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stxrshxpxd · 1 year ago

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”thats my girl!” part 2

part 1

pairing: dr house x reader

word count: 1.5k

prompt: house and reader have both stayed late and found themselves, tired and worked up in one way or another, in his office

”You’re in my chair.”

I glanced up from my papers with several pens in my hands, one of them tiredly making notes in the patient’s file, and a last one between my teeth. I couldn’t remember I had put it there, what with it being my twelfth consecutive hour at the hospital, but I dropped it when I had to respond.

“Yes, it does the fun spinny thing,” I said in a joyless tone, staring down at the words that were beginning to not look like words anymore. House waddled up to plant his palm on his desk and blink down at me.

“Well, you can have the chair as long as I get to be in-between you and it.”

I thought House had gone home long ago. Just about everyone else had. The halls and his office were dark and the world outside was pitch black as of nearly five hours ago.

“Mhm,” I hummed nonchalantly and laid the side of my aching head in my palm. Staring at the old medical records and documented symptoms of our patient, I dotted my pen in the margin as I tried to think.

“Hey, spiraling into insanity trying to solve the case is my thing! Get your own shtick!” House snapped in a joking upset voice. I stared down still but was distracted by his hand in front of me and his index finger that mindlessly tapped on the desk, and the veins on the back of his hand and up his forearm.

He was impossible and an asshole and sociopathic on a good day, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t find him attractive. There was something about his intelligence, quick wit and superiority that secretly drew me in. But I refused to give in. I knew I could never forgive my lack of self-respect if I were to cave and sleep with him. The only way to get over it, I had always thought, would be to demystify him by getting on his level.

“When were you planning on going home?” he asked. Had I not known better I would’ve thought I detected concern in his voice. I looked up and studied the sharp shadows on his scruffy face. He himself was apparently planning on going home soon, having stuck his biker jacket on.

“Maybe when the patient dies,” I joked tiredly.

“Hm, well, then you might as well start looking at the next case instead,” House said and shrugged as he reached to the end of his desk for a stack of thin folders. I detected a snarkiness now, which I knew was part of his usual repertoire. It enraged me an unjustified amount and I stood up suddenly, nearly crashing the top of my head into his chin.

“I’m gonna save him,” I argued and pointed my finger into House’s firm chest.

“Hey, sweetheart, you’re the one who said he’s gonna die,” he chuckled and raised his one hand in surrender. “Also, haven’t you ever heard there’s no ‘I’ in ‘team’?” he added in yet another silly tone, tilting his head down at me. We seemed to end up in this position a lot, I reflected. His pale eyes stared down at me in silence and I recognised he was putting two and two together in his head.

“What’s your obsession with being better than me?” he asked bluntly even though he had the answer. “You wanna put yourself above me and knock me off my pedestal, so that you don’t have to idolise and romanticise me anymore. Oh, this must be killing you.”

“Why do you ask questions you already have the answer to?” I countered, ignoring his calling me out. His smirk had grown wide on his lips.

“So that is the answer?”

“I’m going home,” I declared and shoved past him. My brain was fried and I had no witty one-liners left to throw in his face, plus my own face was growing red at his accusations.

“You can just say you wanna sleep with me,” he teased and I saw his arms were open in a conceited manner when I turned around quickly.

“Can you for once talk to me like I’m a human being with a brain and not a piece of meat?” I asked, trying to contain my frustration. He stood in the shade of my body but I could see him narrowing his eyes slightly.

“Please, you look at me like I’m a piece of meat too. I see the way you undress me in your mind all the time. As we all know by now; I’m not stupid,” House said daringly. It drove me crazy that he still wasn’t seeing the point and he was deflecting and refusing to give me an ounce of respect.

“You’re a jerk!” I stated and closed the gap between us, impulsively shoving him by the shoulders and catching his balance off guard. He was forced to step back with his bad leg and hissed in pain, before instinctively grabbing a hold of my arm for support as his back slammed against the wall behind him. I was pulled with him and crashed into his chest and his hand still gripped my arm tightly.

Suddenly I was in his space for real. All those times of staring up at his cocky face and just barely feeling his breath on my nose there apparently had been that last shred of a border between us. I hadn’t ever been aware of it but now it was gone and it was all I could think about. His heart beat against my chest and his breath was undeniably hitting my face and there was nothing holding me back from kissing him.

I enjoyed every time I had the upper hand with him, and now I did as I pressed a frustrated yet confident and harsh kiss against his mouth. He wouldn't ever be able to pull that kiss out of his lips, it was there forever. I realised though that he could give it back. And he did. He shoved his face harsher against mine and kissed me back while tightening his fist around my upper arm and holding me in my place. And a war broke out, both of us fighting to end up on top. Get the last kiss in, leave the most memorable mark, plant the most saliva in the other’s mouth, leave the nastiest sting of one’s teeth in the other’s lip.

My body was working quicker than my brain and before I knew it I was beginning to tear his jacket off. I could only get it half way off his arms before House’s phone rang loudly and startled us both. Pulled out of our cloud of lust, I let go of his jacket and took a step back. House fished the phone out of his pocket with a sigh. I saw Wilson’s name on his screen and he didn’t hesitate to click the call away. I laughed breathily at that and shook my head.

“I think he has cameras in my office. He’s jealous.”

“Of me that is,” I teased and he laughed shortly.

“Who else?” he was quick to joke along and those were the words that stayed hanging in the air as neither of us spoke for the next few, long seconds. House let out a soft sigh as he looked at me and pulled his jacket up to hang off his shoulders again. I stepped back to lean against the desk behind me and my gaze hopped around the room.

“Why do you think you’re on my team?” House asked at last but it was rhetorical. He raised his brows at me to make a point. “Obviously you’re incredibly intelligent and a fantastic doctor.”

He kept sighing as if this was the hardest thing he had ever had to say and it made me chuckle quietly behind my serious face. I looked him in the eye and we nodded at one another silently, both barely smiling. Then his phone rang again and he rolled his eyes as he pulled it out.

“Bright and early, 8 tomorrow!” House joked and pointed at me before he began walking out towards his office door. I laughed, knowing he hadn’t ever showed up at work before 10 am.

“We stopped kissing!” he answered Wilson’s call with mock annoyance. “You know, you’re gonna have to man up and put a ring on it if you want me to stop running around with other people,” he joked and I could practically hear Wilson’s confused sigh on the other end of the line as House disappeared down the hallway and I was left alone again, absentmindedly trailing my fingertips along my bottom lip.

#give me all the angst and passion!!!!!#kind of rivals to lovers vibes 🤭#house #house md #gregory house #dr house #fic #imagine #angst #smut #dr house x reader

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pursuitseternal · 5 months ago

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“The Ninth Day” is a 🐺howling good time with Wolfstarion in “Antics of the Newly Ascended”

Ascended Astarion x f!Reader | Explicit | 2.7K

Summary: Lord Astarion manages to offend a powerful Archdruid, resulting in a powerful curse. Don’t make jokes about being in a ‘rut’ around a Druid, Astarion learns as he’s bound in wolf form… with a very pressing need.

CW: comedy/ smut (cummedy?), humanoid werewolf smut, Wolfstarion is a bad boi, zoomies, leg humping, bad dog behavior, long hair, clawed, knotted A!A, PiV, creampie, outdoor garden sex, knotting kink

Previous Ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺

For every scathing glare from your staff, for every quietly chastising comment of, “The Master would disapprove,” you grow more irascible. Your footsteps echo through the Crimson Palace halls with quick succession.

“The IS the Master…” you snarl in reply with increasing irritability and flail wider to the great quicksilver wolf behind you.

His laugher rumbles in your head, louder every fucking time.

You make it to the doors of the vaults at last, away from judgmental and prying eyes before you finally snap. “You had to insult an Archdruid, you idiot,” you hiss as he sits on his haunches in the hall beside you. His wolfish mouth smirks somehow, his ears twitch with arrogance. “Not every Druid is as free spirited and forgiving as Halsin, and not every powerful, intimidating Archdruid has the humor enough for jokes about being stuck in a…. Oh what was it again…” you sneer, pretending you’ve forgotten.

“Being stuck in a rut, my darling… not being able to stand the�� heat,” his voice ripples with giggles inside your head. “It was just too easy to draw out the humor of the situation. It’s not my fault he was too dense and unevolved to appreciate my witty repartee.” The wolf in front of you begins to snake his tail back and forth across the floor. Wagging it in insufferable conceit.

“It’s not funny, Astarion,” you huff. “He said your arrogance would come back to bite you.”

Your love… your wolf… bares his fangs as he tilts that pointed face up at you. “And bite I shall with these fangs. Aren’t they impressive? I have always been known for a handsome set of fangs, but these, these I could get used to, my dear.”

“I’d call you cheeky, but this borders on self-destructive, Astarion,” you grumble. Slicing your finger open on your own fang, you apply the blood to the unseen lock on the vault door. “We have to have something in here that can break your spell. We collected enough potions and spells and magical items on our journey to riffle through for days.” Inwardly you sigh, a daunting task given you’re the only one now with opposable thumbs.

You hear him padding along behind you, claws scrabbling on the white tile of the vault. “Honestly, if I could harness this form, think of the possibilities…” he muses in your head. “I could not only call on wolves but lead them, such a more ferocious form for invasions and battles than a bat.”

You hear him stop, his panting suddenly wet and loud. Turning around, you stare into his long face, those crimson eyes glowing in the dim light of the vaults, eyes set at your exact height as he sits. “I’m sure there are other… possibilities with this form we could explore together,” he croons into your head, low and dulcet and seductive tones.

You furrow your brow, watching that frame heaving with every breath he takes, his tongue lolling out slowly before he runs that dripping pinkness all around his maw. And you huff, exasperated at the untimely advance. “I’ve said no to bat sex and mist sex… why do you think this would be different?”

“Because you haven’t seen the… full portfolio of talents this form could give us, darling,” his voice rasps in your ear, tingles down your spine.

“Out,” you order, quietly but firmly. “Go outside, go take yourself for a walk in the gardens. Go mark some trees and chase some squirrels, you bad dog.”

“I prefer naughty wolf,” he corrects you with a low growl in his throat. He chuffs at you, his breath forceful enough to blow its heat on your face.

“Go outside, Astarion, before you knock over some other cursed object or break a potion bottle and make this worse.” You snarl back at him, pointing back to the hall and other stairs.

He stands, annoyed, ears twitching and pinning back as his hackles raise slightly. “You’re being rather demanding, my consort.”

“And you’ve already been enough trouble, thank you,” you grumble, turning to the shelves to start your search for an antidote or counterspell. “I’ve already had word sent to Halsin, you come fetch me the moment his reply arrives.”

“Cheeky, bossy little pup,” he snaps, claws clacking as he retreats as ordered, “I’ll go.”

It seems hours pass as you push through spell scrolls and potion bottles. Every so often he whines at you down your bond. Begging to be let back in. You shake your head and remind him to be a good boy and keep an ear out for word from Halsin. At first, your replies are returned with his little flickers of happiness from your praise, but after an hour or so, they have decidedly gotten more annoyed, more whiny and impatient.

At last, you rummage through one last ancient, weathered bag. “Ah ha! I found one!” you exclaim to yourself. A Remove Curse scroll.

But your love must be eavesdropping as you hear his voice inside your head again. “Hurry… something is….”

His voice turns guttural, a gruff pant at the back of his throat. And then, sniffing.

“I’m coming,” you reply, picking up your skirts and clutching the scroll as you hurry towards the gardens.

A servant stops you as you hustle through the foyer, a note from Master Halsin having just arrived. Gripping it in your hand too, you make for the gardens. Hedges line the pebbled path, large canine footprints scatter across it, four-toed and claw-marked prints run all helter skelter. Silver fur catches here and there on the ground, as if someone had a really good scratch.

He’s nowhere to be seen, even with all the evidence that he is here. You feel eyes on you. “Astarion, it’s not a game,” you chide him, pulling out the scroll of Remove Curse, just in case.

You hear his paws rush you, his fangs snapping shut and tearing the scroll, a barking laugh in his furry throat as he tears it with every shake of his head.

“No! Bad Ascendant!” you chide, using the unchewed half of the scroll to whack him.

Astarion… or whatever he is now… shakes his head and ripples his thick, curly white coat as he barks his laughter.

His crimson eyes are deep set in that pointed skull, glowing in the afternoon light. His frame is rigid, taut, stalking you on thick, silent paws as he approaches.

“Oh… darling…” he calls inside your mind, his voice is sing-song and seductive, taunting you darkly, playfully.

“Oh… shit…” you reply. “No, no, absolutely not.” You back away once you’ve eyed that massive, smooth, and pink cock hard beneath him. “Go run around or something….”

“Or something?” he chuckles, low in his wolf-throat.

“You just had to joke about ruts and heat, now look at you,” you scowl, exasperated. “You brought this on yourself, arrogant asshole.”

“Arrogant asshole with a massive, knotted cock,” he chuckles, prowling closer and closer. “Come on, darling, aren’t you the least bit curious? Or perhaps I can play on that hero’s conscience. Won’t you help a poor, pathetic creature? Won’t you give me aid?”

“I am aiding you, just not by spreading my legs, you mongrel.” He just laughs, deep in his chest as he starts to sniff at your skirts. Distraction, you need a distraction. You scan the garden, a nice thick stick beside you… Halsin’s letter in one hand, you grab the twisted branch with the other and shake it. “Go on…” you tease it close to his maw as you had with Scratch all that time ago… “Come on, my good boy…”

His wide white ears twitch happily at that moniker, his bushy tail wagging. That cute pet name breaks the haze of his lust, tapping into the only thing he seeks more than sex… praise.

“That’s right, good boy, you wanna play?” your tone is childish, and he would undoubtedly take insult if his mind wasn’t running on horny-wolf-heat hormones. Using all your vampiric bride strength, you toss the stick across the gardens, hoping you hit the back wall to give you enough time to read the missive from Halsin. As he bolts off on four legs, you deftly use your two hands to tear open the seal and skim read.

Powerful Druidic enemies… arousal curse… induces heat and rut… let the boy tire himself out… a few hours at worst…

“Fuck,” you curse, hearing his panting beside you. His nose prods into your hands.

“Why does that smell like bear, my consort?” he drools, sniffing and panting at the parchment in your grasp. You ball it up and chuck in into the distance too.

Instantly, his four paws scramble after it, kicking up gravel to scatter in your face. “For fucks sake…” you grumble, collapsing to a granite bench and taking a sigh. “Just have to let him tire himself out. Godsdammit, Halsin!” you groan, hearing those fateful paws loping back at you.

“Halsin?” he growls, possessive ire just starting to ripple down your bond. “Is that why you stink of bear?” He plants those front paws heavily on your bent knees, claws scratching through your skirt. “You are mine… how dare you smell like another male,” he’s snarling, a full set of canine teeth glinting in the sun.

“Relax, it’s just Halsin, my love,” you laugh, but it only makes him furrow those bushy lupine brows and chuff in your face. “Feeling… threatened?” you tilt your head, smirking. “Worried you’re not the alpha?”

“I am always the alpha,” he barks out loud and snarls into your mind. His body lurches to cover you, filling your face with thick, white fur. Paws press on either side of your body, and at first you giggle at his troublemaking…. Until you feel him humping your leg. His voice repeats over and over terms of his possessive love.

“Dammit, Halsin,” you groan inwardly, bemoaning that there is no better advice than to just let him wear himself out… and so you sit there for a few long minutes.

He pants with every grind… until with a wave of magic, and a burst of fur, Astarion leans over you in all his vampiric glory. His eyes are wide with surprise, almost suddenly aware of himself. “What in the hells…” he looks at where he’s grinding against your leg.

Your jaw drops as the magic seems to shimmer around you, his form shifted but not… quite. Long, curled, rumpled hair falls to his shoulders, those eyes still glowing crimson, his teeth all sharpened into feral points as he looks at you agape as well. Long clawed nails still dig into your thighs, as he catches his breath. Your love, somewhere between elf and wolf and vampire, sputters like a child at his own transformation. And you giggle. “Your aim is a tad off,” you tease. “But it’s good to have you back, my love.”

“My aim?” He huffs, supremely offended as he shifts between your thighs to kneel in the mess of your skirts. “I’ll have you know…”

You pull his hand up to kiss his palm, letting him see the new monstrous claws at the literal tips of his fingers. “What did that wretch of a Druid do to me?” he growls, his voice still ragged and lupine deep in his chest.

You cock your brow, pulling the long strands of his quicksilver hair out and twirling it so he can see. Finally, you run the soft pad of your thumb along his bottom lip, sliding it inside to drag over the razor points of all his teeth. “It’ll wear off, I’m sure,” I croon. “Now, I believe you were trying to prove yourself ever the alpha?”

He runs a single claw down your cheek, the edge just hard enough to make your skin prickle and your spine shiver. “I’m afraid, darling, there’s not much I need to prove. You’re mine, remember?”

His usually dulcet tones are darkened with gravel, his smirk a pointed snarl behind his lips. That spell still quakes in his bones, his strength still thrumming with magic as he pushes you down along the top of the bench. The granite, hard and cold and unyielding beneath you, is barely wide enough for your hips. But Astarion doesn’t notice, or he doesn’t seem to care—not as that potent need to rut and mark you as his hums in his veins. Long nails tear at your silken skirt as he fumbles to lift it around your hips, the fabric rending over each claw. He just laughs again as he wraps his arms around you and effortlessly slides you across the rough stone, yanking you until you bare folds press against his hips.

You gulp, that outline of his erection also still inexplicably altered. You can feel it—hot and long and… knotted.

“Hells, Astarion,” you gasp, “you’re still…”

“Mmm, yes, I am,” he grinds against you. “I shall have to write that humorless wretch of an Archdruid a thank you note for what I’m about to do to you.”

His claws make a mess of his buttons, sending the little brass rounds flying into the gravel. It’s how you know he’s too blinded by the magic, too possessed by his need to fuck if he’s ruining his clothes. The thought barely has time to make you laugh before he claws back into your hips and sheathes himself inside you, stopping only at his knot. His fanged mouth opens to groan in relief, your warm wet satisfying the drive of the magic that still courses in his body.

He bends into you, kisses planted inside your thighs, his sharp teeth nipping into your flesh but enough to bruise and mark you. Just enough to tease you with pain as those hips roll hypnotically into your cunt. With every thrust, his knot bumps against your folds, barely parting them. Already you’re too full, that monstrous length ramming you gently as he takes his time. The smooth swipe of his cock into you quickens your heart and draws out your wetness, but it’s his damned mouth along your calves that muddles your every thought. “Fuck,” you curse, your voice barely more than a rattle as he just laughs in reply.

“Fuck, indeed,” his words rumble, muffled against your flesh as he bites your skin with all his might in that tender, ticklish underside of your knee.

Your scream bounces off the garden walls, a sound that has long ceased to draw the help of your servants.

He picks up his pace, now it's punishing and rough, his body chasing his release and craving the end of his heat as he ruts. His eyes practically glow as he stares intensely where you join, his teeth bared and his claws dug into your hips. The instant his crimson gaze flickers up to yours, your climax rams through you harder than even he’s fucking. It tears you apart with pain and pieces you back together with pleasure. For every growling grunt he makes, you sigh; for every scrape of his nails down your skin, your back arches off the granite and your limbs tremble. You babble his name amidst the screams he coaxes from your lips, but nothing breaks your voice like the moment he shoves that knot deep inside you. His snarl roars above you, cracking his own vocal chords, claws gripped into the fabric of your skirts. Eyes wild and wide, he smiles that sharp-toothed smirk at you for a split second before lowering himself in for a kiss. A kiss all fangs and tongue and hot breath. A groan slips past your teeth, your belly aching with pressure as his cum fills you, locked hard and fast inside by that infernal knot.

The slightest shift of his body, and his knot tugs against your walls, a cry ripping from your mouth in response.

“Careful, darling. Don’t spoil the fun. We still have to make the most of this gift,” he purrs and chuckles and caresses your thighs again. “I’m thinking… we can probably work in two… maybe three more times before the magic is completely gone…” he smirks and snaps his mouth of monstrous teeth together.

You lay back, laughing and cursing Halsin’s advice… to just let him tire himself out.

#wolfstarion #ascended astarion #astarion x reader #reader x astarion #ascended astarion x reader #astarion smut #astarion fic #ascended astarion smut #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #bg3 astarion fanfic #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 astarion #baldur’s gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #bg3 #astarion baldurs gate #baldur’s gate 3

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manwrre · 1 year ago

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It’s bordering on two weeks since Hargrove’s arrival at Hawkins High, when Steve realizes he’s crushing on the guy. Like—‘doodling hearts in the margins of his books and racking up a list of things he likes about him’ type crushing.

They’ve barely interacted after that night at the party. Outside of social gatherings, they just run in different circles; Steve, filling his time with Robin and occasionally third-wheeling Nancy and Jonathan, while Billy hangs out with the more popular crowd.

Their schedules also don’t overlap despite the blonde taking a number of senior-level classes, with the exception of gym and lunch.

The list though, is still so painstakingly long. Ego-stroking-ly lengthy. Embarrassingly indulgent, all on his behalf.

Steve would much rather nosedive into the quarry, than divulge too deeply into it with anyone.

Especially around or to the guy’s actual face, at the risk of Billy’s head becoming too big for his body (even though Steve thinks he’d make an adorable bobble head). Or you know, worse— like him, getting absolutely brained in front of everyone.

Which must say a lot about him as a person because apparently, this is his type. Beautiful, angry, conceited boys.

Regardless, there are some objective mentions on his list though.

Things that the general public would agree on, like Billy’s Michelle-Pfeiffer curls; loose and wavy but so, so golden.

His eyes are a close second, of course because Steve’s seen a lot of bright blues but Billy’s remind him of the vacation he’d spent in Aruba, as a kid. Remind him of a horizon-kissed vastness and warm water lapping at his ankles on a private beach.

The public also agrees that Billy’s got a banging body. He’s thicker than most because he actually gives a shit and ‘works out religiously’ but it’s not all muscle. His abdomen and thighs are firm but his pecs and ass have the right amount of give. A perfect amount of softness.

Steve would know because he’s had to will away many boners at the sight of them.

And Billy’s funny in a witty, sarcastic way. He grins toosharptooprettytoobright and dangerous. He’s smart too, like taking mostly AP classes smart and he’s smug about it all because he knows he’s hot shit. Of course, the bastard is self aware. Cocky. Steve likes him so much. Wants him so bad that it’s dizzying, sickening.

So yeah, there’s stuff that everyone can agree on but then….then, there’s whatever this is.

This being the two penny-sized indents at the base of Billy’s spine. Symmetrical and just defined enough for average eye to discern.

When Steve sees them for the first time though, he promptly drops the basketball in his hands. In front of everyone. During fucking gym class. Purely out of shock.

He catches himself within the same breath and quickly looks away.

Swallows.

Ignores the pointed look that Patrick sends him for flaking out, mid-pass, like some kind of freak and looks around cooly.

Because Billy Hargrove has dimples of venus.

Affectionately dubbed a sign of beauty by Michelangelo. Famed after the Greek goddess’ simulacrum. Called dimples of Apollo on men, which suits Billy all the more, in Steve’s opinion.

The sun child.

Flushed with life. Deserving of avid worshippers. A being deserving of wax poetic. Glittering, dazzling, vibrant and the Camaro, his chariot.

And he knows this because dimples are like, his freckles. His glasses. His braces. They’re a niche, little thing that he finds just devastating. Achingly cute. Nancy has a pair of them near her laugh lines that he would kiss everyday and prod at, endeared.

So he ambles on through practise a little out of breath and red in the face with his newfound knowledge.

Watches Billy jog over to the locker room with everyone else at the end; skin slick and sweat pooling at the divots of his waistband. Tempting.

He stands back and feigns trying to catch his breath, his hands on his knees. Eyes the younger boy’s retreating form from up through his hair. Imagines hooking his thumbs into the depressions of his flesh.

Relishes in the thought of splaying his hands across the width of his waist.

Feels his mouth go dry and a rush of white heat surging south.

Licks his lips absentmindedly as his cock aches to life and makes the decision to skip the locker room schtick, save anyone realizing he’s sporting a half chub.

Instead, he grabs his backpack and heads out to his car. The parking lot is mostly empty by the time he gets there and devoid of anyone interested in him enough to wave him over. He tosses his stuff into the backseat of the Beemer and speeds off before anyone can catch up to him.

It’s a short drive to his house but he spends it envisioning Billy in all sorts of compromising positions. Thinks about the flush on his skin when he plays and the heat in his eyes— wonders how easily he gives in; loud-mouth turned soft and pliant at the faintest hint of pleasure.

He barely makes it inside before shucking his bag off and stripping himself bare of sweat-sticky clothes. In the same breath, he’s fisting a too damp hand around his cock and hissing at the near painful throb. His only relief comes from the coldness of the door against his back as he slumps against it.

Precum beads at the flushed head and he gathers it all on the upstroke to ease the glide. Squeezes his eyes shut so tightly that honeyed galaxies explode behind the lids and he can’t think.

Can’t think about the consequences of jerking off to someone he sees damn near everyday. Doesn’t care enough to avoid the impending embarrassment.

Why would he? Instead, he thinks of Billy laid out beneath him, all pretty and flushed and glittering; his eyes wet with unshed tears and ruddy lower lip between his teeth as he looks over his shoulder at him. Imagines the roughness of his voice and his muscles all pulled taut as Steve knocks the air out of his lungs with each slam of his cock.

He fucks into the tight ‘o’ of his hand, already so goddamn close and conjures up the image of twin dips. Wants to paint pearlescent white across the bronze expanse of Billy’s back; let it pool where he is favored by the Gods.

The thought has him biting back a moan as he grinds into the slickness of his hold. The heat in his gut expands so greatly, so suddenly, that his hips flex with the intensity of it. Until finally,

it snaps.

Like a star beneath the pressures of gravity; with all the strength and ferocity of a supernova. And he’s spilling all over his hand in a few stiff, jerky thrusts and breathing out a low, garbled “Fuck, Billy— shitshitshit.”

And God, he’s so screwed.

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bawnjourno · 1 month ago

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Day 30: Love Letter to Sparks Fans

I’ve been a Sparks fan for 2.5 years, and I want to speak to the sweetest band fanbase I’ve ever been a part of.

Ever since January 2022, when I watched TSB and started making Sparks friends, Sparks people have done the following things for me [takes deep breath]

Sparks fans have welcomed me into the fandom with a lack of pretension or conceit, sent me cute Sparks videos/photos/gifs, lent me money for merch drops or just bought me merch entirely, went through ticket sales for me, sent me bracelet beads, traded Sparks art/stickers with me, driven me to the airport to go fly to see Sparks, gifted me Sparks collages/painted records/CDs/Marimekko socks, became pen pals with me, helped me look for jobs, let me put them as a reference on job applications, comforted me when I lost out on jobs, sent me cards and gifts when I graduated college and when I got my first adult job, video chatted with me after Sparks shows to let me gush about the show, left encouraging words and likes on my edits, shared my edits, laughed at my dumb Sparks memes, sent me money when I was broke… and the list goes on. That’s just off the top of my head.

I have grown very close to some Sparks fans on non-Sparks topics, but with others, their kindness is not born out of obligation, just the inherent sweetness of liking the same band and wanting to spread joy. With that being said, I’ve liked other bands, and I’ve never experienced the sweetness to this level before. Sparks fans are generous, kind, witty, compassionate, empathetic, and supportive. Sparks fans follow the example of how the Maels move through the world with grace and humility. Sparks fans have been there for me when I was struggling through a terrible job, full time college, unemployment, rough mental health, and so on. Sparks fans have comforted me and given me good advice. Sparks fans have a fundamental understanding of what bonds us - not just the music, but the core tenets of the music. Sparks fans feel seen in the drive to be creative and open and strange and unselfconscious. The fans are an offshoot of a stunning artistic catalog, but only people like Ron and Russell could have fans that make someone late to the party feel like they’re a star.

Above is my Sparks wall in my cubicle, as well as some great memories from 2.5 years of fandom. Sparkstember forever. Sparks forever. ✨

#sparkstember #sparkstember 2024 #my posts #spars ur everything 2 me!!! know this!!!#this is cheesy but completely sincere i really love yall 🫂

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spectrayus · 3 months ago

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Because of this twit, I motivated to write some hc about the shipping Spectrayus (Betrayus x Specter)!

✨Headcanons about Spectrayus✨👻

• Betrayus sometimes tried to go on dates with others to make Specter jealous, but didn't work because he's so miserable at getting it, nobody likes him. And besides Specter isn't very jealous to say least.

• Although they assume have nothing in common, eventually realize otherwise as they get to know each other better.

• Betrayus in his affectionate way, if his partner pampers him enough, he's assured of receiving an expensive gift.

A way of urging him (?).

• And believe it or not, it's not always all fights and arguments. They can also have their healthy convivialities such as: watching action movies, dancing, putting on makeup together, shopping, drinking too much, hating Pac-Man and enjoying talking about evil things with touches of dark humor.

• Betrayus his reason for being with Specter is due to fully overcoming his platonic infatuation with Spheria, and other painful situations by her. And another reason, wanting to learn and be taught how to seduce some other suitor, having the related null skill.

• Specter and his reason, it's in his interest to pursue his goals, to be a ruler and to dominate Pacopolis and Netherworld. So he can see the opportunity to establish in regaining his trust and submission in order to manipulate again. But he knows it'll be difficult.

• Fun fact, Betrayus being dark gothic in appearance, only likes to listen to pop and kpop genres, and Specter likes rock, jazz and symphonic/dramatic orchestra music.

• And speaking of music, Specter usually sings in private, so Betrayus when hears him casually, stays listening to him discreetly because enjoys his voice so much.

He even wonders if Specter was a singer at some point.

• Betrayus' favorite peculiarities/favorites of the spy are his voice, his slender body and his scent.

And Specter also has his favorites, being his eyes, hair and metallic claws hands'.

• Betrayus has a need to sleep with one of his stuffed animals, now he does it with his partner.

• They both commonly love to dress and model themselves in elegant Victorian Gothic and Renaissance style clothing, the way of each other having fun in a romantic way.

• The "affectionate" pronouns given:

With Betrayus; Hot-head, grumpy shark, mustache fish and Drama Lord.

With Specter: Chili piquin, toupee, Spectro and Pretty Boy.

• At the beginning of their relationship was in secret but soon in a few days the rumors and fact became public. Not because what their ghosts people are insightful, but because the two fire ghosts they're so vain, conceited and daring what fails to try to be discreet.

• About Specter's low level of jealousy. The occurring factors for that to happen, is when an opponent arrives who represents a real threat as to draw attention to Betrayus, an intimate intention with the same purposes.

And the witty thing happens next, Specter on the defensive, gets more overbearing in a persuasive way, and to prevent it, by bragging with his displays of his own agilities so as to mock and boost his haughtiness and ego, and at the same time, get Betrayus' attention again.

#pmatga #pacman and the ghostly adventures #headcanon shipping #spectrayus headcanons #betrayus x specter #spectrayus #betrayus #specter (pmatga)#headcanon shipping pmatga #I stayed up all night doing this :D #I'm crazy but I enjoyed taking out these hcs have in my head #What do you think of my Headcanons?? :#:u

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sotwk · 5 days ago

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Treat please!

(also hope you're doing well! <3)

SotWK AU Flash Headcanon:

The Elvish Seasons of Birth of each member of Thranduil's family are as follows:

SPRING or "Ethuil": Elvenking Thranduil (FA 452) and Prince Legolas (TA 242)

SUMMER or "Laer": Prince Gelir (TA 221)

AUTUMN or "Iavas": Prince Turhir (TA 37)

FADING or "Firith": Prince Arvellas (TA 89)

WINTER or "Rhîw": Crown Prince Mirion (SA 3430)

STIRRING or "Echuir": Elvenqueen Maereth (FA 553)

SotWK Fancast: as Jodie Comer as Lady Meluiel, Thranduil's mother

Their Zodiac Signs (because Elves love the stars?), roughly corresponding to the Calendar of Imladris and the Shire Calendar, are as follows:

Thranduil: Aries - Independent, Generous, Optimistic, Enthusiastic, Courageous, Moody, Short tempered, Self-involved, Impulsive, Impatient

Maereth: Pisces - Compassionate, Adaptable, Accepting, Devoted, Imaginative, Oversensitive, Indecisive, Self-pitying, Lazy, Escapist

Mirion: Capricorn - Responsible, Patient, Ambitious, Resourceful, Loyal, Dictatorial, Inhibited, Conceited, Distrusting, Unimaginative

Turhir: Virgo - Analytical, Observant, Helpful, Reliable, Precise, Skeptical, Fussy, Inflexible, Cold, Interfering

Arvellas: Libra - Diplomatic, Graceful, Peaceful, Idealistic, Hospitable, Superficial, Vain, Indecisive, Unreliable

Gelir: Leo - Confident, Ambitious, Generous, Loyal, Encouraging, Pretentious, Domineering, Melodramatic, Stubborn, Vain

Legolas: Gemini - Energetic, Clever, Imaginative, Witty, Adaptable, Superficial, Impulsive, Restless, Devious, Indecisive

Disclaimer: The personality traits attached to each zodiac sign are not an exact match to these characters as they behave in my head/stories, but it's pretty damn close!

(VERY BELATED) HAPPY HALLOWEEN, @sunstainedpages! THANKS FOR STOPPING BY! I hope you're doing well, too! <3

#sotwk answers #sotwk trick or treat #sotwk headcanon #lotr #lord of the rings #lotr headcanon #sotwk ocs #thranduil #thranduilion #legolas #turhir thranduilion #mirion thranduilion #arvellas thranduilion #gelir thranduilion #silvan elves #zodiac #astrology #seasons #tolkien

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chuchayucca · 5 months ago

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New OC just dropped

Text information

Belmira

21 • Bi Transwoman (Pre-transition) • She/Her

Mixed Colombian Puerto Rican American

Aspiring actress

Personality: Easygoing, witty, conceited, humoristic, and skeptical

Hobbies: Writing original stories, gaming, and role playing

Likes: Video games, anime, animation, rap, writing, theater, and musicals

Has two girlfriends

————————

App: IbisPaint X

Date: 6/26/2024

(Reblogs are appreciated!)

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caramelcactus · 1 year ago

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Nightmare androids ||FNAF AU||

I finally figured out nightmares background for au

I said earlier that they’re William’s project. Yes they are, I mean were. Nightmares are prototypes of originals. Their fate is pretty much like Springtrap’s, except that it’s much worse. Nightmares are abandoned out-of-service and very messed up androids that were supposed to be scrapped but... they're not?? And becoming pretty much useless overtime made them the way they are: aggressive, uncontrollable, destructive, etc. They perceive everyone as a danger, except for William and Springtrap

N.Bonnie and N.Foxy are basically this type of bff duo that cause lots of trouble and are everyone’s pain. Especially when they’re teamed up their power is doubled

N.Bonnie is the most savage and unhinged in the gang. He's conceited af. Loves debating and challenging others. The type of guy who would steal traffic cones or a signs just for fun, which he does btw. He has the craziest ideas and gives absolutely zero fucks about the consequences of his extreme actions

Was built based on Springtrap’s model

N.Foxy is more calculating when it comes to causing chaos. Joins N.Bonnie in doing catastrophic stuff. Very energetic, cunning and witty. Unlike Bonnie who is extremely straightforward Foxy prefers to keep some things in himself and act more than speak. He’s unnaturally fast, so running away from him is the dumbest decision a person can make. Got a twisted sense of humor and likes biting everyone

phew … Freddy and the freddles are the last ones to go, and I’ll finally finish with nightmares

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fxirysforesight · 10 months ago

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Riize Red And Green Flags

Shotaro

Green: 3 of Pentacles, 3 of Wands

Collaborative, Motivated, Dedicated, Attentive, Hardworking, Committed, Goal Oriented, Confident, Brave, Curious, Expansive, Optimistic, Creative.

Red: The Hierophant, 8 of Pentacles Rx

Strict, Conventional, Conforming, Traditional, Logical, Practical, Workaholic, Materialistic.

Eunseok

Green: Page of Swords, 4 of Swords

Communicative, Inquisitive, Honest, Fair, Vigilant, Witty, Educated, Direct, Inspirational, Peaceful, Introspective, Calm, Rational, Practical.

Red: 5 of Wands, 8 of Wands

Combative, Argumentative, Assertive, Egotistical, Temperamental, Petty, Competitive, Defensive, Isolating, Obsessive.

Sungchan

Green: 4 of Wands, King of Wands

Stable, Teamplayer, Confident, Secure, Prosperous, Energetic, Appreciative, Harmonious, Optimistic, Honest, Passionate, Loyal, Charming, Dependable.

Red: Queen of Cups Rx, The Tower Rx

Emotionally Immature, Needy, Untrusting, Vengeful, Bitter, Spiteful, Manipulative, Self Centered, Overly Sensitive, Avoidant.

Wonbin

Green: The World, The Moon

Confident, Successful, Balanced, Admirable, Aware, Intuitive, Emotionally Intelligent, Creative, Receptive, Enigmatic, Harmonious.

Red: Ace of Pentacles Rx, King of Pentacles Rx

Stingy, Greedy, Unstable, Lacking Judgment, Cold, Hasty, Materialistic, Disloyal.

Seunghan

Green: 6 of Swords, Ace of Swords

Calm, Stable, Supportive, Encouraging, Perseverant, Decisive, Peaceful, Communicative, Authoritative, Fair, Intelligent, Focused.

Red: Knight of Swords Rx, Page of Wands Rx

Tactless, Arrogant, Sarcastic, Conceited, Aggressive, Hasty, Pessimistic, Temperamental, Closed Minded.

Sohee

Green: The Emperor, Knight of Coins

Dependable, Practical, Disciplined, Hard Working, Conforming, Conservative, Loyal, Patient, Stubborn, Persistent, Ambitious.

Red: The Hanged Man, 7 of Wands Rx

Stagnant, Uncertain, Self Limiting, Fearful, Weak, Lack of Confidence and Courage, Quitter, Timid.

Anton

Green: The Star, 10 of Swords Rx

Hopeful, Revolutionary, Creative, Positive, Content, Kind, Caring, Perseverant, Healing, Resilient, Accepting, Peaceful, Balanced, Inspirational.

Red: The High Priestess, 7 of Cups

Clouded Mentality, Anxious, Passivity, Isolation, Over Sensitive, Weak Resolve, Self Doubt, Self Conscious.

#🍓 fairytalks #kpop tarot #kpop astrology #riize #riize astrology

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eraserisms · 2 months ago

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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

bold what applies, italics what sometimes applies, strikethrough never applies.

. FLAWS .

moody. short - tempered. emotionally unstable. whiny. controlling. conceited. possessive. paranoid. lies. impatient. cowardly. bitter. selfish. power - hungry. greedy. lazy. judgmental. forgetful. impulsive. spiteful. stubborn. sadistic. petty. unlucky. absent - minded. abusive. aggressive. childish. callous. clingy. delusional. cocky. competitive. corrupt. cynical. cruel. deranged. egotistical. envious. insecure. insensitive. lustful. delinquent. guilt complex. reclusive. reckless. nervous. oversensitive.

. STRENGTHS .

honest. trustworthy. thoughtful. caring. brave. patient. selfless. ambitious. tolerant. lucky. intelligent. confident. focused. humble. generous. merciful. observant. wise. clever. charming. cheerful. optimistic. decisive. adaptive. calm. protective. proud. diligent. considerate. compassionate. good sportsmanship. friendly. empathetic. passionate. reliable. resourceful. sensible. sincere. witty. funny.

. SKILLS & HOBBIES .

art. acting. astronomy. animals. archery. sports. beach combing. bird watching [does watching Zashi count?]. blacksmithing. boating. calligraphy. camping. candle making. casino gambling. ceramics. racing. chess. music. cooking. crochet. weaving. exercise. sword. fishing. gardening. ghost hunting. ice skating. magic. engineering. building. video games. inventing. leather working. martial arts. meditation. origami. parkour. people watching. swimming. puppetry. pyrotechnics. quilting. reading. collecting. shopping. socializing. storytelling. writing. traveling. dancing. exotic dancing (watching). minor / major potion tricks and trinkets. billiards.

tagged by: @proditeur tagging: @fragmentmemories (Xóchitl), @laesarus (Sol) @friendly--neighborhood @dhampiravidi (Renee & Skadi) @djsouled @knghtlock @symbl @lamentamore (Dabi) @itsumoegao @icarusplunged (Orion) @ofovertime

#Dash Games: You wanna play? Let's play #djsouled #lamentamore #ofovertime #fragmentedmemories #friendly--neighborhood #dhampiravidi #icarusplunged #knghtlock #symbl #laesarus #itsumoegao

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industrialist-of-zaun · 10 months ago

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tagged by @saviourofzaun and @twelve-finches

FLAWS

STRENGTHS

SKILLS & HOBBIES

#silco interaction #silco headcanon #silco hc #Silco arcane #tag game #thank you for tagging me #please send me more of these. they're delightful #or headcanon asks! I love to do those

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glittering-moonlillie · 2 years ago

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I Hate You, Be my Girlfriend: Part Two (Damian Wayne x reader)

Word Count: 1788

Warnings: Slight cussing.

Summary: Damian finally confronts you about the situation. Hilarity ensues!

Damian certainly was a character. He was brash and overly confident in himself. When entering a room, he would boldly assume that he was always the smartest, bravest, and strongest person there; and to be fair, most of the time he was. Damian was never the type of person to admit his faults or his emotions either. In his mind, those two events were not mutually exclusive.

You and Damian never fully got along. You tried, you really did, to befriend him. Understanding people and emotions was a strong suit of yours, but when it came to Damian, it seemed like you hit a giant brick wall. Every attempt you made to be kind and polite, to be charming and helpful, to be compassionate and witty, never sank in with him. More often than not, he would roll his eyes and make a rude comment.

This would be the moment that people gave up on him, that they would never see past his rudeness and self-assertive attitude - but you were stubborn and determined. You theorized that nearly all of Damian’s icy exterior was for show. He pretended to hate everyone and everything, but the next moment he would grumpily give you his scarf when it was cold or buy Jon food when he noticed he was hungry.

Sure, Damian was irritatingly conceited, but he was also protective and loyal, maybe even kind if you squint hard enough. Or maybe you were just looking too hard into his character, looking into things that were barely there. Maybe this was just an attempt for you to justify the immense attraction you felt towards him, even though you were 80% sure he hated your guts.

That’s why you were so surprised when you heard a knock at your door so late at night and even more surprised to see that it was Damian. His face was pulled into a tight frown, a slight flush spread across his cheeks. “Damian? What are you doing here, are you okay?”

Damian let out a huff before directing his scowl towards you. “I need a favor…”

You blinked. “You…came to me for a favor?”

Damian was never one to ask anyone for favors, let alone ask you of all people. Your concern for him grew, knowing that he had to be in imminent danger if he came to you for help. Quickly widening the door, you ushered him into your apartment. He grunted, allowing himself to plop on your couch.

“You must be in a lot of trouble if you are asking me for a favor. What’s up?” You closed the door, turning back to face the scowling Wayne. Damian was silent for a while, looking down to the floor and pretending to pick off pet hair from his black slacks. You sat down next to him, looking up at him with a small smile.

“Dick and Barbara are getting married in a few months. Everyone in my family thinks we are dating so I need you to be my date and for us to pretend we are in love during the wedding.” Damian stated in one breath. He turned to you, his narrowed eyes softening and cheeks becoming a darker shade of crimson.

“I-I’m sorry, what?” Your jaw went slack, eyes as wide as saucers.

“Do I really have to repeat myself? I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend for my brother’s wedding.”

You raised your hands defensively. “I heard you, I heard you. I’m just confused. Why would your family assume we’re dating? You hate me with your guts!”

“They…they had seen us hanging out a few times and I suppose that was enough for them to assume we were dating.”

“That makes no sense.”

“I agree.”

The two of you snickered at how silly of an assumption that was. The only time that Damian willingly hung out with you was when you bribed him with food in exchange for help with your math homework. Any other time you two were together was when your mutual friends decided to all hang out together.

“So is that a yes?” Damian looked at you with an impatient smirk. “I mean, you should consider yourself lucky. Do you know how many girls would wish to be in your place right now?”

Of course you knew the answer to that question, you yourself were one of those girls who secretly had a crush on the cunning 20 year old billionaire. Still, you weren’t sure if this opportunity was a blessing in disguise or a bad idea plated on a silver platter. You had read your fair share of angsty fake dating novels to know that this could end very poorly, especially considering this enemy relationship he kept preaching was only one sided. It took you a few more seconds of weighing out the pros and cons of the situation until you gave him an answer.

“Fine, I’ll go with you to your brother's wedding.” You replied. “But you have to at least try and be less mean to me. I am doing you a huge favor, afterall.”

“I suppose it would be good practice for when I have to pretend to be madly in love with you.” His voice was bare of any feeling except smugness, making you wonder if he truly had the emotional aptitude of a rock. Surely pretending to love you was not as bad as he made it seem, right?

You threw your pillow in his face. Hearing those words falling from his achingly pretty mouth was enough to send your hormones into overdrive, it almost felt like being a lovesick teenage girl all over again. Throwing a pillow in his face seemed a good enough idea to shut him up. “So where is this wedding being held anyway? Is it going to be in Gotham?”

You took a bite of your previously forgotten muffin, some more crumbs falling onto the couch despite your best efforts to cup the scraps in your hand.

“It’s in Bordeaux…France.” The smirk he had plastered on his face widened.

You choked on the small piece of muffin, eyes once again widening. France. Of course it had to be fucking France, one of the most romantic places on Earth (at least from what you have been told) and the one place you had wished to go since you were a child learning how to speak the language. This day was just filled with surprises.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. I can’t possibly…I don’t think…” As a financially struggling college student who was living off of the puny wages given to you, going on a luxuriant vacation to France for a fancy wedding was not really an option for you.

“Obviously I’ll pay for all the expenses, I don’t need to hear you complaining about money while on the trip.” Damian gave you his signature eye roll, a smile tugging at his lips.

“It feels like you’re the one doing me the favor, are you sure you actually hate me, Dami?” You giggled at the pout he gave you. You weren’t sure why, but he always tensed up and got embarrassed when you used the shortened version of his name. When you asked him about it (numerous times), he only mumbled something in his mother’s tongue.

“First off, I told you to stop calling me that horrendous nickname and second…” Damian paused, his voice getting quieter. “I never said I hated you…I just…find you annoying sometimes.”

He looked back to you, his mouth open as if he was going to say something else, only to subtly bite his lip and avert his gaze back to the floor. The butterflies in your stomach erupted into chaotic fluttering and you couldn’t hold back the violent blush creeping up to try and expose your not-so-hidden feelings for him. You had always thought Damian hated your existence, but now? Everything felt like a convoluted mess. A part of you was relishing in the victory of being correct about Damian’s nice side, but the other part of you was fearful of the potential possibilities the wedding had in store for the both of you.

“You look like a catfish with your mouth open like that, geez.” He mumbled something else but you were unable to decipher what he said. The comment only further invigorated the butterflies in your stomach causing you to giggle, which only worsened the more he stared at you with his emerald eyes twitched into a confused glare.

Eventually, he just sighed. “What did I get myself into…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So the plan is this: Leave most of the question answering to me unless they specifically target the inquiry towards you.” Damian was in full control freak mode. This was the day that his family, his brothers specifically, would meet you. He would never admit this aloud, but he was not confident in this little charade he has created for himself.

“Calm down Damian, you’re acting like I haven’t watched every single season of Who’s Line is it Anyway. I am a Goddess when it comes to improv.” You flashed him one of your notoriously obnoxious grins.

“You keep acting like a schoolgirl whenever I attempt to call you by simple terms of endearment. We need to pretend that we have been dating for almost a year. If my brothers see how much you blush and stutter when I call you Beloved, they’ll immediately catch on to our ruse.” When he turned back to look at you, he saw your scarlet countenance.

Truly, he was doomed.

Out of instinct, Damian began to fidget with his clothes. It really was a bad tick he had. Normally he would be able to control himself, but nothing about this situation was normal - at least that’s how he reasoned with himself.

“Hey…you have nothing to worry about, Dami.” You lightly grab his hand, hesitantly rubbing your thumb along the side of his palm. “I’ll try to keep myself under control, but worst case scenario your brothers will assume I just get easily flustered.”

Damian tensed at the feeling of your smaller hand in his. He felt an electric shock course through his body, and he really couldn’t deny how perfect it felt to have your hands together.

“We have to trust each other for this to work.” You reminded him with another smile that he still refused to admit was adorable. Damian’s body relaxed just a little. For once, you were right. He wasn’t sure which startled him more, you being correct or how simple it was for you to calm him down.

“Just…remember the story…”

You both got out of his car, stumbling your way to the daunting gates of Wayne Manor hand-in-hand…

I FINALLY FINISHED IT! I'm going to be honest with you guys, I had a really hard time trying to do the dialogue for the beginning of this part. Dialogue has always been my kyrptonite because I usually overcomplicate it >:(((

Anyways, the next part should come out in a few more days :D

Edit: I woke up and decided that taglists are cool. DM if you want to be tagged for this series!

Here you go, @greenkiki (I hope I am doing this right-) *\(^o^)/*

#Damian Wayne #Damian Wayne x reader #Damian Wayne x Y/n #Batfamily #Batfam #Enemies to lovers #Fake dating #Damian Al Ghul #Romance #Damian really is just a tsundere sometimes #DC #Comics

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next-autopsy · 1 year ago

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A/N: Well, hi there! Okay so Joe needs to apologise asap! This is his attempt I guess… idk what’s happening anymore man

Based on the actors portrayal/hbo show and written with no disrespect to the real life veterans. Also all images found on Pinterest.

TW: I don’t think there are any…

Tags: @malarkgirlypop, @panzershrike-pretz

Made of Glass

Chapter nineteen: An Itchy, Army Issued Blanket

Their barracks were dark and quiet when the ladies returned. Charlotte was all but dragged to her bed by Connie and Betty, who then immediately started getting ready to pass out on their own cots.

Lucy and Blythe were inseparable, snuggling together on a bed too small for the two of them, by now all the women had noticed the lovey dovey behaviour between them. No one said anything, no one minded.

Bernadette had spent the entire cab ride sniffling and wiping at her face where stray tears fell. No one had mentioned what had happened with Liebgott, though all of them witnessed it, except Charlotte who was in a world of her own and wouldn’t remember anything from this night.

She changed her clothes and brushed out her hair, too tired to walk to the bathroom and finish her nighttime ritual. Before Birdie could climb under the covers of her awaiting bed, Frankie made eye contact with her. She shook her half empty pack of smokes at the mousy haired girl and flicked her head toward the door, a silent invitation.

Bernadette sighed and joined the Italian woman outside. She might feel better if she spoke about what happened. She hadn’t quite figured out why his words got to her so badly, perhaps talking to Francesca could help. They sat on the wooden steps as they usually did. Rossi lit a cigarette and passed it to her friend, then lit her own.

Francesca wouldn’t push, of course she wanted to know exactly what was said and what tone was used, but she wanted to avoid more tears if possible. Seeing Birdie quietly crying and then trying to pretend everything was okay, upset her more than she cared to admit.

“I don’t know why I cried.” Her words were void of emotion. Frankie only hummed in response, waiting for her to share what was on her mind.

“He’s always been kind of mean. I thought he actually hated me…. But then something changed.” Frankie was more than curious, she thought back to the uncomfortable night she watched from the shadows. Rossi liked people watching, she picked up on hidden feelings or underlying vibes easily. Whatever had or hadn't happened between Birdie and Liebgott perplexed her. And apparently, she wasn’t the only one.

“Joe was really… I-I thought maybe, just maybe we could've been friends.”

“But?” Francesca prompted, eager to hear more of this odd dynamic.

“But, he thinks I'm the worst.” The words cracked as the downcast woman spoke them, her eyes focused on the floor, her shoulders sagged in defeat, even her bottom lip protruded in a pout.

“I’m sure that's not true…” The older woman consoled. Bernadette was sweet and witty and an oddly likeable person. Francesca had specifically tried not to make friends with anyone but Birdie managed to wiggle her way into her heart and now she couldn’t imagine not being friends with the little firecracker.

“No, it is. The words he used were: Arrogant, conceited bitch.” She didn’t even have one second to feel sorry for herself as Frankie instantly counter argued.

“Ha. You are the least arrogant, conceited person I've ever met. And you're definitely not a bitch.”

“Not according to him.” Now she was sulking, pouting and feeling sorry for herself. The attitude change was phenomenal. From Francesca’s perspective, Birdie had always been confident. Not overly but enough to tough it out with her self righteous Captain.

“Why do you care what he thinks of you?” Maybe Rossi would have to give the poor girl some hints, she obviously hasn't picked up on her own feelings for the man who bullied her. It would explain her need for his approval and why his comments affected her the way they did.

“I-” She couldn’t answer, she didn’t know how. Why did she care so much about what Joseph Liebgott thought of her? “Because, I- I don’t know.”

“I think I do.” She would have to tell the southern girl, it was her duty as best friend. She couldn’t let her go on like this, it was down right embarrassing.

“Enlighten me.”

“You like him.” The George company woman spoke plainly, no point sugarcoating it.

“What? No, you're way off, he’s so- But he’s- He is a pigheaded jerk. I-I don't like him.” Birdie spluttered, stumbling over her words and giving Frankie an incredulous look.

“Are you trying to convince me, or yourself? Either way, I don't think it's working.” She paused to let the words sink in, “Come on, you need some sleep.”

————————

Letting go of Birdie’s arm and watching her walk out the door, surrounded by her girlfriends, caused a pang in Joe’s chest.

He was at fault and he knew it. Joe didn’t mean the harsh words and he shouldn’t have said those things about her, whether she was listening or not. And now, he sat at the bar, gulping down whatever alcohol came his way.

“Liebgott?” No answer, he preferred to mope in peace. But Tipper wouldn’t sit by and watch his friend beat himself up over a girl, especially because he had money on the two getting together before they were deployed.

“She’ll come round.” Ed wasn’t really sure what else he could say to soothe the situation. But he had noticed the girl in question harboured feelings for his brooding friend, and he definitely knew Joe felt some type of way about Birdie.

The issue was getting them to recognise their own fondness of each other and stop messing up. It was like the pair were stuck in blatant denial, not even considering the reason why they were always so drawn to one another, constantly needing to make comments to gain the others attention. To Ed it was transparent, which is why he was so confident about the running bet in Easy company, Joe and Birdie; Will they? Won’t they?

“I think she hates me now.”

“What? She didn’t before?” Tip was trying to lighten the mood, but Joe wasn’t having it. He continued to feel sorry for himself, drinking yet another pale yellow beer.

“No… I don't know- she was, we were... It doesn’t matter now.” The alcohol was affecting him, he couldn’t think straight and his words came out as incoherent mumble.

“You should apologise.”

“You think I don't know that?” Joe’s snark was intact regardless of how much he drank.

“Hey, I’m just saying.” Ed paused, “If you made a meaningful gesture… something only known between you two…” He trailed off, letting Joe put the rest of the thought together in his mind.

“Yeah? Like what? In case you didn’t notice, we don't exactly have the best track record.” Liebgott was mad, not at his friend, just in general or at himself. His patience with Tipper’s chit chat was running thin.

“Well, what do you have?”

—------------------

While weekend passes were more common now than back in Toccoa, they were still highly sought after. Joe had a plan to smooth over the mishap with Bernadette and it meant spending a precious pass at the library reading, instead of getting shitfaced at a bar.

He prayed it would work, that Bernadette would forgive him and let his unkind words fade away. Joe had already decided on a place and time and now he needed to convince one of her friends to bring her to the spot. She probably wouldn’t meet him there if he asked, so he’d have to be sneaky.

Approaching Francesca Rossi was intimidating. She had a reputation of not taking shit from anyone and Joe had hurt seemingly her only friend. Plus, Birdie most likely told the Italian woman about his colossal fuck up, so he doubted she would be on his side.

“What do you want?” Her eyes narrowed at the man walking toward her.

“I was hoping you would help me with something.” Joe knew he had to be straightforward with the George company woman, put his cards on the table and hope for the best.

“Why?” She hadn’t stopped glaring.

“Look, I’ll be honest. I fucked up, with Birdie. I said some things I’d rather not repeat… And I’m just trying to apologise.”

“What do you need?” He hadn’t expected it to be that easy, so he stood still for a moment processing, before he explained his plan to her. It felt dumb to say it out loud, but when Rossi gave him a nod and a half smile, promising to do her part, he thought: maybe he was doing the right thing.

“One thing before you go…” Francesca called out to him as he turned to leave, he stopped and looked at the woman over her shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“You hurt her again…. I will kill you.” There was no hint of a joke in her tone, no curve of her lips. She meant it and she wanted him to know she would follow through. Birdie meant alot to her, she didn’t have many women friends so she would hold onto the southerner for the rest of her life, kill for her, die for her if necessary.

“I know you will.”

“Good.”

—----------------

The night came. Joe was nervous. He told himself it was due to all the facts he had to memorise and his anxiety was about messing up in front of an expert.

Something in the back of his head said her name and the idea of his nerves coming from his need to impress this specific woman ran through his brain. Maybe it was a little bit about Bernadette, but he couldn’t dwell on it too much. He had places to be and apologies to set up.

—--------------------

Francesca was good at keeping secrets and hiding things. So when the time came, Birdie suspected nothing. Frankie told her friend she needed her help with something and led her outside and into the dark with no explanation. Birdie didn’t question it, Francesca wouldn’t steer her wrong, she trusted the woman with everything she had.

After a few minutes of walking, the two women came upon a clearing with an olive green, Army issued blanket laid down upon the grass. A gas lantern lit up the immediate area.

Just as Bernadette began to wonder what was going on, Liebgott came into view, stepping into the light that shone from the source on the floor. Birdie’s jaw hung, she looked between the man and her friend who had brought her here, feeling somewhat betrayed.

“Frankie? What the hell?” Were the words she finally managed to get out.

“You got two options, Birdie. Stay here and hear him out… or we walk away. I’ll punch him in the throat too, if you want.” All three of them considered the words carefully.

“Fair.” Joe shrugged, knowing he deserved it.

Francesca eyed the younger woman as she pondered her options. She knew the outcome, it was plain to see which one Birdie would go for, the look on her face said it all.

She was curious, Joe intrigued her beyond words and even though he had said some things that hurt Birdie, she still craved his attention, to be around him, to listen to whatever he was about to say.

Bernadette didn’t have to say it, she just gave Frankie a look and the black hair woman was on her way, not before shooting Liebgott a stern glare.

“I didn’t mean it.” Joe broke the silence that was growing between the two.

“But you still said it.” She couldn’t let him get away that easy.

“I know… I shouldn’t’ve. I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you.” Birdie had already decided she’d forgive him but she wanted to drag it out, see him sweat. She knew first hand how scary Frankie could be, the fact that he had talked her into this project of his was apology enough in her books.

“I am so sorry, Birdie.” His words were genuine, he truly was sorry. He would have said it a hundred more times if she wanted him too. His pride aside, he wanted her to know it. Talking about her like that was not something that would be repeated. Hurting her had hurt him, maybe Tipper was right, maybe his feelings for her ran deeper than he thought.

He wanted to be her friend of course, she was always so smiley and happy, it was easy to get along with her. Joe enjoyed his time around her, even before, when all the words they said to each other were dipped in sarcasm. He actually enjoyed the witty comebacks she came up with, he liked that she wouldn’t let anyone walk over her. She always had something to say and he found himself wanting to listen more and more as time went on.

“What’s that for?” Birdie nodded her head to the blanket, trying to steer away from acknowledging the apology.

“Huh? Oh..” Lieb looked behind him, “Come here, sit. I want to show you something.” He sat and patted the empty space next to him. Birdie followed instruction and lowered herself onto the itchy blanket.

Joe leaned back, propping himself up with one arm and pointing skyward with the other. Birdie copied his stance, turning her chin up and watching where he pointed to.

“See that? That’s the Little Dipper-“ Birdie’s attention was pulled from the stars above them and to the guy casually dropping constellation names.

“Wait… it actually is… how did you know that?” She imagined Joe, head in a book, studying star clusters so he would have something to talk to her about and it made her stomach flip. Had he really done something like that for her? She was vaguely aware that he didn’t care for studying or reading novels, so if he had done that it was solely for her benefit.

Lieb let his arm drop, turning his head to face her. The eye contact made Birdie want to twirl a strand of hair with her fingers and giggle like a schoolgirl- Damn, maybe Francesca had been right about her liking Joseph Liebgott.

“Magic.” His face was stoic and serious as he whispered the word to her, like it was a secret. Then, his infamous smirk broke onto his face and Bernadette couldn’t help but grin back at him, the butterflies in her tummy were going crazy, but she tried to play it cool.

“Ah okay. I see: This is your apology? Impressing me with your new found knowledge of the stars?” Said with feigned disinterest. Joe hadn’t stopped watching her, her mannerisms were endearing. Yes, he definitely wanted to be friends with this girl.

“It depends.” He broke eye contact, attempting to give his heart a moment to catch up.

“On what?” The country woman had completely forgotten about the twinkly lights above them, something else was far more interesting at this moment.

“Is it impressing you?”

It most definitely was. Joe pointed out several well known constellations and even gave a couple backstories. Birdie already knew everything he was telling her but she humoured him and listened with interest at the tales he told her.

At one point the two lay down for a better view of the starry black sky. Their arms brushed up against one another and neither attempted to move away. They ignored the shared touch, pretending it wasn’t happening but the pair could feel exactly where their bodies met and they revealed in the warmth.

A/N: does his apology suffice? I think stargazing is going to be a Birdie/Lieb thing from now on.

I love hearing from you guys, so please feel free to comment or dm me!

~ next-autopsy ~

Chapter twenty

#band of brothers #easy company #hbo war #joe liebgott #made of glass #band of brothers fanfic #fem oc #oc #next autopsy #made of glass chapter nineteen #ed tipper

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total-drama-brainrot · 11 months ago

Text

Alenoah Personality Swap AU: Ideas and Outlines

My sleep deprived ramblings on the last post were pretty all over the place, and I had some of the ideas muddled up or just completely wrong, so I thought I'd clarify what my ideas are for this AU.

Synopsis

To begin; it's a personality swap AU, not a body swap AU, so Alejandro and Noah aren't going to behave like carbon copies of each other.

Instead, they'll be maintaining the core aspects of their respective characters (their defining traits, if you will). In this case, Alejandro will still be the ruthless overcompetitive mastermind he is in canon, and Noah will remain a lethargic wisecracking nerd. Other than that, they'll take on the other's personality traits.

Alejandro, in this case, loses a lot of his pompousness and vanity, and sheds his habit of disguising his maliciousness with charming flirtatiousness. Instead he's just a straight-up asshole; he doesn't hold back with his barbed comments about the competitors anymore, and now he's armed with Noah's typical bad attitude. He's in it to win it, and the admiration of his competitors won't affect his performance, though he still seeks it.

He still sabotages the other teams (and his own team members), just with less flirting or emotional manipulation along those lines- though he doesn't completely stop using this as a tool to control his competitors. Of course, he's still concerned with "going all the way to the top", since his competitiveness is an integral part of his character, but now that shines through his athleticism and overall competence more so than him boasting about his skills or tricking the opposition into failure- remember, isn't keeping up his good guy act around the cast now, though the deep rooted need for peer approval motivates him to appear as untouchable as possible (so long as he wins, he doesn't need allies, but the respect of the cast would be nice).

Noah, on the other hand, gains awareness of his self-image and, while not exactly conceited, borrows some of canon Alejandro's vanity. He also adopts the habit of hiding behind an agreeable mask. Unlike the former, who could rely on his ~exotic charm~ to pull the weight of his façade, Noah instead utilises his reputation as unthreatening and dials up the "little guy" energy, using compliments and favours to earn the others' trust as opposed to flirting his way into people's good books. He still doesn't exactly care what the others think about him, but recognises that being friendly will benefit him in the long run.

He appears to be earnest, polite, witty and somewhat annoying but in an endearing way- think orange cat behaviour compared to his usual black cat energy; still a cat, just friendlier. Of course, he's scheming the whole time behind his nonthreatening persona, but he's never as outright malicious as Alejandro. Plus, he's not nearly as obsessed with winning all the time- it'd be nice, but so long as he's floating along in the competition and everyone is beguiled to willingly stay under his thumb, he's content to sit back and relax.

That's not to say that either lose their intelligence. Alejandro is fully aware of how threatening Noah really is- he's seen all of his tricks before, used some even, but he isn't scared enough of Noah's capabilities to see him as a real challenge (until he becomes one). Noah, meanwhile, knows that Alejandro is a powerhouse in the competition and now that he's invested in the million he either wants Alejandro out, or an alliance.

Essentially, Noah's gifted kid burnout outweighs a lot of the ambition of Alejandro's personality, and Alejandro's chronic overachievement overrules the laziness of Noah's.

The two change their character archetypes as well; Noah begins using deceit and trickery to control the game from behind the curtains so to speak (the hidden puppet master), whilst Alejandro's concern shifts from underhanded tactics to outright crushing the competition, as he's still prideful and driven enough to want others to see how competent he is (the unstoppable force).

Plotline(s)

As I touched on in the last post (which I'll probably delete anyway, but I digress), Noah is shown in canon to have moral objections to Alejandro's manipulation of the cast. Whilst he's happy enough to feign passing out in the Awake-a-thon as a means of being literally carried to the next task, his own deceptions are never devious in nature, suggesting that Noah has a moral compass and therefore enough capacity for guilt to fuel one.

This would be one of the main conflict points of the AU, though there are two different paths one could take:

Noah begins manipulating the cast but has to fight against his own guilt whilst doing so, creating internal conflict. Alejandro, as unconcerned as ever about with the wellbeing of the competitors, encourages Noah to continue regardless whilst he bears the burden of physical sabotage and/or crushing the competition in athletic challenges. (think along the lines of the SNOWGRAVE route in Deltarune, with Noah as Noelle and Alejandro as Kris)

Noah loses his capacity for guilt in the personality swap and this, alongside his desire to win, leads to him excusing his manipulative behaviour that grows increasingly morally bankrupt and emotionally distant. Eventually, he loses himself in his own scheming. Alejandro, in contrast, gains the capacity for guilt and tries desperately to get Noah eliminated before he goes too far; unfortunately, due to his new acerbic temperament, he finds it hard to secure allies against "harmless Noah".

And depending on which route of the AU you choose, both of their relationships with others would change accordingly.

For instance, Noah in path 1 (let's call it the Moral Dilemma path, or MD) would likely still be close with Owen until Noah's guilt-ridden actions outweigh his self-tolerance and he isolates himself in an effort to prevent harming his friends. Path 2's (which we'll call the Corruption Arc path, or CA) Noah would probably cut off Owen as soon as he could to focus on winning, and actual friendships would mean nothing to him- though Owen would still assume they were friends, as Noah is smart enough to appear amicable.

In contrast, whilst both MD and CA Alejandro would lose their social standings post-swap thanks to his new prickly temperament, MD Alejandro would be in a parasitic co-dependency with Noah, and likely still have Heather's affections (since a lot of their 'flirting' was just insulting/teasing each other, which Alejandro still does). CA Alejandro wouldn't have anyone in his corner due to his open defiance of Noah, who everyone likes now that he's 'nicer', unless he could rope one of the smarter contestants into seeing behind Noah's façade (most of the Amazons work here, since it could be in character for them all to notice Noah's deceit).

Both paths are interesting in their own right:

MD would have a very introspective narrative and explore some darker plotlines about the greyness of morality and the constant threat of betrayal bred from reasonable distrust, ending in the tragedy of mutually assured destruction through their antagonistic alliance.

CA could be played as either a lighthearted series-of-events plot wherein Alejandro keeps trying to eliminate Noah but it always backfires, OR a psychological horror from Alejandro's perspective about identifying a monster that's a twisted mirror of yourself but not being able to prevent the carnage it brings.

…This got a lot more macabre that I expected it to.

Notes/Details

Alejandro with Noah's personality is a lot more productive and actively standoffish than Noah ever was- this is because I honestly believe that if you gave Noah the physical capabilities of anything more than a wet noodle he'd fight god.

Noah with Alejandro's personality is smart enough to play his cards close to his chest; since he's less egotistical (though not entirely lacking in egotism) and actively trying to appear as a non-threat, he doesn't broadcast his competence. He's humble enough to lean fully into his disguise of benign-ness, whereas Alejandro in canon slips out of his mask often enough for people like Noah and Heather to catch on.

Also, Noah with Alejandro's personality is distinct in his lack of desperation to earn people's approval- we don't get to see much of who Alejandro is behind his charming persona but the deep set need to prove himself (as a Burromuerto) is something Alejandro keeps to himself in this AU. This doesn't mean Noah isn't trying to win, he just isn't actively broadcasting his intentions to the world like Alejandro did to show he's a strong contestant. (Noah doesn't need to prove anything to anyone, something he retains from his original personality.)

Noah enters his glow-up era when Alejandro's fashion-sensitivity gets swapped onto him. Alejandro's sense of style is streamlined to practicality and function over aesthetics (he ties his hair up in a bun/ponytail).

Noah still flirts with people, but it's mostly in a joking way. He's aware he doesn't have the looks to be a teenage heartthrob but he is a funny little dude. Alejandro becomes one of his favourite victims people to flirt with simply because he's the straight man (interns of comedy, not sexuality) to Noah's comedian.

Alejandro's newfound emotional dullness (you can't convince me canon Noah isn't at least a little depressed) allows him to put his family situation into perspective- now that he isn't as anxious to live up to the family name he recognises the toxicity of his home situation, especially concerning Jose.

Obviously, these are just outlines, concepts and plotlines the AU could follow. The main meat of what I've got so far is just how the personality swap affects both boys; everything else is just potential storylines that I may or may not go with.

Thanks to @perpetualexistence for the initial ask!

Feel free to add on any ideas you have, or send me an ask if you want to talk about the AU!

#long post #total drama #alenoah personality swap au #td noah #td alejandro #character analysis #ophe rambling #silly headcanons

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