#and i was like yes? not really sure what package to be expecting and its my ORIGINAL FUCKING ORDER

[anotherpapercut]

bro what the fuck are they doing with my package

[selineram3421]

*new version of Alastor takes over the Internet* Hehe.

Cursed Cat Headcanons

Curse Cat Alastor & Human Reader

Warnings ⚠

⚠ mentions of death, "normal" cat stuff ⚠

You find a strange looking cat at the shelter.

The red creature was separated from the other cats and behind a heavy duty glass with multiple scratch marks.

"Can I interact with this one?", you asked.

"I don't think we are allowed to let that one out...", the worker says. "We're not even sure if its a cat."

You were also not sure as the little creature had antlers.

"Might have been dead this morning.", they mumbled but you caught it.

"Uh...ok.", you say, feeling a little put off how calmly the employee said that. "I'll take them."

And that's how you got a cat.

Once having the necessary items and a cat tower order placed, you bring the red cat home.

It sounds a bit angry. Growling, hissing, scratching and biting the inside of the cat carrier.

Maybe they didn't like small spaces..

Their first day was...something.

You ended up having to fix or toss out a lot of furniture.

They seemed to like sitting on top of your bookshelf. Often watching as you cleaned around the room or when you slept.

Kinda creepy. And you swore you saw their eyes glow once.

But other than the strange shadows and weird noises, you didn't have problems. In fact, they took care of the spiders and other pesky bugs that managed to get into your home.

Eventually, you tried to call them by names from a list that you made but they mostly ignored you whenever you tried.

It wasn't until you were watching Hazbin Hotel that the red cat perked up.

"I'm Alastor!", your favorite character introduced himself.

The red creature then hopped onto your coffee table and stared at you, effectively grabbing your attention.

"What is it?", you asked before noticing your T.V. glitch and loop.

"I'm Alastor!", it said again. "¡'m Al@$tør!", it started to distort. "Ĭ̢̜͝'m̬̟̑͗ Á̘͉̉l͈̯̾̀á̘͉̉s͚͈̭̦̈́̈̄͒t͙́ó͎̥͡ṙ̻!", the audio was getting worse and worse as it repeated. "ł'₥ ₳Ⱡ₳₴₮ØⱤ."

Glancing at your cat, you noticed it was grinning like the oh so famous cheshire cat.

"Uh..Alastor?", you said.

As soon as you called them the name, the episode continued to play regularly and your cat had its normal happy demeanor.

"Ok...", you paused the show and went to the kitchen for snacks. "I might have picked up a cursed cat."

After that, Alastor actually seemed to like you. No longer hissing or scratching you when you tried to pet them and sought you out for some cuddles.

Hehehehe..

You had to take him to the vet for a check up and well.. It turned out exactly how you expected it to. Also, you found out they were a he.

He was number one..of the worsts cats in the vet hospital's care. They had to order new gloves meant for hawks.

After that, you got him a little bow to match the character Alastor and he seemed to really enjoy it. Of course, the red cat was quite fluffy and only the bow part was visible.

The cat tower finally arrived and you set it up. It was mostly black, coming with a feather toy as well.

"Done!", you stepped back and smiled at the finished cat tower.

Of course, like any cat, Alastor was not amused. Sitting in the packaging box comfortably.

"You know what? I'm not even mad. I used to sit in boxes as a kid.", you said and cleaned up the bubble wrap.

Things were turning out pretty well. That is until your neighbor got a weird looking pet. Now you knew Alastor was strange but he looked like a cat. Whatever the neighbor has was something else.

It was black with blue and some red. Flat looking face and a strange tail.

Maybe it was an exotic animal?

You weren't sure but Alastor hated, HATED, them.

And you made sure not to walk your little furball when the other pet was out. Making that mistake once. Once being enough.

I bestow upon ye cat Alastor!

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@c4rved-pumpk1n @scary-noodlesblog @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @lbcreations-blog @ducky-died-inside @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @line-viper @117s-girl @spiderlegsling @alastorsgoldie @repentant-repeller @kcsketches @lofasofabread @kotaleee @im-coolrat @superzombiewho @speckle-meow-meow @jammcookie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @trashbin-nie @koioli @fatherlesschild2 @mmik3yy @just-here-reading @nealeart @hudiexiaoying @crystal-multiplefandomlover @glowinggoldfish0 @tiredgamerhere @fluffy-koalala @valenfawkes @willowshadenox @aria-tempest @alastor-simp @willowaudreykeyes @+?

ML II for Alastor🎙️

[aidulusion]

TRAIN RIDE

pairing : draco malfoy x fem!reader

word count : 676

summary : its your first train ride to hogwarts, and you just happened to share a compartment with a popular slytherin.

proofread? : yes.

creds to cafekitsune for the dividers!

You had been recently transferred because of your father’s new job in the ministry, it was your first day at Hogwarts and you were already in your 4th year.

There was din and chatter around the magnificent Hogwarts express which shined brightly in the daylight, uncountable young witches and wizards trying to make their way into the train.

You waited for the crowd to die down a bit before entering yourself, but you didn’t expect all the compartments to be full. After a while of wandering around, you finally found a not exactly empty compartment. There was a boy with pale blonde—almost white hair. Wearing formal clothing, and a ring on his index finger which had elegant diamonds attached on it. He was sitting beside the window, too focused on the lush green hills of Scotland to notice you.

Being the nice person you are, decided not to bother him and quietly sat down on the other side of the compartment.

It took him a moment to notice your presence in the compartment, and even longer to actually say something. 

“Haven’t seen you before.” He finally scoffed, causing you to look up and stop fidgeting with your hands. The way he spoke was not the nicest, but you decided to give him a half-hearted smile.

It took you a moment to figure out what to say, but you gained enough courage to actually start a conversation with him.

“I’m new here.. My father recently got a well paying job in the ministry. And you might be..?”

“Draco, Draco Malfoy.”

“Nice to meet you, Draco. I’m (Y/N) (L/N).”

All he did was mutter out a small ‘nice to meet you too.’ before going silent again, but you decided that you were not going to make this uninteresting for yourself. 

The conversation you started went on for a good while, but awkward silence filled the room once again. Both of you were staring out the window, admiring the scenery of a beautiful sunset, you were starting to wonder how long the train ride would go on due to the fact that this was your first time on Hogwarts express. Slumber almost took over you, but you heard the blonde’s melodic yet irritating voice. “And, make sure not to fall asleep, a dementor might get you.”

He warned you, a mischievous intention behind his eyes. Those words completely freaked you out, you quickly straightened up your body and looked at him with a concerned expression. “THERE ARE DEMENTORS HERE!?” You almost yelled loud enough for the other compartments to hear, and the boy couldn’t help but snicker.

It took him a while to actually calm you down, making you realise that he was just messing around with you. It surprised him how a 4th year student could be so scared of a silly little joke, “perhaps she had been homeschooled”, he thought to himself.

“I doubt you’ll even survive at Hogwarts without any friends at this point.” 

Draco peeped, tilting his head slightly in sarcasm. You were taken aback by this statement and suddenly remembered that there won’t be a welcoming package for you in that place. A realisation of being all alone ruined your mood to the fullest, causing you to look down to your thighs again, but you heard the boy speak again:

“And, I’d like to volunteer, to be your first.. Friend.” He let the words out of his mouth quite hesitantly, it seemed as if he was saying something completely out of his character, the words almost seemed genuine coming out of him.

“Don’t get me wrong, but.. You really don’t seem like a guy who’d volunteer to be someone’s friend.” You confessed, causing the boy to let out a groan and for you to start laughing. 

You had heard people bad-mouth Slytherins when you were looking for a compartment, and this boy had just made you have second thoughts. Slytherins weren’t that bad. You’d be just as happy if you found yourself in Slytherin, and have Draco Malfoy as your first friend.

hope this made you feel a tad better.

@cryinginthemoonpool , @klynni <3

[violet-shadows]

I knew it the first night that I saw you. (Part One)

Part One | Part Two - Azriel’s POV | Masterlist 

Summary: When the High Lady’s sister sends a friend to your shop in her stead, you find your thoughts are soon captivated by a certain member of the Inner Circle.

Word Count: 2.1k

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: none

A/N: Thank you to this anon for the request!! I really hope you enjoyed this one. Thank you everyone who has requested, reblogged, replied, liked, and otherwise interacted with my work. It means a lot!

⊱ —————— ❈  —————— ⊰

 It was late Autumn when you first saw him, just a few weeks after you opened your shop on the Rainbow. The bookstore had been a staple in Velaris for many decades, but after the attack on the Rainbow, its previous owner had not reopened, taking it as a sign to retire instead. When you bought the shop, it was largely in shambles, the mahogany shelves covered in thick layers of dust and the remaining inventory moth-eaten and water damaged. It took you the entire spring and summer to fix up the place and source new books, but the effort had been worth it. The fae of Velaris welcomed the renewed presence of the bookshop on the Rainbow and you breathed a sigh of relief as it appeared your investment would pay off after all. Still, you were reluctant to incur any unnecessary expenses so early on and, in lieu of hiring staff, you worked open to close each day. Your hard work meant you didn’t get out much, staying cooped up inside the shop for the bulk of your time since you settled in Velaris, but when you looked around at the fruits of your labor, you didn’t regret a moment of it.

You had acquired a few regular customers in the short time since you opened, including, to your surprise, the High Lady’s sister. Nesta had been intimidating at first, her regal presence and piercing gaze was enough to make anyone a bit apprehensive. A few conversations about various books had warmed her to you, and you found yourself looking forward to her weekly visits now. It was during one of those visits, as you showed her your new inventory and discussed the latest book in a series you both enjoyed, that he appeared for the first time. You, of course, knew of the Shadowsinger, but he was one of the few members of the High Lord’s Inner Circle that you had never actually seen before. You weren’t sure what compelled you to turn and look, but as he walked by the window of your shop, you lost your train of thought.

He was gorgeous. Although you were not one to typically be swayed by aesthetics, you couldn’t help but take a moment to admire the infamous Spymaster as he surveyed the streets of Velaris, apparently unaware of your eyes on him. Nesta followed your gaze and gave a knowing smirk. “I better go. Az is giving me a lift home while Cassian is out of town. It was good to talk to you again.”

Az. Short for Azriel, if your memory served you. You resisted the urge to repeat his name when she said it, instead bidding her adieu and busying yourself with updating her tab to you wouldn’t embarrass yourself by watching him go. For the remainder of the evening, you found yourself blushing as your thoughts traveled back to the Spymaster inexplicably. The effect he had on you was puzzling at best, but several weeks later, it all made sense.

It was minutes before closing and you were expecting Nesta, who was supposed to drop by to pick up a new release you had set aside for her. When the bell on the door rang, you were surprised, to say the least, to find none other than Azriel in your doorway. Up close, he was even more beautiful, his features sharp and symmetrical, as though chiseled from stone by a skilled sculpture. You stammered a greeting and his expression remained neutral as he responded politely.

“Nesta said you set a book aside for her and asked me to pick it up. She and Cassian as unexpectedly… occupied.” You tried to keep your nerves in check as you nodded, fumbling behind the counter for the package you set aside.

“Yes! It’s right here. That was kind of you, to pick it up for her,” you caught his eyes as you spoke, momentarily lost in the intense, molten hazel. As he reached out for the book, something peculiar happened. Your hands brushed, just barely, and his shadows, which had been largely hidden since he arrived, surged forward to curl around your wrist like cool, sentient smoke. Azriel startled, his grip on the book slipping, and in an instant, the shadows were pulled back from you.

“I’m sorry!” He took several steps back, his eyes wide. If you didn’t know better, it almost seemed as though his outstretched hand was shaking. “They don’t usually— I’m so sorry.” His neutral expression was wiped away, replaced by a look of bewilderment that was both puzzling and endearing.

“It’s okay! Really!” You rushed to reassure him, “They don’t bother me. I think they’re actually quite fascinating.” He took another step back, his expression still twisted in shock. “Really, I don’t mind. They’re beautiful.” The words came tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them and you felt your cheeks heat in embarrassment. He swallowed thickly then, regaining some composure.

“I—um. I have to go. Have a nice evening.” He rushed out, gently shutting the shop door behind him disappearing into shadows a few paces outside your shop door. The book he had come to retrieve was left on the counter, entirely forgotten and you fretted, replaying the interaction in your mind. Had you offended him? Committed some unknown faux pas? Was it rude to acknowledge his shadows?

You closed up shop immediately, thereafter, putting the book back behind the counter. Would he come back for it? It was doubtful, given the speed at which he’d rushed off. What would he tell Nesta? What would you tell Nesta? The thoughts churning in your mind kept you awake for the better part of the night, tossing and turning well into the wee hours of the morning. When you woke to the sun cresting the horizon, the idea of dragging yourself from bed felt torturous. Despite your exhaustion, you willed yourself out of bed and set about your morning routine, determined to push through the day.

When you arrived at the shop, you were surprised, to say the least, to find your first customer patiently waiting for you to open. At the first sight of Illyrian wings, your heart skipped a beat, calming only marginally when you realized it was Cassian, not Azriel, that was waiting outside your door. You had met Cassian one before in passing when Nesta had dragged him into the store. As far as you were concerned, the General was one of the more intimidating members of the Inner Circle from a distance, but upon being introduced, he had been nothing but warm and easygoing.

Still, you steeled yourself as you approached, an irrational part of your brain worried that he might be here to talk to you about the incident with Azriel. Surely he wasn’t upset with you, you reasoned. You hadn’t done anything wrong. Had you? It was a foolish thought, you realized then, to think yourself so important that the General of the Night Court would seek you out for offending a courtier.

“Y/N,” he turned to greet you as you approached, a jolly smile on his face, and you let out a sigh of relief. “Good morning!”

“Good morning, Lo—Cassian.” You stopped yourself, remembering his mirthful smile when you addressed him as “Lord Cassian” during your first meeting. “What can I do for you today?”

“Nesta sent me to pick up a few things. But I realized you don’t open for another twenty minutes. I can wait.” He was grinning from ear to ear, unusually cheerful for the hour.

“Nonsense,” You opened the door, gesturing for him to enter. “Please, do come in.” You rushed behind the counter to retrieve the book as your visitor strolled through the shop, taking stock of various books as he went.

“I hope you’ll forgive Azriel for forgetting it.” You were glad you were turned away from him as you felt the blood drain from your face. “It seems he was quite… distracted last night.”

“I, um… I hope I didn’t offend him too terribly,” you cast your gaze down, willing your cheeks not to heat.

“You offend him? I don’t—,” Cassian seemed to stop himself then, his eyes glinting mischievously. He seemed at ease about the situation, though, and you took it as a sign that you would relax. “Az is not easily offended. I think he was quite taken with your shop, though. I’m sure you’ll be seeing more of him.”

You inclined your head, your mind flitting back to the previous night when he hadn’t seemed the least bit interested in your wares. Before you could ask any more questions, Cassian grabbed the book off the counter and made his way towards the door.

“Thank you, again. I’m sure I’ll see you soon!” You stared after him for a moment before deciding that you had already wasted far too much time reading into the habits of the Inner Circle and resolving to let it go. You were sufficiently distracted for the remainder of the day, busying yourself with bookkeeping and inventory so your mind wouldn’t drift to a certain Illyrian. You were absorbed in your work towards the end of the day, the afternoon thrum of customers having died out as twilight fell. Hunched over your records with your back to the door, you didn’t hear the jingle of the bell or the creek of the floorboard that usually accompanied a customer’s arrival. Instead, a quiet, deep voice had you jumping out of your skin, your pen going flying as you whirled around to face your guest.

“Hello,” said none other than the Spymaster himself, once again stood in the middle of your store just minutes before closing time. For a moment, you stared at him, wide-eyed, and struggled to conjure a socially acceptable response. Or any response, for that matter. Azriel shifted ever so slightly, betraying his discomfort as the silence stretched on a bit too long to be normal.

Finally, you spoke. “Hello! Welcome! I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in and I was just… What can I do for you?”. The words came out hurried and high pitched and you cringed internally. You were nervous, that much was clear to the both of you, but why the male before you had such an effect was still a mystery.

“I wanted to come to apologize. For last night. My shadows were out of line and I left quickly and forgot the book. It was rude of me.” Unconsciously, you had stepped out from behind the counter, moving to stand in front of Azriel.

“Really, there’s no need. I’m sure you’re very busy. I do apologize that you came all this way. Cassian came by this morning and picked it up.”

The corner of Azriel’s lips drew upward ever so slightly and he took a step forward, “I know, I wanted to make things right in person, though and—,” he paused midsentence, as though hesitating to continue. “And perhaps walk you home this evening.”

⊱ —————— ❈  —————— ⊰

Azriel indeed walked you home that evening, as well as every evening after for the next week. You tried to tell him it wasn’t necessary, but he brushed you off. “It makes me feel better knowing you made it home safely,” he confessed on the fourth night when you pressed. You waited for him to qualify it, to add that something like, ‘it would look bad if Velaris lost its book shop on the Rainbow for a second time’. But he didn’t, and the sincerity in his eyes when he said it set your heart aflutter. With each passing night, you found yourselves opening up to one another, falling into conversation like old friends, rather than practical strangers. For the first time, you wished you lived further from your shop, your evening walks coming to an end far before you wanted to part from the male. On the sixth night, he seemed to read your mind and asked you a question when you reached your doorstep. “Tomorrow night,” he began, his shadows crowding his face as he spoke, “would you allow me to take you to dinner?”

You nodded, your cheeks heating of their own volition, and replied, “I’d like that very much, Azriel.”

The next evening you closed the shop slightly early, giving you a moment to slip into a cobalt blue dress before your escort-turned-date arrived. The restaurant he brought you to overlooked the Sidra and the gentle flow of the river could be heard from the veranda where you sat. As the night progressed, the two of you loosened up, falling into easy conversation. It was towards the end of the meal, as you sat and marveled at the feeling of contentment that had settled into you, that you had the realization.

The connection glowed to life within you, his presence a comforting weight on the end of an invisible cord between you. A jolt of gentle euphoria shot through you, not unlike letting out a long-held breath. You gasped, your eyes going wide, and suddenly, Azriel’s behavior made perfect sense.

“You knew,” you were grinning as you spoke and Azriel’s expression was one of hope.

“I knew it the first night that I saw you. That…”

“We’re mates.”

⊱ —————— ❈  —————— ⊰

Likes, reblogs, comments, and feedback are greatly appreciated. Please let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from my tag list for future fics. Click here to check out my other work.

[delcakoo]

i’m sure most ppl expected this so i’m not gonna make a big deal out of it but!! yes i am going on hiatus for an unspecified amount of time.

it’s honestly quite simple, i’ve just been losing interest in most aspects of kpop aside from the music, which makes writing for it a lot harder than before. i also dealt with a lot of burn out for months and still forced myself to write which only made it worse. lastly, i’m an executive of two clubs at my school this year on top of all my classes, so finding time to write would be even worse than it was before :’) !

YEAh that’s kinda it! for now my works will stay up, moots can dm me for my disc/spotify!! even if we’ve barely spoken pspsps i wanna stalk ur music cmere 🤲 a special shout out to my emoji anons too, you’re all amazing people ilysm, especially those that have been stuck with me for so long <3 (u know who u are!!)

i’ll try and check in here every so often to chat, esp if a new comeback for enha/txt happens!! love u guys and stay safe <3 you may send an ask if u have any questions!

extra stuff i wanna say to moots below! (it’s all word vomits i’m sorry)

RAVEN. MY WIFEY. my BELOVED blr wont let me tag u but you already know i adore u sm playing roblox with u is so fun even if that one banana game was kinda ass!! 💖 thank u for being so so sweet when putting up with me all the time and raising our fav corgi daughter with sm love <3 i hope u get more confidence in ur writing because your fics are always so creative and well written, and in yourself too bc a certain mf thats name starts with J and ends with N is MISSING OUT. 🙄🙄 ok im still gna be annoying u all the time so. bye ig….. smooches

@seongclb katto u deserve an award for putting up with me in dms ilysm 😞 watching the promised neverland together brought me so much joy and i still have a ss of you calling gilda a tractor ok i love u!!!! i would read your fics all day any day u are so talented and ur photography skills are amazing, i hope we get to keep in touch WE SHOULD FIND ANOTHER SHOW TO WATCH TGTHER !!!!! i need to fix your lack of anime knowledge ‼️ PLS KEEP WRITING AS WELL ENHABLR NEEDS U!!!!

@soov reirei my gf i aspire to be as confident and funny as you, you’re literal sunshine and always make my day better even with just one interaction <3 thank u for being so welcoming my first days in walmart enha and raising sushiwon with me!! as well as entertaining me by dying in genshin every 3 seconds <3 (WE NEED TO PLAY AGAIN) oh and KEEP WRITING BB. i will rise from THE DEAD WHEN IT COMES OUT OK U CAN DO THIS ML!!

@haknom kangaroo karaoke keys we may have had only a few convos but they were all so fun like PLAYING BRAWL STARS WAS HILARIOUS we ate the house down in duo showdown idc. and beta reading ur fics was such a treat esp while watching u plan new smaus every other day 🫶 also your music taste is MUWAH gimme some more recs pspsps !!! KEEP WRITING OKKK?!

@kynrki kimmy kimmy kim one of my first ever moots <3 your writing is always such a joy to read and your energy is amazing, thank you for giving me a chance when i was too shy to ask anyone else to be moots LMAO 🫶 plsplss keep writing you’re so gifted and deserve the whole world LOVEE UU

@bitehee cavvy my big sibling :((( i love u sm kshsdknd its been a while but i really hope everything has been well since you moved and you’re still being as cool as ever <3 im gonna replay a pokemon game in ur honor perhaps mystery dungeon 👁️ ? anyway i look up to u and think u are so cool, one of my fav hee stans ever ever!!! remember u have my disc if u ever wanna chat 🫂 !!!

@sunoksunny sunny <3 my other gf. i remember our first vc u had this goofy pfp i cant remember what it was but like u are so easy to talk to and funny?! and PRETTY??? your fits are always stunning and your singing is beautiful ugh the whole package fr… and. we need. to play. genshin!!! I REDOWNLOADED IT FOR U OK WE WILL DISCUSS THIS SOON!! ILY

@slytherinshua ZANNY. u are so easy to talk to we match each others energy so perfectly?!? I HOPE U AND TUALHA CONTINUE BEING THE COOLEST EVER and ur writing is top tier so pls keep going‼️ thank u for being so sweet to me as another one of my very first moots i appreciate u sm <3333

@flwrshee riri !!! we haven’t even been moots for long but i had to add u in here because u need to know that ILYSM. you’re like an adorable energetic little sister that always makes me smile T-T thank you for taking time out of your day to reblog my fics with so much sweet feedback and i wish u the absolute best always!! if u ever need anything pls dm me on disc i would love to chat with u more, and make sure to keep writing bc u have SO much talent!!!!

@wonieleles sia SIA i genuinely miss talking to u sm i NEED to come back to walmart enha :(( we don’t talk much besides our little interactions in the server but each time you make me smile. you’re so so smart and admirable, i hope you keep up the hard work bc i know you’ll go so far and HAVE MORE CONFIDENCE!! you’re so beautiful okay ily 😞🫶

@sultrybaby kel 😭😭😭💖💖 you’ve literally been a day one THANK YOU for always checking in on me even during your ridiculous NONSTOP EXAMS. 💀 another one of my big siblings on here fr you are such a real one and i care for u sm!!! i hope everything has been well for u?! pls feel free to message me for anything okay <3 I LOVE U SM thank u for sticking with me all this time 🫂🫂

i have so many moots so i can’t write smthn for everyone but i love u all okay <3 AGAIN if u wanna keep in touch thru spotify or discord dm me muwah

[missmeinyourbones]

if you wanted me, you really should’ve showed ｡･:*:☆

eren jaeger x reader | wc: 1.2k+ | L’s FOLKLORE event

The snow is barely accumulating on the ground, which correlates with the evening’s weather report you remember dozing off to. 

Now, hours after falling asleep, you stand outside of the 24 hour convenience store down the street from your home. You’d taken the walk after waking in the middle of the night with a strong craving for sour candy—letting your stomach get the best of you, the decision to make the trip was easy. 

You’d been searching the candy aisle for any sort of relief packaged into a neon colored gummy, but all you found was your ex-boyfriend. Energy drink and a pack of cigs in one hand, paired with a lousy choice of chocolate bar in the other. 

How fitting. 

It’s a small world. Really, you think it should be bigger.

After an awkward run in at 3:24am and no candy purchase on your end, the two of you stand outside of the store’s front. The fluorescent signs from the decorated windows illuminate Eren’s profile when he finally clears his throat. 

“We sure were something though, huh?” was his weak attempt at segueing into the casual concept of your failed relationship. There was no way around the conversation, but also no point in rehashing the past.

“We were,” you weakly agree, sincere and transparent, though Eren isn't too sure if you mean it in the same way he does. 

He continues, searching for validation disguised as clarification.

“I’d like to think we were good for each other. For a little bit, anyway,” he trails off towards the end, grasping at straws to get you to agree with him.

Your blunt responses says so little and so much at the same time.

“A little bit,” you parrot back with a shrug.

His increasing grip on the candy bar in his pocket builds, causing him to snap the chocolate in half through its packaging.

Eren’s not exactly sure why, but he’s angry with how little you seem to be affected by all of this. He’s being vulnerable, airing out all of your relationship’s dirty laundry, and yet you still seem so blase about the whole thing. He finds his anger fueling his bravery as he speaks before thinking.

“Do you miss it?” is what crawls from his throat, but you know him well enough to know what he’s truly asking.

Do you miss me?

Eren doesn’t know what you’ll answer will be, whether it will be a yes or a no or something in between—but he’s sure that it’s going to burn him. Leave his heart sinking and skin on fire as you deliver it devoid of any emotion.

When you exhale, he can see your breath. A small, sick part of him wants to bottle it in a jar and keep it as a souvenir. As a reminder that you were once in an arm’s reach of him.

“I think I miss what I thought it was.”

He was right, your response does sting. It hurts so badly that he finds himself lighting a cigarette to busy his hands from permanently engraining nail shaped crescents into his palms. 

Unable to roll over and die, he finds himself pressing, “What does that mean?”

He watches you pause with a sigh, taking a moment to find the right words, “The ‘us’ I created in my head. It wasn't actually like that, I just wanted it to be.”

Fuck.

Every one of your responses hurts more than the last, and yet he can’t stop himself from hitting you with question after question. He feels like a fraud, like an addict to your harsh delivery and sullen expression. 

He lets a cloud of smoke leave his pursed lips, “Maybe I wanted it to be that way, too.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you shut down his plea, “you didn’t even want me.”

“Of course I did,” he immediately heaves. “I still do,” he’s quick to correct himself. 

Your expression doesn't change with his sudden outburst. It remains neutral, almost detached from the conversation as you watch the snow begin to stick and pile up in the store’s parking lot.

“Well, you didn’t show it,” you say and it feels like a conclusion, like an ending, “I didn’t feel it.”

Eren expects you to leave him in that very moment, in every sense of the word. Physically, emotionally, he expects you to vanish.

Instead, your feet remain where they are planted, and you remove the cigarette from his shaky fingers.

He waits for you to stomp it out into the slushy snow below, between the white filled cracks and cervices of the cement, but you don’t. You surprise him by bringing it up to your mouth, taking your own shaky inhale of the nicotine into your lungs. He watches your lips wrap around the bud where his were a few seconds ago, he hates that he sees the act as an indirect kiss. 

“Wanna know the worst part?” you exhale with the smoke. It looks exactly like your puff of air did before, but now he knows it to be filled with a heavy poison. 

“Not really.”

“I still wanted it to be you,” comes from your lips, unashamed and matter-of-fact.

Eren freezes. “What?”

You hold the cigarette out at an arm’s reach, waiting for him to pluck it from your hand. 

He has an itching feeling that this will be the last chance he has to touch you, so he does. Selfishly, Eren lets his hand hover over yours for a moment, before brushing his fingers against yours and slowly removing the stick from their warmth. A fleeting touch, a reminder that you’re still alive and human, still touching and able to be touched.

“Even with the shit-show of it all, I still wanted it to be you,” you retort with a bit of a bite. You hope he understands what you mean, even if only a little bit, “I was still willing to pretend it could be.”

He aches to scream, to grab you and promise into your skin that it could be, it still can be. Instead, he remains where he stands, feet now being covered in tiny flurries of snow that turn to water on his boots. 

Eren coughs before uttering the inevitable, “We could try again, y’know.”

He expects the snow to stop falling around you at his confession, expects the world to stop spinning and the stars to drop from the sky like fallen marbles. He expects you to scoff, to spit on him for assuming something so naive. He expects resistance, anger, anything. 

Yet somehow, the silence that he’s met with is actually worse than all of his potential fears. 

“Now that we’re actually communicating this shit, we can be adults about it,” he tries to reason with your silence, “we’ve grown since then.”

He turns to you, looking at you for the first time since you’ve been outside. You looked different underneath the warm and flickering convenience store lighting—softer, weary, a bit small. Now, beneath the midnight sky and littered in melting snowflakes, you look sharp, hurt. 

“Better late than never, right?” he desperately, pathetically hopes.

You allow yourself to look at him, vision blurred with flakes of damp snow instead of tears for once, and shake your head.

“I really did wish it would’ve been you,” the truth aches your bones like a soreness you can’t rest, “but it’s just not.”

for my dearest @gatoru <3 swifties unite u picked such a good pairing

[valaruakars]

Baby, You’re the Cure (Part 1)

Viktor/F!Reader || 2.4k ||  NSFW

Anon requested: i would love to see viktor as like an apothecary and he makes a bunch of medicines and tinctures and reader comes in for something and they get flirty it can be sfw or nsfw

Warnings: AU in which Viktor stays in Zaun, apothecary!Viktor, accidental aphrodisiac use, brief heavy petting, frottage, overstimulation, a stupid amount of ellipses :/

It's a shame he’s always so busy—one of the few apothecaries Zaun has to offer. 

Reliable ones, at least. 

Viktor wishes, each time the door chimes and you flit in to brighten the dim, dusty shop, that he could spare more time for you. Reciprocate your shy, sweet flirtations or fully convey his gratitude for the home cooked meals you pay him in beyond a paltry thank you. Really, they do not need to be that good; you put in far too much effort for the likes of him.

But he can only spare a few quick words before it’s on to the next customer or back to the careful task of brewing someone’s medicine.

He’s been searching for the right words to ask, perhaps even beg, to see you outside the shop, but he just hasn’t found them yet. He suspects they’re hiding out amongst his frayed nerves, his mouth dry and useless each time the chance comes and goes.

You’ve already been by for the day, hours ago during peak time, so when the shop bell chimes and he wheels around the corner to warn this last patron that he’ll be closing up momentarily, he doesn’t expect to see you.

But there you are, looking rather like you’ve sprinted here—messy, sweating, your hand braced on the door as you try to catch your breath.

He gets to his feet quickly, fumbling for his crutch. “Is everything alright?”

“Do you, um… want me to lock this…?” you ask instead, breathless and strained. 

“Yes, but—” The concerned furrow of his brow deepens, eyes ticking over every inch of you, looking for something, anything that might indicate the problem. “I would also like you to answer my question. Please.”

“I—I don’t know…” As you come closer, your expression becomes increasingly pained until you stop all together on the other side of the counter. You can’t meet his eye, wringing your hands as you whisper, “I don’t think so…”

Embarrassed. You are embarrassed.

This is why it’s wrong to be overly familiar with patients, he scolds himself. He tries to be clinical, to stuff down all the personal concern as he asks, “Can you describe your symptoms?”

“I’d rather not,” you say, so soft he hardly catches it, “But I think it has something to do with this.” A shaky exhale, and you pull something out of your pocket and hold up your fist closed around it, shaking too and clammy. So, so clammy as he has to pry whatever it is out of your hand.

And it is a vial, one of his, with nothing but a little heart drawn on the label.

“Viktor…” you choke out as he pales visibly, “What did you give me?”

You look like you’re about to cry and, frankly, he wants to vomit. Never has he ever fucked up so badly as to give someone the wrong elixer. Of course, it had been busy when you came in, but he had clearly instructed you that your package was on the left—was sure that it was your medication in it.

Oh. Oh wait.

His left.

Your right.

“Why… why did you take this?!” he asks, harsher than he means to in his panic, “It’s not your usual bottle, (y/n)!”

“I—I thought you were trying to be sweet!” you shout back, shifting and shuddering for it, trapping a little groan in your throat that isn’t lost on him. Your hands grip the edge of the counter, white-kunckled. You shrink into yourself as you dare ask again, though you must know the answer by now: “What did I take?”

“It’s an…” He has to force it out, the word feels thick and stubborn on his tongue. “…Aphrodisiac.”

And as if to declare its presence—thrilled to be acknowledged, that concoction in your bloodstream—a shudder wracks your body again, a breathy whine leaves you. He knows it to be entirely against your will, but for shame, you hang your head miserably.

“It’s, ah, very strong—made for a Vastayan twice your size. I can make something of an antidote, but it wont purge the effects entirely. They will… linger. It can take anywhere between 6-8 hours to completely clear your system.”

As much as he is soothed by a scientific explanation, you, clearly, are not. You stare up at him hopelessly through your lashes, wielding your watery eyes like a weapon of his destruction, whether you know it or not. The guilt could bring him to his knees.

“Please believe me,” he says, his voice thin near begging, “I am so, so sorry.”

“You… You didn’t do this to me on purpose?”

“That is deeply unethical, I would never.”

“But you’re going to help me… Right?” you ask, starting to squirm so restlessly where you stand, victim to an itch you can’t scratch—can’t satisfy, more than likely. 

“Yes, as I said, I can make something to alleviate the effects. It requires thirty minutes, if I—”

Your hands fist into his shirt; you practically haul him across the counter, eyes wild and blown so wide your lovely irises are nearly eclipsed. Ah yes, the sweating, the dilated pupils, both are common side effects. Aggression too, though it’s favorable to some more than others. He’s not sure how to feel, himself.  

“I can’t wait that long, Viktor, you have to help me,” you whine, craning your neck toward him, angling to catch him up in a kiss he’d very much like to share. But…

“I can’t,” he breathes onto your lips, resisting half-heartedly, “That would be—I cannot take advantage of you in this state.”

“Why is it taking advantage?” you ask with that soft, siren’s voice, and he finally realizes you’re not holding him forward anymore. It’s all him who’s leaning in, loving the way you lavish him with the desperate rake of your nails down his neck, beneath the collar of his shirt. “You like me, I like you… It would’ve come to this, eventually.”

He laughs, such a nervous sound, and his tongue grows thicker, the accent with it, as he begins to accept what is happening—that he is hopelessly willing to help you in all the ways he knows how. “I would have liked to take you out first, you know.”

“Later,” you’re quick to promise, regretfully letting him go without his kiss, “Right now, I need you to touch me. Please.”

“Just once, do you understand? Then I’ll need to make the counteractant.”

You nod your agreement vigorously, and already he fears you’re going to make it hard to stick to that resolution.

Viktor lifts the counter on its hinge for you to step through, and the old thing slams back down with a hard clap on account of you, quite literally, throwing yourself at him. He barely catches his balance, nearly topples over as you lay waste to his lips, sloppy and inelegant as you frantically jam your tongue into his mouth. Braces you by the back of the neck with one cold, calloused hand as he tries to pace you, but you’re far beyond that. No, you’re keening, a cloying, heedless sound, into his mouth when his tongue brushes back, and clawing at his chest like you mean to shred off his clothes. You probably do—but, again, not your fault.

Though… To be wanted like this, so base and careless and clumsy, he echoes a groan against your lips for the thought of it alone.

He breaks, has to pant breathlessly into your hair as your lips and teeth scrape down his neck instead, “Come, into the back, please.”

As he takes you by the sickly warm hand and walks you back into his private space, home and work in one, your grip tightens and you whimper into your other closed fist. Very suddenly, he understands what your initial pained expression was symptomatic of and, privately eager, his cock twitches against the leg of his pants.

He settles down on the stool at his work bench, needing off his sore leg. You stand between his spread thighs impatiently, practically rubbing your thighs together beneath your dress—he can see it, in the little wiggle of your hips. He smoothes a hand over your waist, fisting at the fabric as he elongates the column of his neck—a blank canvas—to look up at you.

“Show me,” he demands, and you don’t require elaboration.

You eagerly hike up your dress, bunching it just above your hips to let him see. You are not shy, knowing he is the solution. You do not care.

Well, maybe you do. Mostly because he’s not touching so much as perversely admiring the swollen, throbbing peek of your cunt between your legs—your clit so red and puffy where it protrudes, you’re likely to cum the moment he touches it.

“Where have your panties gone, hm?” he teases, slipping a hand between your thighs to part them.

They make a lewd, sticky sound when you widen your stance because you are dripping in thick, shiny ropes of your own slick. Some of it hits the floor between your feet. Overproduction of natural lubricant—yes, another side effect. He mentally notes to keep you hydrated, and then tries to turn off the clinical side of his brain. Not very sexy.

“They were… too much…” you finally confess, starting to shake as he pets your wet inner thigh in slow, sweet strokes.

“Did you cum? Without ever touching yourself?” he asks, and okay, fine, perhaps it is partly a professional curiosity. Partly. The rest is for his own sick knowledge, something to think about later.

“Twice,” you hiss, grabbing his wrist beseechingly—a mind to force it where you need it, but he doesn’t budge.

He never meant to be this teasing, but it’s so hard to stop when you’re like this. He suspects you’ll tell him anything, just to get off, which is fascinating.

“And did that satisfy you?”

“Not at all,” you whine, “Because it wasn’t you and I wanted you.”

He preens at the idea that you thought of him as you came—that you sought him out, desperate for his help in more than one way, as a result. “Mmn,” he hums lazily, his hand drifting higher, his own legs spreading wider, “You can have me, however you like. After I have you properly taken care of, yes?”

“Please.”

“Very good,” he hums. “Let’s start with this, then…” he says, and it’s just as he suspected.

The moment his hand slides over your clit, between your legs to cup your throbbing cunt, you’re finished. You are that overwrought from the aphrodisiac alone—and perhaps a little of his teasing too, if he’s being hopeful.

It shouldn’t take you by surprise, but it does. You keel forward with a delicious sound just shy of a punched out scream and brace yourself on his shoulders. Your nails dig in, fisting his shirt, as your body begins to quake and sing in stuttered, pitchy mewls that match the buck of your hips. Your knee is lucky to find purchase in the space between his thighs on the stool, all so your legs don’t give out beneath you.

Eyes shut against the onslaught of sensation, you can’t see the voyeuristic, fascinated way he watches your face contorted with pleasure. “Jsi tak hezká, miláčku, so pretty,” he coos, eager to comfort, to make sure you know it.  

He keeps his hand steady for you, lets you ride out your pleasure against the heel of his palm. Encourages you to do so with a grip on your waist that guides your hips to roll hard into his hand. He’s even able to give you a taste, a tease of what’s to come, dipping his fingers just barely inside of you when you rock back far enough. You’re so wet, so wanting, that your body offers little resistance. Oh, to sink his cock in instead; to watch himself disappear between your slick, swollen lips so slowly, so completely…

Viktor thrusts against the warmth of your thigh. Had you been lucid enough to press it closer, to let him rub up against it? Or had he sunk lower to seek it out? He’s not sure, but the heady friction makes him groan in chorus with you and the slick, lewd sounds of your cunt in his hand.

“Just like that, yes,” he whispers, and he’s not sure anymore if he’s soothing you or asking for more for himself, getting greedy when he knows you will give and give and give as you try to take what you want from him.

Another shockwave of pleasure wracks you and you’re starting to crumple, the buck of your hips erratic, as the force of your orgasm fades out. Even your voice tapers down into huffed little whimpers—frustrated, likely, that you’ve gotten what you wanted and still found no relief.

“No,” you whine, crawling into his lap, “No, no, no. That doesn’t count.” You are feverishly hot against his skin where you’ve wrapped your arms around his neck, buried your face into the crook of his shoulder. Hotter still and sodden, where you’ve seated yourself against the outline of his cock, looking for all the friction you can get.

“I think it does,” he tells you. Swallows thickly against the tempting writhe of your body and your lips, sucking open-mouthed kisses into his neck—so insatiable—but he promised to help you. Anything less than making that remedy right now would only be helping himself. There will be plenty of time for that later—all night, knowing the potency of that switched brew, but at a slower pace he’ll be able to keep up with. Hopefully.

Panting now, pressing harder into his lap, you lick a stripe up the column of his neck with the flat of your tongue. Beg him in one, demanding word: “More.”

“Moje milá věc,” he says, strained to be stern, resolute—it’s hard, when his cock is sliding raw and needy against the wet spot you’ve now soaked into his pants. “We agreed: Just once. There is a solution to your suffering and I am not all of it. Let me make you the counteractant and—”

But no. You shut him up with a filthy kiss to the bow of his lip, sloppy as your tongue brushes into his open mouth. It’s lewd, the way a gossamer fine string of saliva follows you away as you pull back, but he’s entranced—disgustingly so. But if he’s desperate, you are the walking incarnation of it.  

You whisper, harsh the way your teeth scrape across your bottom lip, “Fuck me,” and well…

There is a solution for that too.

[ddejavvu]

Idk if ur still doing requests for hotch but here's one that i think would be very funny. Imagine if Morgan or Sean or someone with a death wish put Viagra in Hotch's backpack or something and you're like his gf/subordinate or something and you're about to do the deed and while looking for a condom you find the pills and ask him if he's having trouble with you know what and he is embarrassed but also confused then angry because he obvsly figures it out. Feel free to make any necessary changes, I just think the viagra thing would be so funny.

Instead of the flexible foil packet that you're expecting in the inner pocket of Aaron's briefcase, you find a stiff cardboard box. It's bulky, doesn't fit well in the space, and you peer concernedly at it to see what it is.

It's Viagra.

Instantly, you turn sympathetic. Aaron is certainly older than you, and you don't blame him for showing signs of his age. You're sure it must be embarrassing for him, though, so you approach the situation delicately.

"Aaron," You call over your shoulder, the man already lounged over his desk chair waiting for you to come back, "You need one'a these?"

"A condom? Yes," He chuckles confusedly, "I thought that's why you went over there."

"No, these." You show him the box of pills, "You need water too, yeah?"

You keep your voice as casual as possible, hoping that he won't be embarrassed about needing the extra help. Really, you don't care how he does it, you're just happy to have it working.

"I- what? Where did you get those?" You watch his cheeks flush, a brighter red than you've ever seen them, "Those aren't mine!"

"They were in here," You gesture to the bag, "Really, Aaron, it's not a big deal, I don't care. You don't have to lie."

"No, really!" He sits up now from where he was leaning back comfortably in his chair, "They aren't mine, I don't know why they were in there."

You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously, "You're sure? I'm not judging you."

"Seriously," He groans, "I haven't.. needed help before. You know it works fine."

You snort amusedly at the evidence he offers, a now less-prominent bulge in the fabric of his slacks. Apparently being accused of old age didn't do much for him.

"How did it get there, then?"

"I don't know," His brow slipped down into its familiar furrow, "I don't let anyone touch my briefcase. There was only- oh my god."

"Oh my god?" You echo, waiting for him to elaborate. Now his cheeks steam red with anger, and he stands abruptly.

"I told Morgan he could grab a file from inside this morning when we were in the briefing room. He must have slipped it in there."

"Don't fire him." It's half a joke, and half not. It's not like Derek had known his little prank would backfire horribly to where you found it, but that's because no one knows that you and Aaron are together in the first place.

"When I'm done with him he'll wish I had just let him go," Aaron grumbles, striding for the door before you can stop him, "Wait here."

He throws open the door without hesitation, his voice booming as he calls Morgan to his doom. At first Morgan smirks, knowing his joke has finally been discovered, but as he traipses obediently into Aaron's office, his smile drops.

His eyes meet yours, and you balk. You have no idea what to do, but you're still holding the box and Aaron is slamming the door behind him now, closing you three into the room together.

"When I said you could grab a file from my bag?"

"Y/N.. you-! You and Y/N!" Derek seems somehow unaware of the fuming man beside him, gawking at the package in your hand, "You- You!"

"Me," You supply lamely, "Good one, Morgan."

"What were you thinking?" Aaron snaps, and Derek finally turns to him.

"I was thinking it was a funny jab to call you ancient. I wasn't thinking you were banging my coworker!"

"He's not- argh," You let out a choked groan, burying your face in your hands, "Just apologize, Morgan."

"What would Strauss say?"

You know it's an empty threat, but you watch Aaron's face shift anyways. It's miniscule, barely there, but his frown flattens out and his eyes widen ever so slightly.

"She's not going to think. She won't know."

"I could run over and tell her right now." Derek tilts his head to the door, "I think she'd really like to know about this."

"Derek please-," You start, but he holds out a hand towards you, effectively silencing you.

Aaron takes a deep breath, one where he needs to close his eyes to collect himself. When they open again they're dulled, rage no longer flaming in his irises.

"Please do not report us."

"Why not?" Derek raises an eyebrow, a smirk barely concealed by whatever willpower he had left.

"Because I.." Aaron struggles to speak, lamely finishing, "I will forget that this happened if you will."

"Deal." Derek is far too quick to take Aaron's bribe, and you scoff lightly at his blackmail strategy, "Oh, and I wanna leave early today."

"Don't push it." Aaron's voice is strained as he watches Morgan start for the door.

"She's not in a meeting right now," Derek grins devilishly, "I could walk right in."

"You're dismissed for the day." Aaron finally mutters, his grip on the back of your chair so tight that you swear the wood is splintering, "And take this back," He plucks the box from between your fingers, chucking it at Derek's head, "I don't need it."

"Ew," Derek dodges it, swatting it back onto the floor just inside Aaron's office and quickly shutting the door behind him, "Keep it just in case, old man!"

[ghastlytofu]

YES OKAY I listened to Father Figure by George Michael over and over and over again while writing this. But @hiriaeth..... your post crawled into my brain matter!! accessed only the horniest and most Sopping Wet Sad parts!! and this happened oops.

nsfw wyllstarion fic with feelings beneath the cut :)

He's floating, now. It's not their first time, nor their fifth. Weeks after soft confessions full of hard truths, the indisputable realities of their lives made more and less complicated by their unexpected camaraderie, it is comfortable. It is familiar.

It is novel still.

"Eager," Astarion hisses into the fabric of Wyll's trousers, above the pulse-point in his thigh. Only it's more of a whisper, equal parts hunger and reverence for what lies beneath.

Beneath his haphazardly discarded clothing there is the solid weight of a rod within him - smooth stone, phallic and flared at the base, enchanted with warming runes that tingle pleasantly on contact. And there is a lot of contact. Lines of nascent fire run parallel on either side of the device, pulled further into his clenching heat by the harried, desperate movements of his hips as Astarion sits astride him, casual as can be. His lover strokes his own cock, grinding slowly, unhurried as he bears witness to Wyll's pleasure.

He feels. He feels.

"One little stone cock and you're this undone?" he tuts, one hand idly palming his balls now. "Your other lovers haven't been doing their job." He looks... not displeased - at least not with Wyll - and removes his hands from their work, crossing his arms over his pale chest. His brow is furrowed in consternation.

Wyll laughs, exalted in surrender and so turned on he wants to... wants to do something. Chew through his own flesh maybe, or Astarion's. "What other lovers?" he manages at last, panting through his pleasure and aching for- Astarion huffs out an answering laugh before he can complete the thought, breath soft on his skin.

Wyll's been asked to stay still - asked, only, it wasn't a request. Not really. There's a tilt in his lover's unusually sharp smile, a playful gleam in his eye. "You'll want to heed me," he says, promising nothing. His words are flint but his face is honey-sweet, like Wyll knew he'd be. Hoped he'd be, his soul whispers, and for once in his life he was rewarded for his faith.

Isn't that how it's always been between them?

Astarion merely stares into Wyll's good eye, placid as a lake. Wyll wonders if he's satisfied with what he sees there, but before he can ask the other man is grinding his hips into his own again, victorious as Wyll stutters on words he wasn't going to say.

The weight of expectations and the song of yearning deep within his heart, the hot blood throbbing in his cock, his composure warring against the perilous realization that he wants. That he needs. He cries out as his unfettered ego breaks against the rocky shores of the unknown.

Deft fingers are unbuckling his belt, drawing his trousers down and out of the way. Revealing the mess in his smallclothes - oil and precum and the thick unforgiving stone of that damnable disembodied cock, hours in him now, hours.

Astarion's tongue is a fine instrument. Not least for all its charm or its propensity towards vexatiousness. He knows what to do with it, how to drive Wyll to madness, surely he knows-

His lips - a little cold, a little dry, but soft as satin and sure as the sun make their way from Wyll's chest down to the waistline of his undergarments. Damp as they are with slick and arousal and sweat, they leave little to the imagination. Astarion licks a horizontal line above them - a demarcation of intent - before nuzzling his face into the fabric covering Wyll's package and he cannot hope to contain the throaty noise that escapes his mouth, hips juttering forward, betraying his excitement wholesale if his moaning hadn't already given him away. The stone cock within him shifts sweetly in response to his movements and he chokes on the sensation.

Astarion looks half mad, half affectionate. His normally well-coiffed hair is a mess, owing to their earlier activities more than these before them but his sole focus is on Wyll now. He pets Wyll's face, tenderly. Smiles meanly and sing-songs,

"Young, dumb, and full of cu-"

Wyll groans, half ecstasy and half exasperation at Astarion's insistence on being completely insufferable at every inopportune moment.

"Do not finish that sentence," he grinds out. His teeth are clenched and it's hard to focus on chastising him. It is rather difficult to speak in general when his attention's so divided between the cock in his arse and the one on display before him.

"Or what?" Astarion scoffs, reaching down between Wyll's legs, stopping momentarily to gently roll his balls in his hand before drifting lower still, until he's fingering the base of the stone phallus. Those clever fingers circle his twitching, swollen hole and Wyll tries to remember what words are. His body is too hot. He wonders if this is what Karlach feels like all the time - vitality and scorched earth bound impossibly to one's own living form.

Astarion continues, words blithe, seemingly disaffected. "You are young, and dumb..." He pushes the phallus in, alternating between shallow, quick thrusts and slow and deep, and Wyll gasps like he expects that magical stone cock to come up through his throat. His want is beading at the tip of his cock, fluid pearlescent in the fading light. "And full of come, my sweet," he whispers, torturous tongue applying delicate kitten-licks to the head of his cock which drive him mad but aren't enough.

His horns - 'not the only one,' he had teased some nights ago, the absolute cad - slam against the pillow behind him as his hips cant up, up into that sweet cool mouth only to be overwhelmed by the presence of implacable stone pressing hot and hard into his prostate. It's sweet, it's so sweet and he wants to scream. He twists desperately, Astarion's weight upon him a cornerstone of comfort amidst the ache, and the moan that escapes him is gutteral and involuntary.

It's torturous and too good.

And for a moment, he can't help the fear that washes over him. Not of his lover, of course, nor their current activities, but of his devilish patron Mizora. Of the last time he had attempted... not this, but an approximation of this, with an almost-lover who was many years removed from Wyll's present. Still. The joy Mizora had taken in denying him the respite, this most fundamental of intimacies. It ached then and the threat of it aches now.

Astarion - perhaps via their tadpole, or perhaps Wyll's feelings are more naked on his face than he'd initially thought - takes Wyll's chin in his fine-fingered hands and says, "If she wants to watch, I'll give her a show." No coyness in his voice - well, none more than usual - but... defiant. Protective. It rises in Wyll's heart like an echo, a mirror he didn't know he had - there's a hot swelling in his chest and behind his eyes that has little to do with his throbbing cock. It's been so long since someone cared what he wanted.

Since someone had looked after him.

"See, Mizora?" Astarion's lips, his eyes, his flesh say in tandem. There is mirth and fury in his voice. "There's no room for you here." Bony fingers dig indelicately, indulgently into the sharpest part of Wyll's hips, centering him. Steady. He stares into Wyll's sending stone eye as if he expects her to be staring back. But there is only Wyll, his eyelashes fluttering delicately under the scrutiny.

He's a <good boy> one of them thinks, and between the hot flush of arousal that takes him then and the tadpole-fueled psionic power they're imbued with he cannot tell if it's Astarion or himself that thinks it. That feels it. It makes him cry out regardless.

Astarion, who surely must've heard it - or thought it - only smiles wider and grinds his bare arse against Wyll's leaking cock once more, the pressure of his body weight pushing the warm, pulsating stone phallus deeper still into Wyll, and he cries out, feeling wrecked- feeling-

Faster, he's moving. Wyll can only hold on, torn between wanting to grind down into the fullness or up into Astarion, who is reaching back down and pushing his thumb into Wyll's perineum, staring at Wyll through his lashes, his sweaty brow - their minds brush as their bodies brush, and he hears-feels 'My good, sweet boy' and all at once he is launched off the precipice of pleasure and to his completion.

When he comes to his senses, gasping for air still, heart hammering inside his chest - never one to linger in his own afterglow, as attentive in bed as he is on the battlefield - it's to find Astarion furiously stroking himself, head thrown back as he chases his own climax. Wyll surges up to- help, perhaps. Encourage, at least. But Astarion puts one hand to his chest and shoves him back down, gently but insistently. In seconds Wyll's chest - old scars, new ridges, all parts him - is striped with his lover's spend, evidence of his satisfaction.

They are still for long moments. Astarion rests his head against Wyll's chest - and Wyll knows him well enough to know he's enjoying the thundering of his heart beneath his ribcage, the sound of blood coursing through his overheated body - before groaning and wearily trying to flip them over. This time, he lets Wyll help.

The enchanted stone cock slips out of him with a wet noise that he can't bring himself to be embarrassed about. The whole of him is exposed, laid plain here in this quiet place. His body moves like molasses and feels just as sticky as he rolls over and nuzzles into Astarion's too-cold chest, offsetting some of the unbearable heat.

Astarion holds him as he cards careful, knowing fingers through Wyll's hair, over his horns, tracing the transmogrified points of his ears with a kind of intention that's kind and intentional.

They lay together in the fading light, and it is more than enough.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hey, Sex Witch! This one's uhhh probably different than your usual fare BUT here goes. I'm pretty close to middle-aged, monogamous (m/f), and having some trouble with like. positions. Because we're both like ow my knees and ow my hips and yes this is the one position that seems to work but now we're BORED. Which has led to all sorts of anxiety issues around initiating and having sex at all. Do you know of any resources to help a couple of old farts out?

hi anon,

this is actually soooo normal for what I do here! a lot of Sex Witch Advice(TM) boils down to "okay, so try something different then," and that's exactly what we're going to do today!

right off the bat if knees are an issue: hey. have we tried some padding. you could buy, like, this 95 dollar sex pillow from goop if you really wanted to

but you could also just, like, fold up your own blanket or strategically place your own pillows to do exactly the same thing! padding in general can be a huge help; just prop em up wherever you need them to support the parts of your body that need support and go to town.

or, hey, just buy some knee pads and/or knee braces. this may just be the roller skater in me talking, but knee pads are so sexy. having sex that requires its own gear is soooo sexy, and knee pads are no exception!

this is lingerie. to me.

also, pro tip for you and anyone reading this: this also 100% applies to things like wrist or elbow braces! any supportive devices! whatever you need to support your body and keep it comfy during sex, just do that!

aside from just padding things out, let's talk about sex that requires less hip movement. y'all have, presumably, fingers and mouths and a variety of exciting erogenous zones, all of which can be combined in fun and exciting ways.

there is also a wide, WIDE world of sex toys out there to explore together. hips too achey to thrust much anymore? that's fine; just buy a thrusting vibrator and get each other off that way, babe. I've heard particularly great things about Hot Octopuss, a company that found unexpected popularity with elderly customers who enjoyed how accessible many of their toys were for bodies that aren't quite as flexible as they used to be, but obviously anything that tickles your fancy is fair game.

(just, you know. check the packaging to make sure it's body-safe. no jelly dildos, so help me god.)

it sounds like the problem absolutely isn't you and your partner not wanting to bone. in a strange way I consider it a great sign that you've gotten bored, because it tells me that you and your partner like variety and expect to have fun when you have sex together!

to me, that means you're in a fine position to get back in the swing of things by doing a little experimenting together. approach sex like a game, playing together find out what works. try things like the list of positions offered in this article, seeing what works for you, what doesn't, and what just feels silly. when something doesn't work for you, that isn't a failure - just a learning experience, and a great opportunity to laugh together.

listen, you guys are in a super cool part of life where the gift of your lived experience is starting to make itself known and require different accommodations. learning how to do that now is GREAT, because (if everything goes right) you're just going to keep getting older, and your body will continue to change! how great to get to learn what intimacy will look like as you spend more of your lives together!

[jackfrombaskinrobbins]

sam wilson x teen!reader headcanons

type of writing: headcanons / scenario

word count: 634

request: yes / no

original request: omg hi!! i absolutely adore your writing 💕 would you be open to doing some headcanons for sam wilson and a teen!reader? have a wonderful day, love <;33

dynamic: sam wilson x teen!reader

characters: sam wilson, reader

a/n: heh inspiration struck so two in one day it is 😈😈 i LOVED writing this request omg. i'm totally obsessed w/ sam wilson so i was sooo happy this was requested!! ty anon :D

taglist: @nutellani @thecloudedmind

(fill out this form to be on my taglist!)

-----------------------✰----------------------

sam gives such older brother vibes to me

like no matter how old u are he’ll always treat you like a little sibling

well he and bucky both

at this point they’re a package deal

a lot of ur time is spent settling their argument

“hey, y/n. who pulls off this hat the best?”

“y/n!!! pancakes or waffles??”

“y/n tell bucky he’s wrong.”

theres a lot of that LMAO

anyways i feel like he would make u do stuff with him

like fun little adventures

y’all learned to crochet together

and u were pretty good ngl

but poor sam kept missing stiches

you made little frogs and his looked not rly like a frog

but u loved it anyway ofc

the two of you usually do grocery runs together

that’s like high time for ur gossip 😏

i mean guys this is sam wilson

he def knows a LOT of stuff

but he’s really engaged with like ur school & home life

he always makes sure ur ok

he is totally the type to text and call regularly

he would go to ur parent teacher conferences if u needed him to

and then he’d tell u all his thoughts about the teacher after 😭 

he’s rly perceptive with emotions

i mean he was a therapist like what do u expect

but whenever he senses ur down he’ll do something really nice

and like cook u something

bc sam can COOK

like COOK

and he’ll try to make you laugh

which always works because he’s actually hilarious

speaking of he’s so funny on missions too

he’s always talking on the earpieces and like he’ll just say the funniest stuff

and he swears like a sailor JUST SAYING 🤪

he’s so the type to swear in front of you all the time but then the moment u swear he’s like “what did you say 🤨🤨”

also he always is asking u fashion advice

“ok y/n. blue shirt red pants? or red shirt blue pants?”

“sam do you really want to look like one fish two fish red fish blue fish”

“yeah i guess you’re right 😞”

he always acts sad and then the moment you feel bad he’s like “GOTCHA 😜”

also whenever he’s away he’ll send you a ton of pictures

a lot of them are selfies of him and bucky and steve 

and they’re so funny

like he’s not trying to be funny but he literally is like a facebook minion meme mom

oh also no offense to him but he’s an AWFUL driver 😭 

like he goes way too fast and his music is so loud

but he lets u choose it so u don’t mind 🤩

it’s always kind of fun going in the car with him

you always text natasha a picture of u with him in the driver’s seat in the background and you say “if i die u know why”

and she just goes “have fun”

lol

you and him go on runs together

and that’s rly fun

well ok ik running is hard

but as a runner its sooo much more fun suffering through it with someone else 🥳

whenever u run u do that like shareplay thing on spotify

and he always judges ur music like 😑

ok mr “i listen to the same album for like five months in a row”

oh he is so the type to take u on like one on one lunches and stuff

i think that’s smth the avengers would do with their younger members to make sure they’re alright

and he always does it with u bc ur best friends ofc ‼️

y’all are so petty to each other

but u do really think the world of him

and he thinks the world of you too 🫶

-----------------------✰----------------------

[citruswormii]

Dazai x reader

Gender neutral reader / SFW / 709 words

A quick smoke break with Dazai outside of the Detective Agency office building, with lots of reflection on your feelings towards Dazai.

Tags: smoking, pining

I promise I don't endorse nicotine addiction this idea just came to me LMAO

"Would you like one?"

Lifting your head from the chill of the concrete wall it was resting on, you open your eyes to see Dazai holding out a cigarette to you. With little hesitation, you take it.

Dazai tucks his package of cigarettes away into one of the many inside pockets of his coat (only heaven knows what he keeps in those inner coat pockets), replacing them with a lighter in his hands. Just as you're placing the cig in between your lips, he leans in with his own, separating the two with nothing but the light flicker of the lighter flame to begin burning the tips of both cigs. 

You'd followed Dazai out when he said he was going for a quick break. You weren't exactly expecting a smoke break– not that Dazai seems particularly past smoking, but he wouldn't be your first choice when asked who in the Detective Agency would be most likely to carry a pack of cigarettes on their person. And now as the smoky drag fills your throat and dries it up, you can't help but wonder a little more as to why. You're not quite sure what exactly 'why' means in this case, but it's something you– and many, many others– find themselves asking about the elusive Osamu Dazai.

Maybe it wasn't best to think about such things. Thinking too hard about Dazai made your head hurt, and this cig was meant to be preventing that from happening.

But you can't help but say aloud, "Didn't peg you as the kind to smoke."

"I don't do it regularly," Dazai responds between puffs, "Just an old habit I picked up. If I'm being honest, I have so much more to focus on that I forget that stopping and smoking does something."

"Something?" You ask.

"Yes. It's a little relaxing even if you know it's bad for you, isn't it?" He asks back.

Fallen into the trap of trying to question Dazai again… how unfortunate. You reply before putting the cigarette back in your mouth, "I guess so." 

Silence falls across the two of you for a moment as a few more clouds of smoke are blown from between your lips. It's not like there's much you can say. What were you supposed to do, making boring small talk? Ask each other about the gritty details of each others' lives? If anything, standing around and basking in each others' smoke felt just as intimate as those other options. It was certainly keeping you both occupied as you both toss an occasional glance towards one another.

You flick the ashy end of your cigarette to the ground once it's burnt its way through its course. Dazai follows suit. You ask suddenly, "Was there any reason you let me have this besides courtesy?"

"Not really. I just think moments like this are nice."

For whatever reason, you can't help but feel a tingle down your spine that seems to say that Dazai is lying. But how, and why? Why would he be lying about something so miniscule and what was he even meant to be lying about? Maybe all you need is to put a bit more faith into Dazai, but you can't trust yourself to do that…

"They are. I'm kind of glad I followed you." The words seem to fall haphazardly from your mouth like a spill from a bucket.

Dazai chuckles and snuffs out his now mostly-done cigarette beneath his foot, "I'm glad we think the same."

It's only then watching Dazai go through the motion of finishing his cigarette that you suddenly realize that you've finished as well. Even as you're questioning if you've been weirdly entranced by this man, trying to follow in snuffing out your cigarette as well, your eyes still seem to follow him as he walks towards the entrance of the Agency again.

He turns around before entering, just as you think you're going to lose him, and he says, "We should do this again. Meet me out here during our next break together?"

You stop in place, the butt of your cigarette squished firmly into the sole of your shoe now. You hesitate, but he doesn't seem keen on leaving until you answer, "Yes… Yes, we should."

[chaisshitposts]

hi love if you don’t mind can you go in more detail about the time you entered the void and manifested your job? what was your mindset like before you entered? what do you think helped you enter? i’m in my 20s as well and really want to at least get my dream job first of all things and then i feel like i could finally relax you know? :( so your help would be greatly appreciated🥹

also i think your followers are really nice and mature so when i do tap in, i wouldn’t mind affirming (everyone who likes my success story and has good intentions will enter roe)

sure! let's see if I can remember as many details as possible— it was a couple days after I had my job interview, I had already been affirmin' my ass off that that job was mine and no one could take it from me— on this particular day, I think it was a Sunday. the lady who interviewed me said I would get my answer on the followin' Wednesday, and god that stressed me out, but I still kept affirmin'. on that day, I felt an extreme sense of drowsiness and so I had went to try and sleep in my bed. I already knew about SATs and whatever so I thought I could just affirm as I go to sleep, which I did. I was 'asleep' but I was still repeating my affirmations over and over, only focusin' on them while I was physically tossing and turning. Since I was tryna sleep, my eyes were already closed and it was silent in my room so ig I just didn't care about my surroundings. I do, however, remember that at some point I was affirmin' and was fully aware of my affirmations but then somethin' changed inside me and I was like 'Its done, nothing more for me to do, I don't wanna stress over this anymore. I can't sleep so, might as well just go back downstairs.' Then I opened my eyes and got up, feeling my stress about everything completely gone.

I went downstairs, right as my ma sat down after gettin' a package off the porch and that's when she gave me my new phone. (I still live with my family, yes, but only bc california is a dirt bag ofc) And I kid ya not, a couple minutes after I opened up the box with my new phone in it, I got a congratulations email from the lady who interviewed me, as well as the offer letter on my old phone. I freaked out afterwards bc I was like, ain't no way??? She said she'd send me somethin' on WEDNESDAY?? It's SUNDAY. I even told my ma and she was excited, then I was like-- I really manifested this??? After an entire year of being unemployed despite havin' my degree, and forcin' myself to work at Amazon and FedEx just to have a lil' change to call my own... I finally scored the job I WANT.

The best advice I could give you tbh is that ya should make robotic affirmin', the list method, and the ten minute method yer best friend. I did not have a good outlook on employment until I settled down and decided to change my thinkin' and god I was still stressed as fuck even when I affirmin'. I've never been good at talkin' to strangers, especially on the phone or on video call, but I affirmed right up until the interview started that the job would be mine no matter what and I was completely calm. Now, I am a step closer to my dream job. (I'm a substitute teacher currently workin' towards my credentials to be a full-time teacher in case ya were wonderin', the company I work for also provides grants to pay for the schooling needed to get credentialed which is such a big fuckin' bonus)

and yes, they definitely all are amazin' people, I never expected to have such a positive lil' community of followers but I am grateful to them, for sure.

bUt, okay, lemme stop ramblin' here's what I wantcha to do anonnie— I want ya to make yerself a list, title it whatever ya want to call the list, and fill that list with affirmations, askformations, statements, new beliefs, whatever ya want. could include anything ya want, details about the job ya want, how much money ya wanna make, how ya want the bosses to treat ya, what kinda work environment ya want, whatever, and then I want ya to include some self-concept affirmations, as well as some affirmations about the void (whatever feels natural for you), ah and some manifestation affirmations too. make it however long or short ya want, doesn't matter. once ya have that, read it over as many times as ya want and then throughout the day, whenever ya can, I want ya to robotically affirm that you've got everything on [name of yer list], say this whenever ya can, and especially when ya start thinkin' negative about whatever you desire or whenever ya feel like you're about spiral. affirm this through everything and anything, affirm if ya can't help but cry, affirm when yer angry, affirm when yer happy, just keep affirmin.'

as long as ya keep this up and correct yer thoughts, you'll have guaranteed movement in yer life, that's the law. even in false hope, whatever is repeated shall harden into fact.

[thepenultimateword]

Sweet Dreams

Part One Part Two

'Next time' arose quicker than Henchman expected.

Ever since the, er, 'cuddling incident', they'd been very deliberate to reserve places with plenty of separate sleeping space. Even today, they'd had a perfect setup reserved in Lenfirn, the city several hours away that was to be tonight's rest stop, an AirBnB with completely separate bedrooms. That way Henchman wouldn't have Villain's restless sleep waking them up in the middle of the night, eating away at them, luring them anxiously to their side--they never knew they could worry for someone so much. And it all would have worked out if those persistent heroic nuisances didn't start a patrol right within the next city, essentially barricading them from their final destination. News had it they were even roving the highway.

Could the heroes have found out which type of car they were driving? Should they switch vehicles? Without any answers to those questions, the best thing they could think to do was to get off the road. Thus the last-minute reservation in this dingy 2-star hotel near the city center.

The two of them now stood in the hotel's humid hallway, the air smelling much too strongly of lemon carpet cleaner, as Henchman fished the keycard out of its envelope.

Villain had their hand ready on the door handle, a sly grin creeping up their jaw as they slowly suspected what Henchman already knew. Henchman pressed the card to the panel and as the lock beeped and flashed green, Villain caught Henchman's eyes.

“Let’s see what we have behind door B25," they announced dramatically, like the host in a game show getting ready to reveal the prize. It really had become an almost sort of game between them over the last week and a half, Henchman's vague descriptions of rooms, Villain always swinging the door open with a flourish at each stop. They never showed it for long, but the criminal always seemed slightly disappointed each time they found two beds. Henchman wasn’t exactly sure how to take that.

This time Villain gave the door a hefty shove, leaving their palm spread in the air as the heavy piece of oak slammed into the doorstop.

“Ah ha!” they cried, bounding over to the Queen bed and its ugly yellow bedspread in the center of the room. "What an unprecedented predicament. I suppose we'll have to talk out some sort of sleeping arrangement."

Henchman held in a chuckle as they followed close behind with the duffel bags. They'd never seen Villain giddy before. Of course, it was all tinged with the usual predatory tone, but excitement looked almost...cute on them. Not that that was changing their mind.

“I can take the floor," they said firmly.

Villain frowned. “Why? It’s a perfectly big bed with space for both of us.”

Henchman's heart thunked too fast in their chest, but they'd prepared for this on the way over. All they had to do was give one of the many excuses they'd come up with.

"I don't think it's appropriate given our professional dynamic. Boss, employee. It's a mess waiting to happen."

"We're only sleeping."

"Yes, but still..."

Villain cocked their head, eyes drinking them in bit by bit as they waited for a better explanation of what Henchman had believed to be a pretty airtight excuse.

"People might...think things. Spread rumors..." Just saying it made their ears burn; they hoped that heat wasn't accompanied by color.

Villain rose one brow, "Are you going to tell anyone?"

It almost sounded like a warning, and Henchman shrank between their shoulders.

"W-well...no."

"Neither am I."

"Ah."

Henchman wrung their hands together, rubbing their thumb over the tight, pale skin of their first knuckle as they tried to ignore the sting of that statement as well as remember another reason to stay at an arm's length.

"If sleeping next to me makes you uncomfortable you can say so," Villain said. "I already told you I wouldn't force anything unwanted."

That should have been their out. It was perfect. Pre-packaged by Villain and not even required to say it themselves. They just had to nod and move on. But for some reason they found themselves spluttering an awkward, "N-no!"

The problem wasn't that Henchman didn't want to; it was that they wanted it too much. It was like a flip switched inside them that night, turning distant admiration into odd electric feelings. They could hold it off for now, but being that close to Villain again might just do them in. And that was not a stew Henchman wanted to be mixed up in. Even if Villain wasn't disgusted, they still weren't the type of person Henchman should get too close to. Like Villain said, they were a spider, Henchman was a bug allowed to live.

"What's the problem then?" Villain said.

I might like you, Henchman answered internally, but aloud they only said, "I...well... It's just that..."

They couldn't think of anything. They were a snorer, they moved around a lot in their sleep, they hogged the covers: none of it was going to be enough. Only the truth might do it, and they just couldn't...

"No problem," they finally said. "We can share."

Villain narrowed their eyes. "You know, you don’t have to.”

“I know.” Henchman's heartbeat felt like it had leaped up into their throat, restricting their responses to two words. Maybe they didn't have to, but wouldn't going back and forth so much only make Villain more curious? By this point they just wanted the interrogation to end before they spilled.

“If it really makes you uncomfortable—“

“It’s fine.”

"Sure?"

"Yep," Henchman said and immediately turned to begin unpacking their bags. They felt Villain's piercing eyes trailing them between the open duffels and the dresser, but they did their best to ignore the thrilling shiver running down their spine.

"Then I'll be going first," Villain said eventually, breaking their intense study to grab a t-shirt and sweats from Henchman's arms. They plucked their toiletry bag out of a side pocket on their way to the bathroom. A few minutes later, Henchman heard the shower running.

They paused their work to rub their palm frustratedly into their forehead with a deep sigh.

They really hoped they didn't end up mortifyingly embarrassed. Or dead.

***

Henchman hovered nervously by the edge of the bed, the air conditioning wafting up one leg of their wafer-thin pajama shorts and sending a little tremble through their entire body that rocked them up onto the tips of their toes. They wished it was a little darker in here.

"Sleeping on the floor after all?" Villain said, as much a provocation as it was a real offer. They were already tucked under the covers, looking way too casual for an overlord of a criminal empire to ever appear. Yes, they'd been traveling together for over a month now, but Henchman had always been careful to train their eyes on something else while Villain was getting ready for bed. They then turned the lights off as quickly as possible. The alterior domestic familiarity was much too awkward.

"N-no," Henchman said and quickly slid under the mustard blanket's thick fabric. The bed wasn't quite so comfortable as the first one, but they had to admit it was better than the scruffy carpet on the floor. That stuff was bound to give them a rash for how soaked it was in cleaner, scent maskers, and who knew what else.

"You can get closer," Villain said, smirk clear in their voice. "I won't bite."

Henchman scooted away from the mattress seam and a little closer to the center. They were a pillow's space away from each other, but Henchman could almost feel the warmth of Villain's shoulder across the gap.

They fixed their gaze on their ceiling, ignoring Villain's watchful eyes and the terrifying urge to turn over on their side and face them head-on. A police siren wailed down the street outside the window, painting the curtains red and blue. Henchman's hands fisted the blankets.

"What's on your mind?" The sheets rustled as Villain shifted, and that gap got just a little bit smaller.

"They've never gotten this close before," Henchman murmured. "All this time we've been a few steps ahead. How are we going to get out of the city tomorrow?"

Villain stretched their long limbs. "We won't. Not with the whole group in one place. Guess we're stuck here."

"For how long?" Henchman squeaked.

"Villain shrugged. "Until the heroes come up fruitless and move on."

Henchman didn't know how Villain could sound so calm about this. There were heroes out on the streets looking for them right now, and if they found them... Well, they'd overheard enough of Villain's night terrors to know it wouldn't be pretty.

Not to mention the bed situation.

Maybe their trembling was traveling through the bed because Villain's hand suddenly grasped around their neck, forcing Henchman's eyes toward their own. They'd gotten a little closer in the meantime too.

"Are you afraid of heroes?"

Henchman shook their head stiffly. "Not of fighting them. That's why I'm here. But being hunted down...yes."

"Anticipation," Villain acknowledged slowly, "is a terrible disease. It sets the mind to panic and the stomach to sickness. Ignore it the best you can. Or you'll spoil your meals."

They sounded confident enough, but all Henchman could think about was that such advice had to come from somewhere. Villain had suffered, still suffered, at the hands of self-proclaimed peacemakers. The question slipped out before they could stop themself.

"Are...you...afraid of heroes?"

Villain's grip on their neck tightened enough to make Henchman gasp. It was a loud exhale mixed with a short yelp, and it immediately caused Villain to drop their arm around the back of their shoulders instead. They looked down directly into Henchman's eyes, that original gap basically nonexistent now.

"A rat doesn't run from what it's not afraid of."

It was vague on purpose, but yes. It was a yes. Henchman searched Villain's gaze for a hint of that fear, but all that stared back was blank glass and their own startled reflection.

Villain leaned in to Henchman's ear. "Turn off the lights."

Henchman jolted, quickly tearing out of Villain's hold and fumbling for the lamp knob. When they leaned back into their spot, Villain had retreated back onto their own side.

Henchman stared at their back, counting the rumples in their t-shirt, itching to pinch a fold between their fingers, as if it might be able to give them the same comfort they had a week ago. The protective air wasn't quite as strong when they weren't in Villain's arms, but at least their presence still radiated the bed's radius with some security.

After a few minutes, they flipped the other direction as well.

Space. Right. It's what they'd wanted.

Eyes squeezed shut, they snatched onto the first wave of sleep to wash over them and let it drag them down into peaceful darkness. Vllain's sleep must have been well too because Henchman didn't awake until late morning when they found themselves cuddled up at Villain's side once again. Though it was a little...different this time.

Henchman blinked at the fabric several times, nose buried inch-deep in its musky softness, before they realized where they were: wrapped around Villain's waist, forehead pressed firmly between their shoulder blades.

They moved to jerk away, but Villain immediately flipped around and caught them up in their arms. How long had they been awake?!

Villain's face paused just above them, eyes gleaming.

Henchman froze. Even their breathing stopped. It was like that gaze had them pinned down to the spot while their wolfish smile skinned them down to their core. When they found it--the terror, the intrigue, the attraction--their grin grew even wider.

"Good morning, my dreamcatcher."

This is sort of a mess, but I really felt like writing it sooo...😅

Part Four

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstonee @crazytwentythrees @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckless @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @last-ditch-entry @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Mamma mia

It is a truth universally acknowledged, by everyone who has ever played any game in the Tetris series, that there is something wrong with your mother's cooking.

It is a truth universally acknowledged -- but, alas, a sad one -- that almost everybody whose mother's cookbook has been featured in the Tetris World Encyclopedia has been cursed with one of the many horrible, grotesquely mutilated specimens of the genre. The names of the authors and publishers are so horrible, so unwelcoming (e.g. Mamma Mia, Mamma Mia Cookbook, Mamma Mii, Mamma Mia!: The Official Cookbook) that -- yes, just you wait! just you wait! I'll give it to you in a second!

But even in this case -- just you wait! -- a sort of happy accident saves us from having to endure the most ghastly specimens of the genre. The names of the books are terrible, but they contain terrible recipes inside them, which we can now get the full, perfect experience of. This is a rare instance in which a lesser good has been raised to grace the greater evil. A blessing has been conferred on us, in this case, because our mothers' cookbooks have been featured so prominently in the encyclopedia.

And then there are others, where we are confronted with the fact that, when it comes to cooking, we are all on a completely different level, and that some people just can't make good food at all. Such people are not mentioned in the encyclopedia. Their names are simply unknown to all of us. That's the way it is. They are the ones who write recipes that no one can make, and we do our best to pretend that they aren't there, but they are there, and we can see them and we are scared.

Well, not this time. Not this time.

This time -- and I can't believe this is true -- there was a recipe. It was called "Mamma Mia."

Oh, now that really would have been a dreadful entry. The poor writer. The poor, cursed person. What a name. "Mamma Mia" is not a recipe or a dish.

But then, it turns out to be the most delicious thing ever. I tried it. I tried the same recipe over and over again on two separate occasions, just to make sure I was not hallucinating some great culinary masterstroke. I was not. This is really good, and in fact the best dish I've ever made. It's simple and straightforward and delicious and really beautiful, all things you should never expect from recipes in the Tetris World Encyclopedia.

Mamma Mia, that's what I'm going to call my dish. I can't help it -- it's so cute. It seems like the sort of thing someone would just invent, because of the name. It also seems like a terrible thing to eat, which I suppose is how it ends up tasting. It may even be the first dish to be known to be named after an entry in a popular book of "recipes to die for." I can't help but feel like I'm going to get cursed by this. And yet, there's no question: Mamma Mia, or no Mamma Mia. I have to make it.

In short, what I've described was a culinary experience that can be best summarized as Mamma Mia!

Mamma Mia was something I couldn't wait to try. It didn't come in a box with a bunch of other stuff. I had to make it from scratch. For days. It came in its own individual package, and all it said was Mamma Mia.

Mamma Mia did not come with step-by-step instructions. It came with only one instruction:

You are going to make Mamma Mia. I couldn't figure out where to start. It was as if they had decided to make sure I'd figure it out, once I started, but didn't want to give me a clue. You know, they don't want to help anyone else out of the trap that they have already sprung, or something like that. Anyway, I had no idea where to start. That's one reason why I had to eat it over and over and over again. I needed to try it at least ten times to get a true sense of what it was supposed to taste like, and if it tasted like I'd been told. And then, after it was over, I kept thinking about how delicious it was, and it was just too tempting to waste so I had to try it again.

And so, after days of deliberation, I got ready to start.

First, I needed a recipe. It's not something you get. It's a piece of art. It had to be made. I had to make my own. But this is fine, really, because you do not need to know any recipes for it, or anything else. Just get the ingredients and go straight to step three: Mamma Mia.

I had to get this right -- which is why I didn't start right away. It's the last thing you want to do at the start of anything, especially a recipe that does not even exist yet. You just want to get the ingredients on there, and you do that by doing everything else right. If there are already steps to do before starting, the step you start with is going to be the first one, and you should never do anything else.

So I kept waiting for something like step one or step two. I kept getting pissed off, and then I'd start, like, crying and going crazy because step one is never there. And, eventually, I realized that the fact of the matter is that I had to make the recipe myself, and I needed a recipe. I had to make my own, and this was step one, and, yes, I cried.

Well, I did, because there were so many of these steps. Like, okay, so I cannot just look up the recipe, because of all the steps -- and what I'd do instead of the steps was to look up recipes for step one. And then I thought, that is obviously not going to work because step two is never there, right? So, then I realized that, really, there was only one way to get it done. I had to start by doing step one. And that's how I made it.

First, you need a recipe. And here it is:

STEP ONE: you are going to make Mamma Mia.

You need ingredients -- and here are some of them:

Ingredients

[tokyoyumeeee]

She’s just like candy

genshin boys + pocky challenge

featuring: xiao, ayato, childe

tags: fluff, modern au-ish?(I mean they don’t have pocky in genshin’s timeline so uhh??)

XIAO

-poor dude was so confused when you suggested playing the pocky game

-he didn’t even know what the game was until you explained it to him

-his immediate response was “no, why tf would i do that”

-after promising him that you would never bother him again and some almond tofu, he grudgingly agreed

You pulled the biscuit out of its silver packaging and nervously held it between you two. “Are you sure you wanna do this? I mean I can understand if you’re having second thoughts, and you know…” you began to ramble, and was cut off by xiao giving you an annoyed grunt. “wasn’t this your idea? Are you really going to back out at the last second?” You laughed awkwardly and brought your end of the pocky to your mouth. “Of course not. I was just worried you’d back out,” you retorted. Xiao rolled his eyes and placed his mouth on the opposite end of the pocky. Slowly both of you began eating away at the pocky from your respective ends. When the stick was almost finished and your lips were inches away from each other, you could feel your heart pounding. Xiao also seemed slightly nervous as you two continued. ‘It’s now or never’ you took a deep breathe before closing the distance and pressing your lips against xiao’s. He didn’t return the kiss at first, too shocked by what had just happened, but slowly he melted into it. “If you wanted a kiss you could’ve just asked,” he huffed, once you pulled away.

AYATO

-he was not fooled 💀

-he knew exactly what you wanted and how you were trying to achieve it

-bros only response to you asking was a smirk

“So is that a yes or a no?” You pressed, waving the pack in your hand. “Sure,” you pulled the biscuit out of its packaging and placed your mouth on your end of the stick, ayato did the same. The game was going as expected, with both of you eating away at the chocolate covered biscuit, until you two barely had any more of the biscuit left to eat. Out of nowhere, ayato pulled away with the rest of the pocky and devoured it in front of you. “You realise this means you lose right?-“ you were cut off by his lips crashing into yours. His arms slithered to your waist giving him access to pull you in closer. When you pulled away he smirked at your flushed face. “If you wanted a kiss you could’ve just said so,”

CHILDE

-he was the one suggesting the game

-wasn’t even remotely shy about it

-he started whining and begging when you said no

“PLEASE!” Childe begged. You winced at the noises he was making and reluctantly gave in. His frown flipped the moment you gave in. He eagerly brought the pocky to his lips and you grudgingly did the same. Not even half way through the same, he pulled away, snapping the pocky in half, and ate his half. “Y’know what, fuck it. This game is stupid,” he declared, before pulling you in closer to him and planting a kiss on your lips. Heat seeped through your face as you returned the kiss. You grinned after pulling away “Shut up, you’re stupid,” then immediately went in for another kiss.