#you know how this was supposed to be a banter

[aventurineswife]

Aventurine with a gamer reader who asks him to do gacha pulls for the new 5 star character (just imagine, you dont even have to go whale with such luck)

The House Always Wins

Summary: Aventurine is asked by you to perform a gacha pull for the coveted new five-star character. Confident in his legendary luck, he accepts the challenge. With a playful grin, he turns the moment into a wager: if he succeeds, you owe him a homemade dinner; if he fails, he’ll owe you a favor. To your amazement, he pulls the rare character on the first try.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Fluff, Light Humor, Gamer!Reader, Playful Banter, Lighthearted, Manipulative Charm.

The evening glow from the city outside filtered into Aventurine's sleek, penthouse suite. The dark glass walls reflected the opulence within—roulette motifs on his tailored blazer, the gold trim of his accessories glinting faintly in the low light. Aventurine lounged on the velvet couch, one leg crossed over the other, his eyes lazily following your pacing figure.

You, on the other hand, were anything but composed. Clutching your phone tightly, you let out an exasperated sigh.

"Please, please, Aventurine," you begged, holding out your phone as if it were an offering to a deity. "I’ve been saving up for this banner for months, but I’ve got a streak of bad luck that’s—frankly—embarrassing. I need your touch. Your magic. Your insane luck."

He tilted his head back, a smirk curling on his lips. "Oh, darling, flattery will get you everywhere." His voice dripped with amusement as he gestured lazily for you to sit beside him. "But are you sure you want me to take the reins? What if I squander all your hard-earned currency on nothing but trash?"

"Not possible." You plopped down next to him, clutching your phone like a lifeline. "You could do a ten-pull blindfolded and still get the banner character and their weapon. You’re basically a walking gacha cheat code."

Aventurine chuckled, clearly relishing your faith in his supposed supernatural luck. "Very well, but remember: the house always wins, darling. I make no promises."

With a flourish, he plucked the phone from your hands and studied the screen, his eyes darting over the details of the banner. His finger hovered over the ‘Summon’ button, but instead of pressing it, he turned to you, his enigmatic smile widening.

"Let’s make this interesting," he said, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "If I manage to pull your precious five-star on the first try, you owe me dinner—cooked by you, naturally. But if I fail…" He paused, his smile turning sharp. "I’ll owe you a favor. Anything you desire."

You hesitated, your heart skipping a beat—not just at the prospect of the pull, but at the idea of Aventurine owing you something. "Deal."

"Wonderful." He tapped the screen with a dramatic flair, as though sealing a pact with fate itself. The summoning animation began, glowing lights swirling on the screen.

The first few results were three-stars. A predictable disappointment. Aventurine clicked through them with mock boredom, his expression unreadable. But when the screen erupted in golden light, signaling a five-star pull, he raised a brow, his smirk deepening.

"And there it is," he drawled, turning the screen toward you. The banner character's splash art filled the display, the rarest gem of the event staring back at you in all their glory.

You blinked, stunned. "You—how? On the first pull?"

"Darling, I did warn you." He handed the phone back with a smug flourish, leaning back on the couch as if the whole affair had been beneath his notice. "Luck follows me like a loyal hound. Or perhaps…" He trailed off, his gaze locking with yours. "Perhaps it’s just your influence."

Your face burned, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of flustering you completely. "You’re insufferable, you know that?"

"Ah, but you love it," Aventurine teased, his tone dripping with self-assured charm. "Now, about that dinner you owe me…"

You groaned, half in exasperation, half in disbelief. "I’m never living this down, am I?"

"Not a chance," he replied, his smile softening just a fraction. "But I’ll make it worth your while. After all, life’s a gamble, and tonight, you’ve made quite the winning bet."

[bestalbertcamuslover]

“Not all men. Nah, who am I kidding? All men”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ pairing: Sebastian Vettel x GF! Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: none✯

 ︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

She was pacing the living room, phone pressed to her ear as she chatted with her best friend. The conversation had taken its usual turn into juicy gossip, her friend recounting the latest drama with one of her coworkers.

“So, he goes on three dates with her, right? Three! And then just ghosts her. Like, how do men even function like this?” her friend said, exasperated.

She hummed in agreement, rolling her eyes even though she couldn’t see her. “Yeah, men are just... ugh, they’re all the same sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” her friend shot back. “Girl, always. Every single time.”

That made her laugh. “Okay, fine. Men are always like this, gosh.” she paused for a beat, then added with a mischievous chuckle, “Not all men. Nah, who am I kidding? All men.”

Her friend cracked up on the other end of the line, and she joined her, the two of them feeding off each other’s energy. “God, you’re so right,” her friend said. “Anyway, I’ll catch up with you later. Thanks for the laugh.”

“Anytime,” she said, smiling as she hung up and slipped her phone into her pocket.

The room was quiet now, except for the soft rustle of pages turning. She glanced up, seeing Seb on the couch, book in hand, but the amused grin on his face told her he’d heard every word.

“So,” he said, setting his book down and folding his arms. “All men, huh?”

“Wait, you were listening?” she chuckled, “to my very private top secret conversation?” she joked.

He grinned wider, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth as he teased back, “Well, I must say, I learned some rather…pertinent information about the male species today. Seems we're all just a bunch of clueless, womanizing ghosts.” He chuckled softly, standing up from the couch.

“I stand corrected,” she started, her grin wedding with the banter, “queer men are usually not like that.” 

Seb laughed and walked over to her, slipping an arm around her waist. “Queer men, huh? Well, I guess that means I'm still in the doghouse then,” he joked, giving her a playful squeeze.

Seb grinned mischievously as he pulled her closer. “But hey, if all men are really that bad, why do you keep hanging around this one?” he teased, his blue eyes twinkling with playful accusation. “Maybe you secretly enjoy the thrill of being surrounded by such a charming rogue.”

“Okay, okay, maybe not all men,” she finally conceded, “but always a man.”

Seb chuckled and shook his head. “Well, I suppose that's fair. I mean, let's not forget who was chasing after who in the beginning,” he said with a playful smirk. “I seem to recall a certain someone keeping things casual, while I was the eager one wanting to make things serious. Sounds like you were the real rogue there, love.”

She chuckled slightly, as there was true in his words. “Okay, maybe you're like the exception,” she admitted, smiling.

Seb grinned triumphantly and pulled her in for a quick, playful spin. “Now you're talking! I guess even the most die-hard cynic can find a decent bloke now and then,” he teased, giving her waist a gentle squeeze before releasing her.

“Die-hard cynic? Me?” she said, her faux offense evident in her tone.

Seb winked playfully as he took a step back. “Well, you know what they say —the more cynical they are, the more they need a good man to prove them wrong,” he quipped with a cheeky grin. “And lucky for me, I seem to have succeeded in my noble quest.” Seb's grin softened into a more tender smile as he reached out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingertips lightly brushing her cheek. “But in all seriousness, you know I'm just happy to be the exception to your rule.”

 ︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ authors note: I just loved the quote “Not all men, but always a man” Also the images are a little random lol

English is not my first language, and I hope you liked it <3

[hivemuthur]

The Game of Teaching Body - Ch. 3.

viktorxfemale!reader mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes)

AU university, AU modern era, slow burn, frenemies to lovers, teasing, pinning, banter, eventual romance and therefore smut, Viktor is simultaneously a menace and needs a hug, TA Viktor

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6 | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12.

word count: 5,7K

tag: #the game of teaching body

summary: I don't even know. Just... read it. Trigger warning for this chapter: Hamilton, The Musical.

Cross-posted on AO3 + POV3rd Person Version

—

“How come you’re in the science department and doing a theatre gig during Open Days?” Sue asked, lying sideways on her bed, her legs resting on the wall and crinkling up her Blur poster. Her hair was splayed across the floor as she ate a lollipop, following your pacing with nothing but the movement of her eyes.

“Apparently, Theodor is violently ill, and Hale volunteered my flesh in a ritual,” you scoffed. Ridiculous. You’d told Hale there was no way in hell, but he had thrown himself at your feet, weeping theatrically in front of his entire group, while they chanted, “Do it, do it!” like some cult.

You picked up the pieces of costume Hale had brought you after the fitting. They were supposed to be tailored to your size, yet everything was still slightly too big. “There’s no one else in this world who knows Hamilton by heart,” you muttered bitterly. At that moment, you cursed your good memory and your love of musicals more than ever.

“And it’s like… fine that you’re going to play… a Black guy?” Sue whispered the last part, as if it were illegal to even say it. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Sue… he wasn’t Black, Jesus. It’s just the actor... ah, whatever. Will you come?” you pleaded, your voice laced with desperation. It was clear you wouldn’t go through with it unless Sue promised to cheer you on and then make fun of you for the rest of your days together.

“Y/N. Look at me,” Sue said, attempting to make a serious face as the lollipop left her mouth with a quiet pop. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“I don’t deserve you,” you said, crouching down to kiss Sue’s forehead before licking her face for good measure.

“Ugh, you’re so gross. Break a leg!” Sue shouted after you as you ran out, as though you were, well, running out of time.

You tore down the corridor like a madwoman, half-dressed in 18th-century men’s attire because you’d promised Hale you’d make it to rehearsal. Taking a sharp turn around the corner, your forehead collided violently with something hard, and the sound of metal clattering on the tiled floor filled your ears.

Groaning, you rubbed your head and looked up to see that you’d knocked Viktor clean off his feet. What hit your forehead was a hardback version of Bioengineering Fundamentals. Jayce, standing beside him, had to prop himself against the wall to keep from falling over with laughter.

“Jesus, Viktor, I’m so fucking sorry,” you blurted, scrambling to your feet and grabbing him by the waist to help him up. He was so shocked he didn’t say a word. Finally, once you’d managed to gather his scattered notes and hand them back to him, he started laughing.

“Is there a burning need to found a country somewhere?” he asked with a grin, sending Jayce into another round of hysterical laughter.

You tried to regain your composure but failed, laughing along with them. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?” you asked, shooting Viktor a glance and frowning in a friendly way.

The moment felt strange. You hadn’t addressed the A- you’d received on your infamous paper, and you’d been meaning to ask him about it. But he’d fled the classroom before you could ambush him, and it had been like that for the past two weeks.

“Well, for your information, I am helping a friend in need,” you said, patting Jayce’s shoulder as he wheezed with laughter, wiping tears from his face.

“And who are you supposed to be?” Jayce barely managed to ask through his hysterical fit.

“Aaron Burr, pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Before you could think, you took Jayce’s hand in yours, bowed, and placed an introductory peck on it. Thankfully, Jayce thought nothing of it, and the gesture sent him reeling with laughter again. You just rolled your eyes and added, “No time to explain. Come see, the show is in the main courtyard in… shit, in thirty minutes.”

You were about to run off again, but Viktor’s questioning look stopped you. Over your shoulder, you hastily called, “I’ll tell you over a beer!” and fled.

Wait. Had you just invited both Jayce and Viktor to witness your ridiculous performance? And invited Viktor to have a beer with you? That was it—you had completely lost your mind.

Bursting through the backstage doors, you were half out of breath, clutching your costume hat in one hand and your scarf in the other. Hale spun around dramatically, his hands thrown up as though he’d been about to make a grand declaration to the heavens.

“Y/N! My saving grace, my knight in shining breeches—you’re here!” he exclaimed, rushing over to you as if your delay had shaved years off his life. “I was moments away from throwing myself upon the mercy of the audience and telling them the show must not go on. But you’ve come to save us!”

“Cut the theatrics, Hale. I’m here, aren’t I?” you huffed, pulling on the hat and shaking out the rest of your costume. You hadn’t even had time to finish dressing properly.

“Barely,” Hale teased, though his expression softened as he rested his hands on your shoulders. “Really, Y/N. Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

You waved him off, pretending to be nonchalant despite the flush creeping into your cheeks. “Yeah, yeah. You owe me your firstborn or something.”

The rest of the theatre group began to gather around, buzzing with pre-performance energy. Hale snapped into action, leading them into what you could only describe as the most bizarre pre-show ritual you’d ever witnessed. It involved everyone joining hands in a circle, chanting what sounded like a mix of inspirational quotes and nonsense phrases, all while Hale stood in the centre, waving his arms like some kind of benevolent priest.

Trying not to laugh, you leaned in and whispered to him, “You know you’re definitely going to start a cult one day, right?”

Hale turned to you with a mock-offended expression. “How dare you, Mr. Burr? This is high art.” He extended his hand toward you, palm up, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. “Now, are you ready?”

You smirked, placing your hand in his with exaggerated formality. “No time like the present, Mr. Hamilton.”

Hale grinned wide, squeezing your hand once before leading the group toward the stage.

When you stepped out into the courtyard, the cold evening air hit you, but the sight of the assembled crowd gave you no time to focus on it. The makeshift stage was set with a minimalist backdrop, and the audience sat on scattered benches and blankets in the open space. As Hale began his introduction, your eyes scanned the crowd.

It didn’t take long to spot Sue. Your friend stood right at the front, waving frantically and holding up crossed fingers. “Go, Y/N!” Sue yelled, loud enough for the whole audience to hear.

You groaned, covering your face in mock embarrassment, but you couldn’t help smiling. Your gaze drifted to the opposite side of the crowd, where you caught sight of Jayce and Viktor. Jayce, as expected, gave you an enthusiastic thumbs-up, grinning ear to ear. Viktor, standing beside him, met your gaze and offered a subtle nod. His smile was small but unmistakably amused, his golden eyes sparkling in the glow of the stage lights.

A flutter of nerves ran through you, but you straightened your posture and took a deep breath.

Hale’s voice boomed across the courtyard. “Ladies, gentlemen, and beautiful creatures, friends, and foes, tonight you are in for a treat! Our school prides itself on breaking all boundaries, and tonight is no exception. I’m honoured to announce that we have a very special guest joining our cast—a true star from the science department!”

The audience chuckled, and you found yourself bowing awkwardly as Hale gestured toward you with a flourish. You waved sheepishly, suppressing your own laughter at the absurdity of it all. It didn’t help that the audience seemed doubly amused by the fact that you were playing a male role. Boundaries broken, big time.

“Now,” Hale continued, his dramatic flair still in full force, “let us take you back to the revolution!”

You held back a laugh, planted your feet firmly on the stage, and braced yourself for what was sure to be the most ridiculous evening of your academic career. Closing your eyes, you waited for your cue. It was just a couple of songs, and you really knew them by heart. You decided to sink into your role completely, just as you had during those boring summers in the Sheffield suburbs when you and Hale acted out the entire Hamilton soundtrack in your backyard. You had been training to be Aaron Burr for at least five years.

When you performed the first song, you were timid. Alexander Hamilton started with a gentle recitation, balancing on the verge of rap and poetry. Thankfully, you weren’t the main singer in this number, but you did catch the crowd’s surprised expressions as they locked onto the stage chemistry between you and Hale. As you felt the voices of the group swelling behind you, your courage kicked in, and you let yourself sink into the experience. You sang bravely with the choir, hit your cues, and couldn’t help but smile when you saw Sue clutching her chest in awe and Jayce swaying to the music. Viktor, of course, didn’t move an inch.

The next part was far harder. Wait for It was entirely Aaron Burr’s song, and you had no time to transition from the comfort of performing with the group to the isolation of a soloist. As you walked up and down the stage, singing your lines, you closed your eyes and let the music carry you once again. But as you sang the verse I’m willing to wait for it, it struck you that the words felt far removed from the American Revolution. You weren’t singing about history anymore—you were singing about something personal, something closer to your own life. And so, you poured your heart into it.

The crowd was enraptured, and as the song came to an end, you felt tears welling up in your eyes. Not for any particular reason—just the release of tension, the rush of it all.

They finished the set with Non Stop, and it was brilliant. This was what Hale was born for: an artistic, half-sung, half-rapped banter that he got to perform with his best friend while wearing ridiculous, fluffy shirts and oversized hats. You watched him, pride swelling in your chest.

It wasn’t perfect—and yet, it was. The crowd laughed at your mid-song mock conversation, and you had to stifle your own giggles at how absurd it must have looked. Hale was over a full head taller than you, and yet here you were, sparring and singing like equals.

The applause was deafening. You and Hale exchanged a quick, wide-eyed glance before stepping forward to bow. The crowd’s enthusiasm only grew louder, forcing you both to retreat backstage before being called out again, not once but three times. You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all, your cheeks flushed as you waved to the audience. You had no idea how you’d gotten roped into this, but somehow, it felt worth it.

On your third return to the stage, the crowd’s energy reached a new level. Sue stood in the front row, pumping her fists in the air and yelling, “Aaron Burr! Aaron Burr!” The chant caught on like wildfire, spreading through the audience until it echoed off the courtyard walls. Your face turned an even deeper shade of red as you covered your face with your hands in embarrassment.

Hale, ever the showman, raised his hands dramatically, silencing the crowd. “Ladies, gentlemen, and all beautiful creatures,” he declared, striding toward you with the exaggerated flair of a Shakespearean actor. “Clearly, the world is not ready for her!” He paused for effect, then bowed deeply before you, extending the microphone as though it were Excalibur. “I give you... Aaron Burr.”

You shook your head, grinning despite yourself, and took the microphone with mock solemnity. “Thank you, Sir Hamilton,” you said, your voice dripping with exaggerated formality. You turned to the audience, gesturing toward Hale with the mic. “First of all, I’d like to clarify that I am, in fact, his hostage. This whole performance? His idea. I’m just a humble victim of his orchestrated chaos.”

The audience laughed, and you spotted Sue in the front, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes.

“And as you can see,” you continued, a mischievous glint in your eye, “the science department at this fine university has so much to offer. I mean, we clearly do everything around here.” Your words were met with more laughter and applause, and as you glanced out into the crowd, your gaze landed on Viktor.

To your surprise, he was laughing. Not just smiling politely but laughing—his shoulders shaking slightly as his lips curled into a grin. For a moment, you froze. You weren’t sure what to make of it, but the sight warmed you in a way you weren’t prepared for.

Hale leaned into the microphone, snapping you out of your thoughts. “All right, all right, that’s enough of a spotlight for Mr. Burr here,” he teased, taking back the mic. “Now give it up one more time for the entire cast!”

The crowd erupted again, and you took another bow, trying not to stare too long in Viktor’s direction as you exited the stage. As soon as you stepped off, Sue threw her arms around you in a tight hug.

“You didn’t tell me you’re a fucking genius!” Sue practically screamed.

“Ah, not much to do around Sheffield,” you laughed, happy but relieved it was over. There really wasn’t much for them to do around Sheffield, so you all knew your musicals better than your own mothers.

“I too bow to your genius, Mr. Burr,” Jayce’s voice startled you as he dramatically bowed before pulling you into a tight hug. “What the hell, Y/N? What are you even doing in the science department?”

“I… wanna be in the room where it happens,” you quipped, your grin widening as Hale laughed loudly—the only one to catch the reference.

“I had no idea you had it in you,” Viktor said, his tone carefully measured. He looked like he was trying not to meet your gaze, but there was something in his expression—a faint flicker of admiration he was trying to hide. You, caught up in your post-performance high, mistook it for mockery.

“Oh, you have no idea. I have so much in me, Viktor. You’re not ready for me,” you fired back, your inhibitions long gone as you basked in the adrenaline and laughter around you.

Hale’s arm slid around your shoulders from behind, pulling you close as he grinned mischievously. “Pub, pub, pub,” he chanted, looking expectantly at the group.

The others exchanged glances before nodding in agreement. Hale pumped his fist in victory, letting out a triumphant “Yes!” as they began gathering their things.

“Wait, I can’t go dressed as Aaron Burr!” you exclaimed, tugging at the ridiculous fluffy shirt you were still wearing.

“You are Aaron Burr, my love,” Hale declared with dramatic flair, spinning you toward the door as though you were about to take the stage again.

“That would mean one day I’m going to kill you, Hale,” you retorted, crossing your arms in mock indignation.

“Darlin’, dying by your hand would be a blessing,” Hale shot back with a flourish, clasping his hands to his chest as if you’d already delivered the fatal blow.

The group erupted into laughter, but Viktor’s voice cut through, calm and measured as always. “It suits you,” he said, his gaze lingering on you, his lips quirked in that rare, faint smile that always seemed to unnerve you.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What does?”

“The outfit,” Viktor clarified, gesturing subtly to your absurd costume. “It is bold and... untraditional. Very much like you.”

You weren’t sure if that was meant to be a compliment or an insult, but the warmth in his tone made your cheeks flush, nonetheless. “Well, I’m glad someone appreciates my theatrical side,” you said, quickly looking away to avoid overthinking the exchange.

“Let’s go already!” Jayce called, clapping his hands to corral the group.

“Fine, but if anyone recognizes me in public, I’m blaming all of you,” you muttered, pulling the coat Hale handed you over your costume.

“And if they don’t recognize you,” Hale added with a wink, “we’ll just have to start singing again.”

“Oh god, no.” You groaned, but the grin tugging at your lips betrayed you.

The group headed out into the crisp night air, your laughter echoing through the hallways as you made your way to the pub—you, still dressed as Aaron Burr, walking just a little taller with the glow of the performance still lingering in your chest.

You arrived at the pub late, yet it was still packed with current and future students seeking refuge after the Camden Open Days. Hale insisted on getting you drunk at his own expense, so when everyone finally had a drink in hand, the group settled by the fireplace, next to a pair of freshers too occupied with devouring each other’s faces to notice.

“I didn’t think it was possible for someone to be having an even better time than us tonight,” Hale said in an exaggerated whisper, clearly hoping the couple would flinch. They, of course, didn’t.

Jayce and Viktor sat on the couch; Sue crouched on her heels by Hale’s head, while you propped yourself against Hale’s hips as he sprawled with his back to the fire, propping his head on his elbow. His eyes lit up as he spotted Mel approaching the group.

“Thank you for adopting me; my bitches ditched me,” she said with an apologetic smile, planting a loud kiss on Jayce’s cheek before settling on his lap. “I hear we have a new rising star?” she added, bowing her head in recognition toward you.

“Please, I don’t think I can handle so much fame,” you groaned theatrically, palming your face. “But I’m honoured to finally meet you,” you added with a warm smile.

“Honey, I wouldn’t miss this opportunity���Hale doesn’t shut up about you,” Mel teased, grinning at Hale, who accepted the jab with stoic calmness.

“I don’t see why I’d ever have to shut up about her,” he replied, deadpan. “She’s the love of my life.” You only smiled knowingly. He meant every word of it.

Mel raised an eyebrow at Hale’s declaration, then turned her attention to Viktor and Jayce, a sly grin spreading across her face. “Speaking of friends for life—when are you two finally going to accept my invitation to hang out with my girls?”

“I thought you said they just abandoned you?” Jayce asked, faking concern as he patted Mel’s head with exaggerated pity. “I’ll have to have a word with them first.”

You raised your eyebrows, a realization dawning on you—had Viktor lied to you? You watched as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearly searching for a clever response. Yes, he was definitely busted.

He was saved by Sue, who hadn’t looked up from her phone the entire time. She raised her hand, as if trying to answer a question in class. “Guys, do you mind if I… well, ditch you?”

Five pairs of questioning eyes turned to her, and she sighed before adding, “I might or might not have a date.”

“Sue! Spill the tea, or we’re not letting you go!” Hale exclaimed, bouncing upright and causing you—who were still leaning against him—to jolt and spill a little of your beer.

Sue played coy for a moment, but then she decided to own it. “Alice. She’s from your group. She… approached me after your show.”

Hale clapped his hands together dramatically. “In that case, I sense the rise of another power couple! Sue, you have my blessing.” He placed a hand over the crown of her head with mock benediction, earning a round of laughter.

You leaned forward, curiosity piqued. “Will you be coming back tonight, or should I plan to sleep with one eye open in case Alice kidnaps you?”

Sue simply flashed a mischievous smile. “No promises.”

Mel smirked, resting her head on Jayce’s shoulder. “Well, in that case, Jayce, my room will also be free tonight. Don’t go breaking anything, though. My deposit’s on the line.”

Jayce groaned in exasperation, but his ears flushed red, which only made Mel laugh harder.

Your gaze drifted to Viktor, catching the subtle shift in his posture. It seemed the conversation was circling back to him, and he looked like he was already bracing for it. Before anyone could call him out, he cleared his throat. “Well, in that case, I’ll leave the royal couple to their moment of glory. You’ve earned it after such a successful evening.” He offered a polite smile and rose from his seat.

Hale straightened and turned to you, offering you an exaggeratedly regal nod. “What do you say, my love? Do you want to hang with your old man a little longer?”

You grinned, raising your drink in mock solemnity. “Always.”

With that, the group exchanged goodbyes, Sue leaving with a conspiratorial wink, Mel tugging Jayce toward the door, and Viktor giving a brief nod before slipping into the night.

Once you were alone, Hale sighed contentedly and stretched out in his seat. “Well, Mr. Burr, looks like it’s just us. Let’s reminisce about how we conquered the stage, shall we?”

You laughed, leaning back against him. “You mean how you carried me through the whole thing? Sure, I’m in.”

“You were amazing. But you’re no Aaron Burr, I hope you know that,” Hale said seriously as he leaned you against himself, pulled you closer to his chest, and wrapped his arm around your shoulders as was his habit. When you didn’t respond, he added, “If anything, you’re Hamilton.”

“I think I’ve been all of them at different points in my life... but thank you.” You squeezed his hand and smiled to yourself, the high of the performance slowly fading, leaving you tired but content.

“And how’s it going with Mr. Grumpy? Still making your life hard? Do I need to have a word with him?” Hale mused, gently rocking you back and forth in his arms. He listened through enough rants about Viktor to see where this was going.

You sighed, leaning your head against Hale's shoulder. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “One moment, I want to gouge his eyes out. The next, he secretly fixes my test and then avoids me for two weeks, just to make it impossible to say thank you.”

Hale chuckled softly. “Why do you think he does that?” He’d seen enough clumsy advances in his lifetime to spot one from a mile away. This one was a piece of cake.

You shrugged, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “Probably bored out of his mind. All I ever see him doing outside of class is working on his PhD thesis with Jayce.”

Hale tilted his head, a sly grin creeping across his face. “Or…?”

You scoffed and straightened up. “Please, don’t be ridiculous.” The thought was absurd. If anything, you had the potential for a competitive friendship—food for the brain and all that.

Hale’s grin softened, and he shifted, turning you to face him. He placed his hands firmly on your shoulders, his gaze suddenly serious. The theatrical Hale disappeared, replaced by the steadfast best friend you rarely got to see. “Listen to me,” he said quietly, his voice steady. “I don’t care how many times I have to do this, but I’ll keep doing it until you understand what you are.”

You averted your eyes, your face heating up. You let your head hang slightly as you muttered, “Yeeees, I know—I’m a queen.”

Hale shook his head and tilted your chin up so you couldn’t avoid his gaze. “No,” he said firmly. “You are a king. And you bow to no one.”

You blinked, the weight of his words sinking in. For a moment, your chest tightened with emotion, but you managed a small, lopsided smile. “I really fucking love you, you know?” you murmured, your voice quieter now.

***

Hale gave you a long hug by the fountain before you both went your separate ways to your designated dorm buildings. He kissed your forehead and tucked a cigarette behind your ear, for when you’d inevitably want to brood with a smoke and a cup of coffee.

You took a quick shower, slid into your pyjamas, and decided to make use of the cigarette. You wandered to one of the secluded corners of the dorm, where you could lean out of the window and contemplate life with a fag and a cup of tea instead.

You were deep in thought, analysing everything Hale had said to you that evening when a quiet, deliberate grunt startled you.

“I don’t think such behaviour is legal here, Mr. Burr,” came a dry voice. Viktor appeared out of nowhere, leaning casually against the windowsill where you were curled up.

You let out a sharp breath, your hand instinctively going to your chest. "Jesus, you made my soul leave my body for a moment."

Viktor's lips curved into a small, amused smirk. "Ah, it means you know exactly that you are doing a bad thing." His hand extended, reaching out to steal a huff of your smoke.

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against the window. "Please give me a break, I’ve been a good girl all this time." You couldn’t help yourself and gave him an exaggerated eyelash bat as you passed the cigarette to him.

Viktor’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, then he tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. "Have you?" he asked, making sure your eyes were fixed on his lips curling around the cigarette filter.

He paused to inhale, his voice lowering slightly. "Been a good girl?" And exhaled the smoke into your face.

You felt a weird lump forming in your throat, your fingers tightening around your cup of tea. You knew Viktor was pushing your buttons, but part of you couldn’t help but enjoy it—though you weren’t about to admit that out loud.

"I mean, I try," you replied, your voice casual, even though your pulse had quickened slightly.

Viktor remained silent for a moment, studying you carefully, the playful smirk still lingering at the edges of his lips. "Hmm," he said finally, a thoughtful tone in his voice, as he passed the cigarette back to you, your fingers brushing. "Trying doesn’t always mean succeeding."

You narrowed your eyes at him, feeling your defences rise. "And who’s to say what’s a success or not?" The implication made you uneasy. Or excited, all the same. Your chest tightened, and you straightened up a little, leaning slightly away from him, as if the tiny bit of distance between you could somehow shield you.

"Someone who’s been paying attention," Viktor replied softly, his gaze never leaving yours. His voice was smooth, almost coaxing, and his posture remained relaxed, leaning casually against the windowsill. His eyes glinted, knowing he was starting to get under your skin—just as you were getting under his. Especially after today, when he had seen you in a completely different light.

“Well, it doesn’t really matter if I am a good girl or not, as now you have joined me in my crime, and we can share a cell when they come for us.” You let out a quiet laugh to cover the discomfort taking over you.

"Oh, I will deny everything." Viktor's lips curled into a smirk, the playful gleam in his eyes not quite hiding the challenge behind them. He took a drag from the cigarette that was being passed between you, exhaling slowly, the smoke swirling between you like a silent declaration of intent.

"You’re good at that, aren’t you?" You raised an eyebrow, your tone teasing, but there was an edge to it now—more biting than before. You leaned back slightly, crossing your arms over your chest.

"And what are you getting at now?" Viktor's voice lowered just a touch, as he studied you with an expression that bordered on amusement and curiosity. His eyes never left your face, as though waiting for you to reveal something you didn’t even realise you were giving away.

"Ah, nothing, Viktor. Thank you for that test." You waved a hand dismissively, sliding off the window ledge, ready to flee. Your pulse quickened. It wasn’t just the words—they were playing a game, and you weren’t sure if you were prepared for it. Your stomach fluttered at the thought.

"I see. You have looked through me and now you can read me like an open book?" Viktor's expression shifted slightly—there was a challenge in his voice, but also something else, almost a hint of fear that he quickly masked with another drag of the cigarette.

"Precisely," you replied, your voice smooth, but a little more breathless than you meant. Your fingers tightened around your cup of tea, the warmth of it grounding you, even as Viktor’s presence seemed to fill the space around you. You wanted to stand your ground, but his proximity was starting to unsettle you in ways you didn’t expect.

There was a beat of silence between you. Viktor took a step closer, watching you cautiously, his body language suddenly more intense. The playful edge in his voice was gone, replaced by something more serious.

You felt your heart rate spike. "What’s that look for?" you asked, half-expecting him to keep pushing, to keep testing you.

Viktor tilted his head slightly, lowering his gaze as if studying your every movement. "You think you have me figured out, don’t you?" His tone was a bit quieter now, almost thoughtful. You knew nothing.

"Maybe," you said, your voice faltering for a brief moment as you tried to regain control of the conversation. Your eyes flickered to the ground, then back up to him, a challenge sparking in your gaze. "But I’m starting to think that’s part of your charm. Always keeping people guessing. It’s exhausting, though." You tried to sound nonchalant, but even you could hear the tension in your voice.

Viktor didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned in just a fraction closer, the tension between you growing thicker. He took a long drag from the cigarette before exhaling toward you, the smoke swirling lazily around you both.

"Maybe you’re starting to enjoy the challenge," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, a subtle yet deliberate provocation laced into his tone. “I didn’t fix your paper. That was Heimerdinger’s decision,” he added, lying without a flicker of hesitation. At this point, it felt necessary.

Your chest tightened, and you swallowed hard, your breath catching as you felt the weight of his gaze on you—sharp, unrelenting, and entirely too perceptive. "Maybe I am," you replied to his tease, your voice quieter than you intended. It trembled just slightly, betraying your unease. You weren’t sure when it had become so difficult to breathe. “And… um… that’s good to know.”

Viktor studied you for a long moment, his lips curling into a small, almost imperceptible smile. He didn’t say anything at first. Then, slowly, he took a step back, handing you the cigarette again. His fingers brushed lightly against yours as he passed it to you, the touch lingering for a split second longer than necessary. Your breath hitched, and your pulse quickened.

"I think you’re more like me than you care to admit, Y/N," Viktor said, his tone low and measured, his gaze steady and unyielding.

You stared at him, your mind racing, your heart thudding in your chest. For a moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to respond. His words felt like a dare, a challenge you couldn’t ignore, even though part of you wanted to. "Don’t flatter yourself," you managed, your voice steadier now as you tried to recover your footing.

He chuckled softly, the sound laced with something serious rather than mocking. “I wasn’t trying to. But I think you might be right. We’ll see.” He turned, starting to walk away, only to pause and glance back over his shoulder. “Were you to decide there’s something you don’t know yet and need help—my office door is always open to you.”

You lingered for a moment, watching Viktor as he walked away, his steps steady and calm. You took a slow drag from the cigarette, letting the smoke fill your lungs before exhaling into the cool night air.

“Hey, Viktor?” you called out, your voice softer now, almost teasing.

He turned his head slightly, his profile outlined by the faint light from the hallway. “Yes?”

“Say hi to Mel’s friends from me next time you see them,” you said, a sly smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Viktor’s expression remained unreadable for a moment, his eyes narrowing just enough to signal he understood your jab. Then, without missing a beat, he replied, “Go to sleep, Y/N,” his voice low and quiet, but with enough bite to draw a small laugh from you. You shook your head, flicking the ash from the cigarette as you watched him leave.

Your thoughts lingered on him longer than you wanted to admit. Viktor, with his sharp words, his unreadable smirks, and the maddening way he seemed to see right through you. You closed your eyes briefly, exhaling one last trail of smoke before stubbing out the cigarette. “Go to sleep, Y/N,” you muttered under your breath, mimicking his accent. Your lips curved into a faint smile despite yourself. But sleep wouldn’t come easily tonight, you knew that much.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Cold Hands - David Powers X GN Reader

Title: Cold Hands

David Powers X GN Reader

Additional Characters: Marko, Paul, and Dwanye (Mentioned)

WC: 3,294

Warnings: Mentions of smoking/cigarettes (Not by Reader), love at first sight?, italics, banter, flirting, teasing, kind of soft David, suggestive, blood-drinking mentioned, suggestive blood-drinking mentioned, and fluff

Leaning up against the wooden rails of the boardwalk, you wrapped your arms around yourself; a breeze flying past you, sending a chill down your spine. Beside you, David stood. Cigarette loosely sitting between his lips, his ice-blue eyes wandered from person to person. The boardwalk was not as crowded as it usually was - a few groups of people here and there - but you didn't really care. You just wanted to be alone with David for a while. No offense to Marko, Paul, and Dwanye, but they could be quite the handful after a while, and it was nice to just be able to have some alone time with David; even for a little bit.

You met David - and Marko, Paul, and Dwayne - on the very same boardwalk. You were supposed to meet up with friends and go to some party that was going on, but you weren't really in the partying mood that night. Instead, you found yourself on the boardwalk, taking in the sights and smells of the boardwalk amusement park. You had already had yourself a bit of fun, going on the carousel twice, and trying your luck at a rigged game, but it was nearing the time when you'd head home for the night. But, that night, you decided to stay out just a little bit later than usual. 

That was when you met David. 

You could hear motorcycles roaring over the sound of children's laughter and the people's screams on the roller coaster. You followed the sound, spotting the four bikes racing down the boardwalk, weaving past other pedestrians who were too busy laughing or talking to pay attention. Thankfully, no one got hit or run over, and the first thought that came into your mind was just how dangerous they were all being. 

You moved back a bit when you noticed that the four of them were coming your way, and as the first bike sped past, your eyes locked onto its rider. The bleach-blonde's head turned, his piercing blue eyes meeting yours, and for that split second, the world seemed to go by in slow-motion. His gaze was so intense, you felt your breath catch in your throat as he passed by.

But then the moment ended and you blinked, your mind racing - as was your heart. You had heard about the punk bike riders, but even though you had lived in Santa Carla for years at this point, you had never seen them up close before; even for just a split second. 

It wasn't until later in that week that you saw him again. You found yourself back on the boardwalk, with some pink cotton candy in your hand. Was it crazy that you came back multiple times and stayed up later than you usually did to try and catch a glimpse of him again? Maybe, but you just couldn't get him out of your head. Not because you were interested in him - you definitely were. Not because he fascinated you - you were absolutely fascinated. But because you wanted to know more about him. He was definitely just some bad boy, wanna-be gangster. But who was he? Did he always wear that leather jacket? What was his name? How did he get his hair like that? And for the life of you, you couldn't figure out from that one split-second encounter why you had such an interest in him.

Walking down the boardwalk, you occasionally pulled at the candy floss, the sweet fake strawberry taste coated your tongue; you liked the way it melted. Your mind was elsewhere, debating on whether or not you'd get funnel cake the next time you visited the food booth. Sidestepping around another group of people, you made your way out of the amusement park. The boardwalk was crowded, as it usually was, so it was only a matter of time until either you bumped into someone, or someone bumped into you.

And you must have jinxed yourself because a few moments later, a small group of children ran past you, laughing and giggling as they made their way into the park. The last child, stumbling behind, ran right into your side, making you lose your balance and stagger to the side and right into someone's chest. Two hands wrapped around your waist, stabilizing you.

Finding your footing, you felt warmth rise up in your cheeks and ears from embarrassment, "I am so sorry-" You looked up, your eyes meeting those of the person who saved your ass. You paused, staring at his face, at his eyes, and you realized that it wasn't just any random stranger standing in front of you. It was him. "It's you..." You spoke softly, and the bleach-blonde in front of you smirked, letting out a small 'humph.'

"Me?" He asked, seemingly amused as the two of the three young men behind him echoed that chuckle - also seemingly amused by the situation. 

At their laughter, and the realization that his hands were still on your waist, you cleared your throat and took a step back - his hands fell to his side; "I- Nevermind, thanks for catching me." You spoke nervously, but you couldn't look away from him, no matter how embarrassed you were. There was this odd tension in the air, and you had to admit you weren't sure what to make of it. Yes, you found him incredibly attractive. That bleached-blonde hair, light stubble across his chin, and those blue eyes of his, but somehow... He- He just felt different. He was different in a way you couldn't explain. A sense of familiarity mixed with uncertainty, and something else you couldn't even begin to describe.

The bleach-blonde - the leader of the small group, you had assumed - didn't say anything for a moment, and his smirk never faded, his eyes scanning over your form with those eyes of his, a shiver ran down your spine. "What's your name?" 

"Y/N. What's yours?" You responded, and you were glad you remembered to respond. 

"David." He answered, before gesturing to the three behind him, "And this is Marko, Paul, and Dwayne."

'David.' You thought, 'So that's his name...'

From behind David, the blonde - Paul - smiled and waved at you, "Hello!" 

"Are you new?" Marko then asked, leaning around Paul to ask, "I don't think we've seen you before."

You shook your head, "No, uh, I just don't come to the boardwalk that often." You answered, and David let out another soft 'humph.'

"Well, that explains it then," He spoke, and once more, your attention was brought right back to him. That grin was still present on his lips. You swallowed hard and averted your gaze briefly, the moon was high in the sky; you should be heading home. David continued to watch you, intrigued. He watched as you shifted your weight slightly, as the lights from the amusement park sign danced across your features, and reflected off your hair. He remembered you, for a few nights prior. He had rode past you. He let out one last amused 'humph', your eyes leaving the moon and once more meeting his. He then began to walk around you; like a wild animal stalking around its prey. "Come on, boys." He spoke as his gloved hand raised to take a few strands of your hair, letting it slide through his leather-gloved fingers. With one last look, he left, his friends following behind him, but not before Marko grabbed a piece from your cotton candy.

Your eyes followed after him, watching as he disappeared in the crowd, and once he was finally out of your sight you let out the breath you didn't even realize you were holding. Your feet then led you back to your house in a daze. You - again - couldn't stop thinking about him. Your mind would wander, yes, but then it would go straight back into thinking about him. You replayed your first conversation with him over and over again in your head, and for some reason, you knew that this was not going to be your last encounter with him.

~~~

Another breeze ruffled your hair, tickling your cheeks as you let out a small sigh. You did not expect the night to get so chilly, and you began to regret not wearing a thicker jacket. But, your thoughts on how cold the night was quickly left your mind as you felt David's arm wrap around your shoulders; tugging you into his side. You looked up, and the first thing you saw was his bright, icy blue eyes staring right back into yours. 

"Cold?" He spoke as if he read your mind. The thought made you mentally laugh.

"Yeah... Cold." You replied, your voice barely louder than a whisper, but he heard it nevertheless. "But, I’m okay."

He looked back at the people walking past, "Hmm," He pulled the cigarette from his lips, breathing the smoke out into the air, before turning to look at you fully; leaning his side against the wood. His arm around your shoulders raised, cupping your cheek to caress it with the padded leather of his thumb gently. His stare was intense - as always - as his eyes searched yours, looking for what exactly, you could not tell, but you found yourself unable to look away either. After a few moments of silence, he leaned forward ever so slightly and pressed his lips against your forehead. Another breeze shot by, and you shuffled closer to him as goosebumps erupted all over your arms and neck. Slipping your arms around David's waist, your hands slipping under his leather jacket, you buried your face into his shoulder. "You're really cold." He spoke, and you hummed, shutting your eyes.

"Yeah," You nuzzled your cheek into the space between his neck and shoulder. "I'm fine, though."

"Liar." He muttered, feeling how cold your nose was as you nuzzled further into him. "We can wait for the boys back at the cave." His arms wrapped around you, holding you to him. 

You knew that Paul, Marko, and Dwayne would be fine. But, deep down, you hoped that they got your usual order at the nearby Chinese restaurant right; your stomach rumbled. Sighing, you tightened your hold around him, reluctant to let go, but you did, "Okay." 

~~~

Upon arriving at the cave hideout, you quickly made your way inside. Seeing your throw blanket that you brought from home on the back of the tattered couch, you quickly grabbed it; wrapping it around yourself the best you could before sitting down on the said couch. David eventually made his way over, plopping down beside you, and immediately pulling you into his lap; like he usually did.

With the corners of the soft throw blanket curled in your fists, you wrap your arms around his neck, covering both of you in a cocoon of warmth. Your head rested on his shoulder before letting out a sigh. Again, it was nice to have the chance to spend some alone time with him.

David - though usually arrogant and obviously dangerous around others - was actually soft and gentle when it came to you. When it came to you... Well, he'd probably do anything for you. Honestly, who knew that he was such a cuddly bear? A cuddly dangerous bear with razor-sharp teeth to anyone who gets on his bad side.

Shifting slightly, you slipped your hands into your lap, the blanket thankfully staying around the two of you as you pressed your cheek into the cool leather of his shoulder. "They're gonna forget about my sweet and sour pork, aren't they?" You asked quietly, not really wanting to disrupt the silence, but you felt the need to talk.

"Probably." He spoke, his words low and husky; you didn't have to look up at him to know that he was probably grinning. Slipping back into the comfortable silence, you sighed once more, your fingers subconsciously fidgeting with the leather fabric of his arm wrapped around your stomach in front of you. Lifting the arm from around your stomach, you began to play with the leather-gloved hand. 

David watched as you did so, watching as you fiddled with his fingers, bending them, or tracing the stitches along the side of the glove. You did this often, and David had no idea why you were so... Obsessed with his hands. And he never asked you why, but curiosity was almost burning a hole through him. Not to mention, his ego grew knowing that you were so obsessed with his hands.

Silently, without a word, he took his hand from your curious ones. You were about to say something but in awe, you watched as he raised a hand to his mouth. Your lips fell agape, your eyes trained on him - on his hand, lips, eyes - as he bit down on the tip of his gloved pointer finger. David’s eyes never left you as he slid off the glove in one agonizingly slow pull. Was it mighty attractive? The way he stared at you, the way his somewhat pointed canines peeked out between his lips as he bit into his glove… Yes, and it almost distracted you from the fact that he took his glove off. Your eyes dropped from his lips and soon found themselves solely trained on his ungloved hand. His pale skin looked so smooth, his fingers long and slender.

And like a fly to a bright light, you were captivated. Slowly, carefully, you reached out, and the moment your skin touched his, you felt a warm sensation rush throughout your body. His skin was cold to the touch, but you didn't mind it. And as you did with his gloved hand, you began to trace lines along the inside of his palm with your fingertips.

David's eyes stayed focused on you; his brow furrowed slightly, but he remained silent as you traced over the lines of his skin. And then, slowly, he lifted his hand from yours, his thumb coming up to cup your chin; gently lifting your head to look at him. Your heart skipped a beat when your eyes met his, once more the intensity of his stare sent shivers down your spine. 

He didn't say anything, no, only brushing the pad of his thumb against your bottom lip, before leaning down to capture your lips with his. The kiss itself was soft, tender; which was rare. You were so used to him being rough around the edges, rough and addicting. Taking your lips into his, devouring you. You always liked it, the feel of his lips, his tongue, and even his leather-gloved hands on your skin. But tonight, it was different. It was slow, deliberate. It was as if he was trying to memorize the very taste and shape of your lips. 

You loved the rough, mischievous sides of David, but you also loved the soft and loving side that he possessed. 

As his lips fell from yours, you let out a breath, and opened your eyes; immediately you noticed the shift in David’s demeanor. His usually bright, mischievous gaze had darkened, his pupils blown wide, and the faint shimmer of his fangs peeked out from under his lips. His bare hand, which had been gently resting on the back of your neck, twitched almost involuntarily, the grip tightening ever so slightly as if he were holding back.

It only took a moment to understand. Once fixated on yours, his eyes slowly drifted lower, lingering at the curve of your throat, his gaze becoming more intense. You knew that look - dark and hungry.

His fingers brushed through your hair, slowly tucking the strands away from your neck, exposing the skin he so craved. You could feel his breath on your throat, hot and deliberate, sending shivers down your spine. You weren’t scared. He’d bitten you before; you had faint marks from the previous blood-sucking events. Though, you would never admit it, there was something about the way it felt - intimate, addicting - that you found yourself... Enjoying it.

You sighed softly, tilting your head just enough to meet his eyes. “David… Are you hungry?”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, his eyes gleaming with that dangerous edge you’d come to love. His voice dropped, low and seductive. “You know me all too well, love.” His thumb grazed your neck, teasing the skin as he continued, “I could never hide it from you, could I?” His words hung in the air, thick with desire and danger, that smirk only deepening as he leaned in, lips ghosting over your pulse. "The real question is… Are you going to stop me?" His tone was playful, but beneath it, there was that unmistakable hunger. And you knew you wouldn’t stop him. You never did.

His lips hovered just above your pulse, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin. You could feel the tension in the air, thick and electric, as David’s hand slowly curled tighter at the back of your neck, holding you in place, though you weren’t planning on moving. His smirk lingered as he pressed a featherlight kiss to the side of your throat, the contrast between the softness of his lips and the sharpness of his intentions sending your heart racing.

"I haven't stopped you before..." You muttered, your eyes slipping shut as he continued trailing kisses.

“Such a sweet little thing,” He murmured against your skin, dripping with vampiric desire.

His fangs, now fully visible, glinted in the soft light of the cave as he pulled back just enough for you to see the hunger in his eyes. Their darkness had deepened, and his pupils were blown wide, swallowing the usual teasing glint that danced there. You felt your blood pounding in your chest and throbbing at your throat - exactly where he wanted it.

David’s hand slid from your neck to your waist, pulling you flush against him, his other hand threading into your hair. He tipped your head to the side, exposing the curve of your neck fully to him, his eyes following the path of your pulse like a predator watching its prey. His lips ghosted over your skin, and you could feel the sharp points of his fangs just grazing your flesh.

You swallowed hard, the mix of fear and excitement coursing through you like adrenaline. “I won't stop you,” You whispered, your voice breathy as your hands gripped the fabric of his leather jacket. 

A dark chuckle escaped him, the sound vibrating against your throat. “I know you won’t,” He replied, his voice dangerously smooth; sinful. “You like this… Don’t you?” But, before you could answer, you heard Paul and Marko’s laughter. 

David sighed heavily, as did you, his face digging into your neck, his eyes shutting. There goes your moment…

“Guess who brought dinner!?” Paul yelled out, dragging along some guy’s almost dead body along the cave floor. Behind him, Marko had a grin on his face, noticing how he and the other two boys had unintentionally ruined your private moment together.

David raised his head, his usual stoic expression appearing on his face, his hands gripping your waist in annoyance. “You did save some for the rest of us, right?” He asked, tilting his head, and Paul nodded his head.

“Yeah, there’s enough for all of us,” Paul huffed, nudging the unconscious body with his foot.

David hummed, before gently scooting you to sit on the couch as he stood. You let out a sigh, crossing your arms as Marko, Paul, and David began to dig in. Dwayne came over to you, silent and quiet as always, carrying a bag of Chinese takeout. With an appreciative smile, you thanked him, taking your food.

At least you got your sweet and sour pork…

[elizabeth-holland24]

Snowed In at the Country Inn - Chapter 3

The morning began with the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the snow-dusted town. You were making your way to the breakfast table, your boots crunching on the icy path. Jake trailed behind, his hands shoved in his jacket pockets, offering the occasional cheeky comment about how you could’ve saved him a seat instead of rushing ahead.

“You snooze, you lose,” you quipped over your shoulder, smirking.

Inside the cosy café, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the air. Natasha and Bradley sat at a corner table, laughing over something on Bradley’s phone. You and Jake approached with your trays, looking for an open spot. Natasha noticed them first, waving them over.

“Plenty of room here!” Natasha offered, scooting over to make space.

The four quickly fell into easy conversation. Natasha and Bradley, charming and approachable, asked about your and Jakes plans for the day.

“We’re just helping out with the festival stuff,” Jake said casually, leaning back in his chair.

“Oh, so it’s a couples’ volunteering thing?” Natasha teased, her eyes twinkling.

Your eyes widened. “Oh no, we’re not—”

“Definitely not,” Jake added with a grin. “Though, she’d be lucky.”

You rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the slight warmth creeping up her cheeks. Natasha raised an eyebrow knowingly, and Bradley gave Jake a playful nudge.

“Sure, sure,” Bradley said, smirking. “You two have that vibe, though. Just saying.”

After breakfast, you and Jake headed back into the snowy streets, the conversation from earlier still lingering in your mind. Jake seemed unbothered, whistling a tune as they walked.

Later in the day, as you and Jake passed the town square, when you spotted Penny and Pete in the midst of a heated discussion. Penny’s arms were crossed, and Pete was gesturing animatedly toward a stack of crates.

“What’s going on?” you asked, approaching.

Penny sighed, looking visibly stressed. “As you know, the snowstorm’s blocked the roads, and the big shipment of supplies we needed for the Christmas festival can’t get through. Without it, we’re going to have to cancel the main event.”

Pete added, “We’ve tried calling around, but no luck. Everyone’s stuck until after Christmas.”

Your brow furrowed in thought. “Maybe there’s a way to work around it. In my planner, I have a section for last-minute event disasters. We had something like this happen once at a fundraiser, and we managed to improvise.”

Penny’s face brightened slightly. “Really? I don't want to be a bother, you've already helped so much. Besides, these were supposed to be your holidays. ”

“It's no bother really,” you said firmly. “It’s Christmas. We’ll figure something out.”

Jake crossed his arms, giving her a playful grin. “Living up to your last name, Miss Hallmark.”

She rolled her eyes, a small laugh escaping. “Real funny.”

Pete and Penny exchanged a glance, something unspoken passing between them. “Remind you of anyone?” Penny murmured to Pete, who chuckled softly.

As the day went on, Natasha pulled you aside while you were sorting through decorations in a storage shed.

“So,” Natasha began, leaning casually against a stack of boxes, “what’s the deal with you and Jake?”

You nearly dropped the string of lights you were untangling. “What? Nothing. There’s no deal.”

Natasha smirked. “Come on. You two have been glued to each other all day. The banter, the looks—it’s pretty obvious.”

“You’re seeing things,” you said firmly. “We’re complete opposites. And after the holidays, we’ll go our separate ways. It’s not like we’ll ever see each other again.”

Natasha’s smile softened. “Sometimes opposites work. And sometimes, taking a leap of faith is worth it.”

Meanwhile, Bradley found Jake lounging near a fire pit, sipping on a hot chocolate. He plopped down beside him, grinning.

“So, when’s the wedding?” Bradley teased.

Jake rolled his eyes but smirked. “Real original, Bradshaw. She’s just helping out with the festival.”

“Sure, sure,” Bradley said, nudging him. “You’re totally not into her.”

Jake didn’t answer right away, his gaze flickering toward the storage shed, where you and Natasha were still talking.

“She’s… different,” he admitted finally. “Not what I expected.”

Bradley grinned. “And that terrifies you, doesn’t it?”

Jake scoffed, trying to play it cool. “Please. She’d be lucky to have me.”

Bradley laughed, clapping him on the back. “Keep telling yourself that, Hangman.”

As the sun dipped lower, casting the town square in hues of gold and amber, Jake and you worked together to hang string lights. You balanced on a ladder, carefully stretching to hook a string over a tall beam. The lights swayed in your hand as you leaned a little too far, and suddenly, your footing slipped.

“Whoa!” you yelped, arms flailing.

Jake moved faster than you could react, his hands steadying you around the waist as you fell against him. He smirked, his green eyes alight with mischief. “How many times are you going to fall for me?”

You let out a shaky laugh, brushing off your embarrassment. “Maybe stop standing so close to ladders, and we’ll find out.”

He chuckled but kept his hands on you a moment longer before helping you down. “Alright, Hallmark Queen. Where’s the next string going?”

You arched an eyebrow. “You call me Hallmark Queen again, and you’ll be the one falling. Off the roof.”

But Jake’s attention drifted to your open planner on the table nearby. He picked it up, flipping through the meticulously organized pages, a mix of curiosity and amusement on his face. “What’s this? ‘Christmas Eve Fireworks Contingency Plan’? ‘Backup Hot Cocoa Recipe’?” He snorted. “Do you plan your whole life like this?”

You snatched the planner out of his hands, glaring at him. “It’s called being prepared. Not that you’d understand.”

Jake leaned against the table, folding his arms. “I just don’t get it. Why plan every little detail? Big moments—especially with people—are supposed to happen naturally. If you care about someone, it shouldn’t feel like a checklist.”

Your fingers tightened on the planner. “Maybe not everyone can afford to sit back and let things happen. Some of us have to make sure things work.”

“Work? It’s Christmas, not a military op. Relax a little,” he said, trying to keep the mood light.

But your voice turned icy. “Easy for you to say. You’ve probably coasted through life, grinning your way out of trouble. Not everyone gets that luxury.”

Jake frowned, sensing the sharpness beneath your words but unsure of its source. “Whoa. Where’s this coming from?”

You hesitated, struggling to keep your emotions in check. “It’s nothing. Just drop it.”

Jake tilted his head, studying you. “You know, for someone so good at planning everyone else’s joy, you’re pretty lousy at opening up about your own stuff.”

Your eyes flashed, and you bit out, “You wouldn’t get it. People like you never do. You joke, you charm, you let everything roll off your back—and when things fall apart, someone else has to fix it.”

The sting of your words hit him, but his gaze softened as he caught sight of a faded photo sticking out of the planner. It was of a woman with kind eyes, unmistakably your mother.

“Is this your mom?” he asked gently.

You stiffened, snatching the photo away, as if protecting a piece of yourself. “Just leave it.”

Jake hesitated, sensing the depth of your guardedness but unable to stop himself from saying, “You know, sometimes you’re so uptight, it’s like you were raised by a drill sergeant.”

Your breath caught, and you turned on him, your voice trembling with barely restrained anger. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. And maybe if people around me weren’t so carefree, I wouldn’t have to be this way!”

Jake’s frustration bubbled over. “Carefree, huh? So I’m the problem now? Maybe people like you should try letting go for once instead of trying to control everything.”

Your voice rose, shaking with emotion. “Control? You think I want to be this way? I have to be. Because if I’m not, then everything—everything—falls apart.”

The rawness in your tone caught him off guard, but before he could respond, you stepped closer, your words cutting deep. “You think life’s just a series of lucky breaks, Jake? It’s not. Some of us have to fight for every bit of security we get. And I plan because it’s the only way to make sure no one else feels as lost as I did.”

Jake faltered, realizing too late he’d hit a nerve he didn’t understand. “I didn’t mean—”

“Forget it,” you interrupted, your voice breaking. You turned to walk away but froze when he called after you.

“Hey,” he said, his tone quieter now. “I wasn’t trying to—”

You stopped, glancing back over your shoulder, tears glinting in your eyes. “Save it, Jake. Just stick to the lights.”

As you walked away, Jake rubbed the back of his neck, guilt and confusion warring within him. Watching your retreat, he muttered to himself, “Way to go, Seresin. Real smooth.”

A/N: IM BACK BABY. I know the holiday season is over but I am finishing this story doesnt matter if christmas and new years passed. This wont be the only fight they have im afraid but its a romcom anythin can ba solve. Or can it? Thank you so much for youre support. Don't forget to comment, like and reblog, so I know if you are enjoying it. Please do tell me your thoughts on the story. Love you guys and thanks for reading <3

[rook-laidir]

Even more Rook banter!

Rook: Hey, Taash. Do you think you could use your fire to make things move?

Taash: What do you mean?

Rook: If we were sitting on something and it had wheels, and you sat in the back and breathed fire, would it start to move?

Taash: Huh. Dunno. Wanna try it?

Rook: Yes!

~~~

Rook: So what’s your kill count? Do you keep track?

Lucanis: I am a professional assassin. Of course, I keep track.

Rook: So what’s your number?

Lucanis: That depends - are we counting the people I have to kill in order to get to my contract? Henchmen? Lackeys? Antaam who happen to be in the area?

Rook: Point taken.

~~~

Rook: Does Spite have his own kill count or do you share?

Lucanis: If he needs to use my limbs, it’s my kill.

Spite: No fair! My kills!

Rook: Don’t worry, Spite, I know they’re yours.

Spite: More killing!

Lucanis: Mierda.

~~~

Rook: So…we’re spirits.

Davrin: No, we’re not.

Rook: Ancient elves were.

Davrin: We’re not ancient.

Rook: How do you know?

Davrin: I watched you nearly drown in the Treviso canals, Rook. That’s not ancient elvhen spirit behavior.

Rook: Hey!

~~~

Neve: You escaped Tevinter slavery, something the slave owners pride on being nearly impossible, and the first thing you did was join up with the Lords of Fortune?

Rook: It wasn’t the first thing I did. The first thing I did was cough my lungs out from almost drowning. Then I scrounged up enough gold to buy a sandwich, and then I joined up with the Lords.

Neve: Was that always the plan?

Rook: I wanted to join when I was a kid and by the time I was free, I didn’t exactly have a backup plan. Where else was a charming scoundrel like myself supposed to go?

Neve: “Charming,” is that what they call it?

Rook: No, most people call it “pain in the ass,” but I prefer “charming.”

~~~

Neve: You know, we might have time to stop by The Lamplighter later. Maybe catch one of Cida’s shows.

Rook: Neve Gallus, are you trying to make me like Minrathous?

Neve: Hardly. I’m not wasting my time trying to achieve the impossible. But if you insist on coming back to Dock Town after everything, the least I can do is show you the parts that aren’t terrible.

Rook: And I thought I was supposed to be the sweet one.

Neve: You are.

~~~

Rook: Still have some time to catch Cida’s show? Maybe stop by Hal’s?

Neve: Is this your way of saying you like coming to Dock Town now?

Rook: Maybe I just like the people.

Neve: That’s what will get you every time. The people have a way of sticking with you.

Rook: Here’s hoping.

~~~

Neve: Do you ever miss Rivain?

Rook: Hard to miss it when we have an Eluvian that lets me make a day trip out of it.

Neve: Fair. I meant staying there. With the Lords of Fortune.

Rook: Yes, but no, but also kinda? It’s complicated.

Neve: That’s home for you.

~~~

Harding: So I have good news and bad news.

Rook: What’s the bad news?

Harding: The bad news is Assan ate most of the chocolate chip cookies my Ma sent us.

Rook: Aww, your ma made cookies?

Harding: That was the good news.

~~~

Rook: Hey, Emmrich! Do you think it smells like updog here?

Manfred: *happy hiss*

Rook: No, you gotta wait for him to ask what it is first.

Emmrich: *tired sigh*

~~~

Bellara: Rook, I was wondering -

Rook: I didn’t break it.

Bellara: Oh, no, not that! Wait, what didn’t you break?

Rook: Nothing!

~~~

Bellara: Rook, are you ok?

Rook: What do you mean?

Bellara: Our gods are trying to destroy the world!

Rook: They’re not my gods.

Bellara: I know, but it makes everything about us, elves, I mean, so much more complicated.

Rook: I know. And I know people are going to use this as a reason to treat us worse than they already are. But right now, I just want to stop them.

~~~

Bellara: I know you’re not Dalish, but how come you never…

Rook: Cared about the Evanuris?

Bellara: Only if you’re comfortable answering! Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have asked.

Rook: I don’t really care about any gods, elf or not. None of them ever came when I needed them to.

Bellara: Right…sorry.

Rook: You don’t have to keep apologizing.

Bellara: Sorry. Shit. Sorry!

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Paint Me Like One of Your French Girls

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x Female!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, playful banter/chasing, suggestive content, smut, female reader sooo female anatomy (sorry to my baby boys out there reading this)

Author’s Note: I hope you’re ready for our yummy Scott. I have no clue if I used the work Bonnie right, I apologize if I didn’t (feel free to correct me)

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the bedroom as you stirred awake. Johnny was already up—or rather, awake—but he hadn’t left the bed. He was propped up on one elbow, watching you sleep with a lopsided grin.

“You’re staring again,” you muttered, your voice still heavy with sleep.

“Can’t help it,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “Yer the bonniest sight I’ve ever seen.”

“Bonnie? I probably drooled all over the pillow,” you mumbled, turning your face into the mattress.

Johnny chuckled, his deep laugh rumbling through the quiet room. “Aye, maybe just a wee bit.”

You groaned, reaching out to swat at him, but he caught your wrist, kissing your knuckles. “Ach, don’t be embarrassed, lass. I think it’s adorable.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help smiling as he tangled his legs with yours, holding you close.

“Stay here the day,” he murmured, his voice soft and thick with his brogue.

You tilted your head to look up at him, raising an eyebrow. “And let you burn the house down unsupervised? I don’t think so.”

Johnny gasped, clutching his chest as if you’d mortally wounded him. “Burn the house down? That was one time, and I told ye—”

“—‘The curry needed more fire,’” you finished for him, grinning. “And then the fire department had to show up.”

“Yer dramatizin’,” he said, though the pink flush creeping up his neck gave him away.

“You set off *three* alarms, Johnny.”

“Alright, fine,” he relented with a laugh. “But I’ve learned since then. Let me make breakfast, and I’ll prove it tae ye.”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, unconvinced, but you let him pull you out of bed.

---

In the kitchen, Johnny’s enthusiasm quickly outpaced his skill. He stood at the stove with a spatula in hand, flipping pancakes like it was a military operation. Unfortunately, the first few came out a little too... crispy.

“See? I told ye I’ve improved,” he said proudly, holding up a pancake that was burned on one side and raw on the other.

“Improved? That pancake’s got a sunburn *and* frostbite,” you teased, snatching it out of his hand.

“Yer a hard woman tae please,” he grumbled, but there was no heat in his tone.

You laughed, stepping in to take over. “Alright, step aside, Picasso. I’ll handle this.”

He pouted but didn’t argue, instead wrapping his arms around your waist from behind as you worked. “Ye know, this isn’t fair. How’s a man supposed tae concentrate when yer standin’ there lookin’ so perfect?”

“Johnny, I’m literally in sweatpants and an old T-shirt,” you said, flipping a pancake.

“Doesnae matter. Yer still my bonnie lass,” he said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

By the time breakfast was finished, you’d managed to salvage the meal, though Johnny still claimed all the credit.

---

After breakfast, Johnny drifted over to the corner of the living room where his art supplies were set up. It was a little nook you’d put together for him, complete with an easel, a sturdy desk, and shelves lined with sketchbooks and paints.

“Back tae the pencils again?” you asked, leaning on the doorway as he pulled out a fresh sketchbook.

“Aye,” he said, glancing at you briefly before settling in.

You tilted your head, watching as he began to sketch. Every now and then, he’d look up at you, his eyes soft and thoughtful, before quickly turning back to his work.

“You’re staring again,” you pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

“Can ye blame me?” he shot back, his lips twitching into a grin. “Yer distractin’, lass.”

The day passed in comfortable silence, broken only by the sound of his pencil scratching across the paper and the occasional rustle of you turning the pages of your book. But as the hours wore on, your curiosity grew.

“What are ye workin’ on?” you asked casually, pretending not to care.

“Just somethin’ small,” he said, his tone evasive.

You squinted at him. “Johnny…”

“Dinnae worry about it,” he said, waving you off. “It’s no ready yet.”

His dodgy answers only made you more determined to find out. By the time dinner rolled around, you couldn’t resist pressing him.

“Alright, spill,” you said as you both cleaned up. “What’s in the sketchbook?”

“Nosy, aren’t ye?” he teased, drying his hands on a towel.

“Yes! Because you’ve been working on it all day and won’t let me see!”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Ye’ll see it when I’m ready, love.”

That answer didn’t satisfy you, and the mischievous glint in his eye only made you more suspicious. You waited until he was distracted, then made a grab for the sketchbook.

“Oi!” Johnny shouted, laughing as he snatched it back.

“Let me see!” you demanded, trying to wrestle it away.

“Not a chance, lass!”

And just like that, the chase was on. You darted through the house, laughing and shouting as you tried to grab the sketchbook. Johnny was faster, but you were more determined.

When you finally managed to snatch it, you bolted into the bedroom and locked the door behind you.

“Open the door, woman!” Johnny called, pounding lightly on the wood.

“Not until I see what’s in here!” you yelled back, flipping open the sketchbook.

The sight of the drawings stole your breath. Page after page was filled with you—not just your face, but the little details he loved most. The way you tucked your hair behind your ear. The curve of your smile when you laughed. The peaceful look on your face when you slept.

Johnny burst through the door just as you were staring at one particularly tender sketch.

“Ye weren’t supposed tae see those yet,” he said softly, his cheeks tinged pink.

“They’re beautiful,” you whispered, looking up at him.

He crossed the room in a few quick strides, pulling you into his arms. “Not as beautiful as ye.”

You smiled, unable to resist teasing him. “So… when are you going to paint me like one of your French girls?”

Johnny froze, then burst into laughter. “Ye did not just say that.”

“Oh, I absolutely did.”

His laughter faded, and a wicked grin spread across his face. “Ye know, I could make that happen.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah?”

“Aye,” he murmured, his voice dropping as he leaned in close. “But first…”

His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, “Yer gonna have tae stay very, very still.” His lips traveled down from your ear over your neck to the swell of where your breasts reside, his hands traveling under your shirt as he slides it up. His head goes to your stomach and kisses up to the valley of your breasts. Johnny's hands slid under your shirt, his calloused fingers splaying across the smooth skin of your stomach. He looked up at you with hooded eyes, his expression a mix of tenderness and barely restrained desire. Slowly, he began to inch your shirt upward, his lips trailing kisses along the exposed flesh.

"Johnny..." you breathed, tangling your fingers in his short brown hair. Your heart raced as he worked his way up to the swell of your breasts, his breath hot against your skin.

He paused, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. "Shh, lass," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "I told ye, ye need tae stay still." His hands slid higher, pushing your shirt up and over your breasts.

You bit your lip, trying to stifle a whimper as he bared you to his hungry gaze. Your nipples pebbled under the cool air and his intense stare. Johnny let out a low groan, his fingers skimming over the sensitive peaks.

"Beautiful," he breathed, before dipping his head down to take one into his mouth. He sucked and laved at the sensitive bud, his tongue swirling around it. His other hand kneaded the soft flesh of your breast, rolling and plucking at the nipple he'd left bare.

Pleasure sparked through you, making your back arch and your hips buck against him. Johnny just growled, the sound vibrating against your breast as he continued his sensual assault. His hand slid down your stomach, teasing along the waistband of your sweatpants before slipping inside.

Two fingers delved between your folds, finding you already wet and wanting. Johnny groaned around your nipple as he felt your slick arousal. He released your breast with a wet pop, only to turn his attention to the other. As he suckled and teased your nipple, his fingers stroked through your dripping slit, circling your clit with teasing pressure.

"Johnny, please," you gasped, tugging at his hair as you ground your hips against his hand. You needed more, craved the feel of him inside you.

He lifted his head to capture your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he slowly pushed one long finger inside your tight channel. He stroked in and out, curling against that special spot deep inside that made stars explode behind your eyelids.

Breaking the kiss, Johnny blazed a trail down your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point. His finger was joined by a second, pumping slowly and steadily in and out of your heat. Your inner muscles clenched around the digits, trying to draw them deeper.

"I need..." you gasped, unsure if you could form a coherent sentence. Your body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending alight and singing with pleasure.

"Aye, I know what ye need, lass," Johnny murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "Ye need me inside ye, fillin' this greedy wee cunny."

To emphasize his point, he rubbed tight circles over your clit, making you cry out. Your hips jerked against his hand, desperately seeking more of that blissful friction.

"Patience, bonnie," he crooned, his fingers still stroking steadily in and out of your dripping sex. "I'll give ye what ye need. I promise."

He withdrew his fingers and you whimpered at the loss, only to moan loudly when he quickly replaced them with the thick head of his cock. He rubbed it through your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal before slowly, steadily sinking inside you.

You gasped as he stretched you open, your walls fluttering around his hard length as he filled you completely. He paused once he was fully seated inside you, letting you adjust to the feel of him deep in your core.

"Fuck, lass," he grunted, his hips pressed flush against yours. "Ye feel incredible. So fuckin' tight and perfect."

He rolled his hips, grinding against your clit, before drawing back and thrusting deep. He set a slow, sensual rhythm, making love to you with long, deep strokes that hit that special spot inside you dead on.

Your nails raked down his back as you clung to him, meeting him thrust for thrust. The room filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin and your mingled moans and grunts of pleasure.

Johnny's hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing quick, tight circles over the sensitive nub. Your cries grew louder, your body tensing as your climax approached.

"That's it, lass," Johnny encouraged, his voice strained with his own impending release. "Come for me. Let me feel this sweet cunny squeeze my cock."

His words, combined with the relentless pressure on your clit and the deep, driving thrusts of his hips, pushed you over the edge. You came with a scream of his name, your body convulsing around his as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you.

Johnny followed a second later, flooding your spasming channel with his hot seed. He groaned your name, long and low, as he spilled inside you. His hips jerked and shuddered as he rode out the aftershocks of his climax.

Finally spent, he collapsed against you, careful not to crush you with his weight. He tucked your face into the crook of his neck, his fingers stroking through your damp hair.

"Ye did so well, bonnie," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I'm proud of ye."

You just hummed, a satisfied smile curling your lips as you snuggled closer, your body sated and content. Johnny held you tight, his heart beating in time with yours as the two of you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[selfless-desires]

[ penny for one's thoughts ] ; for steve .

can be drunk , could be sober but still needing to just get things off of his chest ; maybe he doesn't feel comfortable with the idea of " burdening " people with what's weighing him down && is in need of fresh air , so it's upon the shore that he just talks to what he assumes is just the wind , and doesn't realize a certain radioactive monster is lurking . . .

‏‏‎ ‎ Running never made a lick of difference . It would still be there , that persevering sense of dread he's been trying to avoid since that night in November― looming like a shadow , biding its time , lurking just around the next corner no matter how often Steve would remind himself it'd be alright . ' Can't lie forever now , can you ? ' It'd be an instance like many before where the young swimmer couldn't settle for the night , body achin' from exhaustion but his mind ... it'd keep him pre-occupied . He'd toss & turn in his sleep while he dreamt of monsters without faces , sharp rows of teeth meant to scrape flesh from bone . Tall , pale figures that'd chase him through the dark tunnels with no indication of where to go . He could still hear their screams , friends he swore to place his life on the line for , kids that have grown onto him like siblings , people that have become the family he's yearned to have but knew better than to ask for . ' It was all just a nightmare , ' he'd repeat like a broken record , just another fucked up fabrication of his mind that'd haunt him throughout the days after― wouldn't be the first nor the last time , has become a strange routine of sorts where he'd find himself wandering the night alone . Following the ghostly-pale stretch of gravel would the man hum to the distant beat of radio , the only source of noise beside the occasional owl , crickets that have come out of their burrows to play their distinctive notes . It’s a surprise to him , how unsteady his Nike's felt on the ground , flask sloshing in hand while he aimlessly stumbled towards the lake . Only remembered taking a few draws on whatever the hell’s inside , though he hasn’t got much in his stomach other than that leftover pizza he's found the other night . The lake’s close , close enough to hear , to smell … been a while since he's last gone near a large body of water on his own like this , that sharp stench of chlorine now replaced by the earthy scents of nature― is it something you can walk into , or is it deep from the get-go ? A short sharp plunge , or having to wade in even when every nerve in your body is telling you not to ? Steve feels like he’s on the edge of one or the other , legs rooted in place as that familiar feeling returns : the one he's been trying to get away from all this time now returning tenfold , leaving him breathless , petrified . Harrington inhales long and hard through his nose , bracing himself . He took a step forward , then another , and there’s a soft ripple― a gleam of something shifting in the depths , causing his attention to be drawn to the murky water . He sees his reflection then , eyes worn by lack of sleep staring back at him like two orbs of the void , strands of hair standing all over the place instead of the picture-perfect state they were known for . A hand met the surface to distort the face that's been there before , a quiet hiss escaping Steve's breath due to the chilling cold ... the pain’s just a shadow of what it could be , though . Secondary to the heavy weight of his shoulders , alcohol all poison still , working its way down in his system .

" You know , I ... I never really considered myself a hero , " He'd say to no one in particular , eyes drawn to the dock near the shore . " I just ... I dunno , I thought― I thought I could be a hero , if I tried hard enough , " a pause , throat feeling tight he'd swallow . " ... I'm not― I know I'm not , " he'd say in the form of a breathless whisper , talking to himself . Look at you , even now , hesitating to do something so simple . With a frustrated shake of his head Steve tipped the flask back , downing the last of the booze while he marched down the path . Headed for the dock would he pause inches away from the edge , planks creakin' beneath his feet with every step , mocking him , legs feeling uncertain as he stared into the abyss― depths that threatened to swallow him whole . Thoughts would linger at the back of his mind , Barbara Holland vanishing without a trace right outside of his window― a world of slow-moving vertigo beyond the brilliant white & turquoise glow of the pool ... it would feel dark , sinister after learning about the beasts in the shadows . He'd remember the day they brought Will Byers' body out of the dark waters , the day he fought for his life while flesh-like vines dragged him below surface , beyond a gate between their world and one far more sinister . Heaved breaths would escape him as the jock stood frozen in place , hands shaking by his sides , legs threatening to give in beneath his weight― ' Sometimes you just ... have to let go , y'know ? ' Such words echoed in his mind like reminders , a wound still fresh , a person who's died all too soon without a proper burial . ' Let it all out , ' Steve draws in a breath with the whole of his chest and tips his head back, hands folding into fists by his sides— ' let the world hear you . ' He howls , mournful and stupid : a coyote yowling at night , a dog left on its own . It echoes off the murky surface , swallowed by the vast emptiness before ... sharp breaths escape him once his voice dies down , looking like he’s going to do it again― and he does , rougher this time , more of his voice in it , stretching louder and hoarser— like he’s trying to make it hurt— like he’s trying to get rid of something— until he’s folding at the middle with the force of it all , the cry buckling as his voice gives way . The torn-off sound rackets off the trees like a cough , gone , like it never happened . Silence replaced with the dim thump of music from the car up above would Steve heave for air , throat feelin' hoarse , abused after such extensive use ... and with a defeated sigh he'd finally give in to exhaustion , fell forth on his knees , fingers still grippin' the flask he's brought ... Maybe he could rest , if only a little ... lulled by the faint ripples of water below .

‏‏‎ ‎

[inkskinned]

she says he won't let her get a dog, which is fine, because they're in an apartment, and that's the kind of thing people say about their partners. he won't let me get a dog. and you're at a dinner party and you tilt your head a little to the side just like that dog he won't let her get, because is this the thing that's going to upset you? you don't know every corner of their relationship, she could be joking, they could have had so many healthy conversations about the dog, right, and maybe she's not letting herself get the dog because of money and time and whatever. but, like, she did say let

and she wants to move away from his hometown and he wants to stay and then he tells you with a wink and a conspiratorial stage whisper don't worry i'll convince her and she laughs about it - so clearly this is something they laugh about. but you do just stand there and stare at him like what the fuck, man. you can't say what you want to say which is why do you get the final say on everything because they're both obviously aware of the other person's stance on this and have obviously had private conversations about it and what are you going to do about it except make a scene and then he'll be mad at you and call you one of those bitches behind your back and she'll cut you off, which is a loss that doesn't feel worth it just because he makes you a little skeeved out every 3rd comment

and they both agree he just isn't the type to get flowers which is fine because everyone shows love differently, and are you really gonna judge someone based on their sense of individual relationship responsibility? maybe he's constantly cleaning her car and writing her poems and making her furniture or something. maybe she doesn't even like flowers and this is perfect, actually. and no you couldn't date him, obviously, ew; but like, she tells you she's happy. you almost send her a tiktok that says don't be 25 and the cool girl that doesn't need anything, you'll hate not getting flowers at 30, but that's like, starting drama & you shouldn't start drama needlessly.

and you're a little older than her but not so much older you can pull the whole trust me on this one babe thing and besides that wouldn't have worked anyway (when does it ever) and besides you have trauma so you and your therapist both agree that you're always looking for a problem even when there isn't one. and you tell yourself that just because you see them for 15 minutes every month does not mean you can identify every single red flag based on a single shitty half-joking(?) comment

and besides, what are you going to do? she says i actually wanted another stand mixer but thankfully he stops me when i'm about to spend too much money and you're standing there like are you okay? is this normal? is this just something people say? and again - what are you going to do?

to your therapist you try to language it - it's not, like, any of my business. but sometimes, doesn't it feel like - you should do something. there's got to be something, right? you've tried dropping little hints but they sail right through and you've tried having a single serious conversation and she got upset because why does it matter to you, yes it's different but we're happy, it doesn't need to make sense to you and you're like. really unwilling to push a boundary about it anymore; because the truth is that you know logically it shouldn't matter to you, as long as both parties are happy.

and besides, you've been wrong before. it's just... like, every time you see them both, something else happens, some kind of shiver down your spine like do you even hear each other when you talk. it's their strange, bickering orbit. just the way he's on his phone through dinner or watching sports instead of helping in the kitchen or, fuck, another one of these little throwaway comments he makes about we'll see about that, babe. she laughs when he calls her passions stupid shit and meanwhile she gets him tickets to see the knicks and he tells you well at least she's smart about something and still! it's none of your business.

you say get the dog anyway and she laughs. like, this is is you being funny. and not you saying - no really. get the dog. get the dog and get out of here. pack up and start running.

[lizzybeeee]

the language being stripped of lore specific terms made it so much worse in retrospect. fr tho Davrin calling Eldrin "Uncle" Eldrin instead of Hahren, like it's okay Davrin you can use elvish around my Rook I won't judge :( I haven't romanced him does he at least call you vhenan??

I could get the use of 'uncle' if Davrin was trying to explain it to Rook who was not elvish (since all elves in this game seem to just instinctively know elvish) since it would make sense to make a connection between the dalish role and familial role for an outsider:

Rook - "Who are we seeing?" Davrin - "Hahren...Uncle Eldrin." Rook - "Hahren?" Davrin - "It's elvish - they're storytellers and caretakers in the clan." Rook - "So...not your uncle." Davrin - "Close enough. He raised me."

Does Davrin call you 'vhenan'? I could have sworn he did in the final love/petting over clothes scene but I did a look up because I couldn't remember...apparently its just my wishful thinking - but don't quote me, maybe it's only in a specific dialogue option? :(

That fact that I can't recall it off the top of my head is telling -> Solas calls Lavellan 'vhenan' so much its burned into my brain, the same with other endearments from other romances. I played as a shadow dragon elf so I was hoping to be able to say 'amatus' - didn't get to do that either.

Which is one reason that the romances in this game really fall flat for me. I loved how different characters had different endearments for you, it made it feel more personal! Bull with 'Kadan', Dorian with 'Amatus', Solas with 'Vhenan', Leliana with 'My Love', and Sera had a 'pick your own' that wonderfully reflected her character!

I assume they were trying to make the language more accessible for new players, but it was never a barrier for me in any of the other games? If anything it always made me more interested/curious in what was going on when I encountered a phrase that I didn't understand. It added to the idea that these characters were from different nations and cultures - they had their own languages and phrases that reflected that -> the world felt bigger because of it!

Even if I didn't understand something, the voice work was always so stellar that even if the exact meaning wasn't understood, I got the intent that it was being said with.

Best examples being Solas and the Arishok - I understand certain words and phrases of each language, but I'm not a translator like some very talented people on this website. Even if I didn't get what was being said I absolutely understood the intent from the emotion and nuances in voice work. Top tier example is Solas and Sera in DAI:

Solas: Our people used to be here. Sera: Pfft, you say that everywhere. Solas: It is more true than you want to believe. Sera: I bet, right? Who wants to think about stepping on dead elves. Solas: Din elvhen emma him? Sera: Oh, you felt that one.

The way that line was delivered was incredible. Didn't understand a word but you could absolutely feel the repressed fury of what Solas was saying - his disgust at what Sera said. Once again, Gareth David-Lloyd coming in with incredible voice work! <3

It's such a strange choice to just...remove that immersion - to have so little of it in-game. Does it require extra work to make certain that the characters language reflects their history and culture? Yes! But what it adds is so immense to the world. I can't imagine not having Solas call Lavellan by elven endearments or having Andrastian characters not say 'Thank the Maker!' or 'Maker's breath!' It was cool worldbuilding! Just like how we say 'oh my god' there's a Thedas equivalent that communicated the very same idea!

Hearing lore specific words and phrases makes me know that I'm playing a Dragon Age game. Playing DATV which severely lacks in those words and phrases made me realize I'm sitting on my swivel chair and looking at a computer screen.

[lloydfrontera]

my biggest gripe with the manhwa rn is that they made javier more of an asshole than he is in the novel and then took away most of the scenes where we see him being kind and soft with others.

javier can be an ass, he is a brat and he's especially annoying when he's with lloyd, but above anything else he is kind and loyal and selfless and good. i cannot emphasize enough how good javier is. he's the kind of person who cannot see someone in trouble or danger and do nothing about it. he's the kind of person who would sacrifice his life for total strangers and no hope of any reward. he's the kind of person who can't even enjoy a lavish party without feeling guilty because he'd much rather help people in need with that money.

he's so fucking good, lloyd is a little annoyed by it because he keeps getting dragged into life-threatening situations because javier just won't stop helping people they don't even know. mind you, lloyd is also endeared by this and would not want him to change but god can it be frustrating in his endeavor to keep them both alive.

there's this particular scene that i just. i'm so sad it was cut. where javier is helping around the refugee camp, going without sleeping and eating so he can focus on helping as many people as possible and then he spots a little kid that got lost on his way back. so he decides to help him.

and he's so gentle with this kid.

Javier walked over to the kid and called him. The flustered boy looked up. Javier strove to put on a warm smile on his face. "Are you lost?" “...” The boy nodded, his eyes all wet. Javier carefully stroked the boy's head. "I think I can help you with that. Why don't you let me help find your tent?" suggested Javier. “...” The boy nodded again. "But why didn't you eat the food? It's going to get cold. Are you not hungry?" "I am… hungry," the boy finally said. But what he said next caught Javier by surprise. "But I won't eat it," said the boy. "Why not?" "My mother is hungrier." "Is that so?" "Yes." “...” Javier wondered why this kid came out to take the food when he had a mother. There must be a reason, he thought to himself. He held out his hand. "I will hold the tray for you." "..." "I won't spill it. I promise." "Okay..." Javier took the tray and wrapped the boy’s hand with his own.

like. god. javier is not a naturally warm person. he's very reserved and stoic and sometimes outright cold, but he still tries so hard with this kid. because he knows what it's like to be him. he knows what it's like to be a child and be scared and hungry and without a home. and he remembers how much it meant for a kind adult to reach out a hand to him and help. and he wants to be that to others too.

everything he does, he does because he genuinely believes it's the right thing to do and therefore his obligation. and even when it doesn't come naturally to him, like being warm and gentle to a child, he still tries his best to do so.

and like that wasn't enough, when they finally find the kid's mom, javier finds out she's blind. recently blinded actually. that she used all her strength to get her child to safety and now she has to depend on him to take care of them because she can't do it anymore. her blouse is smudged with porridge.

so javier kneels down and explains who he is, why he's there and that he wants to help. he lifts up a spoonful of food and slowly and carefully starts to feed her himself. she's a complete stranger and javier doesn't hesitate one second to do this for her.

this is who javier is!! this is who he is at his core!! he's kind and he's selfless and he's above all else good!!

if your audience can't imagine javier comforting a child, then you failed your audience. you missed the point of his character.

[originalcontent]

I can't find art of my ship anywhere so I GUESS that means I have to make it myself, here are some doodles.

[froschli96]

you know, i always find it really funny when dudebros complain about syndicate and odyssey being too "jokey" or not "taking its characters seriously" or whatever…

like, did y'all collectively sleep through "it's-a me, mario!", "i meant besides vaginas", ezio inventing the latte, bartolomeo's... just... *gestures vaguely* entire character, etc?

like, it's fine to have preferences of course, i myself prefer a more serious and grounded tone, but these are usually the same people who tout the ezio trilogy as "peak assassin's creed", call ac1 a glorified tech demo and hate on connor for being "too serious and boring", like? make it make sense!

[birdblorbo]

I'm back on my bullshit, here's the Loser's Club roller-skating

I went skating with my best friend and their younger sister the other night and it single handed threw me back into Loser's Club headcanons so here we fucking go.

Long Post

Bill: He's definitely skated with Georgie before and while he hasn't skating in a while (RIP Georgie I love you) it didn't take him long to get back into the motions of it (Just like riding a bike, pun partially intended). He loses his balance occasionally but always manages to stabilize before he's really in an danger of falling.

Stan: He's a natural. His first time skating he struggled for around five minutes and then all the sudden could skate as though he went every weekend, no one can explain it. Bill and him spend most of the time catching while they skate and matching each others pace. Bill will go check on someone if they fall while Stan pretends not to know them.

Richie: He's really good for some reason??? You'd think he'd be flailing around and falling constantly but he's the only one who can do those fancy turns (Where you put your feet in a triangle, idk man but I can't do it) and skate backwards (if you can skate backwards I hate you I can never figure it out). He likes showing off but in the process trips over children that fall while he's not looking.

Eddie: He can't skate and he's made about it. He is like a newborn deer on an icy road. He desperately grabs onto whatever loser is closest and refuses to leave the wall unless they let him hold onto them. Richie (and occasionally Stan while he skates by) keeps making fun of him and hallway through Eddie gets fed up and goes to sit out until Mike finally convinces him to try again and sticks with Eddie for the rest of the night.

Mike: He's not a pro but he's definitely not bad. He enjoys just slowly going around listening to the music the DJ plays. He's very careful of avoiding young children especially the ones who like to zip around the rink really fast (Honestly the children who are good skaters are more dangerous you don't see them coming and they're unpredictable. At least the kids struggling you can tell where they're trying to go) He's the first to notice if one of the Loser's is sitting out and always goes to sit with them even if it's just cause their feet or ankles are hurting.

Beverly: She likes to go fast. As soon as she's comfortable on her skates she is going around as fast as she can until she falls, knocks someone over, or is asked to slow down by a worker. She's also the first one to get bored and will inevitably drag someone with her to get food (most likely Eddie who was already sitting out and will complain about how gross the food is while proceeding to get probably the worst thing he could've gotten).

Ben: He struggles for the entire time he is there but is determined to be able to skate by the end. He falls the most out of anyone but swears he does not need to hold onto the wall and refuses the Loser's help. Good news! he does eventually get it. Bad news, he gets it down five minutes before closing.

[dwtolos]

started watching another home makeover show and it hit me once again how much I want an AU where George and Sapnap are the hosts of a 'siblings getting their own rooms' show (they compete on which room suits their respective kid best) and Dream is one of the cameramen who ended up commenting out loud about something so he ends up being a faceless fan favorite. George does flirt with Dream a lot. Sapnap is very tired of it. They also compete about which room Dream would like the best, which is not the point of the show but in their hearts it is.

[foxgloveinspace]

this is hella random but-

if you ever want to info dump about the call of duty guys (ghost and soap i think? are those call names? soap is weird lol) please do! that ship has started popping up more and more in my feeds and now i am thoroughly intrigued. mostly because yes give me more ships with everyone suffering ptsd, but also i had no idea call of duty had any sort of plot line or recognizable characters?

i’ve played it only a handful of times and it always just seemed to me like a “create a character then join a server and shoot people” kind of game i didn’t think it had any story lol

but yeah. pls fill me in if you so desire :) i am so curious

I’m the wrong person to ask, cause I haven’t played the games yet😔🤣.

I own a couple of them, but I haven’t played yet just cause… last year I was in a weird place with video games really, is the only explanation I have. The campaigns (the plot parts) are not too long if you wanna watch them on YouTube (I also haven’t done that,,,,,, I should do that if I’m not gonna play the 2020s games, just cause I know that people where Not Happy with the last game, but I should freaking play the ogs cause they are RIGHT up my alley oof).

There’s a couple things you gotta know, if you wanna get into to it: There’s two different series of Modern Warfare, the og, which came out 07, 09, and 11. And then the remakes (which is what got the fandom So Big), which is from 2019, 22, and 23. They are, the same story told differently, and they are Very Different. The characters have very different personalities depending on the series.

(This is why I tag things as ghostsoap, or 09 soapghost so I can keep track of the different characters lol).

Ghost and Soap are their callsigns, yeah. It makes the ship names fun though! (Ghosts first name is Simon, Soap’s is John (Ghost calls him Johnny, so the fandom runs with calling him that lmao)).

Ghost wears a mask, and doesn’t have a canonical face clam! Which is really cool to me, cause we get so many different versions of Simon from the fandom🖤 and also, masked characters make brain go brrrrrr.

I am mostly in it for the fic, and there’s tones of good fanart. Not to say I don’t know anything at all, cause I have read the fandom wikis/synopsis of the games (though I’m a little rusty on my knowledge,,,, again I do want to play the games, I just.. wasn’t in a video game mood all last year). I’m just… sometimes info dumping is hard.

But yeah. The fic is freaking good. Like, I was looking for military themed romance novels the other day and I legit couldn’t bring myself to start any cause I’m worried it won’t live up to ghostsoap🤣🤣🤣.

I was gonna give some recommendations, but I uhhh…. I have realized I mostly bookmark the good smut, and only have a couple fics that aren’t smut, but they are SO ANGSTY🤣🤣🤣. And then one long fic, but it’s ghostroachsoap (roach is a player character from the first mw2).

Gosh. What can I say about ghostsoap…… they are black and red coded characters??? (Not Actually, but in the fandom way. Ghost is black, Soap is red. I don’t know if that’s even still a fandom thing lmao).

I…. I don’t know what else to say, haha.