might not say anything but there’ll always be at least one.”

“Do you know how stupid you sound? No one gives a crap about your ‘passions’!”

“I do.”

“Do you know how stupid you sound-“

And then the raccoon pressed a button and an anvil fell onto the shark, comedically turning it into a pancake. “Your argument doesn’t have any depth.” The raccoon said. The story moved on from there.

It struck a bit of a chord with Alastor, he could admit that much to himself. And the raccoon’s way of dealing it was something he’d keep in mind for his next encounter with an annoyance. He didn’t put much stock in it, as storytellers and their stories don’t always agree on all things.

Your comics were a little joyful distraction when he needed them, that was all. Nothing deep and profound.

“BOSS!”

Alastor slammed shut the book he was reading, his grin never faltering though his twitching ears indicated a slight nervousness. He tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Hello, Nifty! Did you need something?”

Nifty scamped up his chair and onto his lap, settling down andstaring up at him with her one big eye. “BOSS BOSS BOSS BOSS I MET THE DEMONESS WHO DRAWS THOSE CARTOONS YOU LIKE”

Alastor’s eye twitched “Oh? Well, that’s neat.”

She stood up, squishing his face between her hands and stared more as her grin grew wider and more manic “Did you want to meet her?”

Yes

“Now, now, Nifty.” Alastor said as he removed her hands from his face “There’s better ways to waste one’s time.”

Nifty tilted her head, staring at him as though it would allow her to see into his mind. Her expression shifted into….One he hadn’t seen on Nifty, admittedly. The best way he could describe it was ‘smug’. But what would she have to be smug about?”

“If you say so, Boss!” She chirped, hopping off his lap and trotting off “But yeah I was at the Evermore Book-Store and she was there working ‘cause I guess that’s what she does for a livng….” Nifty’s voice faded away as the little maid walked off, not caring her rambling were being said to no one.

After Alastor had finished his errands for the day, he happened by that very store…for…Reasons. Upon entering it, he realized he had no idea who- what- he was looking for. The store itself wasn’t large. A couple patrons, one large hulking demon with tiny spectacles at the desk and a much smaller one organizing shelves.

One of the workers, then?

Not that he cared.

“Pardon me!” Alastor chirped to the desk demon. Their big eyes seemed to move in slow motion to him, a low grunt accompanying the acknowledgement. “I’m looking for someone, yes? The author of some silly comics?”

The demon slowly narrowed their eyes, lips curling up into a snarl as a growl emanated from them.

“Ah, so she is here?”

The demon planted their very large hands on the desk, pushing themselves up to stand at their full height. They were taller than Alastor by a good three feet, and much more muscular as well. Their nostrils flared, blowing hot air into his face.

Alastor wasn’t the slightest bit phased. (He found it funny, actually). “So may I speak to her?”

The large demon opened up their gaping jaw-

“That’s me, hi! How can I help you?” The shelf-stacking demon interrupted, getting between Alastor and the clerk demon. A nervous little lady with a wobbly unsure smile and bags under her eyes that looked like they could carry the entirety of Hell in them.

Alastor held up one of your comics- a book that has been very obviously well-read “You’re the creator of these splendid little things?”

“Splendid…?” You repeated him, trailing off into an amused snort “Er. Yeah, I wrote and drew those.” The Clerk behind you closed their mouth, setting back down on their chair and adjusting their spectacles. The glare didn’t leave Alastor.

“Well, my dear, I find I quite enjoy them! It’s quite a pleasure to meet you.” Alastor said, not paying the larger (glowering) demon any mind. He found himself wondering why you were so tired and so timid. A woman like you should be so much more cheerful! Alastor was a tad offended….Because you weren’t smiling like he did. That’s it. Really.

“Well. I’m glad you like them.” You said. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” You offered your hand for him to shake.

One of his ears twitched. You must be fairly new to Hell, to offer a handshake so easily. Or perhaps a bit sheltered or on the naïve side. Alastor briefly considered making a sly deal to take your soul, but… Well, there was no need for that.

He took your hand and gave it a firm shake. Your hand was so much smaller than his own, but it felt as though it warmed his entire body. This was strange. Perhaps you were casting some spells on him? Why was he finding it so hard to focus- why did he feel like he didn’t know what to say next- why-

The Clerk gripped Alastor’s arm in between two fingers, gently but assertively pulling it away from you. You took half a step back, cradling your arm to your chest as if he burned you. Alastor glared up at the Clerk “Is there a problem?”

The large demon growled. You intervened again “Er….You were just. Holding my hand for a while. It was……kind of weird.”

“Ah.” Alastor cleared his throat, straightening his posture with a flourish “My apologies! Mind was elsewhere, you know how it is with us creative types.”

You blinked. Then your timid smile turned a bit more confident. A bit more…like a smirk. “Er. Yeah, I guess so. Well. See you around, I guess?”

“If I have the time, I suppose!” Alastor grinned “Well then, I must be off! Ta-ta!”

You watched as the strange demon disappeared into shadows and slivered off. As soon as all trace of him was gone, you laughed quietly into your hand “Well, I can certainly say for certain I know someone ‘awkward as hell’ now.”

Your friend groaned, gently pushing you over as they continued their own work.

[lawoffgirls]

⊹ ࣪ ˖۶ৎ Revision and Void State; how to revised your failed attempts with the void state!.𖥔 ݁ ˖

This thread will be based on the idea I had when @/samoaconsiencia(twt) asked for help in our LOA group on how she could revised failed attempts to enter the void state.

Well, I've always been very obsessed with the idea of ​​void, I've been to a toxic level, but nowadays I even like to research more about it to understand both the state and learn more about our mind, but anyway, I've always been thinking, how could I revised my previous attempts failed with the void state, because it is reported as pitch black, I would not feel or hear anything, how would I visualize this? And then when Skye shared this doubt in the group, it seems that my mind went PLIM ✨️ and this idea came up!

Step 1:

You will choose simple things that you want to manifest, such as a tablet, eye color, appearance, etc.

(You can also choose an event, or something that has already happened and say it was a success story of the void!

Ex: your sp liked your story

You can say that this happened because it was a "test" success story of the void!!)

Step 2:

You will define a number of attempts that you have tried to enter the void, for example, let's suppose that you want to review that you have tried enter the void only 4 times (it doesn't matter if it was more or less than that, that choice is yours, it's a revision).

Step 3: Now you will revised that in all these attempts that you decided, you were successful, and in each attempt, as a "test" mode you took on One of those desires that I asked you to choose in step 1, and then that's it!

"But angel, how do I revised?"

It's simple my love, you will define your goal, what you want to review, in this case it is the failed attempts to the void, which will now be successful attempts, in this you accept that you have achieved it, and live your life!

But of course, I know there are people who have a hard time just accepting it like that, so here are some fun ways you can use to revision!

⊹ ࣪ ˖۶ৎ Writing;

You can write in a diary, notebook, list, both digital and physical, how your attempts at void went, what you assumed in them, if you want you can even put dates to make it seem more "realistic", and then whenever you need validation, read it!

⊹ ࣪ ˖۶ৎ Visualization;

In this one you will use your imagination, if you are the kind of person who loves to fanficte, prepare the playlist (or not), close your eyes, relax and visualize yourself waking up from all your attempts at success in the void, with everything you manifested in the form of a "test"!

⊹ ࣪ ˖۶ৎ Affirmation; If you are a more "minimalist" person, then this is for you, create small affirmations, which imply with the attempts to the void, for example "I entered the void as a test and when I woke up from the state there was my brand new iPhone 15 , it really works"!

⊹ ࣪ ˖۶ৎ the original thread!

[peachesvault]

Mine. Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Just a little filler as I write a proper series so it’s not very well written, just wrote what came to mind and haven’t checked it so please don’t have too high standards I promise I’ll put something better out soon! Check out my other works too!

➽──────────────❥ ➽──────────────❥ ➽──────────────❥ ➽──────────────❥

Bakugo was a lot of things, and it seemed everyone had a different idea of him in their heads. Some hated his brashness, thinking of him as violent. Some, namely small children, thought of him as if he hung the stars, a hero, somebody to be praised and loved. To you he was katsuki, flaws and all. Sometimes he would rat on annoyingly about eating healthy and you wanted to do no more than punch his face, but he was the same man who protected your honour and name with his whole life if you weren’t in the room. He always teased you, annoyed you, but he would never belittle you, and god forbid somebody did because they would be dealt with. Katsuki was a lot of things, but he was undeniably yours.

He was currently waiting by the door, his foot tapping impatiently, yet he never rushed you. He watched, as you smacked your lips and fixed your hair. It reminded him of Mina, and their high school days of him waiting forever for his group to get ready to go out, but at the same time it was ever so different. He could and he would wait as long as it took for you. He was known for being impatient, but sometimes you wondered if those were rumours, having never experienced it yourself, until you saw it first hand against your friends, not even shoto being the sweet soul he is, able to avoid his wrath.

It all resulted to one thing though. Katsuki bakugo was completely and utterly in love with you. Infatuated even.

Reblogs and likes encouraged! Do not copy or post on other platforms.

[radioactiverats]

thoughts on seekers locking landing gears and spiraling in the sky as a gesture of trust, similar to how eagles do that courtship spiral :3c or even just twirling in the air together a little too close. yes its probably really dangerous, but nothing beats being in total sync in the air

OH >:3c Absolutely in love with this. THE RITUALS ARE INTRICATE. I'm gnawing on this from various angles. Firstly thinking about this being a seeker-specific aspect of Conjunx Ritus (mutual Act of Devotion??) and it would honestly be so beautiful :,)

My mind jumped to this,, (angst warn)

---

In early stages of the war, when the exhilaration of following Megatron had worn off and bots were starting to realise their sparks weren't worth his doomed-to-fail commands (not enough experience yet..). When he was mostly relying on fear to keep his troops in order before he'd gained their full loyalty, there had been an Incident. You remember it like it was yesterday, because Starscream had looked ashen when he came back that night, and you'd never, ever seen that expression on his faceplate before.

You sit up, shuffling over to make room on the berth as Starscream plunks himself heavily down. After a few cycles of increasingly uneasy silence, he finally manages to speak.

"Two seekers have offlined."

His iron grip on the edge of the berth tell you the circumstances of their deaths were not straightforward.

"What do you know of Conjunx Ritus?"

You actually take a nanoklik to think about it, which Starscream appreciates given the solemnity of the situation.

"I know there's four acts?" You finally say, suddenly embarrassed about your naivety. To be fair, you'd never really had a chance to consider the possibility. Thankfully, Starscream just nods briefly.

"Correct. The fourth and final stage is called an Act of Devotion. Back on Vos, we seekers had a different way of performing it."

Starscream takes a klik to collect himself. You can't help but wonder if he has a Conjunx. If he does, he's certainly never talked about them.

"It's called a Death Spiral," Starscream finally says, voice horse. "Two seekers soar to the very fringes of the atmosphere and there, before the eyes of the universe itself, lock their servos and their landing gears before free falling back to planetside."

Beside him, you're enthralled to learn about this aspect of your own culture that you'd never had a chance to become familiar with. At the same time, you're picking up on a strange emotion that clogs his vocaliser and the faraway look in his optics, so you remain quiet as he resets his vocaliser.

"At the very last second," Starscream continues softly, "the two seekers pull up immediately before making contact with the ground."

It sounds incredibly dangerous, but you're enraptured by the idea. You know this because Starscream has made you practice something similar in the past, and there were a few times you genuinely thought you wouldn't make it through training in one piece even with landing gears. It undoubtedly took a lot of skill to harness the winds without the aid of thrusters, and even more courage and trust. You supposed that was where the love came in.

"It's... exquisite." Starscream offlines his optics, shakes his helm before turning to look at you, a ragged sort of pain spiking jaggedly through his EM field.

"I can imagine," You murmur quietly. It sounded like he was telling a story, back then. One from experience.

"Earlier today, two seekers engaged in a Death Spiral. But they didn't pull up." Starscream ex-vents raggedly, tilting his helm up to stare at the ceiling. "It was a pact."

For a klik you just sit there, frozen in silent horror. When he speaks again, it's through gritted denta. "Megatron has now enforced a ban against Conjunx Ritus between seekers."

You had a few guesses as to why. Seekers' valuable frame types to the Decepticon cause meant that Megatron couldn't afford to lose them. However, as increasing numbers of troops grew discontent with his leadership, Megatron as usual had decided to silence them through cruelty. It seemed that today's incident had been the last straw.

---

Outside the context of courtship rituals though, I see twirling together as a show of trust that anyone can do, from sires/carriers/sparklings to amica endura, cos flying and the skies are so deeply entwined with the seeker identity. Imagine just flying with your bro and the exhilaration of doing a complicated spin together, so close you can feel the heat of each other's engines on your plates before zooming apart again, the sound of your laughter carried on the winds. Must be so good to be in sync like that fr.

That being said, I think Starscream's determined to make sure cadet never feels alone in the skies, which is meant to be your home. Maybe in better times, I can see him joining cadet for training - the moves are a breeze for him, but it warms his spark to see you so happy while in the air. Not sure they get the luxury of the Autobots' "wanna go for a drive?", especially since his interactions with you must be under the guise of training - so Megatron won't see you as a target. Still, one must imagine Starscream happy.

Thank you for the lovely ask!!!!!!! Another yap... but in the process I have learned so much about eagles... I will put some sofas in my inbox so asks are received comfortably

[weregonnaneedabiggerboat]

That Stupid Rabbit!

Lee!You x Ler!Jax

CW: Some baby talk, lots of teasing, Jax is a mean ler, and obvs tickling so scroll if that's not your thing!

A/N: Your persona is a squeaky toy plush here! This fic is sort of an addition to this drawing of Jax that I did. Also, this is my first tickling fic so let me know if you enjoyed!!

∘₊✧─────────✧₊∘

Stumbling back into your room after a long and tedious adventure, you collapse in your bed and heave a huge sigh. You were mentally and emotionally exhausted, and also a little bit annoyed.

What made Caine think that doing a dangerous labyrinth would be a fun adventure!? Why can't it just be an easter egg hunt or something!

You grunted loudly and covered your head with a pillow, hoping to get some shut eye soon so you could forget about today. It wasn't just the adventure that bothered you, but also the troubling transition into a whole other reality. You loved all your new friends, but sometimes their cynical attitudes towards everything was discouraging to deal with.

Not that you could blame them, being stuck here for a long time must have done something to their minds, evidenced by the fact Pomni understood you the most.

You just sighed and turned over in your bed, trying to brush all these thoughts away. Your arm extended to reach out for the lamp next to your bed, when all of a sudden you saw a shadow standing at the doorway.

You yelped, a brief look of surprise crossing your face, but your expression fell flat in annoyance when you realized who came knocking.

Course you left your door unlocked, because how could this day get any worse?

The stupid purple bunny man, Jack or whatever his name was, grinned at you as he leaned on the frame of the doorway.

“Hey there, Squeaky,” he teased, tilting his head, feigning innocence.

Yeah. Squeaky. That's what he called you. So original.

“Someone's happy to see me~"

“@#$& off, Jax,” you grunted, collapsing on your bed again and covering your face with the pillow. “I'm not in the mood for another stupid prank of yours, leave me alone.”

Jax always looked for excuses to make your plush body squeak, either by dropping you from a small height or by pushing you against something. You only figured he came here for some cheap entertainment, since the others were all ganged up and you were alone.

“What? Can't a guy check on his best buddy in the whole world without it bein a crime?" he taunted, raising his arms as if he was being accused.

You heard him welcome himself into your bedroom, and he stopped right before you. From the limited vision you had looking at the bottom of your pillow, you could see his looming figure standing before you.

“I'm serious, you cottontail jerk, get out of my— H-Hey!!”

You jolted when you felt him poke your belly, making your stuffed body squeak again. Only this time, you squeaked too.

“J-Jax!!” you exclaimed, immediately flipping the pillow to cover your belly instead of your face. However, you quickly realized how awful of an idea that was, evidenced by your slight sinking into your shoulders, since Jax could now fully see just how much that move made you blush.

Betraying you, your face heated up the more his grin widened. If it got any longer it could probably wrap around his face, you thought, and that idea almost made you smile if it wasn't for your situation right now.

“This is new, Squeaky,” he teased, poking your side from below the pillow. Jax laughed as your hand swiftly came to the rescue, smacking his wrist out of the way. “What’s the matter, Squeaky? You're awfully squirmy today~"

“Jax enough!!” you growled defensively, though it came off way less threatening than you would've liked, especially with how much your face was blushing.

However, in typical Jax fashion, he totally ignored you and poked your side again, and again, and again. And each time you tried to cover it he'd just switch his hand to poking the other side.

You started to giggle and kick your legs, squirming even more to get away from his fingers. This reaction seemed to entice him even more, as the more giggly you got, the more he poked you in different places.

“Aww is the little squeaky toy ticklish~?” he cooed with a mocking voice, grinning smugly when you returned his tease with an embarrassed glare.

The t-word!? Seriously!?

How does he always find such effective ways of bullying you?

Also, the way he said it so confidently made you sink into yourself even more, using the pillow as some sort of shield to protect you so you can hide away and never come out.

And of COURSE your reaction to that word didn't go unnoticed by him, because his ears flicked straight up in curiosity once he saw you look away. He almost looked intrigued at this new vulnerability he discovered, lidding his eyes and raising his eyebrows.

"Sh-Shut up,” you murmured.

“What? Why?” he chuckled, wiggling his fingers in the air and snickering at your embarrassed reaction. “Are ya ticklish, Squeaky~?”

You let out a whine and tried to hit him with the pillow, pleading for him to get off. Which didn't help at all by the way, since he just grabbed it from your hands and tossed it aside.

“I said shut up!!” you scolded.

“Haha, there is no way you get flustered from the word tickle!” He was laughing at you at this point, and it was starting to make you feel embarrassed and a little belittled.

You looked away and pouted sadly, which he noticed, and his expression calmed down slightly as a result.

Of course he was just mocking you, what did you expect? There was no way he was ever going to—

“There's no need to be so ashamed, Squeaky,” he chuckled with a less taunting tone than before, interrupting your invasive thoughts. Jax didn't stoop as low as to make fun of something so vulnerable. Then he added, “Buuut, don't think this is going to save you from anything~”

He cracked his knuckles and grinned down at you, and your eyes widened in response, because now he climbed on top of your bed and sat on your legs, limiting your movement.

No. No, he wouldn't, he can't! You'd probably explode into a million pieces or something!! What the hell did he think he was doing!?

"What the heck are you—"

“Get ready, Squeaky, because I'm... going to…” He watched your expression with narrowed, amused eyes, looking down at you with maybe the most evil look you've ever seen come from his face. He then raised his hands and slowly made a clawing motion with his fingers.

“Tickle you~”

Before you could respond, he quickly descended his wiggling fingers into your ribs, and you squealed out in a fit of giggles, trying to kick your feet or push him or something! But his weight on top of you prevented you from squirming too far, and your arms uselessly wrapped around your chest.

“Tickle, tickle~” he cooed, and every time you squealed, it just encouraged him even more. “Yeah? That make you blush?" he taunted, moving his fingers into every corner that made you giggle.

"Hmm, what about... Coochicoochicoo~” he cooed, his fingers scrambling into your ribs, as he poked and prodded around in there.

“JAHAHAX!!” you shrieked through your laughter, feeling like you were about to have a heart attack from all this out of nowhere teasing coming from him. Your face felt hot with embarrassment, and you closed your eyes tightly to avoid eye contact. “STOHOHOP!! IHIHI’M SERIOUHUHUS!!”

“No way! This is way too good!!” He laughed along with you, experimenting with different spots, his fingers squirming and poking anywhere your arms failed to block, almost as if he was searching for something.

“Where's your tickle spot, Squeaky? I know you have one~” he sang. “Is it here? Or here? Or maybe here?”

You felt his fingers wriggle at your ribs, then your belly, then your neck. Each touch tickled even more than the last, and it didn't just feel like tickling, it felt like tickling that he was very much enjoying.

You swiped your arms up and down your body helplessly. Every time you blocked your sides, he tickled your ribs, and every time you blocked your ribs, he tickled your sides. There was no winning!

And then, you made a big mistake.

You lifted your arms to grab at his wrists and finally pull them off of you, but before you could catch them—

“Oh I know, HERE!!” he declared, pushing his index fingers under your arms and making you scream even more with embarrassed laughter. He laughed at his own victory, and you just couldn't seem to catch a break.

“NOHOHO!! NO JAHAX STOHOHOP PLEHEASE!!” you pleaded with the rabbit, clamping your arms down on his hands and trying your best to arch your back. It was no use, you just trapped his hands under your arms, and you couldn't find the strength to lift them.

“You're just making this easier and easier for me, Squeaky,” he chuckled, grinning down at you and continuing to wriggle his fingers under your clamped down arms. “Tickle, tickle~”

You couldn't even get any more words out now, not that it mattered because he wasn't going to stop anyway. Your indecipherable pleads for him to stop fell on deaf ears, and it seemed like he really was never going to stop until he was satisfied.

“Say it, Squeaky~ Say you're ticklish~” he teased, moving his fingers to that sweet spot right between your ribs and armpits.

“NOHOHO!!” you cackled, hugging yourself so tightly that you might as well be tying yourself up with your arms. You really wanted him to give you a breathing break, but the catch being that you had to SAY it? Out loud? To him of all people!?

“Say you're ticklish and I'll stop~” his voice cooed playfully to you, even with your eyes shut tightly you can still hear the grin in his words. His hand moved to your belly, and he scribbled his fingers all over your midsection, keeping his other hand poking your ribs.

“FIHINE I'M—” you whined through your laughter, trying force the word out through resistive lips. “I-I’m!! I- Hihi— I-I'm—!! @#&$!! I'm NOHOT saying ihihit!!"

“Oh well," he chuckled at your adorable reaction, humming in disappointment. "Looks like I'm not stopping any time soon, then, Squeaky~” he shrugged nonchalantly, as if he could go all day with this.

“F-FIHINE I'm—" you giggled with a tiny voice, squealing as you felt both his hands scribble all around your belly and sides."Ihi'm ticklihish—!!"

Jax grinned at that, feeling quite victorious in doing his job properly. He pulled his hands away and sat up, resting them next to you.

You heaved a giant gulp of air, panting strongly from that entire episode. He was such an evil, evil ler. And way to jinx it, too.

“Say it again, but this time look at me,” he decided to add with a smug look, then wiggled his fingers again. “Or else…~”

You squeaked as he gave you a warning poke at your sides. No way he was really going to do all that again, right…?

You just stared at him with wide eyes, frozen in place as you decided between enduring that again or actually having to say the t-word out loud. Both options sounded just as anxiety inducing as the other.

“Come on, Squeaky, we don't have all night~”

You yelped as you felt him poke you again, and quickly blurted the words out loud. “F-Fine I'm ticklish!! I-I am!!” you stammered, your voice high pitched and embarrassed.

Satisfied, Jax finally got off of you, stretching out his back, then poking your nose playfully.

“See ya around, Squeaky~” he chuckled with a wave, turning to walk away.

“Jax—"

His ears flicked curiously, and he looked back at you, hands in his pockets.

Your eyes flicked between his hidden hands and his eyes, but this time you caught yourself quickly before he could notice. Still panting a bit from the adrenaline rush, you managed to compose yourself enough to sit up and hug your pillow.

“...Please, don't tell anyone,” you pleaded with a small and timid voice, anxious at the idea of everyone knowing about this secret of yours. Maybe there wasn't anything wrong with it, but it was way too vulnerable of a subject for just anyone to know about.

Jax raised his eyebrows with a smug smirk, he definitely noticed you looking at his hands. Part of him wanted to tell all your friends just to make you mad, but seeing your genuine expression made him reconsider. Making you feel unsafe was beyond his interest, and besides, having this just be between you two would make for some way more fun teasing.

Still, not wanting to give in so easily, he just gave you a vague answer and a shrug.

“Hmm... We'll see, Squeaky," he hummed, turning and walking out of your room, that ever smug expression on his face.

You saw his shadow disappear from your doorway. What did he even mean by that?? Was he going to tell them or no!?

You swallowed nervously, and got up to go and silently lock your door closed for the rest of the night, not wanting to face the others whilst being such a flustered mess.

Slumping back into your bed, you sighed heavily, trying your best to process what just happened. Your stomach flared up in butterflies as your mind played the past 10 minutes over and over in vivid detail.

Knowing Jax, there was absolutely no way he was going to let go of this so easily. And as much as you wanted to deny it for your own peace of mind, you knew he was going to tease you about this forever.

Still…

You curled up around your pillow, laying on your side and staring at the clock tick on the wall. As anxious as that thought made you, you still smiled a bit. And you couldn't help but feel a little excited at the same time.

Ugh… That stupid rabbit.

[sicklyseraphnsuch]

Honestly... The part that fully convinced a good bunch of the party to consider Ludinus's plot was... well... Ludinus himself and to put Downfall there too...

Like a lot of the characters take away from Downfall was that the gods are not different from mortals, their infighting just has a Bigger Splash Zone. To the point that Angels were betraying them? So they shouldnt "have more power" than mortals if theyre going to act like mortals. Thats the moral some of BH left with. With the ones that didnt, not providing a strong enough opposition against those that did.

It would have been nicer if we flipped the ExUs maybe, narrative structure wise. Downfall is the story of gods who came in with a just cause and by the end, to quote the lawbearer, "punished them for being good". We could've had that first.

Then we go into Calamity and realize the war kickstarted bc wizards. As it stands, BH doesnt have the context of Calamity at all.

Also Matt put half the team (the one with Ashton in it too, where they first got wind of powers that were "older than the gods"). Like its not as if the antigod characters were coming into this from wholesale trauma alone. Matt did give them some basis to form their opinions.

But even outside of that... the options for Predathos was:

Reseal/Never unseal it

Destroy it

Secret Third Option

Let it destroy the gods

For BH, they felt as if the first option is not a good one. I think that this was true, but its just not true enough Now. It would be more true Later after the fifth attempt to unseal it, not the first. It would be, given the group, a decent choice for the first attempt at unsealing it.

"Destroy It" wasnt feasible at the moment. (Maybe at a later moment but again BH discounted option one as simply not a good idea)

And they dont want to destroy the gods either (mostly). That was too "morally bad".

So secret third option.

(i think the tragic irony is that matt would have pulled some BS - "you feel predathos pull you forward" so that BH would be forced to fight his BBEG. but then BH walks willingly into the pit so they get full responsibility now. fucking lel)

But also going back to options above... I think that those were the only options on the table. Keep Predathos caged. Destroy Predathos. Give Predathos a buffet. Secret option.

Destroy Predathos was out of their league so the morality of that was never considered. Harm-wise, that would have been The Best. But keeping Predathos Caged gets a Runner Up. Mind you, this is not a completely harmless choice. The only choice that fully prevents harm is "destroy predathos". But its a good runner up in the moment.

BH got ahead of themselves - like they were way too far of the disaster curve. The secret option should be taken when all other options have been exhausted! But these options must first be exhausted! We skipped several steps. Ergo not as cathartic. I dont think keeping Predathos sealed is a good idea. I do think that we should have made a token effort at it before we took the nuclear option.

obsessed with the fact that bell's hells won that fight explicitly because of their reliance on the gods. imogen and laudna both vocally saying 'thank you matron' at the beginnings of that combat as they use new skills or spells they've refreshed, orym wielding his sword, braius wielding his divine power, the entire party instilled with a hero's feast prepared by a cleric of the wildmother, imogen using power granted by the arch heart to bring down predathos -- an entity that has been described as welcoming her home, offering a womb she has longed to return to, her as its kin -- in imagery evoking the moment where the gods too decided to turn their backs on their home when faced with the monstrosity they were tied to, that they'd help bring about (something something, the arch heart gave mortals magic and imogen gave predathos its vessel). and the fact that bell's hells has slowly grown more reliant on the idea that predathos does not hunger for mortals -- something they in fact scoffed at when it came from liliana and ludinus' mouths -- predathos took several of them in his maw and tried to consume them.

viewing the story as one of a group of people predominantly blinded to the reality of their situations by the fog of their traumatized feelings -- as i've chosen to do for the sake of my sanity listening to them go on and on about gods that never gave them a lick in the same breath that they complain that the gods have too much power -- it is so extremely poetic that orym cut down ludinus with a sword blessed by the wild mother only for bell's hells to retread the path ludinus set up for himself. it is extremely ironic for a group of people who have implicitly raised complaints about the inherent manipulation that comes with the god's existence to come up with a plan that is explicit manipulation, demanding the gods become mortal or die [which to be clear, extremely interesting plan with interesting consequences that would be compelling to see! absolutely dogshit reasoning skills and moral assessment. but it is continually ASTOUNDING to me that a campaign that gets treated by some as the height of critical role's sociopolitical philosophical exploration features so many PCs who struggle (and not in the fruitful, developmental way but in the head-in-hands, can this student talk to the prof during office hours so I don't have to feel the second hand embarrassment of them making it obvious they haven't ever attended a previous lecture or done the class readings way) with ideas found in any first year philosophy course].

and to be clear this is not me devaluing the role of bell's hells in actually fighting the fight -- but all they've done is the same thing the gods were already doing, keeping predathos sealed, except now its in a volatile-at-best mortal who is on borrowed time re: being lost once again to its power. the only suggestion the hells have that this might be a justified and right course of action is the support of two gods -- one who has proven themself to be okay with the idea of death until it actually arrives before and the other one who is the only being on record who actually chose to be a deity -- out of a much larger pantheon, and their personal inclinations to agree with the ideology of a man who they have claimed to ardently disagree with but it turns out that was just because of his methods, I guess. scattershotting catalysts for change and hoping that change results in a Better World just. on its own (almost like. idk. fate) that you haven't even suggested practical (I'd even take theoretical ones atp) methods to achieve beyond Get Rid of a bunch of beings who are involved in actually extreme amounts of metaphysical and magical infrastructure isn't actually a course of action, its a course of chaos, and that is in fact worse than things staying the way they are if 'the way things are' that you keep referring to has only been shown to, currently, be that you and your friends feel sad and a little miffed that the gods you haven't offered anything to are only willing to do things for you when you serve them. unlike you, a group notorious for the way you do things for people you don't know without asking anything in return (this is sarcasm, if that wasn't clear).

anyway, I will continue to be frustrated by the lack of grounding for either (a) bell's hells having actually incisive and contextualized criticisms of the gods (either their own or from the actual mouths of the 'little guys' they are allegedly fighting for) or (b) more engagement with the fact that bell's hells as a party are not interested in making the morally right choice, they are at Best looking for a morally neutral choice. that said, if I ignore the actual story c3 has portrayed, the last few episodes have been a great wrap-up to a story about how singleminded trauma can make you and how that can lead you to place where there's no longer any Good choices to make, only potentially satisfying ones, where the question of who to satisfy takes the reigns over what is best.

[wroetominter]

Overwhelm - George Clarke

Pairing: George Clarke X FemReader

Warnings: none

Fluff - my fav.

I turned on my side in bed, feeling the relief of the cold side of my pillow against my cheek. Next to me in bed George slept peacefully. There was nothing romantic happening here, simply two good friends who enjoyed each others company. I can’t say that there weren’t feelings there, at least on my end there definitely were.

I peered my eyes at my phone on the nightstand, seeing it was only five thirty in the morning. I tried falling back asleep but couldn’t get my mind to shut off. The last few month had been a whirlwind of emotions.

Deciding since sleep was not happening, I may as well get up. I slowly slid out of bed, careful not to wake George. I grabbed his hoodie on his chair and pulled it over myself, smelling his cologne still lingering in the fabric. A scent I had come to find comforting.

I walked out to the living room, seeing the sun starting to creep over the horizon through the city view. I stepped outside and sat on one of the lounge chairs, pulling my legs up and hugging into them for some extra warmth and comfort.

As I sat there thinking, I began to feel filled with emotions. It wasn’t sad emotion, more so happy and overwhelmed all rolled into one. Tears freely flowed down my cheeks as my thoughts kept racing.

Torn from my thoughts by the door creaking open beside me, my head turned to the side to see who was coming outside. George stood there, his face immediately filled with concern when he took in my appearance.

“What’s wrong?” He came to sit beside me, wiping the tears from my face.

“Nothings wrong Geo, I’m sorry if I woke you.” I apologized. He shook his head.

“No no, well, kinda. I guess.” He scratched his head. “Bed felt empty and when I didn’t feel you beside me I knew something had to be wrong. Too early for you to be up.”

I sighed, looking back at him. His hand lightly rubbed my back in a soothing manner. He was too good to me sometimes. “What’s really wrong?” He pressed. He could read me like a book.

“Well, I was just sort of overwhelmed I guess. Everything I’ve ever wanted happened so quickly and I’m just really grateful I suppose. I have a job that doesn’t feel like work, I live in my favorite city in the world, I have the money to do whatever I want…” I trailed off, unsure if I wanted to break down the barriers further and admit to him that I had feelings for him and that also overwhelmed me.

Plucking up the courage as he stared at me, spilling my guts to him. “And I get to wake up next to the man of my dreams any time I want.” My hands fiddled together, trying to distract myself from the awkward tension I had unintentionally built.

“Man of your dreams?” George asked softly, placing his hand on mine.

I nodded, meeting his gaze. He had a soft smile on his lips and an almost unreadable expression.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to say that.” He admitted. I stared back at him dumbfounded. “You know I’m not good with the whole admitting feelings thing, I barely even told my friends I loved them until years into our friendship.” I giggled at his all too true comment.

“Well, I guess we’re both at fault for that then huh?” I asked. He nodded, pulling me in for a hug. I embraced his warmth and felt more comfortable than I had in a long time.

“Let’s go back to bed love, we’ll talk about this more when we’ve slept.” He grabbed my hand and led me back to his room.

I slid back to my side of the bed, cozying into the blankets.

“I reckon we’re up to the point you can sleep closer to me yeah?” George reached his arms out, pulling me over to him. I rested my head on his chest, intertwining our legs in a way that was comfortable for both of us.

“Get some sleep love.” He placed a soft kiss on my forehead.

[facesittingnightmares]

Coach Gatlin: Tryouts season

You were sat on the bench in the scorching heat, sun almost blinding as you were watching the first third of the new tryouts compete on the field, desperate to earn a spot on this year's famously competitive Shatterstone College football team. You thought it was just like any other tryouts, except more competitive. Unfortunately, you were wrong. "That's time!!" Roared the respected coach, Gerard Gatlin, known to have the most impressive team lineups in college history. He was 35 but had the build of a athletic 20 year old with a nice beard and mature demeanor. The first group of tryouts came off the pitch out of breath and sweaty. It was all normal until you saw Coach Gatlin pull two players over to him as the second group rushed onto the field.

"Okay so you two were tied for scoring but I can only take one of you. Are either of you willing to kiss my ass for the spot?" As soon as the question was prompted, the left player said 'yes sir,' not even giving time to think it was a joke. "Looks like we have the winner. Better luck next time!" Coach laughs as he signals for the other player to leave. "Sorry to disappoint, but you won't be kissing my ass, just sniffing it. More specifically, sniffing my farts for a bit as I assess the second group." The player, clearly built and looking like a stereotypical alpha male, knelt down and pushed his face into the tight blue shorts of the coach without hesitation as he had dreamed of getting on the team for years.

"Good man! You clearly know that being the best takes sacrifice and commitment. Since you are essentially part of the team now, I should tell you my nickname among the lads, or more specifically, the nickname of my ass that carries out the punishments, The Gatlin Gun" Coach laughs as he lets out a fart onto the players face. You see a slight flinch but nothing too reactive. The smell blows over to you, and you gag immediately from the rotten scent. Then, another fart rips, and again, the player has a slight flinching response. You couldn't believe that the other player was taking these head on. Before the smell could reach you, another blast erupts, then another, and another. It seemed like Coach Gatlin was a full auto fart blaster. You gagged as the smell of each and every fart was carried by the wind. "Sorry for the smell! But if you plan on joining the team, you will experience it a lot!" The older man simply laughed as the quick lighting fast rips of toxic methane continued. You had no idea how the player was still alive. Sure, more powerful farts had been ripped by other men, but the Gatlin Gun name was accurate as the incredible speed of farts is what made Coach Gatlins ass deadly. Finally, the defeated football player fell backward unconscious as he had just been blasted by at least 100 farts within a few minutes.

Then came the offer of a lifetime. "You've just seen and smelt what I can do to a face, so how about I offer you something worthwhile. You get over here and take the rest of my Gatlin Guns rounds, and you're on the team, no questions asked!" The smirk of the man showed his love for dominance as the smell of a few silent farts made your stomach turn even from range, making your mind race at the thought of what to do.