#this will be like d&d for complete newcomers

[drthrvn]

i've watched TLoVM with my bestie (season one so far) and she absolutely loves it 😭 and since we're both trying to get into DnD, we're going to our very first session this week and we've decided that if we really get into it, we'll order ourselves Vox Machina dice sets from the CR store (i'd get Vax's and she - Scanlan's) 😭😭 guys i'm so happy

[filiazpink]

🩷"OH PRIMUS,,,"🩷

orion pax x femme + superior! reader x d-16 warnings: suggestive language (like- once but still), darkwing being darkwing, i’m a sucker for cheesy stuff, really minor transformers one spoilers (?)

summary: orion finds himself completely enamored with one of his superiors and d-16 doesn’t really mind it, until one day, you show up at the mines.

a/n: my very first tumblr fic!! i might post this on my AO3 account as well! hope this reached your expectations considering more than 200 people voted for this prompt on my poll  =͟͟͞͞(꒪ᗜ꒪‧̣̥̇) ill get to some of the other prompts shortly after, i just wanted to know which one would be best to start with (and to properly introduce my writing to tumblr teehee) !! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated !! ENJOY!! 💞💞💞

word count: 1139

proofread: minimal (lemme know if there's any errors!!)

read part 2 here: 💞💞

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orion simply couldn't stop thinking about you.

your shiny and colorful armor, your beautiful optics, your height and strength. that voice. the power and authority you had over him. that power rivaled sentinel prime’s in his eyes. everything.

you were simply breathtaking. 

…

“earth to orionnnn, come on, rust bucket!!” pink servos waving at him frantically snapped the red and blue mech out of his trance. focusing his glance, orion watched as elita-1 gave him one of the scariest faces he’s seen yet, followed by d-16 behind her with his arms crossed, looking at his friend with a disappointed expression.

“what’s wrong with you?! you broke protocol, AGAIN!” elita pulled the miner to his feet, groaning in annoyance. orion’s dumb dopey smile quickly turned into a shocked frown and he was about to ask what he did now, but thankfully, his friend answered for him.

“orion, buddy, i know,,, i know you just wanted to save jazz from that explosion but you almost got killed doing that, man.” d-16 looked to the side, avoiding his friend’s gaze.

“you can’t keep doing this, pax. ONE more stunt like this and I’LL be the one to get-”

“what happened here??” elita snapped her head towards the newcomer’s voice, expecting maybe another miner, but her angry scowl quickly faded away once she saw who it was.

it was elita’s superior. 

it was you. 

oh primus, beautiful, amazing, spectacular you. orion felt a rush of warmth cover his face as you walked in along with,,,

oh- with darkwing. of course he was there with you.

STILL- you just showed up with no prompting, and two days in advance no less?? clearly, this was important.

orion fixed his posture and tried to dust off any grime he had on him. d-16 chuckled quietly at his best friend’s excitement, before turning his attention to you.

“(y-y/n)! i thought you were coming to check on our sector in t-two days! i’m so sorry you have to see my team like this i swear it was an accident-” the poor pink bot stammered, much to darkwing’s amusement and to your confusion.

“what accident? the cave collapsing? that’s normal, elita-1. don’t worry about it. you’re telling me it was a complete accident so i will take your word for it.” hearing those words coming from you made elita feel like she was just told that sentinel finally found the matrix of leadership.

“oh, thank you, thank you,,,” orion and d-16 watched as elita continuously thanked her superior, chuckling. 

“well, that means we don’t get our butts kicked too, thank primus (y/n) was here.” the red and blue miner said, walking away from the scene with his pal.

“yea and now we can just finish this shift and relax-”

“d-16?” the two stopped in their tracks, slowly turning around in an almost comical way to face the much taller femme. 

orion’s servos trembled. he felt embarrassed, he was over here making a fool of himself with how obvious his crush on you was. literally everyone who steps foot in the mines knew about it, aside from, clearly, you. heck, even darkwing seemed to know, considering that despite his optics not being visible, he clearly was glaring at the cog-less bot whenever he tried speaking to you during past visits.

or maybe it was just his usual routine of hating cogless bots.

d-16, however, gulped and let out the tiniest of “yes?”. ohhh boy, what now?? did you assume that the cave collapsing was his doing?? did darkwing tell you that-

“you’re at the top of your ranks here, correct?” his train of thought was interrupted by your soft voice, watching as you knelt down to his height, placing a hand on his shoulder, which shocked him a bit. orion stared at the polished hand on his best friend’s rusted shoulder with envy, his optics narrowing just a smidge.

“i already spoke to elita about this, but i also want you to hear it. i’ve heard some great things about you, and how you excel amongst your ranks. so i just wanted you to hear this.” d-16 felt frozen.

‘what is this,,, feeling? my face is burning,,’ oh indeed it was. his face flushed in a deep blue as he anxiously waited for your next words. just your soothing voice got him like this and he simply couldn’t understand why.

“,,, i need you.”

,,,

WHAT???

the first to react was darkwing, who let out a very outraged grunt of confusion, as if you just cheated on him with a MINER of all bots in his face, followed by elita, the other miners and orion gasping, everyone turning their heads towards the two.

“,,,w-what?” the gray miner’s voice box barely even processed his astonished question. he felt as if his circuits were frying up by how hot he felt. 

orion’s expression showed bewilderment and a hint of betrayal. this,,, wasn’t fair?? well- he knew it wasn’t d-16 who said that to you, but he still couldn’t help but feel jealous.

he wished it could have been him.

but then finally, you realized what you just said and removed your hand from the shorter bot’s shoulder, standing up straight and bumping into darkwing’s chest armor. “oh- p-please excuse me. i- uh, i chose my words wrong.” 

the onlookers decided to stop eavesdropping, realizing it was a simple mistake on your part. that made orion sigh in relief, which didn’t go unnoticed by d-16. but his attention was quickly brought back to you.

“my apologies, i- i would never say such things- not during work hours, i’m sorry- what i meant to say, i need you- as in i need you to help keep up the good work to motivate the other miners to do the same. it helps your ranks as it helps mine if we all put our parts to make a difference. s-so, yea.” you looked around, avoiding eye contact, a small blush remaining on your face. both miners nearly swooned at such a cute expression on your face.

“i just needed to do an early check up according to sentinel, that’s all. thought i’d try and give some pep talk and you can see i have to work on that,,” you giggled before clearing your throat and staring down at the mesmerized bots.

,,,

“goodbye.” and with that being said, you quickly marched back to the main exit with a very, VERY jealous darkwing in tow. 

orion turned his gaze to his best friend, who watched you depart with a dreamy look on his face. the red and blue bot sighed and gently shook his shoulder.

“d?,,,” oh he knew. 

he recognized that stare. the same stare he gave when he saw anything megatronus prime related, that same glimmer in his optics. it was that same spark that orion had when he first saw you.

oh primus.

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🩷send me a burger !! : ko-fi💗 🩷visit my other socials !! : socials list💗 🩷writing requests rules !! : info list💗

[canihaveacalmtime]

What's the experience growing up with a playboy and a spoiled brat? You will them wear a very different personality in front of other people and take it off when you three go hangout together.

Getting related to them is already tiring enough but being their childhood friend? You must tolerate them a lot, thats how others think but in reality, you really cherish your friends as they have been there with you ever since you learn how to speak and walk.

But ever since you three enter college, they have.. changed, not a lot but it's very noticeable because they begin to avoid you. Like, avoid avoid you, they do talk and make conversation with you but right after the conversation ends, they leave immediately. Do you feel hurt or sad? Of course you do, you even start to questioning yourself what you did wrong.

Turns out you did nothing wrong, the problem isn't even because of you, it's because of them.

It's because now that the size gap between them and you have significant change with you look completely smaller than them as they now look much bigger than you. Whenever they look at you or stand next to to you, to simply put it, they can not stop their dirty minds or get those images of you looking weak on the bed off of their minds.

For you, you just kinda accept the fact that your relationship with them is probably wittering away while as for them, they are thinking about how they going to express their feelings for you because they just... can't take it anymore.

-----------

One late night, Isaac (the play boy) and Evelyn (the spoiled brat) have just returned from the bar after probably hitting up with some newcomers, what they didn't expect to see is the TV still running and a small sleeping figure laying on the couch.

"(Y/N) looks so cute when they're letting all their guards down, huh.."

Evelyn said while playing with your hair and caressing your cheeks, Isaac slowly and carefully lift you up in a bridal style, bringing you back into your room and lay you down on the bed.

"I wish we could just lock them up somewhere for ourselves."

"Wow, what a crazy thought of yours, sac. But I guess I also want to do something like that, too."

They standing there, silently, by the sleeping figure on the bed when suddenly Evelyn climbs onto your bed and start kissing you. Isaac was shocked as he stands there, dead in place until he also climbs onto the bed as he holds your back and give you some bite marks on your neck.

Feeling uncomfortable, you open your eyes and immediately make eyes contact with Evelyn, Isaac also noticed as you three just suddenly froze in place like they just got caught in a bad act and you are just.. shocked.

"Guys- what are you two d-"

You were pushed down onto the bed with both of your hands tied with a ribbon, without time to even react to what just happened, you are force kiss again but this time by Isaac as Evelyn begin playing with your nipples.

Isaac let go of the kiss and the moment he sees your face all red, tears rolling down on your cheeks and the mess he made? The urge to ruin you is never so hard to resist like now and Evelyn seems to notice the signs too as she let go of you, making you fall down on the bed due to dizziness but the moment you see them begin taking their clothes off, you knew that running is your only option left, before you can even make a run for it, you are pinned back on the bed as you look at your friends in fear, tears already falling, while they look back at you with full of lust in their eyes.

"Maybe if you weren't so naive, we'd have ruined you long ago, (nickname)."

"Don't worry, we'll be as gentle as possible."

[redcrescentmoons]

Can you write a fic where Logan (If you write for him ofc if not, it could be Max, too) meets reader (Reader could be a celebrity of some kind like an actor or a NASCAR driver) in a gala or fancy event and it's kind of just love at first sight. For the rest of the event Logan/ Max tries to ask the reader out maybee? :3

It would be pretty cool but I'm pretty sure this idea has already been used countless times already buuuuut it would be pretty cool though

Thanks for reading this :D

Can’t keep my eyes off you

Logan Sargeant x gn!actor!reader

Note: You didn’t specify a reader gender (I write male and gender neutral readers) so I made it gender neutral but I can change it on request

In all honesty, Logan had never been a fan of all the fancy events he had to go to. He understood what it meant for him and for the team of course, but that didn’t mean they were his cup of tea.

Luckily for him, Alex was there too, and he knew that meant they could spend the entire evening chatting and waiting for the event to come to an end.

They weren’t the only Formula 1 drivers there; and frankly, apart for Lewis, most of them wanted to leave as well.

And so Logan stuck to his group, the people he saw every week, because it was better then socializing.

As they talked in their corner, drinks in hand, Logan fidgeted around; his suit was too uncomfortable, it was too warm in the crowded room, his dress shoes were squishing his feet.

A late arrival had everyone turning their heads: it was a very good-looking person, one that Logan didn’t recognize, but captured his attention nonetheless.

His fidgeting stopped; he went completely still, jaw slack and eyes wide, as he observed the newcomer.

"Who is that?" he was whispered to Alex, in hopes of getting some information about the stranger.

"Oh them? That’s Y/N L/N, they’re a super famous actor, I can’t believe you don’t know who they are."

So that was your name and job down. But what else could he learn about you? He had already been scolded by his team principal for using his phone too much during events, so that was ruled out.

He settled for the closest thing he could find to Wikipedia: his friends.

"What do you know about that person? Y/N L/N?" he asked the entire group.

They started blurting out random things, from your nationality to the name of your pet, and put together the information was actually quite a bit. Impressive for who he was asking.

But there was one question Logan still wanted to ask.

"And are they, by any chance, into men?" His mumbled question still managed to get picked up by his group, luckily, because he didn’t think he could say it again.

"Yes don’t worry" said Charles, the only one to have met him before "And they’re single too" the monegasque added, winking at Logan.

A slight blush spread on the American’s cheeks at being teased; and yet he couldn’t help but think about the actor, even as the conversation switched subjects.

He couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering across the room, to where you were stood, looking perfect, greeting those who came and talked to you.

Logan wondered if there was a chance he would be one of those people, to confidently walk up to you and just start a conversation.

But that wasn’t really him, was it? As much as he liked to exhibit a confident personality in interviews and such he couldn’t flirt for the life of him.

And so Logan settled for observation from afar, at least for a little bit.

He listened to what his friends were saying distractedly, half listening and the other half of his mind consumed by the stranger.

It was so unlike him, to see someone for the first time and completely fixate on them, and yet he just couldn’t help it.

Even when he tore his gaze from you it always wandered back, like a magnet. He kept thinking about what it would be like to talk to you, to actually be close, and in that moment there was nothing Logan wanted more.

He had completely spaced out, staring at you from across the room, until Max brought him back into the conversation with a "What do you think Logan?" that he honestly couldn’t respond to.

His friends laughed, finding his cluelessness funny, while filling him in on what he had missed. While he actually listened this time, Charles moved closer to Logan and whispered in his ear "Shoot your shot. Just trust me."

He couldn’t say it wasn’t helpful, given Charles was the only one to have met you before, and yet that just wasn’t enough to convince him to do it.

He turned away from their little side conversation to join back into the groups, shooting you a glance while he could.

Each time he saw your smiling face he thought about how inviting and nice you looked and how easy it would be for him to actually talk to you, and yet he still chickened out.

It was nearly two hours later now and Logan hadn’t stopped thinking about the actor for a second.

He was afraid of the evening coming to an end without him having talked to you, and it filled him with dread.

He went down the rabbit hole in his mind: What if he never did talk to you? He didn’t think he would be able to bring himself to stop thinking about you, and knew he would regret not speaking to you if he didn’t. And yet he remained afraid.

That was until Logan looked over to where he had seen you last and didn’t find you there. He looked around the large event venue, unable to find you, getting worried you had left already and he had missed his chance.

He was beginning to spiral, until he felt someone’s arm brushing against his own; no wait, someone was hugging Charles from behind. Logan didn’t think much of it until he realized it was your arm against his, and he began to blush madly.

You hadn’t seen Charles in a while, and you couldn’t wait to talk to him again, but people kept getting in your way, asking about you and telling you their opinions about their latest movies. And frankly, you wanted to check out the cute blonde boy standing next to your monegasque friend.

Logan watched you pull away from Charles, who messed with your hair playfully the moment he realized it was you.

You slotted yourself in between Charles and Logan as Charles introduced you to everyone, and Logan could feel his heart beating faster.

You started chatting with the whole group, getting to know the friends Charles had promised to introduce you to long ago.

Logan stayed quiet, admiring your beauty, and wondering if it was appropriate to pull you aside to talk privately.

Ultimately he decided it couldn’t be that bad, and when the conversation took a turn and you stayed quiet he pulled you aside, not far, just enough for a little bit of privacy.

You weren’t entirely sure what was happening, but followed suit as Logan pulled you a couple meters away from the other drivers.

"Hi! I’m Logan, we didn’t get to talk much." yep, that was a good opening line.

As Logan started his conversation he couldn’t help but fall further in love with you, entranced by your voice and personality.

Eventually he told himself he had to do it and, during the conversation, he blurted out "Do you want to go out with me?"

He wasn’t very happy with how he had done it, but knew the nerves had just taken over. He hoped it hadn’t put you off.

"I would love to" you said, smiling gently at him. He realized that wasn’t your fake smile, the one you were giving those that greeted you earlier; he felt special: he had caused your genuine smile, and he was the one that got to see it.

Little did you both know his entire group had been listening, and began to cheer as you both exchanged numbers and promised to keep in contact, right as the event came to an end.

You walked outside with Logan, Charles and their friends, Logan still smiling as he talked to you.

As you stepped in your own car, and they went to theirs individually, you said goodbye, and Logan watched you until the very moment he couldn’t anymore, excited at the prospect of your future date.

He was glad he had been unable to keep his eyes off of you.

[hxzbinwrites]

Heyy :D was wandering if you could do a platonic velvet x reader? I don't see that much platonic but it would be fun thanks :>

Velvette x Platonic! Reader | Fashion Famous

Warnings ⚠️: Really short and rushed!!!

(Y/n) was walking down the street, well more like briskly walking, towards a huge crowd. Tons of commotion.

It was that time of year again, time for Rosie’s fashion show. Lined up were very…well…outdated ensembles put together for the public’s view.

Scoffing, the new sinner watched as the models strutted about on the makeshift stage, panning as if they weren't wearing three generations ago 's funeral attire.

Rosie, being a cannibal and an Overlord, had a very...morbid...sense of style. Funeral really was one way to put it. One outfit made most of the sinners shudder in disgust, seeing real intestines wrapped around the models bloodied corset.

"How outdated can this get..?" (Y/n) mumbled, before jumping at a shriek laughter behind them. They turned around suddenly, seeing another sinner toppled over in laughter.

The sinner finally made eye contact with (Y/n), revealing themselves to be Velvette, the youngest of the Overlords and the Vees.

"Oh I completely agree" She said,"I'm glad someone finally realized it. I swear, no one understands the true modern vision."

(very rushed but the next part will be silly headcannons following this! (again so so sorry, i’ve been so busy and i promised this fic would come out today!))

After seeing how much you two had in common, Velvette offered partnership for your soul

You deny, ofc, telling her how you’ve always wanted to be a Vee of your own.

Velvette takes a while to come back to you about this, discussing with Val and Vox. Val isn’t too pleased, but Vox thinks it’s a great idea. Val doesn’t want people in his business, especially a newcomer who could easily figure out what he does behind closed doors

Vox thinks Velette should focus more on social media and less on her clothing. She’d still have a say in it, but Vox thinks this widespread media coverage is what’s best for the Vees.

So, you’re in. You’re a Vee. If your name already starts with a V, excellent, if not, then guess what, Velvette has already given you a new name to correspond with theirs

With your fashion expertise, you easily overthrow Rosie’s fashion empire and become a staple luxury designer.

People are fighting tooth and nail to grab your stock (Stanley Cup style). These sales help catapult the Vees even more.

This newfound fame led you to acquire quite a few soul deals, making you the newest Overlord in Hell

[vacayisland]

Alright I’m giving ya three request- you can do one, all, none- doesn’t matter lol. I’m just obsessed with trolls

Clay x Nerdy! Troll! Reader

Aight, now this reader met Clay while he arrived in Putt Putt village. (Your choice for gender) They are a complete dork, clumsy, always excited to do serious stuff. But also a little insecure knowing they can get a little out of hand with overthinking/overexcitement

@!; You're my "hole-in-one" Clay / Nerdy! Troll! Reader

"Summary"! Clay meets someone who can finally keep up with him and his... outlandish ways in helping Viva run Putt Putt village. Some could say it's a match made in heaven. He says it was simply his "lucky stroke". "Tags"! literally one too many golf puns (only in the title and summary), Clay and Reader being dorky together, literally just fluff, maybe a little hurt but then fluffed out!

@!; You had been one of the trolls that came to the Putt Putt village with Viva; having gotten trapped in the tunnels as they collapsed, there was no where else to go other than with the Princess. It was a small populace when you all found the abandoned gulf course and decided to call it home. And though your numbers slowly grew, it would be years before an outside Troll would come across the Village. "Did you hear?" You woke up one morning to the sounds of murmuring in the street, trolls glancing around at each other in a skeptical manner. Whispering like a Bergen was on the brink of finding the village. "I didn't think any Pop troll would come out this far!" Whispered another Troll nearby as you tried to catch what everyone was saying. It was harder to do so here, as everyone was slightly more weary and reserved than normal Pop Trolls. "And nevertheless ask to stay in our village..." There was a beat, "What if he's spying for the Bergens? What if the Bergens found everyone again and there was some sort of agreement made?" "Do you really think the King would do something like that?" All the rumors were a little insane, you had to admit. Most were logical, sensible and reasonable. Others just made you scrunch your nose and turn away; questioning if people could really think that way. Either way, all you knew is that you had to meet this new Troll! You doubted they could be a spy, as the Pop Trolls didn't exactly know where the others in the tunnels went... or even knew if we had survived. So the most logical answer is that they just happened to stumble onto this village without realizing who inhabited it. So, they shouldn't mean any harm.

@!; In the long run, you had been right! Clay didn't mean any sort of harm. In fact, Viva seemed rather excited to welcome him into the village with open arms and a big smile. It put most of the other Trolls in the village at ease seeing Viva deeming the newcomer as friendly, and saw no reason to draw any sort of suspicion onto him. You met Clay later than you wanted, a few weeks into his stay at the village. In fact, you had to be introduced to Clay for the two of you to even meet. "Oooh, (Y/N)!" Viva's voice carried through the small 'serious' office you had made yourself. Viva had always been the outgoing one, the social one; the one who everyone would turn to because she knew what to say or do and how to make everyone feel better! You were the brains behind it all, at least before Clay got introduced. You ran the logics of every outing and reconstruction of buildings. You made sure the food supply would last and that any part or sing-out wouldn't be heard by anyone nearby. You ran everything in the background that allowed everyone to be safe and you did so not because you were told... but because you genuinely enjoyed it. Filling papers, sorting folders, punching in numbers, thinking over statistics and finding out that hidden number! Oh it could make you happier than singing any sort of song; Pop, Country, Funk or any other genre. Many Trolls didn't get it, your love for crunching numbers. They would rather sing and socialize, but you didn't need their approval. You had your happy place within numbers and the smell of vanilla folders and they had there's outside handing and whatnot. Which is why when Viva said the new Troll, Clay, wanted to come help work in the office, you were shocked! "You want to help me?" Dumbfounded, even, as you started at the door while helplessly pointing at yourself. Viva couldn't help but giggle as your look, your jaw at the ground, as Clay shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "Yeah." He seemed a little nervous, "Of course, if that's okay with you. I wouldn't want to encroach-" "Encroach?" You voice suddenly boomed, now to Clay's shock. "Encroach?! I've always been looking for someone to help me here! It gets a little lonely sometimes-.. My friend, as long as you can crunch numbers and be okay with sorting vanilla folders by month and year and preforming probability equations with me you can saw we're already more than partners!" Clay let out a surprised yell as you rushed over and hugging him. Viva let out another bit of laughter, always getting a kick of seeing you so excited. "We're practically friends! Maybe best friends- wait. Wait! Too soon, ah I'm so sorry." Clay's feet hit the floor again with a small thump as you backed away from Viva and him. "Where are my manners, I'm sorry, I-" "Don't get turned off by them Clay. They're just very excited about their job." Viva tried to explain, watching as you had stumbled over your feet while backing away from the two; bumping into your desk and knocking over papers and pencils and pens. Clay couldn't help but feel all his nerves leave him at once. He had a feeling you both would get along just great.

@!; From that day on, you worked along side Clay behind the scene for Viva and the village. Not many Trolls understood what drew you two to the more slow paced life, but you found comfort in each other's understanding. Now, after some time, Clay knew about your habits to get over excited about your job; he found it both endearing and a little cute. Such as he came back from checking the economic logistics about rebuilding a building to find you hard at work at your desk. You were scribbling down letters in a hurry, scratching out numbers that didn't work and rewriting numbers in an effort to get the correct answer. There was already a pile of paper in the trash beside you. Clay wasn't sure if it was the oh-so determined look on your face that caused him to stop and watch, his clipboard still in hand, or the way your effortlessly calculated numbering in your head. The way your eyebrows furrowed every time you got the incorrect answer. The way you crumpled up a paper with rage and tossed it off to the side before returning to work with it all gone. It just drew Clay in for some reason and he couldn't understand it. You just had such and odd effect to him he hasn't felt before. "Ah! FINALLY!" Your shout snapped him out of his thoughts as you shot up from your chair like a rocket; causing the chair to lose balance and tumble down, crashing onto the floor and scaring you. Flustered, you rushed to pick up the chair. You didn't notice Clay until he started chuckling besides you, "Finally got the right number there?" It was a tease, a light jab from Clay. Though he didn't expect your sudden acknowledgement of his presence would cause the chair to go tumbling again. "Are you..?" As amusing your overexcitement could be, paired with how flustered you got afterwards, Clay was kind of concerned about the chair. And you. He was also concerned about you. "Yes! I'm good. I'm good.." You fiddled with your fingers, a dorky yet embarrassed smile spread cross your face as your eyes darted from Clay to the paper on your desk. "I just-..." You stopped yourself, chewing at the corner of your lip. "Go on, what happened?" Though Clay encouraged you, not bothered by your excited nature and your clumsy tendencies. "Ah! Okay!" There was that brighter smile Clay always adored on you, "So while you were gone I opened a request from Viva, and at first I thought it was going to be something like checking the speakers or the mechanics on the clown to see how long they'll take before rusting. But actually it was one of my favorite jobs! "Viva asked me, ME! To calculate how long we could all survive on the supplies we have here before there needed to be some sort of expedition for supplies." Clay didn't mind the way your voice bounced with such a lively tone, or the way you dancing on the tips of your toes with excitement, or how you jumped up and down while shaking your hands as you couldn't contain all the emotions bursting inside you. To Clay, that's what made you, well you! And he wouldn't change anything about you.

@!; Clay never thought he would find a day, though, where you would be doubting yourself this bad. He had gone out to take a five minute break from the office, leaving you to work in relative peace and silence. He only needed a stretch, some fresh air, and then he would be right back. It had only been five minutes, at least Clay thought it had. He guessed he did stop and talk to Viva about some projects, along with light chatter and making lunch plans with the three of them. It surely hadn't been that long!... or maybe it had. Clay found you holding the edge of your desk and gripping your pencil as though your life depended on it. Sure he knew you overthought a lot, as it was usually a reason why you got so overexcited when you get something right and prove yourself wrong. Yet he's never seen you like.. this. On the brink of tears, sitting on the edge of your seat, breath slightly ragged as you tried to calm it, looking down at the paper like you had lost all sort of hope and had failed everyone and they were long gone and eaten. it scared him. It really did. He didn't know what to do for a moment, and he later kicked himself in the ass for standing there and watching you struggle for so long, only rushing to your side when you fell off your chair. "(Y/N)! Hey! Hey, what's wrong?!" Clay rushed to your side, sliding to his knees to be right next to you and your shaking figure. He was terrified, but he needed to be strong for you in this moment. You weren't responding and Clay tried his best to remain as calm as he could. Slowly he reached his hands out, cupping over your hand that held a death grip on a pen. He tried slowly loosening your hold, carefully getting you to drop the pen you were holding onto the floor. He spoke softly to you while he did this, trying to get your mind to ground itself back to Earth, working on getting you to let go of the desk next. "Hey, hey, it's okay. I promise it's okay." Clay wasn't sure if you even heard him at this moment, yet he was going to do all it took to calm you down; you didn't deserve to hurt yourself like this. "I promise everything is okay. Whatever happened, whatever you're thinking, it's all okay. You're okay, the village is okay, there's nothing you cannot do..." Clay managed to break your hold from the desk and moved to hug you, tightly and securely. He continued to try and comfort you, bring you any sort of relief from whatever pain you were causing yourself. It was a while before he felt you wrap your arms around him, slowly hiding your head into his shoulder as you began to sob. It broke Clay's heart to hear you sob. It broke Clay more when your body began to tremble as you couldn't even begin to explain what you were feeling. You held so many big emotions for a Troll, Clay knew that all too well, and sometimes those big emotions were horrible and nasty and infesting. Clay wished he could protect you from those emotions, but logistically knew he couldn't. So he sat with you, on the floor of the small office, providing all the comfort you needed until you were okay again. And he'll be here forever; ready to stick with you through the thick and thin, the harsh and the best. All to be able to see your bright smiles and your excited little gimmicks and even your worse days. Clay loved you, and that's something no logic could deny.

.ᐟ this work is published and owned by @vacayisland. please do not plagiarize, copy, or steal this work; like, reblogs, and saves are appreciated :D

[daemour]

Welcome to the Outlaw [K.HJ]

☆ Pairing: outlaw! Hongjoong x f! businesswoman! YN

☆ Word count: 4717

☆ Genre: wild west au, fluff, some angst

☆ Warnings: cursing, mentions of weapons (guns, knives, etc), violence, death (non-major character)

☆ Summary: When a stranger decides to stay for an indefinite amount of time at your inn, you find yourself more entangled in his life than you expected to be.

☆ #CallMeDjango collab with @sanjoongie (Sunset Outlaw), @flurrys-creativity, @mingsolo

-

this is uh,,,kinda trash LMAOAFOGHJDGHKDSGHKDS so i do apologise. theres a few more plot points i was gonna add but i was running behind deadline so if u want a part two with the rest of it lmk!

It’s been a long while since a newcomer had come to the little town of Utopia. The last one had been the young farmer Jongho, who now has a life for himself just outside of the town’s edge. Not many people choose your town as their new home, temporarily or permanent.

He showed up at your inn in the dead of night, hat pulled low over his eyes. Out of fear, you kept a hold of the pistol you kept under the counter as you greeted him. But despite the initial aura surrounding him, he smiled at you so kindly, an unfamiliar accent pulling at his words.

“Got a room to spare, ma’am?” he drawls, leaning over the counter to wink at you.

You flush red and turn your eyes up to let your burning cheeks cool down. “You got the money to pay for it, cowboy?” you parrot him, and the stranger chuckles.

Without another word, he places a stack of bills on the counter top, his smile growing crooked. “Is this enough for a room that ensures total privacy?”

You’re almost scared to see how much it actually was, and you’re not too embarrassed to admit  you gasped out loud. It was almost enough to buy your inn three times over.

“Let me show you to your room,” you offer, immediately grabbing one of the keys off the hooks behind you. “I’ll make sure the staff won’t bother you.”

Leading him to the room way up at the top floor was quiet save for  the clink of his spurs. Even the ‘thank you’ he said to you was quiet, and as he closed the door behind him, you felt any energy you had left drain out of you and you decide to retire quite early into the night.

In the morning, it almost feels like a fever dream. You completely forget about the handsome stranger occupying your inn. It’s only when you wander into the kitchen and see the cowboy, hat gone and dark hair messy and you gasp out of shock.

The cowboy turns leisurely, a smile just as crooked as the one last night on his face like he didn’t just give you a heart attack. “Mornin,’” he greets you easily, “fancy some coffee?”

You shake your head, attempting to regain your breath. “N-no thanks. Can I ask why you’re in my kitchen? Breakfast is served in the dining hall.” 

The cowboy shrugs. “I like my breakfast the way I make it. The cook let me in.”

Your eye twitches. “Oh, he did, did he. Well, I can’t let you waltz into my hotel’s kitchen any time you please. Hell, I don’t even know your name. If you want coffee, you’re gonna have to wait in the dining hall like everyone else.” You sigh, bringing your hand up to pinch the bridge between your eyes. “Look. If you really are craving a coffee by your own hand, at least ask me first and not my cook.”

The cowboy shrugs and nods. “Fair, fair. I’ll come ask you next time.” He picks up his coffee cup leisurely, tipping his hat.

You’re left to watch his retreating back, a mixture of confusion and amusement swirling in your stomach. You’re not sure what to make of this stranger, but something about him intrigues you.

-

“Coffee?”

You nod and reach out without looking up from your deposit ledger. It’s become a routine for the strange guest to offer you a cup of coffee he made that morning, and although you were a little suspicious at first, now it’s just casual and natural.

Although he’s been here for a while, you still don’t know much about your guest other than the fact he requires total privacy. You don’t even know his name. All the townsfolk warn you about letting him stay for too long, but you’re sure he doesn’t mean any harm. Your cook likes him, and that’s about all you need.

“Sure, thanks,” you beam up at him, reaching out to take the mug from his hands, your fingers brushing against his.

“What are you working on today?”

Conversation today? What a treat. You look up, smiling at the sight of him leaning atop the counter. “Just some finances and reports. Boring stuff, really. I have to stop by the bank at lunch and make a deposit on the mortgage.”

The guest hums, head tilting ever so slightly. “You wouldn’t mind if I tagged along, would you? I have a couple errands I need to run, and I don’t know where anything is in this town right now.”

You glance down at your papers, and then back up at him. “I wouldn’t mind. I can show you around a bit, too. But first…a request.” The guest looks a little confused, but gestures for you to continue. “What is your name? I have to put you down in the guest book, and I also can’t quite possibly only refer to you as ‘The Guest’. It’s the polite thing, you know.”

The guest laughs, throwing his head back and showing off a row of perfect teeth. “You can call me Deuce. And you are?”

Smiling, you reach out a hand. “I’m YN. Good to meet you, Deuce.”

To your surprise, instead of just shaking your hand, he leans down to press a soft kiss to your knuckles. “The pleasure is all mine, YN. I will see you at lunch.”

Your eyes follow him as he walks back upstairs to his room, and after he disappears from your view, you can’t seem to keep your mind off him. There’s something about him that draws you in, whether it’s his light accent or the way he focuses all his attention on you when you’re speaking. You lightly smack your forehead, willing yourself to focus back on your paperwork. You don’t have the time to focus on a pretty boy cowboy.

Before you know it, noon has arrived and the telltale sound of his spurs are approaching you. “Ready to head out?” you ask, looking up to see Deuce smiling at you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him without one, and you’re not too sure how you feel about it. “I’ll show you around first, get lunch, then stop at the bank last. Sounds good?”

Deuce nods, smile never wavering. “Lead the way.”

You stand from your seat, picking up your light skirts and making sure your apron is on straight. “Now, the town isn’t large by any means, but there’s a good many people who live here. We’re all pretty close, and every first Sunday there’s a town dinner. You’re welcome to join us as long as you bring one dish,” you start talking, pointing out the church where the dinner is held. “Our first stop will be the general store—I need to pick up some earrings.”

Deuce seems perfectly happy to just listen to you talk, but you’re not one for carrying the conversation. “So, what brings you to this town anyway?” you ask as you step up on the front porch leading to the general store. “It’s not often new people wander through here and stay for longer than a few days. It’s been almost a week and a half, hasn’t it?”

“Just about,” Deuce confirms. “I’ve been trying to find a new place for me to live. I’ve stayed in my hometown for a very long time, and this little town seems very homey.”

You can’t help but feel a swell of pride in your chest at how he describes your hometown. “It is. All the townsfolk are like family. I’ve lived here all my life, and I can’t imagine being elsewhere.”

“You’re pretty young to own and run your own inn, I commend the work ethic,” Deuce compliments you. “What made you want to start it?’

And just like that, the warm feeling in your chest is replaced by painful memories. “Oh. Well, the inn was actually run by my family for generations. I just had to take over much sooner than expected. I don’t hate it though, meeting all the new people always makes me happy. Plus, I’m old enough.” You try to direct the conversation to a happier tone, and thankfully, Deuce seems to understand.

“I see.”

Before he can say anything else, the general shop owner approaches you with a smile. “Little bluejay, good to see you. Here to pick up your earrings?”

“Yes, sir,” you smile, leaning forward to give the old man a quick hug. “Hope business is doing well.”

“Good as always,” he replies happily. “Yunho came in with a new shipment, and brought his sweet wife along. Did you hear that they’re expecting already?”

“I did. Yunho and his family have lived here for generations, I’m pretty sure the Jeongs will be staying here for years to come as well.”

“Now that I can agree with,” Mr Jon agrees. “Now, here are your earrings. Straight from the East Coast.”

He hands you a package wrapped in linen, neatly tied with a pink ribbon. “Thank you kindly. I’ll be sure to wear them during the next dinner.”

Mr Jon raises an eyebrow. “You better. You didn’t pay a fortune for shipping just to not wear them. Now, anything else you’re looking for today? Or how about you, Mr…”

“You can call me Kim, no titles necessary,” Deuce offers. “I’m not looking for anything, really. YN is just showing me around.”

“I see.” The owner has a twinkle in his eye you pointedly ignore. “Well, have fun you two. And it was good to meet you, Kim.”

Quickly, you pull Deuce out of the general store, warmth rushing to your cheeks. “So that was the general store,” you change the topic. “We’ll go to the saloon next. Wooyoung is the owner and the pianist, and he knows everything about the town.”

“Sure, sure.” A pause. “Bluejay?”

You raise an eyebrow, meeting Deuce’s curious gaze. “Kim?”

“Okay, okay, fair. You have your secrets, I have mine,” Deuce concedes. “Earrings from the East Coast, huh?”

You snort, smacking at his shoulder. “As the front of house for the inn, I’m sure you understand I must always be presentable. Take it as a business expense.”

With a shake of his head, Deuce doesn’t push it any further. “I see, then. But you know, you’re pretty and presentable with or without earrings. Now, Miss Money, what is the plan for the saloon?” He changes the subject so smoothly you almost don’t catch his compliment.

Although heat rushes to your cheeks, you keep your demeanour cool. “I was thinking lunch. Wooyoung is the second best cook I’ve met, you know, with the hotel cook being number one, of course.”

Deuce chuckles. “Jisun is indeed phenomenal, so I will have to go into the saloon with high expectations.”

You shoot him a sly smile. “And I’m sure Wooyoung will exceed them. I have excellent taste, you know. After all, I did let you into my inn.”

“Not sure if letting a stranger pay for utmost privacy is in excellent taste, but I’ll take your word for it,” Deuce teases. “After all, it does benefit me.”

You raise an eyebrow in challenge. “That’s right, Mr Kim. Watch what you say. I could very well kick you out.”

Deuce chuckles. “Duly noted, Miss Bluejay.”

-

“What are you doing this evening?” Once again, you look up from your paperwork to see Deuce smiling at you. It’s become a common occurrence in the past few weeks for him to come sit by you while you worked on paperwork, but it’s a first that he has decided to initiate conversation.

“Nothing of importance. May I ask why?” You set down your pen to look at Deuce, noticing a hint of something you can’t place in his eyes. “Is something happening?”

Deuce winces at the tone of worry that leaks into your voice. “No, no, not at all. I was…I was just wondering. If you would like me to cook you dinner.”

You blink up at Deuce. “Cook me dinner?” you repeat blankly.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want me to! I just noticed you seemed to be a little more stressed these days and thought I could show you my appreciation for being so kind to me,” Deuce tries to redirect, waving his hands frantically. You don’t think you’ve seen him so flustered before, and the sight of it makes a smile slowly grow onto your face.

“I’d love that, Deuce. I do appreciate it.”

“Sit tight for a few hours for me, then, okay?”

As if his nervousness wasn’t even there in the first place, he throws you a wink before sauntering into the back. You’re not sure how he will convince your cook, but you’re willing to bet that Jisun would gladly take the time away from work to go visit her lover.

You know that you absolutely cannot focus on your paperwork, because every time you turn your eyes to the numbers, all you can see and hear is Deuce’s smile and the polite little giggle he offers you whenever you make a bad joke.

The curiosity you’ve had surrounding him has slowly morphed into attraction each passing day, despite the way you know next to nothing about him. But he’s never tried to harm you, and he’s only ever treated anyone he interacts with with the utmost kindness.

He is so ingrained in your thoughts right now that you don’t even notice the cloaked figure swiftly approaching your table. When your gaze finally raises, you’re met with the gleam of a knife pointed straight at your face and your heart drops into your stomach.

“I–”

You don’t even get to say anything before the knife is waved around menacingly and the figure tsks. “Just give me all the money!”

Your hands move under the desk, but the gun you usually keep there is missing, and belatedly you remember you put it in your room to clean it properly but forgot to put it back. “Uh–”

“Are you stupid?”

“No, but are you?” The words fall out of your mouth without you thinking. “I mean, trying to rob someone with a knife? What if I have a weapon under the counter? Or a gun? It wasn’t a very thought out plan, don’t you think?”

You’re running on autopilot, and the only thing keeping you going is hoping that Deuce would hear the commotion or finish his cooking soon enough and come help you. The door leading to the kitchen is out of the robber’s vision (yet another rookie mistake he made), and although you can’t see down the hall either you hope and pray you can stall for enough time.

After Deuce had paid you for his stay, you know you have enough money squirrelled away to cushion the robbery, but all sane thought has escaped you in this moment and all you want is Deuce’s presence.

“Just shut up, okay?” The thief yells, his grip tightening on the knife, knuckles white with strain.

You could see the beads of sweat on his brow, smell the stale odour of his breath. The air crackled with tension, thick and suffocating. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Would Deuce appear in time?

Lost in your thoughts, a cold blade pressed against your throat, the sharp point a chilling reminder of the man’s presence. The metallic scent of blood flooded your brain, memories of a fateful day almost five years ago. Then, a deafening blast shattered the silence.

Instead of the stabbing you expect, all you hear is a gunshot and the residual ringing in your ears, deafening you for minutes before you finally muster up the courage to open your eyes.

A body is slumped onto the desk in front of you, blood pooling around the stranger’s head. Your jaw drops open, a soundless scream escaping you as your back stiffens. You can’t seem to take your eyes away from the body, even as warm arms wrap around your shoulders and the familiar presence of Deuce fills your senses.

“YN, look at me. YN.” He repeats himself a few more times until you finally are able to rip your eyes away and turn your head towards his direction. His voice is too calm, but you can see the pain in his eyes. “YN, are you okay? I need you to talk to me, okay?”

“He had a knife. He was going to stab me,” you say, although you don’t know if you’re even aware of what you are saying. “But who shot him?”

“I did, YN. I just wanted to keep you safe, okay? I’m sorry. I’ll buy you a new desk.”

You can’t help but bark out a short laugh, but the outlandishness of that statement brings your mental back just the little bit that you needed. “That’s what you’re worried about? I don’t care, Deuce. You saved me from a pretty nasty fate back there.”

He nods, although the worry in his eyes doesn’t cease. “Let’s go get the sheriff, okay? I already told Jisun not to let the guests downstairs in the meantime, okay?”

You nod. “Okay…will you talk to me though? Anything, really. Just to keep my mind off of it. Please, Deuce.”

Deuce sighs. “I suppose. You know, my nickname is Deuce because in my town, I was a sheriff, and I always wielded two pistols. I don’t think my people were very good at titles, but the name stuck, and now it’s like a piece of home that I carry with me everywhere I go.”

“It suits you, I think,” you state, looking up at him with wide eyes. “I like it.”

If you squinted, you swear you saw redness appear at the tips of his ears, but you’re not sure if you’re just imagining it. “Thank you, darlin’. It means a lot coming from a pretty lady like you.” Deuce offers a half-smile.

You chew on your lower lip for a minute before sighing. “I also have a story behind Bluejay, as I’m sure you’ve heard the villagers call me. When I was younger, my parents ran the inn. I actually wasn’t supposed to run it until I got married or turned thirty. But one day, there were bandits who came roaring through.”

The memory makes you shudder, and Deuce rubs your shoulder comfortingly. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to…”

“No, I should.” You shake your head with resolve. “I’ve kept it under wraps for so long, what better time to spill my dark secrets. The sheriff, Mingi’s father at the time, was away on county business and Mingi had only just become the deputy at that time. There wasn’t much he could do. They raided everything. Seonghwa’s parents were killed in the raid. As…as were mine.

“But when they decided to make me their next ransom victim, I was in such shock, I couldn’t do anything but talk. And talk I did. I didn’t shut up, no matter how hard they tried to make me shut up.” You let out a mirthless laugh. “In the end, it bought me enough time that Mingi was able to gather enough men to save me.”

“YN…”

“Well, there’s my life trauma for you to unpack. I hope I didn’t scare you away from staying at my inn.”

“YN. I wanted to cook dinner for you. Hell, I shot a man for you. I think I should be more worried about you being scared of me.” Deuce shakes his head fondly. “Come on, we’re almost at the sheriff’s. Let’s get this behind us and have that squash soup I slaved over.”

As he leads you up to the sheriff’s office, he pauses. “Deuce?” you question, and his eyes twinkle as he looks up at you.

“I’m glad you’re safe, Bluejay.”

-

“Hello,” you greet the newcomer. You’re vaguely surprised another mysterious person has come within six months of Deuce just as late as he had, although at this point he’s just as much of a part of this town as you are, even though his name is still unknown to you. “How can I help you?”

“Can I have a room?” Jumping straight into business, huh. Reminds you of a certain someone you’re keeping at your inn. You look up and down the young lady carefully. She looks like trouble, with a large gun and a pointed wooden stick by her side, but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn away a guest.

“It’s a dollar for the night. Twenty-five cents more if you want hot water, but you have to go to the pump yourself to get it,” you say, looking down into your ledger and marking out a room for her. Not many other guests in town, so you take the liberty of placing her further away from Deuce’s place of residence.

As you’re preparing her keys, she continues talking as if you were interested in a conversation with her. “I’m a bounty hunter…have you seen this outlaw? Kim Hongjoong? Miss…”

“The townspeople call me Bluejay,” you offer her your alias, unwilling to give your proper name to a bounty hunter. Taking a glance at the poster, you struggle to keep your face calm, and pray to God that you succeeded. Your own guest, Deuce…no. Kim Hongjoong stares right back at you on her poster. There’s something fishy going on with him, but you don’t want to jump to conclusions, and although it may be a bad idea, you resolve to keep him safe. “Never heard of him. Sign here, and I’ll give you the key to your room.”

With a hasty scribble, the new guest writes down her alias. Red Hawk. Before you can say anything else, she throws down a few crumpled bills totalling ten dollars. “I don’t know how long I’ll be in town. Call that a downpayment on my room.”

“Be my guest,” you hum. How it played out was amusingly similar to how Deuce paid for his own room. “Your room is on the first floor, straight down the hallway.”

You carefully watch her retreating back, and as soon as she disappears, you turn around and start heading towards Deuce…no, Hongjoong’s room. You may not have blown his cover, but now he owes you some explanation. You don’t want to host an outlaw at your inn without good reason.

Quietly, carefully, you make your way up to the third floor and knock on his room. There’s a long moment where you’re not even sure if he’s actually in, but soon a soft “come in” is heard and you swing the door open.

“Hey, I need to talk–”

Mid-sentence, your brain decides to short-circuit at the sight of Hongjoong’s waist. It wasn’t a very long glimpse, the cowboy in the midst of putting his shirt on, but you’re a proper young lady. You’re not usually in such situations.

But first things first. You shake your head, ridding yourself of such thoughts. “What’s up, YN?” Hongjoong’s voice helps to bring you back to reality. “Did you need to tell me something?”

“Right. Look. Someone—a bounty hunter—came in…and they showed me your Wanted poster. I don’t think I can house a true outlaw, no matter how kind and peaceful they have been. But I want to give you the benefit of the doubt. I just want you to explain. Hongjoong, right?”

Hongjoong’s smile appears much more strained, but yet again, it does not falter. “I suppose I owe you a story, then. Why don’t you have a seat?”

You carefully make your way over to the bed, sitting down and waiting for Hongjoong to start his story.

“Now,” Hongjoong starts, “you’re not obligated to believe me, but I swear on my mother’s grave whatever I say is the truth. I once was a sheriff in my own right as you know. I kept my town safe. But the more outlaws and robbers and kidnappers I put behind bars, the more they held grudges. In the end, they framed me and I had to go on the run. If I stayed to wait for a trial, they would’ve won. The lawforce was weak without me. Now I’m just playing the long game to wait for my name to be cleared.”

You frown, leaning forward. “But why would the bounty hunter be hunting you? They’re not bound to a law, why would she try and capture you? Aren’t you basically the same as her now?”

Hongjoong shrugs. “Yes, well, bounty hunters need to make money somehow. Maybe she’s been on a long stretch of no bounties, maybe she’s stuck on a different trail and I might be some easy cash. But the hunters never stay in one spot for too long. I’m sure it’ll be within the week I can be less wary. And I can leave the town if you’re still not comfortable with keeping me here. I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

You sigh, leaning back, much more relaxed. “Look, I’ll be straight with you, Hongjoong. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, and to the townsfolk. I can’t see any issue with continuing to house you. It also doesn’t seem like your case is widespread, as the sheriff hasn’t said anything about it and the hunter’s wanted poster was the first I’ve seen of you. I’ll keep your secrets. You…you’re important to me.”

There’s a pregnant pause before Hongjoong’s expression shifts to one of relief, and before you can react, he wraps you into a hug. “Thank you,” he sighs, his chest heaving with a breath of relief. “I know I try to sound cool all the time, but it has been weighing on my chest. As I got closer to you, I didn’t want to keep secrets, but I was scared of how you would react.”

You laugh, letting your body relax against his. “Hongjoong, I think we’ve been through enough that you don’t have to be worried about how I react to things like this. But why don’t you talk to Mingi about this? I’m sure he can work to have your name cleared without needing to put you behind bars. And he’s fond of you too.”

Hongjoong chuckles. “He’s fond of me because I’m not scared of killing scorpions. How a guy can be a sheriff but too scared to sweep a bug out of the house is beyond me.”

“Hey, now, Mingi could be your next chance of getting your name cleared. Let’s not bully the guy if he’s not even here.”

You can feel his shrug as Hongjoong sighs. “Fair. There’s something else I’d much rather do, anyway.”

“Oh? And what is that?”

Without warning, Hongjoong positions himself to face you so close that you can feel his breath on your lips. “I’d like to kiss you senseless.”

He’s waiting for your response, but instead of gracing him with one, you lean forward and let your mouth lightly brush against his. As if you unlocked a new side of Hongjoong, he immediately deepens the kiss and his hands move up to cup your face, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs.

A long moment passes before the two of you finally part, lips red and swollen like you’ve been kissing for hours. “Been waiting to do that, you know. Ever since that lunch you took me out on my first two weeks here,” Hongjoong admits. “But I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into.”

You heave a sigh. “This is the absolute worst timing to bring this up, Hongjoong, but the answer is yes. I know what this entails. A time of uncertainty until your name is cleared. But I don’t care about that. Any relationship comes with trials, and this is just one of them. I’ll stay supporting you, as long as you do the same for me. Okay?”

“Okay,” Hongjoong confirms softly, eyes glistening as he leans in again. “Okay, YN. I’ll have you as long as you’ll have me.”

“And I will have you. Gladly. Now, can we continue?” Your hand trails down Hongjoong’s chest and as he presses his lips against yours, you can feel the smirk forming on his face.

“I believe we can.”

[wangxianficrecs]

Follower Recs

~*~

I've got a rec. it's maybe the best pacific rim au I've read of any fandom. wwx left after piloting alone (jc was knocked out but does science with the Jaegers/kaiju after) and then he adopts a-yuan. but of course the Jaeger program needs him back (and guess who he's paired with😏)

a good sense of family among the Jaeger pilots and every else in the Jaeger program (except for one person who gets what's coming to them) with multiple povs. I don't think you need any pacific rim knowledge to read it - Anon

💙 The Weight of the World

by KouriArashi (@gingersnapwolves)

T, 67k, Wangxian

Summary: The Untamed/Pacific Rim fusion nobody asked for but I wrote anyway. =D Wei Wuxian shook his head. “Listen, Wen Qing, even if I was willing to come back, I don’t have a partner anymore. Jiang Cheng can never set foot in a Jaeger again and you know that.” “Then we’ll find you one.” “And I let some complete stranger into my head? That’ll go well. They’ll run screaming into the night.” Newcomers to the Pacific Rim world welcome!

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[comicaurora]

Hey red, what's your opinion on some modern writing that's very lamp shady? And do you have any advice on how to avoid "Well that just happened" dialogue?

It's an interesting question!

The thing is, lampshading exists for a reason, but it's not the reason it gets used a lot of the time. Writers might lampshade a narrative choice they're insecure about, while characters lampshade because the things they go through in a typical story are kind of bonkers, and we might expect them to notice. If a character signs on for a simple mercenary expedition and ends up discovering they're the long-lost prince of a kingdom they've never heard of, that's weird and they probably feel weird about it. If an ally is determined to 1v1 their super overpowered nemesis with no help from their friends, those friends might have opinions about how dumb that is.

This is a form of lampshading that doesn't break immersion because it's entirely in-character and doesn't lean on the fourth wall. There's a difference between a character noticing how weird their life is and a character pointing out how cliched a recent experience was. In the latter case, the character is treating their life like a story, and while it IS a story, they shouldn't know that.

There's a spectrum here, with "complete sincerity and taking every turn of the plot at face value" defining the 0-point and "complete self-aware uninvestment" at the far end, but healthy levels of lampshading live somewhere in the middle. Characters at the 0-point accepting everything that happens without question can feel just as weird as characters that won't stop pointing out the TVTropes entry they're currently living. It's about what it makes sense for the character to find disruptive or noteworthy. A hardened badass probably won't see the need to point out how bonkers a recent fight scene was, but a newcomer to the Cool Bombastic Adventure scene might be really excited when they pull off a cool special move and want to point it out.

I think this is why the recent D&D movie worked for a lot of people, because while the main characters all lampshade their lives to varying degrees, the way they do so makes sense for all of them. Edgin is a bard and storyteller so he has a slightly meta perspective on a lot of things, purposefully avoids playing along with certain narrative conventions and sometimes responds to other people's dialogue by critiquing their dialogue instead of just responding normally; Holga doesn't really care to understand how the world works and so keeps pointing out that they should just use magic to solve their problems, which is probably the most popular lampshade in the whole genre; Doric and Simon don't get a ton of time to shine character-wise, but they'll both occasionally poke holes in the pretense of the story they're in. The thing that makes this all work is Xenk, who plays absolutely every moment completely 100% straight and is entirely immersed in the objectively ridiculous setting of D&D. Same goes for most of the villains, except for Forge, who's probably the wackiest and most self-aware character in the entire movie, but in a way that makes him feel callous and disregarding of the people around him, like he's uninvested in the world not because he knows he's a fictional character but because he has too much money and power to care about anything. The ways each character does or does not lampshade their surroundings make sense for who they are as people and reinforce their characterization and place in the world instead of undermining it.

I recently watched a couple episodes of Stargate Atlantis and noticed something similar - the main character and, to a lesser extent, the rest of his associates from Earth have a tendency to make wry observations about his objectively bizarre life and the eccentricities of the people around him, which helps contrast against the extremely serious and businesslike Cool Space Warriors they keep accumulating, which helps make them feel (a) distinct from each other and (b) relatable considering all the weird stuff that happens. And the protagonist switches off the quips as soon as things start looking perilous for his team, so you never get the impression that they aren't invested in the story they're living, and as a result the various quips and lampshades come across more as a habit or a coping mechanism than a disruption to the narrative itself.

So basically I think you can get away with a lot of lampshades as long as the character doesn't feel like they know they're in a story.

[quadrantadvisor]

Danny Phantom Crossover Angst Week: Prompt - GIW Experimentation

Fandom: Marvel "Team Red"

Words: 2,550

Read on AO3

The new government offices in the Kitchen were suspicious, simply by virtue how un-suspicious they were. Matt, Foggy, and Karen had poured over their documentation, and found it to be squeaky clean and overly banal. Not that it mattered, really, when Matt was going to stake out their building regardless. Newcomers on his turf had to prove themselves.

Matt didn’t like what he heard.

It may, in fact, be time to call in the cavalry. No matter how deeply, desperately, Matt did not want to do that.

-

“You hear that, Spidey?” Wade Wilson crooned. “Ol’ Hornhead needs our help.”

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Spiderman said mirthfully, shaking his head.

They’d been like this for several minutes. Matt was cataloging and systematically shuffling through his life choices, trying to decide which one in particular led him to this moment (so that if he ever had the opportunity to time travel, he could prevent this.)

“Listen,” he told them. “I called you because I have reason to believe this situation is urgent, but my source has been unable to retrieve certain necessary information.”

“Like what?” Spiderman asked before Deadpool could get a word in edgewise.

“Like the dimensions of the building. I know that they don’t match the official schematics, but not what they actually are.”

“That seems very unlikely,” Wade cut in. “I thought you had like, a psychic connection to every part of your kitchen. How does anyone build something without you knowing about it?”

“I’m not psychic,” Matt deadpanned. Who needed a sixth sense? Matt did just fine with the ones he had. “But the answer is, very carefully.”

“Sure, sure,” Spiderman said. “And what’s the actual emergency?”

“They’re holding someone against their will,” Matt told him, glad to cut to the chase. “I have reason to believe that this person is in a great deal of danger, and has been tortured and experimented on for a significant amount of time.”

“The US government is doing this?” Spiderman asked, surprised. “After how many human rights scandals we’ve had in the past few years? Are they stupid?”

“Yes,” Matt answered immediately. “But there seems to be some question of this person’s level of sentience. My source said the attitude of the agents was, ‘Don’t worry if it’s screaming, that means it’s working.’”

The cold slide of a katana being drawn made Matt realize that he should’ve been paying more attention to Deadpool, who had become strangely quiet.

“DP, you good?” Spiderman asked, because he was naive enough to ask questions he already knew the answer to. Matt had gotten caught up in his own urgency, and completely forgotten to take Wade’s history into account. He’d stumbled into a thorny web of traumas, and had no one to blame but himself.

“Doing great, Spidey!” Deadpool said with a cold cheer, and Matt fought the urge to shiver. “Feeling very ready to teach some remedial lessons on human/alien/magical and/or mechanical construct rights! C’mon, team, time’s a-wasting!” And he was off.

Spiderman turned towards Matt and paused, presumably trying to share some sort of look (which wouldn’t have worked regardless, did he forget he wore a full face mask?) Then he tensed to leap, and Matt followed suit, the two of them determined to clean up whatever mess Deadpool made.

-

Deadpool had been made emphatically aware that, if he killed on their watch, neither Spiderman nor Daredevil would ever work with him again. Matt guessed that that promise was the only thing keeping him from further brutality. The stench of blood grew quickly cloying.

“HEY!” Spiderman shouted on his left.

“What?” Deadpool asked in front of him. “It’s not like he needs both hands.”

Spiderman’s webbing thwip-ed out, staunching the wound. “You guys picked a really bad day to wear white,” he said to the swearing agent.

“Lay off the suits, freak!” another one said, aiming his strange weapon at Matt’s friend. Matt quickly disarmed him.

Their suits were entirely white? No wonder they smelled so strongly of starch and bleach. Another point towards government stupidity.

The three of them made their way deeper into the facility, and white suits were replaced with white lab coats, though the scientists still carried the little noisy pistols, powered by something Matt couldn’t identify by smell. Whatever kind of energy it was, it left strong taste on his tongue, like citrus and metal and sparking electricity.

Then, finally, they found what they were looking for.

As soon as he opened the door, Deadpool’s tone changed, from frightening mania to a solemn sort of despair. “Fuck,” he said under his breath.

Matt was in an unfamiliar building, having to feel his way through as he went. He’d had to navigate combat situations while ignoring a great many assaults upon his senses, from loud alarms to overwhelming scents to a completely unfamiliar power source that made his skin tingle. But the inside of that room was worse. Matt resisted the urge to plug his nose against the air saturated with bleach, old blood, and rotten… whatever it was.

Spiderman, seeing into the room, gasped, then composed himself, following Deadpool inside.

“Hey, kid,” Deadpool said softly. This was why, despite all the instincts telling him otherwise, Matt trusted Wade. Wade cared about vulnerable people, in a way that was both obvious and experienced. He wore his care on his sleeve. Matt couldn’t help but admire it, and felt a kinship he couldn’t quite deny. “We’re gonna get you out of here, okay?”

A mumble responded, drawing Matt’s attention, and he drew short. There was certainly a structure in the center of the room, and upon that structure (gurney?) was…

It was unlike anything Matt had ever experienced. It was in the shape of a person, yes, but it was almost like the absence of a person. Cold emanated from the space, but air seemed to pass right through it. Sound was drawn in by the shape, muffled. Was there really someone there? Matt’s skin prickled. (Matt still wasn’t psychic. But something about it didn’t feel right. Like it wanted him to be afraid.)

The figure wheezed.

“He can’t be older than sixteen,” Spiderman whispered.

“Hey, kid, hey, they really did a number on you, huh? Can you hear me?”

This time, there was no response, just the same shallow, painful breaths.

“Alright, up we go then,” Deadpool said, reaching for the figure. Matt almost called out, almost told him not to touch it. He half expected Deadpool’s hands to fall right through. But contact was made, and Deadpool hefted what apparently looked like a young teenaged boy into his arms.

“Alright besties, you clear the way and I’ll cart the kid out of here,” Deadpool said, tone comically sweet.

Again, Matt wanted to protest. Now that they had the captive, the rescue seemed less urgent. He wanted to know just what was going on here, what the subject was, why he was being studied. He had a bad feeling, was all.

Matt held his tounge. Deadpool and Spiderman’s hearts were both racing, and they radiated fear and concern. Something was leaking from the boy, something that smelled like the power source of the agent’s weapons but somehow more organic. Matt’s bad feeling didn’t matter, not until something bad actually happened. He could come back later and collect the information he needed, especially since he’d be able to use actual stealth to do it (thank you, Wade, for barging in.)

They went out the same way they’d come in, mowing through agents much less brutally now that Deadpool’s hands were fully. The number of people working in this building was frankly ridiculous.

The agents were not shy about targeting Deadpool, seeming unconcerned about any harm that may come to their captive. As they passed, they shouted at them, telling them to “Drop the subject!” or “Give up the Ghost Kid!”

(Ghost Kid? No, he couldn’t be a ghost. That was ridiculous. That wasn’t what ghosts were like, it couldn’t be.)

(Oh sweet Mother Mary.)

Spiderman started webbing the agents’ mouths shut.

When they had nearly reached their goal of escape, the figure began to murmur and shift.

“Hey kiddo, you with us?” Deadpool asked.

“Who’re you?” was the slurred response.

“Just your friendly neighborhood mercenary!” Deadpool chirped. “And I’m getting you out of here.”

“We’re leaving?” croaked the boy.

“Yep! Me’n my buddies,” Deadpool moved his head, gesturing to Matt and Spiderman, “we’ll keep you safe. These creeps aren’t gonna touch you, never again.”

The being moved suddenly, lurching up in Wade’s grasp, maybe meeting his eyes or grabbing his arm?

“The research,” he gasped, “the containment devices, the weapons, you have to destroy them! What they’re trying to do, it’s-” he broke off, coughing weakly.

“Kid?” Deadpool asked.

“An entire dimension,” the boy answered weakly. “They want to destroy an entire dimension.”

The alarms were still blaring. The number of agents coming in from different parts of the building hadn’t slowed. As bad as that sounded, and as much as Matt wanted to get their research away from them and into more capable and ethical hands (Karen), they didn’t have time if they didn’t want to take huge risks.

“We’re leaving,” Matt said, the full gravel of the devil in his voice. “We’ll stop them, but not tonight.”

“Yeah buddy, don’t worry, we’re gonna take care of it,” Spiderman assured him.

“You don’t understand,” the boy said, distraught.

Their group had reached the first floor. Matt was bruised and exhausted, but none of the combatants were experts in hand to hand. They were going to make it out of this, mission complete, none the worse for wear. It could’ve gone a lot worse.

“I’ll do it myself.”

The figure in Deadpool’s arms suddenly, inexplicably, dropped. No struggle, no loosening of Deadpool’s grip. It was like he fell straight through them.

Despite his weakness, the boy slipped away when Wade reached out for him. Then he, if Matt’s senses weren’t playing tricks on him, started floating.

“Back up,” he said, “and cover your ears.”

Matt didn’t like to muffle his senses, but he wasn’t an idiot. When a being like that said to protect your hearing, you did it. He pressed his palms tight to his ears and moved away.

It wasn’t enough.

What came from the thing could barely be called a sound. The sensation was almost physical, air distorting worse than the concussive blast of an explosion. He directed it down, down, through every level of the building, and the floor pushed back in waves as it fought against its own destruction. Inevitably, it failed, and Matt hugged desperately against the wall, hoping he wouldn’t lose the very ground beneath his feet. He sincerely doubted any electronics could survive the onslaught, meaning that whatever records and weapons were being stored here would be just as gone as the boy had wanted.

Matt didn’t know how long the attack lasted, maybe just seconds, regardless of how long it felt in his pain. The ringing in his head didn’t stop with the onslaught, and he removed his hands cautiously, hoping he wasn’t bleeding. Matt rose from his crouch, and tried to figure out what to do next. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t hear anything over the ringing, could only stand there and wonder if a single step would send him plunging to his death, if the ringing was just too loud or if his hearing was gone for good (he could do it, he could, but please, God, he didn’t want to, didn’t want to adjust, to lose such a huge part of the world around him, please, not again.)

He startled when someone touched his arm. “-hear me?” they asked, and Matt realized it was Spiderman, because he could feel his heartbeat through his fingers, knew the resonance of his voice in his chest, and Matt resisted the urge to cling to him for some sense of normalcy, because yes, even though he couldn’t hear him, he knew the vibrations of his body and could still interpret them.

“There you are,” Spiderman said. “Just mouth stuff at me, my ears are shot after that. You good?”

Matt grunted, and was disturbed by the lack of feedback within his own skull. “Can’t hear a thing,” he reluctantly admitted, doing his best to turn towards where he figured Spiderman’s eyeline was. He paused, uncomfortable, but added, “A bit dizzy, too.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Spiderman immediately replied, getting a better grip on Matt’s arm and starting to pull him somewhere. It wasn’t easy guidance, like Foggy would offer, it was a firm lead, something Spiderman would use to pull civilians away from danger. Matt suffered the indignity, seeing as he could barely stand straight and had almost no idea where the holes in the floor were. “Man, that kid scared the shit out of me. I’m so glad I managed to catch him.”

Catch him? That made sense, maybe, if whatever power that had kept him suspended gave out after that display. Spiderman didn’t have the boy now, though, so he must’ve handed him off to Deadpool, or maybe he’d used his webs.

The air changed, and Matt figured they’d made it outside. He expected Spiderman to let go of him, and felt both relieved and embarrassed when he didn’t.

Air moved, the ground vibrated, and Matt could tell someone approached them. Spiderman didn’t react negatively, so likely it was Deadpool. The mercenary stood in front of them, speaking, but the breeze whisked the vibrations away and Matt couldn’t make out his voice.

“Don’t ask me,” Spiderman replied. “Hey, you paying attention Double D? What the heck do we do with an incredibly powerful, partially human, transforming kid who may also be bleeding out?”

Transforming? Bleeding out? Matt had thought the blood smell was just Deadpool. Without thinking, he reached forward, seeking more information. After a moment, he made contact, and felt relieved at the familiar heart and breaths. Thus oriented, he moved his hand down to the figure in Wade’s arms.

It was a normal human boy. No uncanny not-there-ness, no hum of energy and power, just a kid with blood pumping through his veins and dripping from a poorly treated would along his torso.

“I don’t know,” Matt said. “Hospital?”

“I am not just dropping him off at a hospital,” Deadpool said. “If that’s your plan, I’ll just take him back to my place and-”

“Hey, Daredevil, didn’t you say you couldn’t hear?” Spiderman interrupted.

Matt nodded absentmindedly. “Not a thing.”

“We’re wearing full face masks,” Spiderman pointed out. “How do you know what we’re saying?”

Deadpool gasped dramatically. “He IS psychic!”

Matt sighed heavily, wishing he could drop his head into his hands, but that would necessitate letting go of his friends. “Claire is going to hate me for this,” he lamented.

“Who’s Claire?” Spiderman asked.

“He didn’t deny it!” Deadpool crowed.

“I’ll explain on the way,” Matt said, ignoring the mercenary. “You’re going to have to guide me though, I’m practically useless right now.”

“Sure thing,” Spiderman said, not needing more than that, and Matt knew that there was a reason he liked him.

Their group, much worse for wear and plus a new member, headed off again into the night.

[aziraphales-library]

I was wondering if you know of any fics that kind of go along with that one headcanon where at some time period, Crowley decides to get as many college degrees he can, or has the energy to. It’d be nice to read about it, instead of only just hearing about it as a concept. I’m not looking for anything too specific, a fic could just mention if, and I would be happy. Please and thank you.

Have a nice day/night :)

Here are a few for you...

Like He Hung the Stars in the Sky by asideofourown (T)

BREAKING: SCIENTIFIC COMMUNITY IN DISARRAY AS NEWCOMER UPENDS DOZENS OF ACCEPTED THEORIES   Up and coming British astrophysicist Dr. Anthony J. Crowley has rocked the science world this week with his research that proves many previously-accepted scientific theories about dark matter and the nature of our universe completely wrong. Dubbed the ‘Devil’s Theory,’ Crowley’s research has made the astrophysicist a star practically overnight, and one of the most sought-after scientists in the country. “There’s so much you humans don’t understand about the universe, it’s not my fault that I do,” he said in a statement to BBC reporter Jane Smith. “Just you wait!” [Crowley can't keep his mouth shut about the stars, and accidentally becomes a famous scientist.]

Potted Plants and Bad Advice by TheMightierPen (G)

Crowley is an RA at a university and he's their guardian demon because he's soft for kids fite me. I wrote this based off a Tumblr post where Crowley's got 17 degrees because being minor inconvenience to London actually takes effort. Also because my friend asked me to.

Campus Cryptid by Bjurnberg (T)

No one on campus really knows what Crowley is, but they've all heard the rumors. Some say he's in the mob, others say he's a fairy, some think he's just a dick. But everyone he's helped is grateful. And everyone who's crossed him doesn't return.

The future's going to break through by nieded (T)

My take on South Downs: Aziraphale and Crowley decide to become professors. This is inspired by the headcanon that Crowley has 20 different degrees. He is the Serpent of the Tree of Knowledge after all.

- Mod D

[c00kietin]

thank GOODNESS I could finish this- beneath the cut's a profile for them!! :D

buckle up, because it's a lot of information-

TENEBRIS!!!

Goes by they/them pronouns :D

Don't ask them for their age. Even I don't know how old they are.

The one and only leader of the Obitus Cult/Cult of Obitus!!

A very egotistic and anti-social being that has utterly devoted their loyalty to their "god" Obitus.

Can be quick to anger as well, lashes out on their members if they're really frustrated.

Of course, they're nothing like this around newcomers. Needs to somehow convince them to join, right?

Well, they can just force people if they wanted to with spells.

The magic they're capable of involves more chants and recitals, as well as making very strange substances and potions.

Their shopping list looks very strange, as you can imagine.

Kind of tying in the shopping thing, they get all of their resources delivered to their temple. Tenebris very rarely leaves the premises, and the members aren't allowed to leave at all.

They hate children. And chocolate.

And bright lighting- all the rooms in the temple are very dimly lit and all their clothes are darkly coloured.

This is their voice claim!

Their hair is quite heavy (and well taken care of) so you can guess that they're very slow.

MORE THINGS ABOUT THE CULT ITSELF!!

You can call it either the Obitus Cult or the Cult of Obitus- Tenebris calls it the latter.

This group made up of almost 100 people places their faith and loyalty to Obitus.

According to Tenebris- who claimed to have witnessed them in their sleep one night, starting up the cult the next day- Obitus plans on completely obliterating the Earth of humanity and civilization and told them to prepare for the end of the world. basically.

When this will happen?....Tenebris wasn't told that.

They also do not know what this otherworldly overlord looks like- however, they know an eye-shaped symbol (on Tenebris' hat and necklace) is very important as that appeared in their dream too.

The temple is located in a very secluded mountain range- Tenebris was simply told to go there by Obitus and it was already there. Convenient.

As pictured above, members have to have the eye symbol engraved into their wrist (or palm)- after this, they happen to be almost under a trance or brainwashed.

When praying to Obitus, they expose out the arm with the marking and their other arm behind that one, raised up to their face. Like this:

I hope that makes sense sjkksjks- while they do have lengthy prayer times and different types of prayers, a short and simple one they use is "We place our faith in Obitus."

The temple is full of many different rooms, including a dining hall, summoning room and bunkers (Tenebris gets their own room, obviously.)

They also follow a strict schedule- They must be asleep by 8 p.m. and awake and ready for the day by 4 a.m. They have two food breaks- one for breakfast and one for dinner. Once a month, they also hold a summoning ritual in order to attempt communicating with Obitus once more.

Members have their own jobs as well as worshipping Obitus though- cooking, cleaning, assisting Tenebris; that's all done by them as well.

While Tenebris mainly targets lonely people or those who don't have a social life, they are happy to accept anyone in! Well, that is if you're over 18.

I'm afraid teenagers (and children) are not allowed to join. However, Tenebris does take note of minors who do want to join and if you're REALLY nice, may let you visit the temple if you do some errands for them.

EXTRA FACT STUFF ABOUT TENEBRIS:

I based them more off of what first comes to mind when you think of cults- and, unintentionally, they also partially remind me of the cult in Spooky Month which I forgot existed ;-;

Because, after researching real life cult leaders, I felt like their stories weren't really what I was going for with Tenebris.

I guess the Peoples Temple founded by Jim Jones and the Family Cult by Anne Hamilton-Byrne were partial inspirations- oh, and religious experiences I've had, Catholic-Christian ones that is. (this is in no way meant to portray anything bad about that religion- or any at all- I just wanted to make the religious side of this more interesting by basing it off of what I know. Again, this isn't meant to offend any religion.)

My sister nicknames them Tenny and I (as well as others hee hee) nickname em Tennis, so you might see that often lol

I'm pretty sure they're the first oc I posted about on here! Although I think the post got like 7 notes-

When I first drew them, which was a while ago, they were more like a triangle shape and had larger eyes- my sister likes this version more but I think it just looks goofier- might post it once I find it :D

Tenebris means Darkness in Latin (according to translators) because I couldn't think of a name for them and just thought "think of something kinda edgy, then make it Latin to sound cool >:D"

Obitus means Death in Latin (according to translators once more I can't speak Latin-)

Thank you for reading this far!! I'm going to just tag @night-terrorzz @lobotomize-d n @gummy-worms-in-my-brain since you lovely people seem to like this cult leader :>

[vespidclan]

For all the newcomers (because there’s so many hehe hi), the lore behind vespidclan’s profile pic vivflicker is that while I was just starting the blog, my device killed itself and all its data which contained notes for 100+ moons and lore of the clan. I did not think they would’ve, but miraculously they were saved in my icloud and were imported into the new device. I was so so scared :’) The first thing I drew on my new ipad was vivflicker (and later the other two) because I couldn’t be bothered to draw the actual heartflicker and I really like the Mario games (also during the time when I was gushing about the Thousand Year Door remake) The merging of two nations if you will

TLDR; it’s a callback to the fact the entire blog would’ve been scrapped completely had my ipad not done something right for once! Hip hip hooray! :D

[cooliogirl101]

WTL Deleted Scene

The bar had been closed for an hour and Mitsuo was in the process of cleaning up when he noticed the woman standing by the door. It was raining hard outside but she didn’t seem to notice or care, looking completely lost in thought.

Mitsuo hesitated for a moment before making his way towards the front.

“Can I help you?” He asked politely. The woman jolted slightly, before staring up at him with wide, startled eyes.

“No,” she said after a brief pause. “No, it’s okay. I shouldn’t have come. Sorry for disturbing you.”

She turned to walk away and before he could think better of it, Mitsuo reached out one hand to grab her shoulder. She went alarmingly stiff under his touch and he hastily let her go.

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just that, well.” He took in her drenched clothes, the lack of umbrella, the water droplets running down her face. “You look like you could use a place to warm up.”

She glanced at the very blatant ‘Closed’ sign on the door before looking back at him.

“I think we have time for one more customer,” he said, answering her unspoken question, and stepped aside to allow her in.

~~

“So that bad, huh?” The woman, who had introduced herself as ‘Hana,’ asked casually. Mitsuo raised an eyebrow at her.

“What do you mean?” He asked, sliding a cup of tea over to her.

“The way I look.” Her lips quirked up slightly, a touch of humor entering her eyes. “I figure it has to be bad if strangers are taking pity on me and allowing me to take shelter for free after hours. Be honest, on a scale of drowned rat to drenched owl, how bad are we talking?”

He took in her shoulder length sopping-wet brown hair, brown eyes, brown coat. She did look a bit like a bedraggled animal, actually.

“Hmm, more along the lines of wet cat, to be frank,” Mitsuo said, smiling. “How’s the tea?”

She took a sip, then drew back, surprised. “This-- ”

“Not bad, right?” Mitsuo chuckled.

“Well. The standards of tea have certainly improved since the last time I’ve been in Inuzuri,” Hana remarked. “Must mean this place is doing pretty well, right?”

“You could say that.” They certainly weren’t lacking money anyway. “I think we have some food leftover in the back. Let me see if I can scrounge up something.”

“You don’t have to,” Hana protested. “Seriously, you’ve done more than enough.”

“It’s no trouble.” Mitsuo smiled briefly. “Besides, it’d hardly be polite to let a lady go hungry. Why don’t you take a look at a menu and see if anything catches your eye?”

“Absolutely not, I’m not going to—wait, who came up with the names of these drinks?” She asked incredulously.

“Ah yes, I’m afraid my brother had quite a bit of fun coming up with them.” Mitsuo grinned, suppressing a chuckle. “My sister, she was of the belief that we should be trying to attract a more diverse clientele and suggested that creating cocktails designed to cater to both men and women might be a good idea. Kazuki—my brother—thought it was ridiculous and was deeply upset at the idea of serving ‘girly’ drinks in his bar. Unfortunately for him, he was unanimously outvoted. The compromise was that he would be allowed to name the drinks.”

“And K—and they approved these?” Hana’s lips twitched as she scanned the list. “The Red-Hot Pineapple Monkey? Oh dear, the person who inspired that one must be a…character.”

Mitsuo hummed his agreement, hiding his surprise. It wasn’t often that newcomers guessed the cocktail names were inspired by actual people, and that one was a comparatively less obvious one.

“Maybe I’ll try something after all. This one sounds promising—the Flower Power Glower.” She laughed. “I’m sorry, it’s just that one…I mean, I would have loved to—” Her voice trailed off, shoulders slumping slightly. “But I guess that’s not possible anymore.”

Hana glanced up at Mitsuo, a wry twist to her mouth.

“Maybe alcohol isn’t such a good idea tonight.”

“Maybe not,” Mitsuo agreed gently. “And for what it’s worth, I understand. I’ve lost people too. If there’s anything I can do to help, I’d be glad to give it a try.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind of you.” She hesitated. “There is one thing. I just—your family.” Hana looked down at her hands, fiddling with her mug. “They sound like…like an amazing group of people. Would you tell me about them?” There was an odd urgency to her voice now, words coming out just a touch too fast. “Please?”

Mitsuo paused. By all means, he should decline her request. It wasn’t exactly a secret that two highly-ranked Shinigami came from their household and although neither Rukia nor Renji visited frequently these days, it wasn’t unfeasible that someone could come seeking information to use against them. And yet, he couldn’t help but instinctively trust that this woman meant him and his family no harm.

He hadn’t lived this long by ignoring his instincts.

“What do you want to know?” He asked.

~~

They ended up talking for hours. Honestly, they probably could have ended up talking for longer had Kazuki not stormed in, shaking droplets of rain out of his hair.

“There you are! The bar closed hours ago, where the hell have you—who the hell is she?” Kazuki drew up short at the sight of Hana and Mitsuo sitting across from each other at the bar, halfway through their second pot of tea. Hana looked at him with the same wide-eyed look she’d greeted Mitsuo with.

“Manners, Kazuki,” Mitsuo said dryly.

“Shut up, this ain’t the goddamned Seireitei,” Kazuki retorted without taking his eyes off Hana. “So who is she?”

“She is able to hear you,” Hana said, a touch sardonically. “You can call me Hana.”

“Just Hana, huh? No last name?” Kazuki asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

“You’re hardly one to talk, given that you haven’t provided either of yours,” she retorted without missing a beat. He blinked, then grinned.

“Fair enough. You can call me Kazuki then.” His eyes fell onto the mostly-empty plate of gyoza on the table. “Aw man, I was hoping to eat those later.”

“Don’t worry, we saved the smallest one for you,” she replied, tongue-in-cheek. Mitsuo blinked. That had almost sounded like—

“I mean, thank you for the drinks and the food,” Hana said hastily, interrupting his thoughts. “How much do I owe you? And don’t tell me it’s on the house again, I mean the real cost.”

“How much do you want to pay?” At her uncomprehending look, Kazuki smirked. “We operate on a donation-only system here. You pay what you want, and if you don’t want to pay anything, that’s perfectly fine too.” He looked her over. “Actually on second thought, I second what Mitsuo said. It’s on the house—please use any money you have to buy an umbrella.”

“That doesn’t seem like a viable way to run a business,” Hana pointed out.

“Don’t worry about that. Anything that isn’t covered by donations just gets added to Hisana’s tab,” Kazuki shrugged.

There was a pause.

“Hisana’s tab?” Hana questioned. Her voice was very small.

“It’s a system we set up in honor of our late sister,” Mitsuo explained quietly. “Well, us and her fiancé at the time. Anyone who comes to this bar only needs to ask in order to be fed.”

It had been Kuchiki Byakuya’s idea. The amount of money he donated on a yearly basis could feed more hungry orphans than existed in all of Inuzuri.

“Oh.” Hana swallowed. “That’s—that’s a really nice thing to do. I’m sure your sister would have loved that.” She stood up and bowed. “I’ve taken up enough of your time. Thank you for your kindness—I can’t tell you how much it means to me.” 

“You have a place to stay?” Mitsuo asked, concerned.

“Of course. You don’t have to worry about me,” she smiled. “I’ll be fine.”

Mitsuo pursed his lips, studying her closely. There was something oddly familiar about her, something that had been bothering him all evening. Not her features—no, Mitsuo was quite certain he’d never seen this woman before in his life—but in her tone of voice, the way she tilted her chin up—

He shook off the sense of déjà vu and smiled at her.

“In that case, please feel free to come back at any time. You’re always welcome,” he said sincerely. “I hope to see you again.” 

Her smile softened into something a little more genuine.

“As do I,” she murmured. “Take care, Mitsuo, Kazuki.”

“So. Hana, huh?” Kazuki commented as soon as the door shut behind her. “Someone you know?”

“Not at all. I’ve never seen her before tonight,” Mitsuo replied honestly. “Why?”

He shrugged, staring off into the same direction Hana had left.

“Nothing. Just feel like I’ve met her before.”

~~

Hisana: “You don’t have to worry about me, I’ll be fine” while very much the opposite of fine

Mitsuo and Kazuki, immediately: wait why does this girl seem so familiar

Deleted this scene because I decided Hisana wouldn't risk going back to her family until Aizen was no longer a threat, no matter how much she missed them. But I figured I'd share this snippet anyway, hope you guys enjoy!

[gorbalsvampire]

we only come out at night (v:tm city meta, 3/?)

Published World of Darkness material is of... varying usefulness, when you put your city together. Sometimes, your city will have a By Night sourcebook, and a lot of top down design will be done for you, but you'll have to build up from your PCs to do that. Sometimes, your city will have a paragraph or page in something else: you'll know that the Prince of Manchester is named Charles Shawlands, is a seventh generation Ventrue, and rules over a damp and gloomy domain that gets more attention from Changeling writers than Vampire ones.

And that's the way, uh huh, uh huh, I like it.

worked example: building your Prince

I usually start by rattling through the history of the city at surface level. looking for hooks. In this case: Manchester wasn't really a city that warranted a Prince or a Kindred population until the late eighteenth/early nineteenth century, so it's likely that the first Kindred to have settled there ended up Prince by default.

I wanted to roll with an older Prince than I had last time, due to game circumstances. I'm building Manchester for a one or at most two shot game for my sister-in-law and her husbando, and a chronicle for my D&D group, which includes a complete newcomer who's drifted in off LAbN. As such, I want a classic Prince; Ventrue, conservative, and old/powerful/authoritative enough to be scary, but not older than the Camarilla.

When I was looking around on the ol' Wikipedium, I found that Manchester had been a manorial township and, during the Interregnum, was seat to a major-general (a military governor) who achieved a lot for the Parliamentarian cause... but died young. And his name was Charles. He'll do.

So. Embraced 1656, possibly in London. Probably returned home after the Restoration, and squirrelled himself away as an isolated neonate in a backwater domain that abruptly grew a hundred years later, when our man was catapulted to praxis and did well enough at it.

worked example: choosing your Rack

When I studied in Manchester, on and off for three years, I spent a lot of time on Oxford Road. The top end of that fine, bustling, deathtrap-for-cyclists thoroughfare is home to the Gothic Victorian heartland of the University of Manchester, the sprawling postmodern village of Manchester Metropolitan, and the plate-glass elegance of the Royal Northern College of Music.

Where there are students, there is drinking, and underneath the elevated tracks and platform of Oxford Road station, you will find four boozers: the Thirsty Scholar, the Zombie Shack, the Salisbury and the Grand Central. It's an ideal spot for a thirsty Kindred to hang out at the start of a night.

Dead opposite, however, there's the magnificent Refuge Assurance Building, now home to a gallery, restaurant, florist, hotel (in the clocktower). Brick and terracotta, red as a scar, early Victorian grandeur. Architecture of heft and presence. Grade II listed. Room 261 and a back stairway of the hotel are said to be haunted (child ghosts and a suicidal widow). Screams Ventrue.

So, that's the Rack. I don't know if Shawlands resides up there himself, but his Keeper or Sheriff certainly do: some public official who's as high-and-mighty as the hoi polloi playables are ever likely to meet. Someone who needs to keep an eye on the feeding grounds over the road, and pull the occasional wayward little Kindred up for a chat. Maybe this Ventrue has a feeding restriction to do with scholars; maybe it's all a red herring.

Oxford Road doesn't appear on the map I assembled last week; it sits between the Gay Village and Castlefield, not a formal domain that's been granted to anyone, just there.

If I hadn't known about Manchester from first hand experience, I'd probably have started by looking at listed buildings, concentrations of night life, or specifically looking up the districts. Like, say...

worked example: making a domain

NOMA? Never heard of it. Oh, North Manchester. This is like BoJo or RiRi, isn't it? Something annoying invented by journalists, or something-in-marketings. The former Co-Operative buildings sit at the heart of a massive new development, centred on Angel Square, and its No. 1 building - a giant sliced egg shape in glass and steel.

There's a lot of money being ploughed into what was, when I first lived in Manchester, a run-down area (and I've stayed in some right shiteholes further north still). A few ideas suggest themselves for this area.

Second Inquisition (the sourcebook) pitches Gentrifiers as a hunter archetype, using redevelopments like this to undermine the general state of decay favoured by the Kindred. If my players want to go Anarch, it's tempting to site them on the top side of the city, and have their extant domains be whittled away by these Projects with Money behind them that are outside context problems for the Kindred as a whole.

Alternatively, we could give the Anarchs a leg up for a change; give them Angel Square as their crown jewel, a new domain for the new power, contrasting against the weathered Victorian establishment of the Camarilla in the south. They'd need a bankroll, of course. A Kindred of extraordinary wealth and dynamic vision. What has the Anarch movement recently gained that's lending these qualities as vital infrastructure? The Ministry. And a property developer Setite would be a nice change from the usual smut peddler nightclub owner writhing pliant yearning bodies blah blah blah get an imagination. Hubris, ambition, greed, even an element of the gambler's fallacy in investment. Angel Square - a new Eden, with the Serpents at its heart.

Do that for every district on the Central map, come up with either a single Kindred or a Coterie Type who's doing their thing in that domain, remember to leave space for the players...

... oh yeah, space for the players. Next time, we'll break out my handouts: the player packet and domain guides I like to assemble at the start of a chronicle.

[spinningwebsandtales]

Lollipop

Nicholas D. Wolfwood X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Suggestive themes, arguing, and mild threats

Word Count: 3.1k

(A/N:) I am on the bandwagon y’all! I watched Trigun years ago and enjoyed the series thoroughly so I was skeptical about Trigun Stampede until I gave it a shot and now I am obsessed. Especially over this doofus right here although Vash holds a special place in my heart. So I had this idea and it’s mainly just a self indulgence thing that won’t leave me alone until I write it! So to all my fellow Nicholas fangirls this one is for y’all! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

How you met Nicholas D. Wolfwood was a complete blur in your mind. While you no longer had a place to call home, you found yourself wondering the barren planet trying to find someplace you could live. Most towns didn’t like strangers, so it didn’t surprise you when you were ran out of several towns. People looked out for themselves and their own and you couldn’t blame them. If you had a home yourself, you knew you’d feel the same. But the next town seemed more welcoming as you were able to find a room and a place to grab a bite to eat. That’s when the trouble started, as a lone traveling female there was shady characters at every corner ready to take advantage of you. You could hold your own against them and even carried a weapon for protection you kept hidden in your boot underneath your pants leg. It was then while you were enjoying your dinner a few men jumped you, pinning you against the chair. Their lecherous gazes made you squirm and before you could even reach for the concealed weapon another man stepped in. He wasn’t the biggest man you’d seen, but he still had muscles hidden under the suit. His sunglasses pressed up on his nose hid his eyes from view while his black locks seemed like they hadn’t been trimmed in awhile. The five o’clock shadow dusting his chin gave him a handsome roguish air and despite your situation you swallowed at the attractiveness of the stranger.

“That’s no way to treat someone, especially a lady,” he spoke tossing the cigarette from his lips to the floor, stomping it out with his shoe.

“Mind you’re own business priest,” one snarled while nastily grinning at the newcomer.

The stranger seemed thoughtful for a moment before sighing, “I’m not really a priest. I’m more of an undertaker and I’ll show you just how good I am at my job if you continue to refuse to unhand your victim.”

“Teach him a lesson,” the leader of the men nodded towards the dark suited man.

You watched, speechless and a little curious. Not many people stood up for others, especially when it came to you. You had always had rotten luck, even as a child and here you were hitting the jackpot for once in your life. The leader of the men held onto you tightly while the other two surrounded your would be hero. You almost yelled for him to leave and save himself, but before you could utter a word the two thugs were on the ground, unconscious leaving the remaining one to gape in awe. The stranger dusted his hands, stepping over one of the fallen men.

“Now that I’ve proven myself a little, care to unhand her now?”

You were suddenly released while the last man standing fled, screaming like he’d been lit on fire. The stranger, that had put his neck on the line, fixed his ruffled suit coat, before he came towards you. You took a wary step from him, thankful for what he just did for you but you couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy as he was still a stranger to you. His lips quirked into a pleased smirk seeing your reaction before he held out a sheet of paper towards you.

“My fee,” he said waiting for you to take the offered paper.

“Fee,” you asked incredulously taking the paper from him. 30,000 double dollars smacked you right in the face, you suddenly felt faint. “What’s this for?!”

“Rescuing you of course,” he replied like it was the most obvious thing.

“I didn’t ask you to!”

“Think of it as a kindness out of my giving heart. I also gave you a big discount,” he reached into his suit pocket for a cigarette. He placed it between his lips before lighting it.

“Yeah giving heart. By giving if you mean giving out bills then I could definitely agree. I don’t have this kind of money! I barely had enough to get something to eat!”

He tsk’d, “Such a shame.”

You watched him walk away, trails of cigarette smoke the only thing lingering around. The other patrons watched the  exchange between you two cautiously. All you could do was shrug before sitting down and finishing the rest of your meal. 

You paid with what little money you had left before leaving the restaurant. You had to find where the next town is and how far as you knew you couldn’t stay now. Not with that so called undertaker causing a stir only to charge you and abandon you to whatever fate that those criminals were cooking up in vengeance. What you didn’t expect was to see the same man that had the gall to stand up towards your attackers and to say you owed him money leaning against the building you had rented a room in. He looked up at the sound of your footsteps, his dark eyes crinkling in delight.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite gal,” he greeted warmly like he hadn’t wiped his hands clean of you not twenty minutes ago.

“Since when,” you asked a ting of annoyance in your voice.

“Since I found out you rented out the last room,” he replied cheerfully. “Think you can help your hero out here?”

“I thought I owed you money, you creep,” you snarled.

“That’s water under the bridge,” he waved his hand. “I helped you, you help me. That’s what we’re put on this dust ball for isn’t it?”

“Not necessarily.”

He glared, “Look, if you share your room with me, I’ll forget about your debt to me.”

“I shouldn’t have a debt in the first place,” you argued.

“My lifestyle isn’t free y’know? I promise I won’t do anything untoward towards you,” he patted the tightly bound cross shape luggage as a vow.

You sighed not wanting this argument to continue any longer. Maybe if you helped him out this once you’d never have to see him again. “Fine. But if you do I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

“Fair enough.”

Night fell over the rough town quickly and you found yourself sitting stiffly on the bed as the night creatures yowled across the darkened desert. Your weird dark stranger seemed to be quite at ease as he leaned back on the tattered couch snoring up a storm. While you wanted to sleep, you worried about him doing something once your guard was down, also his snoring was making it impossible. The thought of smothering him with a dust covered pillow was becoming more tempting by the second. You had walked so far and in such harsh conditions, your body was screaming to get some much needed rest. His snoring seemed to be calming down some and your eyelids were winning the battle against staying awake. You finally succumbed falling into a deep slumber. 

A hand patted your cheek.

“C’mon wake up. It’s time for check out,” a chipper voice pulled you from the darkness.

“Wha?”

“Good morning beautiful!” Your stranger was in your face causing you to stumble backwards only to fall off the bed. “Do you know you drool in your sleep? It’s kinda cute.” 

“Oww,” you groaned. “What time is it? And why were you watching me sleep?!”

He chuckled, “Time to leave and you’re adorable. Less mean when you’re sleeping.”

“Like you’re such a saint.” You stretched, popping your spine. “You can go now, my debt is paid as ludicrous as it was.”

“Nah,” he replied. “I think we need to stick together a little longer. I heard you asking about the next town and I’m actually heading that way myself. Why not go together?”

“Because I am really beginning to hate your guts,” you rolled your eyes. But you couldn’t help but think how much safer it would be if you traveled with him. You began to ponder if it would be worth the headache. The want of companionship won out and you agreed. Now you were walking right behind the man watching the cross sway against his back.

“Nicholas,” he spoke out of the blue.

“What,” you asked.

“The name is Nicholas D. Wolfwood.”

“(Y/N). (L/N). I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you but it really wasn’t,” you grinned wickedly.

“So mean,” he turned away knowing you’d stay right with him.

A couple days passed and you found yourself warming up to the undertaker known as Nicholas. When he wasn’t teasing the daylights out of you, he was actually fun to be around. While you knew you would probably pay for it later he shared his water and what little food he had. He knew a lot about the desert and he shared information with you during the trek and around the campfire. It wasn’t every night you both got to share in the warmth of an open flame, it was only if Nicholas deemed it safe enough. He wanted to keep you both hidden from bandits or cut throats who would kill you both in your sleep and take everything from your corpses. You shivered violently at the thought of being snuck up on. The nights that you both couldn’t afford a fire he would curl up against you, sharing each other’s body heat to fight the cold of the night. One night you punched him in the nose when he got too touchy feely. Nicholas no longer tried groping you.

“Y’know for a priest you sure aren’t very angelic or pure,” you said one evening while watching him across the fire.

“Not a priest,” he spoke ripping at the meat in his hand. “Undertaker.”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes. “I just figured people of your kind would be pure.”

“Nah,” Nicholas shook his head. “This place steals purity as it steals moisture from the ground. I’m sure you’re not as pure as you’re trying to lead on.”

You scoffed, turning from the flames to hide your blush. “I’m as pure as they come, thank you.”

He chuckled hiding his movements by the crackling flames. You looked up, startling at the closeness of him. His face leaned into yours before taking your chin in his calloused fingers.

“Want me to sully you before the world does,” a mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes. You refused to answer, blushing beet red before decking him in the cheek. Laying sprawled out on the sand while holding his throbbing cheek, Nicholas laughed like a madman.

“I was joking,” he continued to laugh. “Ow.”

“Your demeanor said otherwise,” you argued. “I’m going to sleep. Don’t touch me or I’ll do worse than punch you.”

He set up still rubbing where you punched him. “I knew you were packing a weapon.”

You ignored him for a moment until curiosity won out. “How?”

“Your gait is different on your right leg. It was either blisters on your feet or a weapon tucked in your boot that catches on your pants leg.” He moved back to the other side of the fire so you would relax a little more. “You never complain about your feet hurting so it had to be a weapon.”

“You’re smarter than you look,” you snorted turning away from him again.

“Not just another pretty face,” he chuckled darkly. “Get some sleep. I’ll keep watch and I promise not to do anything to you.”

“Better not Nicholas or I’ll show you what I’m packing in this boot.”

“Knife,” he simply said and you stiffened.

“Shut up,” then you went to sleep.

Weeks later and you were beginning to wonder if the town you both were walking to even existed. The desert was becoming harder to bear, especially after you both ran out of water a couple days ago. Food wasn’t too hard to come by, as long as you didn’t mind eating bugs raw or the rare lizard every now and again. Sometimes you would come across a plant that carried a little water. Nicholas always let you have the most of it and it made you feel a little guilty. He would console you that he was used to living this way. It wasn’t until the next day you were beginning to go crazy from lack of water. Nicholas seemed unperturbed as he hummed to himself kicking at the sand every now and again, like a childish dance. Your mouth felt like sand and you prayed that you would arrive to your destination soon. Nicholas turned around to check on you, a lollipop clenched between his teeth instead of the ever present cigarette. He waved at you, crossing his eyes. You wanted to punch him again for enjoying himself while you were miserable. It made you wonder if he treated other people like he did you, cause he seemed to really enjoy getting under your skin. But you wanted a sucker too and you wouldn’t get candy with a salty attitude. His throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed. Your mouth moistened a little as you tried to drool in want. You shook your head refusing to beg him for one stupid lollipop. A little green monster kept it’s place in the back of your mind, when Nicholas popped the treat from his mouth licking his lips. You whimpered at the sight of saliva glistening in the sun. Desperation was making you weak at the thought of any kind of moisture. But you wouldn’t stoop so low as asking for the sucker his perverted mouth was lavishing.

“Nicholas,” you cringed at your voice.

“Hmmm,” he looked back trying to hide his look of pleasure. He had been teasing you on purpose just waiting for you to break.

“Would you happen to have another lollipop,” you tried to ask disinterested.

“Sorry sweetheart,” he smiled wickedly waving the treat back and forth. “This is my last one.”

“Oh,” you said in disappointment. “That’s okay, I didn’t want one that bad in the first place.”

He sat the cross shaped package down sliding down the dune that you were standing at the foot of. “Don’t be shy now. You can have mine.”

“No,” you shouted quickly before clearing your throat. “No thank you that’s yours. I can wait until we make it to the town.”

“That could be days,” he replied. “Think you can hold out?”

“I’m sure,” the unsurety in your voice made him crook an eyebrow.

“Want a lick? Say ah,” he shoved the pink lollipop in your face.

“I’m good,” you dodged.

“Don’t be shy now,” he cackled. “It’s just my saliva. Your mouth has to be soooo dry.”

“No it’s not,” you screeched when he poked you in the side. He slid the sugary treat into your mouth. You clamped your lips around it, cheeks blood red before moaning at the little bit of moisture seeping into your dry mouth. He watched you close your eyes in bliss while the sucker moved around in your mouth, the stick turning circles.

“Better,” he asked leaning closer causing you to shrink back a little.

Your flustered face betraying you, “A little.”

“Good,” he said reaching back into his suit pocket. You thought he was going for another cigarette to replace the sucker only for him to pull out another one. He unwrapped the blue treat sticking it in his mouth.

“You said you didn’t have another one!”

He smirked, “I thought you really wanted mine. That’s what you asked for.”

“I did not! I specifically asked if you had another one,” you grabbed his collar. 

“I heard you say you wanted mine by the look in your eyes not your voice,” he replied matter-of-factly.

“That doesn’t even make any sense!”

Nicholas grabbed your wrists pulling you closer into his firm body. Wrapping one arm around your waist as his one hand kept both of your wrists in a strong grip.

“Maybe I wanted to give you an excuse to stop dodging me,” he purred. “Now that we shared an indirect kiss maybe you’ll let me take a shot at a real one.”

“Not going to happen,” you trembled trying to yank from his grasp.

He leaned down, nose brushing against yours before removing both of the suckers from your mouths. The sun relentlessly beating down but completely forgotten as you drowned in his gaze. You couldn’t focus on the fact that your lips were chapped and your mouth still dry. All you could see was a man that had irked you but cared for you in his own way. You hadn’t known him long but he had been more genuine than anyone you had ever met. He brushed the hair from your eyes before slotting his lips against yours. While chapped, there was still a softness to his mouth and he tasted like strawberries and blueberries from the suckers he had indulged in. Nicholas moaned at the sugary taste still lingering on your tongue as he explored your mouth. You shivered as he petted your tongue searching out what little taste you had left. Seconds later he parted from you, panting from the lack of air in his lungs. Your lips already swelling a little from his diligent lips that left no part of your lips unexplored. You melted against him, leaning your head against the bare part of his chest, where he kept his shirt buttons unbuttoned.

“Lollipop,” he cooed.

“Hmm,” you grunted still unable to form words just yet.

“I think I’ll call you lollipop from now on,” he grinned. 

You opened your mouth to protest the ridiculous pet name, to which he silenced with another kiss. While he still got on your nerves you couldn’t deny there was something about Nicholas D. Wolfwood that was beginning to grow on you.

“Do you have any friends,” you asked when he let you go again.

“Yeah I have several.”

“How do they deal with you?”

“I can grow on a person,” he grinned.

“Like a fungus? Mold? Canker sores?”

“You can be really mean (Y/N),” Nicholas pouted. “See if I give you anymore treats.”

“How shall I go on,” you scoffed walking off. Nicholas scampered after you picking up his cross. He slid on the sand before getting back to your side. He took your hand kissing the back of it before you both started back on your journey not knowing what would happen next. You couldn’t help but look forward to the unknown as you walked hand in hand with your annoying undertaker, that destiny brought to you.