#did i ever tell you that one of the main reasons i like learning languages is bcs i like to write inane things?

[skitskatdacat63]

you have the time and resources to learn any language(s). what would you learn and why?

Omg Keke sry I forgot to answer this bcs it made me think too deeply 😭

My instant response would just to be to blurt out: ALL OF THEM!!!! I mean I have unlimited time and resources, no? I love all of them and truly learning any additional languages is my dream. Obviously tho my main focus is Germanic languages 🤭🤭 but if I had to pick, I'd probably say: German, Russian and Chinese(Mandarin) and...LATIN.

German because it's already taken up so much of my life, Russian bcs it is my second language love and I listen to so much slavic music, and Mandarin because it's really difficult to learn coming from English so I think I'd need all the help I can get, and Latin bcs there's so many silly things I'd love to do with it

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Bandage To A Broken Heart (Simon 'Ghost' Riley)

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Fem Medic!!Reader

Summary: You're a medic assigned to the 141 task force, Ghost is particularly fond of you and after an injury, he comes straight to your door. This is in Ghosts point of view (still second person, just from his perspective)

Warnings: explicit content, minors dni, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, praise kink, size kink (mans 6'4 whaddya expect), choking, dirty talk, language, mentions of injuries, mentions of reader being much shorter than ghost and has tattoos, no other physically descriptions

WC: 7k I'm so sorry

A/N: FINALLY, ive been writing this fic for like 3 weeks now and I finally got to finish this and omggg, Im down so fucking bad for this man, so naturally I wrote filth for him. I hope my ghost girlies enjoy this

You can also read this over at Ao3

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Ghost was no stranger to pain. Not in the slightest. Pain was second nature to him. He had spent his entire life experiencing and learning to manage his pain to the point where he no longer felt it. But he'd be lying if he said that your touch didn't take away his pain better than he ever could himself. 

Always so careful and gentle, and always willing to help anyone that walked into your infirmary and in the field. He couldn't understand how someone so sweet and caring could've ever ended up in the military, but then again after the things he had seen you do in the field, he'd be a fool to ever doubt your capabilities. 

He was no stranger to you either, afterall, the 141 had become your main patients after you were assigned to their task force as their physician a year ago. And for one reason or another, Ghost always ended up at your infirmary, whether it was for an actual injury or to ask about your day under the excuse of  needing some painkillers he probably didn't really need through grumbles and that particularly dry humor of his that always made your day. And truly, he'd be lying if he said it didn't make his day too. 

Simon Riley was down bad for you, and he didn't know what to do about it. 

He had lost track of time. He wasn't sure if it was from the crash or just the overall shit show that his latest mission had been, but everything was an absolute blur to him. All he knew is that there was only one thing he wanted to do and one thing only. He wanted to see you. No, he needed to see you. 

Price had insisted Ghost joined the others at the infirmary, but he knew it wouldn't be you stitching up his wounds. After a very disastrous previous mission, you were left with pretty severe injuries yourself, ones that left you at your own infirmary for a few days. And while you assured them you were ready to go back to your duties, which included accompanying the 141 to their latest assignment, Price and Ghost himself insisted you sat this one out, and took a couple more days to fully recover. After a good fifteen minutes of protesting, you were outvoted. There were medics on base after all. But they weren't you, so naturally Ghost refused to go to the infirmary. He didn't trust anyone else but you. He'd rather bleed out, he said. 

Price wasn't one to question anything Ghost did, he could take care of himself. And he knew you were the only one he trusted to take care of him.

Before he even realized it, Ghost was dragging himself to your quarters, unsure if you'd tell him to fuck off and to go to the infirmary instead, or if you'd honor the idea that he only trusted your hands to fix his wounds and take away his pain, for a little while at least. He was hoping it was the ladder. 

He knocked, once, twice and a third time, and with a pained groan he leaned his body against the door, trying to take some weight off his sore legs. He waited, his mind racing and thinking that maybe you weren't at the infirmary for a reason, that maybe he should leave you alone and let you take some well deserved rest. 

But he needed to see you, right now.

He lifted his head only a few inches to find you, for the first time not in your usual uniform, but instead a plain dark green tee that left the pattern of black and colored ink on your right arm on full display, and sleeping pants. But you didn't look like you had been asleep, you looked wide awake. Though that quickly turned into what Ghost thought was a mixture of worry and relief on your features. He knew because he had that same look when you woke up after he had carried your unconscious body to the medivac. 

"Will you ever learn to take care of yourself out there?" Were the first words out of your mouth as you scanned his slouched body, taking particular notice to the hand glued to his right shoulder.

He let out a dry chuckle and the way in which his entire body relaxed, his shoulders dropped and was no longer on high alert the second he saw you was more than obvious. Whether or not you did notice that or not was beyond his people reading skills. 

He didn't have to ask or say anything, you simply moved out of the way and walked back. He followed you in, his heavy but surprisingly quick steps following close behind you until you eventually came to a stop. He stopped, standing to his full height and his dark eyes were fixed on you as he waited for you to grab your medical supplies, which he knew you always kept around just in case. 

"I can't check for injuries with all that gear Simon." You motioned your free hand to his tactical vest strapped with just about every weapon he could carry and most likely a bullet covered plate underneath his jacket.

He stood silent for a long second, just taking in the way you said his name. You only ever called him Simon in private, where you both knew you were safe from everyone else, where your protective armors could come down for once. He liked it when you called him Simon, it reminded him that he was still, in fact, a human being, that he was still Simon Riley, not just the ghost of a dead man that hid behind the mask of a killing machine.

He gave you a nod and his hand went towards the clips that kept his harness and vest together. Slowly, minding the throbbing pain in his shoulder, he dropped his vest on the floor, his black jacket quickly following the same fate. This, though, earned a groan of discomfort when his shoulder moved, he closed his eyes momentarily as he pulled the sleeve from his injured shoulder before dropping his jacket to the ground as well. All that was left was his clinging black shirt leaving the black ink of his arm on full display, and of course, his balaclava and the skull plate stitched to the thick fabric. 

You were already gloved up by then, your tools already laid out on a desk behind Simon. So once he was free on his gear, you looked up at him, now seeing the trail of dry blood that ran down his right arm, starting at his shoulder. You stared at him for a few seconds as he stood there before you spoke. 

"I can't stitch your shoulder if you're all the way up there Simon, sit down." You rolled your eyes, forcing out an exasperated sigh and exaggerated motion for him to sit down by your desk.

"It's not my fault you're all the way on the ground down there. Would it kill ya to grow a few?" He said with his usual lack of emotion, but under his mask, his lips tugged up just a tiny bit at the glare you gave him as he sat down in front of you, because even with him sitting down, he was still half a head taller than you. 

"I'll remember that next time you come to my infirmary asking for pain killers after you get shot or stabbed again." You shot him a nasty glare, but you both knew you didn't mean that. "Speaking of getting shot, how did this happen?"

He hissed barely loud enough to be heard through his mask when he felt you lift the sleeve of his shirt and scrunched it up to his shoulder to reveal a gash from a bullet just above his bicep. You glanced at him, eyes meeting his own for a second in a silent apology before you turned your attention back to his wound. 

"Bastard shot me at close range, bullet must've grazed through my jacket. Good thing he was a shit shot though." He answered, his eyes watching you as you cleaned the dried blood around the wound, more focused on you than any pain he could be feeling in that moment. 

"Y'know, had you let me go on that mission I probably would have cleaned this up hours ago." You muttered, swiping the wet cotton around his skin, giving him a minute or two to breathe before actually cleaning the wound. 

"Had you gone with us you would've probably ended in the infirmary for another week." He quickly shot back, his naturally gruffly and raspy voice turning just a bit more so at the idea of it and you could feel his shoulders tense under your fingers. "Better me than you, eh?" 

"That's not funny." Your eyes flickered in his direction and you narrowed them at him, only to find his brown eyes staring deep into you, not once looking away. Until you swiped a soaked cotton over his wound and he exhaled deeply and unevenly, his eyes closing momentarily as he felt his skin throb and burn. 

"I'm not laughing," He eventually responded in a quiet tone, eyes finally opening to meet yours once again. 

"Do you ever?" You asked with a tiny smile, earning the typical dead eyed glare Ghost gave everyone that annoyed him. 

"No."

You looked away from him, lips curved up into a smile as you covered his clean wound with a gauze, not really needing stitches. You weren't looking at him then, so you missed the way he looked at you, his head slightly tilted and his eyes hooded as he memorized every detail of your face. He always did this, just in case it was the last. 

"Anything else hurts?" You asked after a minute, taking your gloves off and throwing them on the desk and leaned on your left foot, head tilted as you looked at him again. 

"Mmm," He half pointed to the left side of his face, "I hit my face when the heli crashed. 'm afraid I did some irreparable damage to that side of my face." 

You stared at him, you blinked a few times and your eyebrows furrowed with confusion at his request. He knew you were trying to understand his request, he was giving you permission to see his face. For the first time and you weren't sure if he was being serious or not. 

"I can't, y'know, the mask," You pointed to the thick fabric covering his face, noticing the tear on the left side but you made no effort to actually look, let alone touch.  

You stood still, hands glued to your side, itching to remove his mask yourself, but you were afraid, afraid to cross an irreversible boundary. He could see it, he could see the way your hands shook and your teeth nervously dug into your bottom lip. And he wasn't much better, he could feel his heart pound in his chest and his breath pick up. But he wasn't scared. 

He trusted you. 

Simon watched you intensely, brown eyes watching every detail on your face, every expression as he reached up to the front of his balaclava and with a deep exhale he pulled it off his head. Your lips parted and your eyes slightly widened. He could hear how your own breath picked up in an instant. But you weren't scared or disgusted, not at all. All he saw was awe. 

You slowly licked your lips as you stepped closer, until you were standing over his knee with your parted legs. With a shuddered breath you leaned down, eyes lingering on his own before they flicked down to the cut on his left cheek. Your hand ghosted over his face, but didn't quite touch him, for some reason, this felt like another boundary you didn't want to push unless he said so. 

He noticed your hesitation, and he didn't blame you. But he didn't need to say anything, he simply nodded. 

He shuddered when he felt your soft fingers graze his skin and he momentarily closed his eyes, before opening them again to watch you bring a wet cotton to clean the dried blood on his face. 

“What happened to your face?” You asked quietly after a long silence, brushing the cotton over the cut that appeared to be a couple inches long right across his cheekbone.

“Enemy missile, the heli crashed. I dunno how I got out of there. I blacked out and next thing I knew I was being dragged out of that heli by Soap.” He explained, the memories of it all still being too blurry to remember clearly. But he did remember one thing; the thoughts going through his head in that moment. “We lost a lot of good soldiers.” 

“You’re lucky all you got out of that was a cut on your face and probably a concussion. You could’ve died.” Your throat nearly closed up then, your fingers stopping to rest on his face. You were both used to this idea of death, of going on an assignment and never coming back, but that didn’t make your heart ache any less.

He turned his head to look at you, his eyes searched for yours, but you weren’t looking at him, “Well I’m alive aren’t I?” 

“Yeah, and you’re one lucky motherfucker for that,” Your voice was close to breaking, and your hands were shaking. Was that anger he heard in your voice? Or was it panic at the idea of him dying? “I could’ve helped, I just wish I had been there.” 

His gaze turned hard and his jaw tightened, “I don’t.” His tone shifted, there was nothing lighthearted about it, he was being dead serious. And you actually looked at him this time, and you found his eyes. But you didn’t respond, you couldn’t, so you stayed silent as you gave yourself the time to actually take him in. 

"So what's the diagnosis Doc, am I gonna make it?" The low timber of his voice startled you after a long minute or two, but not because it was loud, he barely raised his voice above a whisper, it startled you because you were so focused on taking in each and every one of his features, the unique shape of his nose, his sharp jaw, the three day stubble that scratched the pads of your fingers, his light eyelashes that contrasted the dark paint smeared over his eyes. You memorized all of them in case you never saw them again. 

A small smile eventually tugged at your lips and you chuckled softly, nodding, "Looks like it, you'll have a scar though." 

He chuckled, and this time, you could see the tiny curl of his lips when he did so, "I can live with that." 

His lips fell back into a flat line and instead, his eyes locked onto yours for a long second and he could swear he could hear your heartbeat. Or maybe it was his own. He wasn’t sure, all he knew was that he was this close and he couldn’t stop the thoughts in his head.

Something was different. Something in the air felt different. The careful touches of your hands, they were different. And he felt different too. 

He leaned in, stopping only when he heard you take a small breath. One of his hands rested on your hip then, and when you didn't tense or shoved him away, he pulled you closer with a tight grip

“Tell me to stop, right now.” His voice was low and quiet, but you heard him loud and clear. And you didn't want him to. He didn't want to either.

"Simon…" 

He didn’t have to hear anything else, he heard all he needed to hear. The way his name fell from your tongue, the shakiness in your voice and the way you also leaned in, like your body was gravitating towards him. He knew. 

His large hand found the back of your neck and he pulled you in, lips capturing yours into a kiss that left you without air. His other arm sneaked around your waist to pull you closer and forced you down on his thigh. You gasped softly at the sudden movement, but you welcomed it nonetheless and you threw your arms over his neck as his mouth covered yours. He took it slow, much to your surprise. For a man known for his brutality he was surprisingly gentle. He kissed you slowly, his tongue eventually slipped into your mouth, but it never felt messy or rushed. You honestly didn't know how long he held you like this, but eventually he let you go to breathe when he started to feel you panting. 

"This okay?" He asked barely above a whisper, the raspy ring of his voice filling your ears in a way that made your thighs unconscious clench against his leg. Which he definitely felt, but he kept that to himself. 

"Yeah, more than okay." You answered with a breathless laugh.

"Good."

Both of his hands were on your waist and he was on his feet in an instant. He completely forgot about the pain shooting through his arm when he hoisted you around his hips. It caught you off guard and you were wrapping your legs around his torso instinctively. 

"Simon your arm—" 

"I don't give a shit about my arm." He had his uninjured arm holding your thighs and he was looking at you with this look in his eyes you had never seen from him, but you liked it. 

You leaned down, lips crashing against his own with an urgency that made him want to find the bed even quicker. He eventually figured it out and your back was hitting the mattress before you even realized it. He held himself above you, your legs still wrapped around his waist. His lips left yours and attached themselves to your neck. He wouldn't leave a mark knowing everyone would see it, but he still took his time finding that spot that made you squirm under him while his own hands were making work of exploring. He ran a cautious hand into your shirt, calloused fingers grazing your skin until he found your breast, and he squeezed. You shivered under his touch and an unconscious moan escaped your lips. He could himself twitch against the constraint of his denim jeans at the mere sound. Fuck, if that's what you sounded when he barely touched you, he could only imagine what you would sound like wrapped around him. And he wondered when was the last time someone touched you like this. Probably as long as him. 

"When was the last time someone touched you like this?" His words caught your ear in a haze, it took you a minute to register them, but when you felt him pitch your covered nipple you answered. 

"I don't—” You swallowed, blinking a few times as you tried to clear your foggy mind, “A long time, years I think." You eventually answered, eyes glued to the ceiling as you tried to keep your head straight. 

He gave you a quiet hum, his hand moving down to your stomach, stopping at the waistband of your pants, and he lifted his head to look at you, "Did you ever think about me touching you like this?" 

The way his words left his mouth, the raspiness in his accented voice and coated with arousal, it made your throat close up, and the way his intense and dark eyes were fixated on you didn't help either. You felt so small under this mountain of a man and his gaze, all you could do was nod. 

"Words love, use 'em." 

“Yes.”

A subtle smirk tugged his lips, the confirmation that you had wanted him as much as he had wanted you igniting a hunger and need that could only be satiated with one thing. You. 

He lifted his head to capture your lips in a feverish kiss that was so rough it made you gasp into his mouth. You snaked a hand the back of his head, one that quickly took a hold of his messy short brown strands, a motion that didn’t go unnoticed by him. The growl that came from his throat was otherwise muffled by your lips, but what he did next, however, didn't go unnoticed either. His large hands found the collar of your shirt, and without hesitating, he tugged and ripped the fabric right in half. The moan that ripped from your throat at his manhandling was anything but subtle, and he swallowed it happily. He pulled back, tugging your bottom lip as he did so and his dark hungry eyes fixated on the newly exposed skin once he laid eyes on you. He took a hard swallow as his hands traveled to your chest and much like he had just done with your shirt, he ripped your bra open by the thin fabric that connected both cups. 

“Fuck, look at you,” He breathed out, hands brushing over hardened nipples as he took in the sight of you in front of him, chest completely exposed, your hair loose and pooling around your head and arms now sprawled above your head, expectant and ready to do as he asked, “You’re absolutely perfect.”

“I could say the same about you,” You replied, breathless and reaching to tug at the hem of his own shirt with urgency. “Please Si.” 

Fuck, how could he ever deny you anything? And more so when you ask him like that? 

With a short nod, he moved his hands from your chest and grabbed the back of his shirt, quickly pulling it over his head. And fuck, the amount of gear this man wore definitely didn’t sell him short. His muscled chest was covered in various scars, ones you had seen, and others you hadn’t. And from his neck hung his dog tags, ones you had never ever seen him wear. Lord this man was going to be the death of you just as you were going to be his.

“Listen to me,” He said through a heavy breath, pulling you from your frenzied state for just a second, “If you want me to stop you tell me, no fancy words, tell me stop and I will. Is that understood?”

It took you a couple seconds to respond, your mind already foggy with the need to feel his touch, but you nodded at his words regardless, “Yes sir.”  

Your hands found the back of his neck and you crashed your lips against his with a newly found urgency that made him groan into your mouth. His calloused hands found the waistband of your pants, and he tugged them down without hesitation. With a hard swallow you lifted your hips off the bed, allowing him to pull them down, your panties quickly following. He tossed them behind him somewhere to join his previously discarded vest and jacket. 

He brushed a long finger through your folds, swallowing the choked out moan that came out of your mouth. You shuddered under him, your thighs unconsciously closing around his hand as he drew circles around the bundle of nerves. You didn’t even remember the last time you were touched by hands that weren’t you own, and fuck, his felt so much better already. 

“No, no,” He tisked, pulling back to glance down at his hand practically disappearing between your thighs before he gave you a stern look, “Keep those legs open for me.” 

You did as you were told, you shakily spread your legs apart, and you were rewarded with a thick finger dipping into your entrance with ease. He took a deep breath as he felt your walls clench around his finger and he could feel himself twitch in his pants, wondering just how you would feel around his cock instead. 

With a hiss of pleasure, you threw your head back and your hips slightly lifted off the mattress as he filled you with two of his long fingers. He drew them in and out until he could feel you start to drip on the palm of his hand. 

“Shit, shit, fuck.” Your lips fell open, silent cries leaving your mouth as he began to scissor you open with each snap of his wrist. It wasn't long before you could start to feel that delicious burn in the pit of your stomach. 

His thumb eventually found your nub, he pressed it and rubbed circles around it as he buried his thick fingers to the knuckle each time. He could already feel it, the way your walls clenched around his fingers, your shuddering thighs, your hands fisting the sheets. His lips found the shell of your ear, and as he curled his fingers against your most sensitive spot he spoke. 

“You’re doing so good,” He coaxed, his thumb pressing your clit with enough force to make you twitch and roll your eyes into the back of your head, “This what you need love?” 

“Yes!”

“Yes what?” He slammed his fingers knuckles deep, his palm rutting against your clit. He could have you screaming anything he wanted and he knew it. 

“Yes Lieutenant!” 

“Good. Good girl.” 

He knew you were close, he could feel it. He was slamming his fingers in and out of you, burying them knuckle deep and crooking them against your most sensitive spot over and over. Until you were nothing more than a shaking and whimpering mess, begging for release. And he was gladly going to give it to you. 

“O-oh fuck. Fuck Simon please!” 

He nearly lost it when he heard you scream his name, your voice shaky with pleasure, and your own body overwhelmed with pleasure. But if there was anything he had a lot of, it was self control. He had a mission to accomplish. And he wasn’t going to stop until he had you falling apart under his touch. Which happened soon enough. One of your hands flew to grip his wrist, the lewd sound of his palm slapping against your dripping core filling your ears in the most delicious way possible. And in a quick flash of a blinding heat, you tossed your head and buried your face in his shoulder, your toes lifting from the mattress and curled as your juices coated his hand. 

“Goddamn,” He cursed under his breath, the sound of his name leaving your mouth in a quiet whimper filling his ears as his fingers slowed, but never quite left you, “My name sounds so good when you say it like that.”

You barely caught his words as he spoke under his breath, but you did, and all you could say in response was a high pitched hum as you tried to catch your breath. Your eyes were still screwed shut and your legs were still shaking when his fingers left you. With a quiet hiss, your head fell to the side as you brought a hand to your burning face, trying to compose yourself. 

“You still with me Doctor?” Simon spoke, amusement coating his tone. You chuckled softly and gave him a nod. “I need verbal confirmation love.” 

You wanted to roll your eyes at him because you knew he was teasing you, but you indulged him regardless. You turned your head in his direction and opened your eyes to find his own glued to your face of course.

“Solid copy Lieutenant.” You finally said with a small eye roll. He looked amused, and he nodded. But what caught your attention was the growing smirk on his face as his eyes eventually landed on his hand as he held it out of your eyesight. “What’s so funny?” 

“This,” He brought his hand closer to your face, and even through your slightly blurry vision, you could see it glisten. You opened your eyes more and your jaw dropped, your face burning with embarrassment. With a low chuckle, he rubbed his fingers together and then spread his index and middle finger apart to show the extent of the wetness you had left on his hand. 

“Oh my god.” You threw your hands over your face, effectively mortified, you weren’t sure why, but it made you feel pathetic. Simon, on the other hand, was quite pleased. 

“Gettin’ shy are we?” His lips brushed against your ear, and you couldn’t help but shove him slightly. 

Both of your hands eventually fell to his chest as your eyes found his brown ones, and the look he found behind those eyes of yours made him want to take you over and over until you were nothing but a shaking and whimpering mess. 

“Lay down Simon.” You eventually said, both hands flat on his scar littered chest. He took a deep breath and he nodded slowly. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

He was on his back in an instant, eyes never leaving you as you threw a leg over his hips and sat just above his crotch. Your thighs burned with ache as they were stretched out over his massive body. His hands held your hips as he watched you through hooded eyes, very tempted to shove you down on his cock, but he let you take your time, this time. 

“Let me ride you, please.” Your words were quiet, pleading and desperate, and they shot straight to his cock. He honestly didn’t know where this side of you came from, pleading and so eager to please him, but fuck he wanted to explore every inch of it. His fingers dug into your hips, but he remained still, only nodding.

“Permission granted.” He replied with a quiet hiss, his patience growing thin the longer he had you on top of him, your wetness coating his lower abdomen. “Go on.” 

He didn’t have to tell you twice. Your shaky hands fumbled with his belt, the buckle ratling a few times as you tried to undo it, the button of his denim jeans quickly following. He momentarily closed his eyes when your hands brushed against his clothed erection. He blew out an exhale through his nose as he lifted you up just enough to be able to pull himself from the confines of his boxers. He let out a long breathy groan as he freed himself, his cock slapping against his stomach. With a hard swallow, you held yourself above his cock, hands resting against his lower abdomen to brace yourself as he lined himself up at your entrance, coating himself in your slick. 

He was expecting you to take your time, to take him slowly, so when you sank down on him, his length slipping inside a few inches before being met with resistance, he had to take a deep breath. 

“Easy..” He coaxed, easing a hand up and down your stretched out thighs, watching closely the way your eyes closed and your face twisted with a mixture of slight pain and pleasure.

“Fuck you’re so big..” You blurted out between breaths. Simon opened his eyes in surprise at your remark, he knew he was significantly big, but he wasn’t expecting to hear you say it. But he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make his cock twitch the slightest bit.

“You’re doing good. Slow.” He spoke lowly, guiding your hips little by little, hissing softly each time you took another inch of him, until you sat fully on him, and even then you couldn’t fit all of him. He allowed himself to close his eyes as you sat still, your hips only rolling ever so slightly as you adjusted to the massive size of him. “There ya go, atta girl.”

When he felt you were ready, he guided your hips up, lifting you off his cock inch by agonizing inch, his eyes stuck to where his cock left your soaked cunt, and when he was almost all the way out, he pushed your hips down without a warning. You let out a quiet cry, you dug your nails into his abs and your thighs tensed. His eyes shot up to your face with concern and he sat still, but you were quickly shaking your head.

“I’m okay Simon, please.” Your eyes found his and you nodded reassuringly, teeth digging into your bottom lip eagerly. He squeezed your hips and nodded.

You were rocking and rolling your hips, your walls clutching his length with a bit of resistance. And you could tell he was fighting the urge to thrust up each time you rolled your hips. But he stayed still, only his fingers dug into your hips, surely to leave bruises in the morning. His eyes were closed and he was muttering under his breath as you moved at your own pace. For now.

“Fuck, come on love,” He encouraged, voice restrained as you eventually moved with more ease. His words gave you a new found confidence, and with such, you lifted yourself up and sank back down on him, and again, and again, until your whimpers turned into moans. “That’s it. Fuck that’s it, take what you need.”

You’d be damned if you didn’t do as he said.

You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest as you bounced on his cock. His eyes moved from your face to where your bodies connected, he watched with glazed eyes as his cock disappeared inside your walls, only to appear again covered in your juices. He focused on it, the sound of his belt buckle clicking each time you bounced filling his ears.

“You’re taking my cock like a good girl, aren’t ya?” His words came out through breathy groans as he guided your hips again and his own hips involuntarily lifted every once in a while. 

“Please Simon, more, I want more— Fuck—”

He had to take in the way you whined his name, the way you begged, it was so fucking intoxicating and he never wanted to stop hearing it. 

“Yeah? You want more?” 

You were nodding frantically, your movements only doing so much to give you what you both needed and he knew it. 

He sat up, his chest now pressed against yours as he sneaked his tattooed arm behind your back, holding you upright as he thrusted upwards. He found a pace quick, and even faster and deeper than the one you had made yourself. He had you twitching and shaking in his grip as cries ripped from your throat in a matter of a minute or two. And you definitely weren’t complaining, his cock was pounding deeper, hitting that perfect spot better than you could ever get it there yourself. 

“Yes! Fuck, Simon please, please don’t stop.” You were begging frantically, your hands landing on his back and your nails dragged across his scar littered back and shoulders. He took in the way you pleaded, the way you moaned, and took particular note of the squeal you gave when his thick cock hit your g-spot with ease. And he did so, over, and over, until all you could say was his name between cries. 

“Yeah, like that?” Again, and again his cock brushed against the perfect spot. You couldn’t even hold yourself up anymore, your face was buried in his shoulder and tears slipped from your eyes. 

“Yes!” You sobbed into his shoulder, your walls clenching around his cock in the same way you had around his fingers a little while before. 

“Shit, come on, come on. Be a good girl and come for me.” He muttered, not once faltering his pace, only bringing you closer to the edge with each delicious drag of his cock. He slipped a hand into your hair, fingers fisting around the strand a as he pulled your head back, making sure you were looking at him, “Look at me, that’s it, keep those pretty eyes on me when you come.” 

His name slipped from your tongue over and over as you came, somehow managing to keep your eyes open as your whole body shuddered violently. Tears slipped from your eyes as you sobbed his name and you brought your forehead to rest against his, one of your shaky hands resting on the back of his neck. The hand on your hair moved your face, and his fingers brushed against your cheek, catching your tears. 

“Fuuuck, that’s fucking it. That’s my girl.” He groaned out as he fucked you through your orgasm. 

He felt your wetness coat his cock even more, allowing him to slip just ever so deeply until he was nearly rutting against you, the patches of hair at the base of his cock brushing against your oversensitive clit. With a guttural groan, the hand on your face slipped to the base of your neck and he held it between his long fingers as he fucked into you with a new urgency, like he was chasing his own release. He fucked you like it too, his thrusts were sharper and shallow, and they faltered. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” He muttered, droplets of sweats rolling from his forehead and mixing with the already messy grease paint covering his eyes. His forehead fell to your chest as held your neck in place, “I’m right there… Fuck I—”

He was about to pull himself out of you, but you slipped out from your drunkenly euphoric state for just a second to slam down on his cock until your hips met, hands on his shoulders as you sank down on him with enough force to slip a breathy moan from him. 

“I have an IUD. I-I want you to, please.” You said shakily into his ear, your words barely coherent, but you knew what you meant, and he did too. 

A low growl ripped from his throat as he gave you a few more thrusts before his hips faltered, his other hand found your ass and he held you down on his cock. His fingers squeezed your throat and a guttural moan left his lips as he spilled himself inside you. 

“Bloody fuckin' Christ,” he panted into your chest, most likely smearing his war paint on your chest, but you honestly didn’t give a fuck. “You’re fuckin’ perfect.” 

You gave him a weak hum, eyes closing as you tried to breathe once he let go of your neck. “I’m guessing your arm doesn’t hurt anymore?” You laughed weakly, brushing a hand under the gauze you had placed there earlier. 

He lifted his head, brown eyes as intense as ever as he slightly tilted his head, “What arm?”

You shot him a playful glare and shook your head as you unwrapped yourself from him and with a long breath of exhaustion, landed on your back next to him, your mixed releases dripping down your thigh. He chuckled quietly to himself at the sight of his jeans, mixed releases pooling at the front of the denim. With a sigh, he tucked himself into his boxers, catching a glance of you, chest still glistening with sweat, hair messy and pooling above your head as you lied with closed eyes. He shook his head, about to stand up to find something to clean his mess with when you spoke. 

“Simon?” His eyes found yours on him and he nodded, allowing you to continue. You bit your lip and sat up with a sharp exhale, your sore muscles already screaming at you for your reckless activities, “How long have we known each other?”

The question hit him unexpectedly, his eyebrows slightly furrowed but he answered quickly, not even having to think about it, “About three years.” 

“Why did you take your mask off now?” You dared to ask, the curiosity of what suddenly changed eating you up. 

His lips fell in a flat line, his eyes opening as he remembered that he had, in fact, taken his mask off, he had felt so comfortable that he had forgotten he wasn’t wearing it. He didn't answer right away, he sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving you as you watched him expectant. You brought the sheets up to your chest, bringing them with you as you moved closer to him, until your shoulder was touching his. You looked up at him, but you never rushed him, you simply waited patiently. 

“When the heli crashed,” He began, “I knew I was going to die. And I was ready to die. And then I thought..” His lips fell in a flat line again as he turned his head to look at you. Your eyes were glossy, but you didn’t cry, you simply nodded for him to continue, “All I could think about in that moment is that I was going to leave this world when the only woman I had ever cared about didn’t even know what I looked like.”

Your lips fell open and your eyes widened with awe. He didn’t have to say the words, you knew what he meant.

“Simon…”

“Either of us could die at any moment, I realized that when I carried your unconscious body through that field, and I realized it when the heli crashed, didn’t make sense to pretend I don’t give a shit about you.” 

Your hand found his face and you pulled him down into a deep kiss, one that said everything you both needed to say, everything you couldn’t say with words. 

You were the remedy to all his injuries and the bandage to his damaged heart. You were all he needed and he’d be damned if he let that go.

[fruity-mega-coconut69]

Movie & Dinner

[pairings]: Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader x Emma Myers, Fem!reader x Mason Gooding (platonic)

[Summary]: You have had a crush on Jenna and Emma ever since you met them, little did you know, they were already head-over-hills.

[warnings]: Swearing, kissing, bad writing bc it's late, not proof read

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

When you first got the call from the director of the new Scream movie, that you would be playing the character of Danny Brackett’s sister, you literally almost had a heart attack. You had applied to the role not only because it could be your big breakthrough, but because of your love for the Scream movies.

During the time you were shooting, you got closer with everyone in the cast. Especially Jenna and Mason. Which also meant that you guys hang out even after the last wrap-up and after the movie was released. 

You hung out with Jenna the most, only because Mason got sick for a long time. After a while of just hanging out at Jenna’s or your apartment, she decided to introduce you to her lovely girlfriend, Emma Myers. The two of you instantly clicked and soon it was either you, Jenna and Emma who hung out or you, Jenna, Mason and Emma. For a while it was fun, but then…….you started catching feelings. At first, you brushed it off as just a silly crush on two of your best friends, but then the constant nervousness and overthinking around them started. Things like, ‘ is this outfit going to be good for our movie-night’ went through your head or whenever one of them gave you a hug and your heart started racing and your face heated up,-which you tried to hide- you knew it was not just a little crush, it was a big, fat one.

But of course, Jenna and Emma weren’t stupid. They picked up on your behavior. And in all honesty, they were fucking amused. The main reason Jenna wanted you to meet Emma was because of her own ‘silly, little’ crush. After two-three months of hanging out with you, they were both fucking wiped.

Mason, obviously, knew about your crush. He always told you to talk to them about it, but you were too much of a coward to do so.

And of course, Jenna and Emma had someone that knew about theirs too. For Jenna, it was Melissa, who knew about her and her girlfriend’s crush. For Emma, it was her sister, Izzy. Obviously, they talked to each other about it too. Having a complete melt-down everytime they do so. 

Also, that is the reason they’ve decided to call you over tonight for you guys’s usual movie & dinner night. Only, they are planning on finally telling you about their feelings.

You are walking up the stairs to get to their apartment with your headphones on and an audio book playing through them, just some russian learning ones. It has been your passion to learn as many languages as you can, ever since you were a kid. But anyway, you arrive at Jenna and Emma’s door and simply let yourself in. Turning off the audiobook and taking off your headphones. You looked around and saw the light on in the cozy living room, deciding to walk in. 

And there they were. Sitting on the couch, cuddling. 

You walk in further and when you are close enough, you clear your throat in a way to get their attention. Which you got pretty quickly. They turn around and as soon as they see you, the both of them smile in usion.

“Y/N! Hey!” Jenna squeals in excitement as she gets up and goes over to you, giving you a warm hug. Emma did the same.

“Heyyy, so what are we watching?” You sat down on the couch and they followed you, Jenna on your right and Emma on your left. You felt your cheeks flush as they scoot closer.

“Uhm, we were thinking ‘The Grown Ups’?  That good for you?”

You gasp and smile. “Of fucking course! I love that movie! “ They laugh at your excitement and turn to the TV to put on the movie.

— —

It was nearing the end of the movie and you couldn’t wait for it. Basically, the reason for that is, you are really flustered. Jenna has her arm around you while Emma’s hand is resting on your knee in a comforting manner. All that was making your heart beat out of your fucking chest. You are only hoping that they can’t hear how loud it is.

As the movie comes to an end, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding until now. “Uh, I'm going to get a drink.” You state, getting up and squeezing yourself out from between the two lovers.

Walking into the kitchen, you head straight to the sink to wash your face. When you’re done, you take a glass and fill it with water. As you are drinking it, Emma and Jenna appear in the entrance. Jenna walks ahead her girlfriend and up to the counter you are leaning against.

As she looks at you, there is a sickeningly cute grin on her face that you can’t help, but admire until she speaks up.”God, I don’t know how they let you graduate acting school. “She giggles as your eyebrows furrow. “You are so obvious!” Jenna pauses for a moment to look back at her girlfriend who is smirking, leaning against the wall of the entrance. “ C’mon, we know you like us. “ At that, you feel your face burning up once again as your mouth opens and closes like a fish, trying to find something to deny it.

“Hey. It's okay. We are not mad. “ Emma speaks up and walks over to the two of you.

“Y-you’re not? “ They both shake their heads and you let out a sigh. 

“However, “ Jenna starts, looking back at you and stepping closer. “ We have to tell you something. “And your heart once again races, not only because she is centimeters away from your face, but also because of what she and Emma have to say. “But, I’d rather show you.” Jenna smirks at your red face as she takes your chin in her right hand and tilts it down a little. Then she turns her head to the side and leans in and finally, her soft, red lips meet yours.It’s a little rough, but still endlessly hot. The kiss doesn’t last long as you hear Emma whine and soon her footsteps come closer. 

Jenna steps aside a little as Emma settles in-front of you. Smirking, she cups your face and pulls it closer to hers. When your lips meet, you immediately note that her kiss was softer than Jenna’s, more gentle. But good nonetheless. After a couple of seconds, she pulls back with a smile on her face and lets go of your face.

You were still blushing and trying to process when Jenna speaks up. “ Soo, are we throuple now or something? Is that what it’s called?” Emma laughs and nods at her girlfriend.

“Sure, Jen. But we still have to ask, don’t you think?”  She gestures towards you, who is just standing there.

“Right. Right.” Jenna turns to you and chuckles at you frozen state. She grabs your shoulders and shakes you lightly. “Hellooo, earth to Y/N!”  You finally look up at her.

“Uh, huh?” 

They both smile and glance at each other then back at you. “Would you like to be our girlfriend? “ They say at the same time with a little bit of nervousness in their voices.

You just stare at them for a couple of seconds, but before their smiles could disappear, you speak up. “I-I…Yeah, sure. I mean….yes. Yes!” They both smile and take each of your hands and lead you back into the living room. 

— —

The next morning after you arrive home, you just drop your stuff and call Mason immediately. “Oh.My.God! Mason! You won’t believe what fucking happened!” 

You heard shuffling in the background. “What?What? What is it?”

You grin as you take in a deep breath. “Me, Jenna and Emma are fucking together! Can you believe that shit?” 

“Wait, Really?! “ You nod but soon realize that he can’t see you so you speak up. 

“Yes! It happened last night. We even kissed and everything! “ Mason smiled as he heard the happiness and excitement in your voice.

“Oohh, wait! Don’t tell me the juicy parts just yet! I’ll be over in 15. “ You laugh. “What? I want to be there so you can see my reactions.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll be waiting. “

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

A/N: Sorry, it's short :/ I have a lot of studying to do.

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - City Girls Part 1/8

Yeah, this request from wattpad was too good to ignore. 😮‍💨

I'm prioritizing it above all else

Reader plays for the Man City girls academy. She struggles a bit but gets Ruben to mentor her. The the two don't hit it off despite having many things in common. It all gets worse when Reader eventually catches feelings for Ruben.

Enjoy!

Leaving home wasn't easy, but preventing yourself from going back home was the real torture. You asked god, "Why does somthing I love bring me so much torture?" God did not answer your nightly prayers. You had come to learn that God often left your messages on read.

"Y/N, don't dribble so much, pass the ball!"

Your family pushed you to move to England. Now you're living there in a one bedroom apartment, shared with another academy girl named Ester.

"Y/N, don't run pass the defender! DON'T RUN PASS THE DEFENDER!"

Ester is from Germany, the grey weather in Manchester did not bother her. You, however, missed the white beaches of Rio de Janeiro. You missed your home country, Brazil. You missed your family, your Mãe e Pai. Your brothers and your sister. You missed them all.

"What did I tell you about dribbling passed the defenders? You can't do that in the Super League. Passing the ball to your teammates is better. Do you understand?"

You nodded your head, although coach did not make any sense. Dribbling the ball is always better. Dribbling is what Neymar does. You want to be like Neymar.

"What am I going to do with you?" Coach sighed. For him there was a clear communication barrier. Your English wasn't that good but when it came to football you understood the way: score goals and win. Isso é tudo.

"Y/N, you wait here. There is someone I would like for you to meet."

Coach left you on the field with Manchester City's U21 stepping onto the grass, warming up ahead of their training session. You found a ball and started kicking it. One kick turned into two, two kicks turned into a swift dribbling session. Once you caught the attention of the academy boys and their head coach, they had no reason not to let you play with them.

"You see lad's, that's how I want you to do it. Glue the boll to your feet." Their head coach used you as an example. He had you running up and down the field, between cones as well as the young players. All they could do was watch and learn.

"Y/N!"

Your session with the academy boy's came to and end once coach returned to the field. He stood on the sidelines waving you over. He was accompanied by a man, tall and braud shoulders, his arms folded before him like a man in charge. He wore the Manchester City players training kit, however, you had never seen the man before.

"Y/N, meet Ruben Dias. Ruben, this is Y/N, our new star player all the way from Rio de Janeiro."

"Ótimo, outro aspirante." (Another wannabe) You chuckled.

The man raised a brow, but couldn't possibly have...

"Y/N, struggles a bit during practice." Coach said. "The languages barrier makes it hard for me to instruct her what to do. I thought if the three of us worked together she might find a good rhythm here at Manchester City."

The man beside coach didn't nod at what was being said to him. He kept his eyes on you, examining you, judging you. "I'll see what I can do." He said, his deep voice startling you.

"Great!" Coach turned to you, a braud smile on his lips. "Did you here that Y/N, if you ever need anything don't hesitate to ask Ruben. You'll find him in the main building with the first team."

Coach made you and Ruben shake hands before you were allowed to hit the showers. You returned home with wet hair since leaving it to air dry was the only way to tame your curls.

"Look at you, you made it home!" Ester, your roommate, exclaimed. She stood in the kitchen, hovering over a steaming pot. "I thought you got lost again." She invited you to taste whatever she was cooking.

"What is it?" You frowned. You leaned over to look into the pot. However, the smell flaring up your nostrils was no good.

"Rindergulasch."

"Perdão?" (Pardon?)

"Rindergulasch? It's like a beef stew."

You curled your lip, you stomach having ached for nothing.

"Come on, try it. You'll love it."

You tried it and didn't love it. However you were too tired to cook for yourself. You and Ester settled down on the couch before the TV. The pullout couch that was also your bed.

"Coach held you back after training again. What did you do now?" Ester asked.

"No dribbling." Yku said, between a spoon full of gulasch.

"I told you. It's not really how they play the game in England."

"In Germany?" You asked, to which Ester shook her head. "I don't think any team in Europe play the game like that, at least not the way they do it in Brazil."

If this was the case, perhaps England wasn't for you? You went to bed that night praying. You prayed whenever there was something on your mind, something disrupting it. "God, they don't play football here the way we play it in Brazil, the way I want to play it. Does this mean I should go back home? Was today a sign that I should move back home?"

Once again, God didn't answer. He must be too busy. You got up from the floor, where you previously sat with your hands clasped before you, elbows resting on the bed. You went to sleep that night dreaming of football and gulasch, an odd combination.

[gold-rhine]

(can answer privately if u want)

how did you manage to write enjou stirring shit up. i need to know for Reasons

(Reasons being: i wanna write him doing that as well so i need to know how you figured that specific brand of Manipulation out)

oh, i love talking about Enjou, he's so fun to write.

Okay, Enjou's main rule is that he doesn't *technically* lie. If you've ever written fae with no-lie rules it should be similar. Everything he says should be true, even if he's seemingly joking - like when he tells traveler you never know what can happen in magic rituals, I could turn into a flame-throwing monster haha! He only lies by omission or by using leading questions. He often answers direct questions with his own questions, which lets him evade, or by what he makes look like a joke.

Like in Enka when traveler arrived and asked him who he is, he asked question in return, like Didn't they tell you there's gonna be a priest who will guide you? Traveler went yeah, they did. Enjou was like Great! You can't be expected to learn new language haha! i'm here to help translate.

He didn't say "I'm the priest who Kokomi said will help you," he asked a leading question to make traveler think about the priest with connection traveler trusted, then he didn't directly confirm he IS the priest and instead re-directed to his function "I'll help to translate", which is true!

Enjou's second rule is that he's a little shit and also a corny nerd. Like there's often a boring stereotype of manipulators being cool and sleek and charismatic, but Enjou is not that. He's a jokerified librarian. He consciously acts lame and corny to make the other person underestimate him and roll their eyes. He loves repeating how he's just a weak bookworm. He will go on info-dumping tangents to bury the lead of manipulation.

He also loves playing with his food, burying little inside jokes which only make sense in hindsight, like "I could turn into a flame-throwing monster". He likes doing the weak nerd routine, he enjoys watching the other person feel superior to him, while knowing he's in control of a situation, and he says corny shit on purpose to make it more pronounced. He should sound corny and just a bit unhinged. He says shit like "Exactomundo". I had to physically restrain myself, bc Enjou absolutely would say Exactomundo while watching a man's world crumbling before him, but I didn't want to ruin the tone for the reader.

So, to write Enjou's brand of manipulation you need to first formulate his end-goal, like what is the purpose of this manipulation? I assume you read my fic since you reference me writing enjou stirring shit up, so i'll use it as example of my thought process. One of the examples in my fic, he wants to convince rizzley that Neuvi gave him the title to buy his loyalty. What are the true facts here? Neuvi did fight hard to give rizzley the title, he says it in his own voice lines. What do we need to add? Malicious intent.

Enjou can't say "Your title was a bribe", bc that's a lie. Instead, he starts with "you know what I would do if *I* was the Hydro Sovereign with an ability to take human form? <...>I’d make sure I have people loyal to me in some key positions. Such as Royal Duelist… and the Warden of the Fortress.” It's not a lie, bc if Enjou was a sovereign, he'd probably really do that. On paper, he's talking about himself, but in context of overall conversation it will be obviously extrapolated to Neuvi. This is a form of switching the goal posts from Enjou to Neuvi without outright saying so.

Then, he says true facts:

“He didn’t make me the Warden,” Wriothesley gritted out. 

“No, but he did make you the Duke, didn’t he?” Enjou smirked with a wink. “Our sources say the Court was not thrilled to give the highest noble title to you. And if the Iudex did not throw his own weight behind it, it would have never come to pass. How generous of him.”

It's true, it was actually generous, he doesn't lie. But in context of previous implied accusation, it will be read as sarcastic, as saying it was done with selfish reasons.

And then he reinforces with “Ah, you’re starting to get it, don’t you?”, which is a leading question that again, doesn't say anything false outright.

he should also offer the person hes manipulating to beat him up repeatedly, bc hes a freak.

[midnightstar-90]

Little Star

Evan 'Buck' Buckley x AFAB! Reader

Taglist | Request | Wattpad

Main Masterlist | 9-1-1 Masterlist

Requested by @icemansgirl1999: I would like to see a story of brand new dad buck or Eddie and reader (mom) had some complications after the birth and you can run with it how ever you Deem

Summary: Reader has trouble bonding with her and Buck's child.

Warnings: Mention of Breastfeeding, Language, Slight Slut Shaming, Small Season 5 Spoiler, Angst, Baby Fluff, Dad! Buck

A/N: Guys I do not have a child (I do have 4 siblings, and I am the oldest), and I have never had any children. I tried to steer clear of things that might be wrong, and I did do some research, but I mostly just tried to stay in the emotional range of things. So, if I said something wrong you could tell me, if you want (because I would love to know for next time) but please don’t get mad. I really tried my best.

P.S. If you see the name Harley, it was the original name for the couple’s child, but I thought Lana would work best. So…

Buck and Y/N were so happy when they learned Y/N was pregnant. The thoughts of their little "mini-me" ambushed their minds and became the focus of the last 9 months. They did everything a new parent would do before bringing their child into the world. They experimented with names, constantly argued over what the gender was, get excited over every photo of the ultrasound, and they even hosted a baby shower, inviting everyone they loved.

But it seemed that they were so caught up in all the fun stuff about being a parent that they didn't focus on the hardships of being a parent. Lana Buckley was born naturally at about a foot and a half tall and 8 lbs big. She was born perfectly healthy, and everything had seemed fine until Buck had to go back to work.

When Buck went back to work, it seemed like the child Y/N had birthed was a completely different person. Lana refused to eat, sleep, and she cried all day and night. But as soon as Buck got her in her arms, she was the sweet and calm baby the two knew.

This brought major discomfort to Y/N. She couldn't get near her child without her screaming. It made her ask herself, "Is it me?" When Buck would come home, Lana would fall asleep peacefully in his arms, and Y/N watched in despair.

One day, Buck had gone back to work. When Y/N woke up without her boyfriend in the bed next to her, she started her day. She cleaned the house and made breakfast before Lana's cries echoed through the apartment. Y/N walked back upstairs and grabbed her child before bringing her downstairs to make her a bottle. Y/N gently placed the bottle in Lana's mouth, hoping for the infant to gulp it down like she did for Buck, but it only made the baby cry louder.

"What? You don't want the bottle?" Y/N asked her daughter. When the child didn't respond, Y/N looked down at her chest and took a deep breath.

After getting Lana to eat, Lana didn't cry as much, but she still cried. Sure, if she was hungry or needed her diaper changed, she cried, but if Y/N placed her down to go pee, she would cry. If Y/N didn't give her enough attention because she was watching tv or random videos on her phone, she would cry. And worst of all was when she cried for no reason. It seemed like everything she did, made Lana cry.

Y/N had finally gotten Lana asleep after 3 hours of nonstop crying. She carefully bent down and placed the tiny infant into her crib, trying her best not to wake her. When she stood back up, she stretched her upper body with a soft groan and made her way to her bed where she softly plopped down and released an exhausted groan. She quietly prayed for Buck to come home soon since it seemed that he was the "Lana expert". But it seemed that her prayer wasn't answered as Lana began to cry again, and no one was home to put the infant back to sleep, except for her.

Y/N felt herself tear up as she lay face up in her bed. She stared up at the ceiling, listening to the wails of her daughter. Her failure to keep her daughter quiet made her begin to doubt herself as a mother. It was sad to think that after 9 months of excitement, she was now questioning her readiness to be a mother. That and her pounding headache from the noise and slight sleep deprivation brought the girl into a slight depression.

Y/N's thoughts were soon cut off by a loud knock from the front door. Lana had yet to stop crying, which made getting up to answer the door much harder. With a groan, Y/N sat up in her shared bed and rubbed the tiredness from her eyes. She shuffled her feet, across the wooden floors, over to Lana’s crib and picked up the infant.

A sharp pain spread through her body as she held the infant in her arms. She hadn’t completely recovered from giving birth, seeing as it hadn't even been a month yet, and because of Harley, she hadn’t had time to relax, leading to headaches and random bursts of pain in her back, legs, and arms. She was tired, to say the least, and found herself ready to kill to get some shut-eye.

Another knock erupted from the door. “Okay, I’m coming!” Y/N yelled over the screams of her child. With a tired sigh, she went down the steps and over to the door. Lana still cried in her arms, so Y/N began patting her back softly as she whispered calming noises into her ear. It helped the situation a little bit, by calming down the cries, but it didn't stop them. She opened the door to find none other than her mother waiting at the door with her dark-shaded sunglasses.

Y/N hadn't talked to her mother since she announced her pregnancy. Y/N grew up wealthy due to her father's family's long history of wealth. And her mom... Let's just say that the money was the reason she stayed. So, when her mother discovered that her daughter was to inherit her father's small fortune, her mother suddenly began to care for her well-being.

Her mother chased every man in Y/N's life away due to her obnoxious judging and rude comments. Y/M/N would claim that they were only with her for the money. So, when she announced her pregnancy, you know her mother wasn't happy.

But unlike her mother, Y/N didn't care about money. She loved Evan and didn't need his money to feel that way. And when her mother began harassing Buck, she knew it was time for her to go. So, Y/N cut her mother off, and much like the cockroach that she is, she was back. Probably broke up with her wealthy boyfriend and is in need of cash.

“Mom?” Y/N asked, surprised as she bounced a screaming Lana in her arms.

Her mother snatched off her shades and said, “Yes, it is me. After you rudely blocked me from your life, I became concerned. So, here I am to check up on you.” Y/N rolled her eyes at all the bull shit from her mother’s mouth. “I would have been here sooner if I knew my precious grand-baby was here already.” Y/N scoffed as her mother pushed past her and entered their apartment.

She walked over to the kitchen island, showing off a small gift bag that hung on her arm. "I brought gifts," Y/M/N said, placing the gift bag on the marble surface.

'Gifts?' Y/N asked herself. "Hmm, maybe she doesn't need money."

“Well, mom, to be honest, I didn’t think I could take 9 months of your kind words... I’m still not ready for them. And before you come in here, flaunting your unearned money, I think you owe Evan an apology.” I said, closing the door and walking into the kitchen.

“I don’t know what you mean. If this is about the last time, I was just trying to help,” she defensively said.

Y/N rolled my eyes and glared at her mother. “I don’t think that saying that Buck would be a terrible father and then telling me to tell him the baby wasn't his was very helpful,” She retorted.

“He wasn’t prepared to be a father, and he still isn't. He's a childish buffoon, and now it seems like he’s a deadbeat.”

“Buck is not a deadbeat. You know nothing about it,” Y/N spoke, defending Buck to her mother.

“Look around, Y/N. You are holding a newborn baby who hasn't stopped crying since you open the door. I mean, come on, sweetheart. You look terrible. Have you been getting any sleep? And where is Evan?” She asked, raising her eyebrow as she gave her daughter a stern look. Y/N scoffed at her mother's words.

“Buck is a good- no- a great father who works 24-hour shifts. He’s a firefighter, ma,” Y/N said, putting emphasis on the "great" part. She began to become frustrated with her mother as her judgmental side began to express itself.

“Now, why is that man working when he has a newborn baby and a sleep-deprived girlfriend at home?”

“Because unlike you, mother, we have bills. And there is no rich second party to pay for those bills,” Y/N said.

My mother’s eyes followed me as she said, “You have your father's money. Does Buck even know about your trust fund?"

"Yes, mom," Y/N said with an aggravated sigh. "He knows, and we both agreed that we're going to use that money to better Harley's life. But we're not going to quit our jobs for it. Buck is better than that. He's not you," She finished.

"Is that any way to talk to a guest- better yet- your mother?" Y/M/N asked, offended at her daughter's words.

Y/N's brain was trying to process all of her emotions, but it all overloaded her brain. Between the constant crying from Harley and the nagging from her mother, Y/N was fed up. "Hmm, let me think..." She began to act like she was thinking before answering her mother, "You're more like an unwanted guest. A party crasher. No one asked for you to be here, and I would love it if you left."

"What is the matter with you?" Y/M/N asked, now confused by her daughter's random outburst.

“My issue? You want to know what is wrong with me, mother? You’re what’s wrong with me. You treat me like shit, yet you have the nerve to put your two cents into my life. You’ve never cared about me. You only began to care when dad died and left me his fortune. In my opinion, you’re a gold-digging, 2-timing slut who can’t stand to see anyone but herself happy.” Y/N snapped, and suddenly, everything went quiet. No nagging from her mother. No screaming from her daughter. Y/N’s breath turned heavy as she let out all the pent-up tiredness and anger she had been feeling this last week, and the tears running down her face made her feel as if she was drowning in a pool of her own misfortune.

“I just wanted what’s best for you,” her mother said, releasing a tear to roll down her face. The way her mother spoke as if she cared made Y/N feel like her mother was blind to how her actions made her daughter feel. What her words did to her. Her life was like a broken record when she was around her mother, and she couldn't have that for her daughter. She never wanted Lana to feel the way she did, growing up.

“I think you should go,” Y/N whispered, laying Lana’s head down on her shoulder. Y/N's mother just stood there, wide-eyed with her mouth hung open.

The sound of keys entering the keyhole lock sounded in the kitchen as the door opened, revealing Evan. He walked in, confused, seeing his girlfriend upset with Lana in my arms, crying, and Y/N's mother standing across from her, shocked. “What’s going on?” Buck said, dropping his ‘LAFD’ duffel bag on the ground next to the door.

Y/M/N angrily grabbed her purse before giving her daughter one last look. “Nothing. I was just leaving,” she said, storming out of the apartment and slamming the door on her way out.

Buck looked at his girlfriend, and he pointed at the closed door. Y/N rolled her eyes and waved her mother's actions off as she began to make Lana a bottle. Buck came up behind her and kissed both Y/N's and Lana's foreheads. He then held Y/N as he slowly swayed the girls in his arms.

“Hey,” Buck said, turning her head to face him. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Whatever she told you is not true,” he said, pulling me into his chest.

“I don’t think I’m fit to be a mother,” Y/N mumbled into Buck’s shirt.

Buck's face scrunched up in confusion as he simply moved the girl away from his chest. With a finger, he moved her head up to face him. Buck scoffed and shook his head as he softly whispered, “Babe, what are you talking about? You’re an amazing mother.”

Y/N shook my head ‘no.' She didn't believe Buck's words. How could she? She only felt that way because of how Lana acted when he wasn't around. He wouldn't have any idea of what she was going through.

"Of course you are. You just need to sleep. Your hormones are regulating, and I know I haven't been home, but I'm here now. Let me take some things off your hands," Buck said, taking Lana out of Y/N's arms and into his. "Go take a nap, okay? I got this," Buck said, motioning to the upstairs area with his free hand.

Y/N knew that a nap wouldn't change how she felt about the situation, but she was tired from all the crying, so she did as Buck instructed and made her way upstairs.

Buck heard every sad sigh and sniffle from the girl as she walked up the steps. It hurt him to see how much pain Y/N was going through. He had seen how she was with Danny, Chris, and Jee. And that's how Buck knew she was a fantastic caregiver. He just needed to find some way to show her that she was still a good caregiver, but he didn't know how.

While Y/N got the rest she needed, Buck was downstairs taking care of Lana. He picked up the bottle that Y/N had made earlier, and he carefully placed it into Harley's mouth. Lana began to suck on the bottle. Buck chuckled as he watched the infant chug down the milk. "Yeah, you like that, huh?" He asked. And within 30 seconds, she was already a fourth done.

"Someone was hungry," Buck said as Lana began to slow down. Buck moved away from the kitchen and made his way into the living room with Lana still in his arms, sucking on her bottle. He looked down at his daughter, who stared up at him with her beautiful Y/E/C eyes as her small arms clutched the bottle. Buck couldn't help but see Y/N whenever he looked at his child.

He smiled as he studied the child's face. He began to notice that the baby had Y/N's smile and her nose that Buck loved to boop when they played around. His smile brightened as he noticed the mixture between his and Y/N's eyes. Lana had Buck's eye shape, but she carried the color that made Buck lose himself when he looked into Y/N's.

Like always, whenever Lana finished her bottle, she struggled to keep her eyes open. Buck removed the bottle, and her mouth opened wide as she let out a yawn. "Huh, I guess mommy wasn't the only one that's sleepy," Buck said before moving himself off the couch.

He made his way upstairs, with Lana on the brink of falling asleep. He walked over to Lana's crib before turning to look at his girlfriend. He looked at her with a sad smile before turning back to place a now sleep Lana into her crib.

"There you go," Buck whispered to the sleeping child. "Was that so bad? Why can't you do this for mommy?" He asked, earning no response, only the sound of soft snores. "You know your mommy loves you. She's just having a hard time. This is new for all of us. She's just taking it harder than everyone else."

Buck looked down at his daughter with a frown. He let out a sad sigh before making his way to the shower. But before anything, he made his way to his bed, leaning over, and placing a kiss on Y/N's temple.

The 118 sat back and relaxed while waiting for Bobby's special dinner. Bobby had put together a little celebratory dinner for the newest edition in the Buckley family, to which Chimney responded with, "Where was my celebratory dinner, Cap?" Everyone laughed at Chimney, thinking he was joking, but he was still a little hurt by it.

"No one thought that Buck would ever make it this far into a relationship," Hen joked, earning an eye roll from Buck.

While Bobby cooked, Eddie, Chimney, Hen, and Buck all sat together on the upper-level couches. They sat back and relaxed as the four of them joked around with each other and shared about their time away from work like they normally did during their free time.

"I don't know," Eddie said, looking down, in thought. "Chris and I have always been able to talk to each other, but now he's secretive. He doesn't tell me anything. We don't play together as much anymore. And not to mention, he's never home. Where does he even go?"

"Um, I think him and Y/N have been hanging together. Before she had the baby, I caught the two of them just hanging out together, but if it's recent, I don't know," Buck said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Ah," Eddie responded with a nod of his head.

"So, what's been going on with you, Buck-a-roo?" Chimney asked. Everyone turned to Buck, waiting for a response.

Buck shrugged his shoulders, not knowing what to say. Before answering Chimney, he thought for a second, "Y/N's been doubting being a mother."

Chimney looked around the firehouse. It seemed he was searching for something. "What are you doing?" Hen asked as everyone began to look up at Chimney with confused looks.

"I'm looking for a small infant that resembles a mixture of Buck and Y/N. I love your sister, Buck, but raising a baby while looking for the mother of your child can be stressful. Take it from the man who toured the country while documenting his daughter's firsts in different states," Chimney said.

"Y/N wouldn't do that," Buck paused. "She's just so stressed with everything, and it doesn't help that both Lana and her mother have been stressing her out lately. I came home the other day, and she was crying. Her mother had just left and Lana hadn't stopped crying until I got ahold of her. Not to mention, she looked like she was about to pass out. I love Y/N and I hate seeing her struggle. I know she's a good mother, but I just don't know how to show her," Buck said to his coworkers.

"Do you think Y/N and Lana have trouble bonding?" Eddie asked, leaning forward in his seat. Buck shrugged once more.

"Well, take it from me. When your child doesn't want to bond with you, it really does take a toll on you. And I understand that Chris is getting older, and that's what kids do when they get older, but Lana is dependent on you and Y/N, and for her to not want Y/N's help make be what's upsetting her," Eddie said.

"But how do I help them bond?"

"You seem to get along great with Lana. Give them some time together. Lana will one day realize that she needs her mother, and she'll allow her mother into her life," Hen said with a calming tone.

"Yeah, and if it gets too hard for her, guide her through it. You know what Lana likes. Instead of taking Lana from Y/N, suggest something that might help. But I have faith in Y/N," Chimney suggested.

Y/n walked into her apartment with Lana's car seat in one arm and groceries in the other. She struggled as she waddled to the kitchen, placing the car seat on the counter before setting the groceries on the floor. Y/N let out a sigh of relief as the release of the pressure took over her.

Lana began crying; luckily, it wasn't as loud as the other day. Y/N unbuckled Lana and pulled her up to her chest. She began to pat the baby's back as she tried to calm her down with some calming noises. But Lana didn't stop.

"Oh, no. Not again," Y/N muttered to herself, as she was now bouncing the child in her arms.

Just as Y/N was about to give up. Buck came back in from his run. "Hey, babe," Buck said, taking out his earbuds. Buck lightly jogged over to the two, kissing both of them on the head. "Why is it that whenever I come home, you're always crying?" Buck asked his daughter.

Instead of a response from Lana, Buck receives one from Y/N. "I don't know why she's crying. I fed her in the car. I changed her at the store. She's had a nap. I don't think she likes me, Buck," Y/N began to pout.

"She likes you. Crying is just a thing that babies do,” Buck said, trying to reassure his girlfriend. Y/N sighed, looking down. She didn't feel that the reason for Lana's constant crying was because it was natural. Sure, crying is natural for babies, but it felt like Lana never stops crying whenever the two are together, by themselves.

"I'm going to take a quick shower, and when I get out, we can make lunch and go for a walk or something," Buck said. He kissed Y/N's temple before he began to walk away. But he stopped when he heard Y/N begin to speak again. He turned around, looking at the girl as she spoke.

"But what am I supposed to do about her?" Y/N pouted as Lana cried against her chest.

Buck shrugged. "Try soothing her. You're a great singer. Try singing her a lullaby," Buck said as he made his way into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Y/N took a deep breath, looking down at her daughter, who seemed to be in distress, with worried eyes. She decided to take Buck's advice. She had also seen other mothers do it with their children when she was out in public. It seemed to work then, so why not now? "Shh... It's all going to be okay." Y/N rocked the baby as she whispered some calming words into her daughter's ear. Her words seemed to work since the girl had stopped crying.

Lana stared up at her mother, emotionless. Y/N smiled at her daughter as a soft tear rolled down her face. She was happy. She had finally made progress with her daughter. Lana began to coo in her ear, making Y/N laugh in excitement. Y/N slowly swayed the girl around in her arms as she hummed the words to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are. Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star. How I wonder what you are.

Y/N repeated it a couple more times before hearing a small laugh from the child in her arms. "You like that?" Y/N asked Lana as she laughed some more. Y/N sang it once more, but this time she danced around the room with Lana in her arms.

Unknowingly, Buck had been watching the whole thing from the bathroom. He had yet to get into the shower, but when he heard the harmonious sound of his girlfriend's voice, he couldn't help but see what was happening. So, he slowly cracked the door open, careful not to interrupt, and he watched.

Every time she sang the song with a smile, Buck's smile got even wider. His advice from his friends worked. He helped Y/N out, but he didn't take over. He just hoped that it could always be like this.

When Y/N was done singing, she began tickling the child earning bursts of loud laughter. Buck took this as a good sign and returned to his shower.

When he got out, Buck left the bathroom, dressed, and ready to go on a walk. He had on a grey tank top and black workout shorts. As he left the steamy room he was met with Y/N kneeling infront of a stroller, snapping Lana into it. Both wore jean shorts but Y/N wore a teal crop top, and Lana had on a pink shirt that read 'Princess' in gold letters and matching shades.

"Are you ready to go?" Y/N asked Lana in her baby voice. Lana laughed, making Y/N clap her hands as she copied her daughter's actions.

Buck cleared his throat, getting Y/N's attention. Y/N looked over at Buck with a slight jump, scared from not noticing Buck. She shyly looked away, embarrassed.

"So, you too made up?" Buck asked with a knowing smirk.

Rolling her eyes, Y/N responded, "Yes. In fact, you were right. Babies are known for crying; all she needed was to be soothed." Buck enjoyed the beaming smile on her face as she said that.

"Huh."

"Yep, I sang a little toon, and from then on, I hadn't heard a peep. We got dressed, and now, here we are," Y/N said happily.

"Well, that's good... Shall we get going?" Buck asked, pointing over to the door. Y/N nodded in response, getting up off the ground. Buck moved to grab the stroller, and the happy couple happily made their way out of the house with their newborn for a nice afternoon walk.

A/N: I am so sorry it took me so long to write this. I do plan on writing more often. I had a goal to publish this before school started back up again, but that didn't work out. So, my 2023 New Years' resolution is to get to the point where I publish at least 2 fics a week. Once again, I am so sorry. Please 🙏🏼 don't be mad.

If your user is in red, I could not find you. Please feel free to contact me if you'd like to be re-added or removed from my taglist. Taglist: @mrspeacem1nusone @girlnred @okiegirl24 @babypink224221 @iamasimpingh0e @Virginia @alexxavicry @kaitieskidmore1 @vanessaw05 @bellarkeselection @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @icemansgirl1999 @esposadomd @buckysmainhxe @sunwardsss

[kwritess]

Of Dancing and Starless Nights

Chapter 1: An unexpected proposition

Pairing: Alastor x fem! Reader

In which a strange proposition is made and many questions are left unsaid.

Author's corner: Hi everyone! First time writing for Alastor because I've been in quite a brainrot recently! English is not my first language and I hope I gave the characters justice. This, as you can tell is going to be a fic with more chapters, nothing too long though! Just an excuse to write about a ball and romantic tension with our favorite deer demon! Let me know what you think, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

The hotel was strangely quiet that evening, that was something she noticed from the start of that morning.

Uneventful days like this one were few, and far in between. There was always something going on in this little corner of hell she had learned to call home.

But today was different, relaxed.

Too relaxed, even.

Charlie was out with her girlfriend for a well deserved day off. And Angel hadn't caused any trouble yet, preferring to retire to his room rather quickly as he muttered something about Val being a dick and "long shifts", a tray of red smoke behind him.

She could only offer him a sympathetic look before resuming her cleaning with the little cyclop she worked with. It was only fair that she helped with the hotel as best as she could after Charlie offered her a shelter without asking anything in return other than a bit of good will.

She was quickly pulled out of her train of thoughts when Niffty’s voice rang in her ears, as she concluded the little tale she was telling.

<Oh, and then Mister Al pulls me out of this portal, and I’m here! It was a nice day, except the part where I was hit by a door… Anyway…>

Right, that was why everything felt so quiet!

Not even Alastor had showed his face around! The absence of the familiar static noise, and constant chatter she was so used to, almost made the red colored walls feel empty. But she preferred not to linger on the thought so much.

Even with Niffty at her side chatting away to her heart’s content, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was a reason why almost all of the Hotel staff was out and about.

She was quick to get back to work tough. And when her and Niffty finished dusting off the main hall, mostly thanks to the little cyclop's seemingly never ending energy, she was finally able to get back to her room.

Just as she pondered what to spend the rest of her free evening doing, a familiar knock on the door alerted her that the quiet was about to end.

<Come in, Alastor.>

<Ah! There you are, dear! I've been looking for you.>

The tall deer demon chirped as he made his way to her. She regarded him with a raised brow as she folded her cleaning uniform back to its place in her drawer.

<How strange…>

She laughed as she approached him. Alastor was always in search of an audience, and as of late she'd found herself listening to his ramblings more often than she would've liked to admit. It didn’t help the fact that he always seemed to pop out of nowhere, whenever she was helping Niffty or simply enjoying a drink at the hotel bar.

<Any particular reason you’re seeking my company on this fine day?>

She added, posing her hands on her hips in a poor attempt at imitating his dramatic way of speaking.

<Can’t a gentleman just wish to see how his dear dame is faring?>

His ever-present smile widened as he pushed an arm around her shoulders in an exaggerated fashon.

His? In any other circumstance she would’ve assumed he was trying to… No. No way in hell. That was Alastor. He just didn’t do that sort of thing. Besides, that’s just how he talked to everyone. If there was a thing that man did not care about, were personal boundaries. Well…At least those that were not his.

She quickly focused back on the conversation before he could notice her confusion.

<Alright mister, game’s off. There’s always a catch with you. What is it?>

She felt Alastor’s arms get off her shoulders as he brought a hand to his chest, sighing.

<You wound me, darling! Although… There is a little thing I’ve been meaning to ask of you>

She motioned for him to go on and he didn’t waste a second.

< See, dear, it appears I’ve been invited to a ball just this weekend!> He laughed.

<A little "overlord meeting" plus some special guests, as they like to call it. It’s been a couple of decades since we had one of those, but it appears this time they wish to ensure more peaceful terms, to prevent what happened last time I assume, a shame, really!>

Her eyes widened a little. She didn't even want to imagine what bloodbath could have possibly happened to convince even the overlords to ensure some semblance of safety. And even then, she wasn't exactly sure most of the people there were willing to put aside their ill intentions.

<Anyway, both me me and dear Charlotte agree it could be a wonderful opportunity to showcase and gain some advantages for this little project of hers, don't you think?>

Alastor asked with a hum and she raised a brow at him. She seriously doubted any of the overlords aside from the eccentric one on her left could be interested in supporting the hotel. But... She guessed it din't hurt to try.

<Alright, nice. I still don't get how exactly I fit in in any of this...>

The deer demon laughed as if she just said the funniest joke he'd ever heard before.

<To accompany me of this fine occasion of course! These kind of evenings can become a little dull without the right company, and I'm in need of a dance partner!>

She had barely time to widen her eyes as Alastor leaned towards her just a little bit closer than usual.

His half lidded red eyes glowed in the dim lit room and his smile turned amused and a bit mischievous.

She couldn't help it when her breath hitched in her throat. Or when her heart skipped a beat.

<What do you say dear?>

His voice was lower and she could feel the air shift around her.

<Uh- >

<Of course, you needn't worry for your safety doll! I will make sure no one disturbs us.>

And just like that, as Alastor got up swifly, leaving her side, whatever magic spell was tightening her throat faded away, much to her relief.

She rearranged her thoughts as she processed just what the grinning demon now in front of her was proposing.

<So, let me get this straight, you're asking me to be your plus one at this fancy rich overlord ball for the weekend?>

A faint choir of "oooooh" could be heard from Alastor's microphone as he responded to her in his booming voice.

<Precisely, darling!>

Oh. That was new. It's not like she didn't expect Alastor, ever the showman, to thrive on mundane occasions like these. But the fact that he'd decided to ask her, out of all the ladies that knew how to act at fancy rich people parties, kinda baffled her.

But then, again, why would she refuse? Alastor had his quirks, a kind way to say he was a total psychopath and kind of an ass when he wanted to. But he had his moments, and she came to realize that in the months that she'd been staying at the hotel she had grown weirdly fond of his antics and old timey charms.

And, if this weekend vacation would is some way help Charlie gain some funds for her dream...

<Alright, deal.>

<Excellent!> Alastor's smile became even bigger and she wondered to herself how was that even possible.

<This is going to be an entertaining occasion indeed! Well dear, we'll discuss the details later, I'm afraid I have some business to attend to.>

And with a final straightening of his coat the demon was just about to leave the door when she suddenly remembered something.

<Wait, Al!>

<Yes, darling?>

<I... Don't know how to dance...>

[caitlynmeow]

for your ask game: my fave little meowmeow Bela

Give me a character and I will answer:

Why I like them:

Honestly, what is there not to like about Bela? She's a literal queen!! For real though, she's smart and capable. I love how she doesn't hesitate to do anything? When she saw Ethan she was already in charge and didn't blink twice before impaling his leg and dragging him all the way to her mother's room. I also love her personality! She is in charge and you can easily tell. She doesn't really say it, but it's all there in her body language and in how her mother and sisters address her. She is ruthless, and very efficient. She's often annoyed with her sisters because they're brats and don't do much aside from having fun and she's just so tired of their bullshit. Love that for her, really.

Why I don’t:

Doesn't apply, I love everything about our queen Bela.

Favorite episode (scene if movie):

I love the part where she chases Ethan down in the cellar. Girlie is just-- Having her fun. She's so chill while listing all the things she'd do to him. So unbothered. I also love the fight because her protective side really jumps out. She's ready to die to keep her family safe and I love how we get to see these different sides of her personality even though we only saw so little of Bela on screen.

Favorite season/movie:

The castle section is my favorite for a reason~

Favorite line:

"I can't believe Cassandra caused all this mess," (because it's the first time we /see/ her and her first line is complaining about her younger sister)

Favorite outfit:

Everything she wears looks really good on her, duh.

Head Canon:

1- Despite her outward complaining, she's very caring and protective over her sisters to the point where they always go to her for advice/when they mess up. 2- She believes she's the better sister, and that her sisters get away with a lot that they shouldn't get away with. One is sloppy as hell while the other wouldn't know how to do anything right. She should be the one getting all the praise, no? 3- She actually does spend time with her sisters. Mostly doing things they all love, which is music in Opera Hall and tending to their flowers in the greenhouse. 4- She doesn't say it out loud, but she nearly bursts in delight when her sisters seek her to learn new things and when her mother praises her for looking after them like that. 5- Having said all of that, she has a praise kink loves getting compliments and getting praised makes her feel very valid.

Unpopular opinion:

Not sure if this counts as unpopular or not but: Bela is entitled and arrogant, even more than her sisters. Alcina being the eldest is always disrespected by Heisenberg (the youngest) and that's the main thing she focused on when it came raising her daughters: the eldest will always be respected. It's why Bela can at times come off as very entitled and she actually expects others (outside of the family) to treat her the same way.

A wish

I wish she lived longer than what the game did to her (in my head they're all alive and living happily in their castle)

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen:

Too late capcom already did it and I hate it.

5 words to best describe them:

leader- protector - confidant - sister - daughter

My nickname for them:

Belly-boo

[i-only-want-endless-happiness]

Dear pjo fandom

I just read the sun and the stars and i was so happy to come here and see all the little cute fan arts and what i find is a bunch of adults complaining about a child books series istg this fandom is one of the most toxic ones out there.

Now i could tell you that if you want to consume a product whatever it is movies,books,tv shows ecc that's explicitly for kids/preteens you have to approch it with the right mentality which is letting your inner child enjoy the product if you're 20+ something, cause of course the adult you won't feel the same wonder, and sure kids products don't have to be bad or bland and there are other things out there aimed at kids that are better than tsats BUT it's not a bad book, mark oshiro did such a good job at portraying healing and trauma, they also did an amazing job at presenting to middle schoolers the idea of romantic relationships being not all roses and flowers and unicorns, human relationships are hard no matter the kind, it's something difficult to accept and to deal with especially when every single fairy tale you read as a kid teaches you that there is a happily ever after, that after adversities everything gets solved and goes fine, when you grow up you learn that nothing is further from the truth than that, i could also tell you that of course the concept is extremely simplified but again it's a book for kids/preteens, i could tell you to not go for something you know it's not targeted to you if you want approch it in a cynical way, i could give you as example that reading tsats and wanting maturity out of it is like going to watch a disney animation movie and then complaining they sing too much. Cause now you have to tell me when rick riordan has been mature or not cringe in the whole entirity of the pjo saga? He literally wrote a dam joke after killing off a 12 years old, added a judo flip to a romantic reunion of two characters that haven't seen each others for almost a year, wrote a romantic declaration from a 20 years old something to a 16 years old girl, wrote about gods falling for the stupidiest shit said by teenagers demigods, made percy at 12 years old won a fight against the fucking god of war and i could go on so if that has been ok with you till now what is even the point? The truth is y'all are not complaining cause the book feels immature/cringe/ooc ecc y'all are complaining cause you hate will and you hate him cause you ship nico with percy,jason,leo or who knows who and that's ok you don't have to like will or solangelo you can ship whatever you want (i'm an "anomaly" in this fandom i never shipped percabeth, i started prefering percy and rachel and i ended up loving the idea of annabeth and piper, still i can be objective enough to read a whole saga where percy and annabeth are the main couple and not shit on it just cause i don't ship them together) of course you can complain about this book but at least make an effort and think of valid reasons. The real problem is why did you decide to buy and read a book that focuses as one of the main plots on a relationship you hate so much, if you can't stand them as a couple why did you read it in the first place? This book is not perfect it lacks things and there are topics that needed to be handled better sure, but it's not bad,ooc or cringe, cheesy maybe but not the kind of cringe you are trying to make it pass. The real deal here is you don't really care about any of those things you just hate the ship the book revolves around and again that's fine but just be honest it's way more respectful than taking away the work af a queer author that tried to settle more the idea of a queer couple being normal and equal to a straight one to a group of young people who are living in a society that still is against queer people.

Damnit shut up, do it for the gay kids

A former kid (still queer tho)

(if i made mistakes forgive me english is not my first language)

[writergirl3]

4 Town x Reader Dating Headcanons

Now that you know how 4 Town are with crushes, let's find out what it's like dating your bias. I tried to make this as gender neutral as possible, but I've headcanoned my sexualities for them in my first post.

Send in requests if you have any!

Robaire

Robaire is Mr Smooth, we know this, so when in a relationship with him, you can expect all kinds of lavish gifts and romantic gestures. Not that he thinks you're like that, it’s just his way of showing love.

He’ll speak to you in French a lot, just because that little blush that comes to your cheeks when he does this is so cute to him. If you speak another language, though, then just give him a dose of his own medicine. He’ll be too flustered to do anything.

His love languages are words of affirmation and acts of service. Of course, this is because of all his French fanciness, but the responsible side of him really caters to doing stuff for you. Literally anything. Chores around the house especially. If you’re shy or avoidant of conflict, he’ll step in for you and give whoever needs it a talking to. Problems solved.

He’s pretty chill about PDA, so it’s really up to you how affectionate you guys are. He’ll usually have an arm slung over your shoulders or waist, and will give little pecks to your knuckles no matter where you are. 

Now, the ‘L’ word. I feel like Robaire would say it first, and pretty early on. He worried that you’d be freaked out, but he’s very in touch with his feelings and quickly knew that that new, fuzzy feeling in his chest was love. It HAD to be. He took you out to a nice dinner and after an hour or sweaty palms and poorer-than-usual eye contact, he shakily told you he loved you.

He calls you ‘mon amour’, ‘love’, and ‘darling’.

Jesse

I headcanon Jesse as being pretty experienced with short-term relationships, but not anything super serious. Being a teenage dad changed that, so his relationship with you is full of learning curves. He loves it, though, because you’re worth the effort.

Because he has kids, you two make the most of every moment together. He’s not so into flashy dates like Robaire, but makes the most of the small moments. Whether it’s you touching up his roots or him teaching you the basics of pottery, he cherishes his time with you. Things like this make up the fabric of your relationship.

Love-language-wise, Jesse’s main ones are quality time and acts of service. This is pretty much for reasons already mentioned, but his time is valuable and so giving it to you is the ultimate form of affection. He’s also pretty responsible, like Robaire, and will do anything to make you feel secure, hence acts of service.

He’s not huge on PDA, mainly because his kids are around him a lot. He also worries about the press invading your privacy, so he tends to reserve physical affection for behind closed doors. If you’re insistent on giving him a few kisses or cuddles around the guys, though, he’ll obviously oblige.

Jesse was wary to tell you he loves you, initially. Not because he doubted it, but because he didn’t want to scare you off. He comes as a package deal, and wanted to be sure that you’re ready for that before declaring his love. Once he did though, you both became the strongest couple that the other 4 Town guys had ever laid eyes on. 

Expect to be called ‘sweetheart’, ‘babe’ and ‘honey’.

Aaron T

Oh man, be prepared for wild ride with a relationship with this guy. Jokes, pranks and general silliness are a given, but he naturally calms down a bit with you. He will wholeheartedly devote everything to you, no questions asked. Expect constant compliments, bone-crushing cuddles and a newfound, fun outlook on life with T.

Spontaneity is a word that pretty much describes T’s whole brand. He never really plans dates, but suggests ideas off the cuff as they occur to him. And he’s super willing to do any activities that you want, too! His favourites include beach days, theme parks and shopping at the mall.

T’s love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation. No doubt about it. He’s a clingy guy and is re-energised by your touch, so his hands will be holding yours, playing with your hair or squishing your waist all the time. And we know that T has no verbal filter, so it makes sense that this is another way that he shows love. 

“Babyyyy, I WUV YOUUU!”, “Hold it, lemme take a pic. This light makes you look like an angel, for real…”, “Y’know I’ll love you when we’re old, right?! Like when you’re hair’s all grey and your skin looks like an old leather purse and you can’t go to the bathr- hey, HEY! OKAY I’LL STOP!”.

T’s also big on nicknames, so expect him to call you pretty much every other than your real name.

T has absolutely no problems with PDA, he’s a shameless simp for you. Unless you’re dead against it, he will always be giving you smooches and cuddles. The other guys get kinda annoyed about it at times, but seeing their friend happy makes them happy.

You were actually the first one to say the ‘L’ word. Not that T wasn’t feeling it, he was just too dense to realise that he loved you. You told him spontaneously during an ice cream date. He had just collected the cones from the little stand by the beach, then proceeded to trip over his own feet and drop the cones on the ground. In a fit of giggles, you told him you loved him, and he was too stunned to speak. Of course, he reciprocated, though!

As mentioned, nicknames are unavoidable with T, and you’ll have many, ranging from ‘baby’ to ‘jelly bean’. I don’t make the rules.

Aaron Z

So, we’ve already cleared up that Z is pretty inexperienced relationship-wise, so you’ll probably have to initiate quite a lot of things. You suggested your first date, leaned in for your first kiss, and instigated pretty much everything else. It’s not that Z doesn’t want to, he just worries about coming on too strong. He’s an intimidating guy to some, so he appreciates you showing him that you’re okay with him.

His affection towards you is a quiet, gentle sort. He’s your rock, truly, and a chill one at that. He appreciates you taking the lead, as we’ve said, and will go along with any dates that you want to do. His favourites usually include snuggling up on the couch with you, though. And yes, in his eyes, that does count as a date. He’s not big on social scenes, and loves having you to himself.

His love languages are for sure physical touch and acts of service. So much of Z’s love is nonverbal, and he shows everything through actions. He’s also very protective, and will do anything to keep you safe. This includes holding you close to him when you’re out and about, reaching up for things on the top shelf so that you don’t stand on a chair and potentially fall, and all sorts of other stuff.

Unsurprisingly, he’s not into PDA at all. People often mistake you for being friends if they don’t know that you’re an item. Z’s a private person, and, in his eyes, a lack of PDA just makes your snuggles and kisses that much more special when you’re alone.

As is the case with T, Z was kinda unsure whether that feeling in his chest was love or not. Because he wasn’t absolutely certain, he kept waiting and waiting until he said anything. You beat him to it, though, blurting it out randomly while you were whispering to each other before going to sleep. His face went unbelievably hot, which was thankfully concealed in the dark, and his heart was hammering in his chest. In a heartbeat, though, he told you he loved you, too.

Although words of affirmation aren’t Z’s main love language, he finds nicknames cute. The main ones he gravitates towards are ‘princess/prince’, ‘cutie’, and ‘sweetie’.

Tae Young

Being in a relationship with Tae is sweeter thank drinking kool aid through a red vine (Big Bang Theory fans, I see you.) It’s like stepping into a different world where everything is soft and cute and happy. Only Tae can make you feel that way, and you do the same for him.

Dates with Tae usually end up at the zoo, even if you stopped off some place else originally. It’s just such a fun day out, and chances are that if you’re with Tae, you like animals too. If you decide to switch things up, though, expect to be taken around local bakeries and sweet shops. Tae is a real foodie, and you both have so much fun taste testing different snacks and rating them.

Tae’s love languages are physical touch and gift-giving. He loves surprising you with little trinkets or things that you’ve had your eye on for a while. And while he’s kinda shy at times, he’s just as clingy as T and loves feeling connected to you physically.

Now, with PDA, Tae probably won’t initiate it. At least not consciously. He usually has his fingers entwined with yours when out in public, but it won’t go much further than that. If you want kisses from him when you’re out and about, you’ll have to either give him one or just straight up tell him.

Tae knew that he loved you for quite a while before telling you. He just never knew how to word it. Turns out, he didn’t really need to plan anything as he randomly blurted it out. You had been apart for a couple of days, and when you reunited, he said it without even thinking. Initially he was mortified, but one kiss and an ‘I love you too’ from you was all he needed to gain his confidence back.

His favourite nicknames include 'dove', 'love' and 'darling'.

---

Musing Meaninglessly Masterlist

[yoo-jeongneon]

the sticky tab series | sticky tab one: 6B

× minors/ageless/empty blogs dni. you will be blocked. ×

× series masterlist × main masterlist × × <- previous × next -> × seventeen (ot13) x gn!reader genre: mystery, thriller, drama warnings: journalist!reader, former journalist!jun, explicit language, smoking, written as a journal entry in the first person, discussions about journalism, dates given in dd/mm/yyyy word count: 748 taglist: @hipsdofangirl × @strawberri-uyu × @asyre × @minhui896

name: wen junhui date of birth: 10/06/1996 date moved in: 12/02/2018

When I stepped into his apartment, the first thing I caught was the scent of tobacco mixed with a dried out reed diffuser. I couldn't possibly say what the scent was, but something tells me it was earthy.

Speaking of tobacco, one of the first things I learned is that Junhui is a smoker. I'm not, so I declined his offer. He wasn't rude about it - he spared me a 'suit yourself' and just sat down on his leather three-seater.

I sat on the matching two-seater. Comfortable, but judging by the wear it was likely a few years old. The dried diffuser was on a side table pressed against the wall on the other side of the room. The kitchen was to my left and there was a pair of double doors that opened out to a balcony.

Junhui apologised to me for what the man from 4B wrote in his letter, though he admitted while he knew a note had been mentioned, he didn't believe the man actually went through with writing and leaving it. The second he heard me mention his apartment name, it twigged in an instant. "I should've known that bastard would actually do it. Like I said he's got a propensity for pissing me off."

He asked me why I came to the building, informing me that he saw me arrive from his apartment window, pointing to the set of double doors. I explained my reasoning and he seemed surprised.

"No one ever comes to Drawbridge. People just snap pictures from afar then run off to write bullshit about it." It didn't surprise me that the residents here knew of the reputation. He took more hits from his cigarette as he continued. "And you told me you were ready to turn and leave when you realised people lived here, but you picked up the phone."

He caught me with that. It is true that I had picked up the phone. I fell silent for a while as he studied my expression.

"I get why you did," he said, "you're a journalist at the end of the day. Like I said, I share your experience. I was a freelance journalist at one point. No matter what, we'll take any chance to get a story."

I couldn't believe I was sitting here, having this conversation. I did not expect to turn up to find out there were thirteen residents. I also didn't know at the time what was to come..

I told him, "I am not here to, as you said, 'drill holes in your walls'. In fact, I will be ready to leave after this conversation."

Junhui stared at me then. "I appreciate you not wanting to do that. Though I must admit, it might quell some rumours about this place.."

I raised an eyebrow. "And what of you trying to keep your solitude?"

"I can wish for solitude while wishing the reputation didn't exist."

That struck a chord. I wondered how many other residents here felt the same way. At the time, I considered I wouldn't be getting those perspectives.

"I suppose.. as long as you don't go ahead and make this whole situation public in the way only a journalist would-" He gave me a knowing look; I held back from rolling my eyes. "..Then I suppose I can tell you a little something, former journalist to current journalist."

I didn't know how to respond. Initially, I wasn't going to take him up on his offer, but I already felt that I'd made a vow.

I pulled out my journal, to which he smiled. It was rather frustrating in its smugness but.. it was clearly the smile of understanding.

'I share your experience.'

Details of note from our discussion:

junhui was the fifth person to move in

junhui took 6B as he felt it had the nicest kitchen

project drawbridge almost didn't go through

several investors were sceptical of its tenancy power

junhui doesn't know who lived in 7B

7A is the only person who knows about it (and he hasn't shared that info)

junhui doesn't get on well with 6A

junhui stopped being a journalist in 2021

3A doesn't talk to him because of his experience in journalism

people have made small efforts to remove the 'silent dweller' name from searches after learning what the project name is

3B was the last person to move in

× yoo-jeongneon ×

[cosmic-graveyardd]

ATSUSHI HEADCANONS!!

Please don’t comment anything negative. I promise you, I couldn’t care less!

1) I think that they’re transmasc non-binary and use they/he pronouns!!! I don’t think that they ever really thought about gender until the agency and then they were like “Oh, that kinda makes sense for me…”.

2) Kyouka often asks if he can go into tiger form cause she finds it nice to lay against him like that! I like to think that she tried to ask for a cat and he had to tell her no and so she went for the next best compromise. Pros of having a tiger roommate I guess!

3) He gets scared easily in general but it’s even worse with horror movies. They themselves find it a tad funny that they could handle a lot in real life but struggle with it when it’s fictional. I like to think this was also found out from a movie date with Aku and Lucy!!

4) Speaking of those other two, I think that they are bi and polyamorous!!! And of course, dating both Akutagawa and Lucy!!!! He has two hands for a reason guys /j

5) He definitely has tried to make a good impression Chuuya. I like to think that Chuuya is kinda like an older brother to Aku and I think they would be trying their hardest to make a good impact on him. I also think Dazai would tease him SOOOO much for that.

6) He 100% has learned flower language and tries to continuously give flowers of love and admiration for his two lovers! I love the thought of him trying so hard to think of which ones to give each of them and feeling bad just in case they don’t like it. (They love it each and everytime)

7) Continuing from that, I think that he has acts of service and quality time as his main love languages!! I think that he would eventually warm up a lot to the idea of physical contact as well, but I feel like all three of them would be relatively awkward when it comes to it. Not in a bad way, just in the cute dorky way of “am I doing it right?” and it’s the simplest thing.

8) I like to think that it was kind of an accident that he confessed to Akutagawa and Lucy. Either he just one day kinda said something like “you’re lucky I love you” or he just kinda blurred out his feelings. Either way, I think both Aku and Lucy would be a bit shocked at first but then kinda just laugh a tad at him.

9) I like to believe that Kyouka also heavily judged Lucy and Akutagawa when they first started dating them. Like, of course she did with Akutagawa, but I like to think that Atsushi would just constantly be apologize for Kyouka always interrogating them both.

10) Atsushi almost always falls asleep when the other two are with him. He just finds it easier to sleep with people he trusts so dearly around.

11) I think Atsushi is half japanese and mexican. Do I have reasoning? Nope. But that is the wonderful things of headcanons!!!

So yeah!!! Those are all I can think about for now, but trust me, i’ll be thinking of more!! And i’ll be working on others too!! I think i’ll go through each organization and such!!! If there’s any that are wanted the most though, I might do those earlier than anything!! Anyways, Thank you so much for reading and have a wonderful day!!!!! <3

[kipandkandicore]

well… we found out that someone *cough cough* @sophieinwonderland … said that she thought we falsely reported eeveecraft to get them banned.

this is not true at all. she has no basis for this claim. the post we wrote responding to eeveecraft, we wrote specifically because they linked to our document in order to discredit it. that is the entire reason why we wrote that response. we would not have made the post at all if they had not brought up the document we compiled. our response was made in good faith. and never in the post did we explicitly call eeveecraft racist.

did we say that tulpa language is racist? yes.

did we say that alexandra david-neel is racist? yes.

did we call eeveecraft racist, anywhere in our response? not to our knowledge (though we did say that, by saying racist things, they were being racist)

we never reported eeveecraft, nor did we encourage anyone else to do the same. to claim otherwise is slander. on sophie’s blog, she is slandering us, despite having us blocked, to our knowledge! we only knew about these posts at all because a concerned friend saw them and brought them up to us. we don’t view sophie’s blog except in cases like this, where we find she’s been referring to us without our knowledge in order to lie about us.

it’s hurtful. it’s unkind. it’s disrespectful.

how can she claim to ever be engaging in good faith when this is the sort of shit she does? we’ve seen sophie block evading to spread false rumors about those she disagrees with many times over the past year or so. this isn’t something new for her.

like, the entire time we have been in syscourse spaces, our goal has been to learn more, have honest conversations, and to discuss system issues with those of differing views in good faith.

that has been our goal here since day one.

we genuinely didn’t know eeveecraft wouldn’t be able to see our post. we thought tagging them would make that post visible to them. if they resurface, we will absolutely remake that post onto our main blog and @ them there so they can view it.

why spend so much energy railing against us, when we:

1) didn’t respond in bad faith (and did not attack them as she claims, for fuck’s sake) we responded with concern, hoping to genuinely gain some clarification.

2) didn’t know that @ ing eeveecraft wouldn’t make the post visible to them. we’re not blocked by many users and we don’t know how that sort of thing functions.

3) we literally have a partner who is a tulpamancer. we have been in tulpa spaces (frequenting r/tulpas, tulpa.io, tulpanomicon, and tulpa.info) for over a year. tulpamancy is not new to us. this language shift, though, is.

yes, it is possible to be pro-tulpa as a practice, anti-tulpa terminology. like. i don’t know how else to tell you that it’s possible to separate a concept from its label. especially when that label has clearly racist roots and many poc have spoken up about it.

yes, it is possible to believe in endogenic systems and support them fully, even while being syscourse unaligned. “syscourse unaligned” does not automatically mean anti-endo or sysmed, as others might like to believe. like please, we’re begging you, learn some nuance.

note we didn’t call any tulpamancers racist! just the terminology, and people’s actions regarding that terminology. ignoring that fact, brushing it under the rug, or claiming that the terminology isn’t racist doesn’t make it any less true.

if someone says something racist, yeah, we’re gonna call it out. it’s part of learning to be antiracist, and part of learning how to stand up for marginalized people in your communities. even (and especially) when it’s hard. it has been very difficult for us, going down this path. we have been targeted and harmed more by speaking out against tulpa language than we ever have in any of our time in syscourse.

but we cannot let this go. i mean yeah, it’s getting to us, and we’re getting beaten down by people like sophie making wild assumptions about us, talking about us behind our back, and spreading rumors about us that assume the worst in us without ever asking us directly. but idk, like, it should not be up to buddhist poc to have to fight tooth and nail to defend themselves. there should be more white people on their side, listening to them, rallying behind them, and willing to stand up for them.

that’s what we’re trying to do here. that has always been what we’re trying to do. we are not trying to destroy the tulpa community at all!! and if anyone could read our posts without assuming the worst in us, actually read what we have to say without jumping to conclusions… they could see that.

idk. idk. this has been extremely fucked for our mental health. we’re not in a good place. we want to do what we can to keep standing up against racism within the community, but it’s so hard when the people being racist:

1) immediately block you

2) still read your posts, even though they blocked you

3) make posts assuming the worst about you, claim that you did things that you simply did not do, and come after you for things that they never reached out to you about personally

(not to mention in her posts referencing us she treats the survivor’s network discord server like a group of evil sysmeds who plot together to bully endos, when in reality… it is a recovery server for trauma survivors with dissociative disorders. again: the survivor’s network is a recovery server. for trauma survivors. with dissociative disorders. it is a space to come together in order to heal, share resources, and learn from each other. it is a survivor space for those in recovery. we are shocked to find sophie calling the members of this server, a trauma and recovery space, morally bankrupt…)

in our disclaimer in our response to eeveecraft, we said that it’s not our goal to block evade. the post was genuinely meant as a response, one that we put a lot of thought and effort into! we honestly did not know that eeveecraft wouldn’t be able to see the post. we thought @ ing them directly would make it possible for them to view that post in particular. it definitely was never meant as an attack.

and to see folks claiming otherwise while dragging our name through the mud… idk it has us at our wits’ end.

posts referenced for transparency:

[nacregames]

Hello! Sorry if this is a stupid or uninformed question, but may I ask why you are moving from CoG to Twine? I'm only asking because I myself was planning to write IF on CoG but have since seen a lot of authors move platforms, and I have no idea why...

Hi! It's not a stupid question at all. There are many reasons why I personally switched from CoG to Twine, but I think the main reason why the majority did was because of the toxic community over there.

I've never been truly active on the forum, but it was apparently bad enough for lots of people to talk about and that's how I heard about it too. Some of the readers were said to be very rude to the authors and others, who showed support were suspended for very banal reasons. Also the mods did not take care of the situations properly and actually caused everything to escalate further by applying the guidelines and rules to their own liking/opinion. It was a very messed up situation all over.

I think this will make you help understand better: [link]

The "breaking point" for me though, was that this little evil man called Jason S. H. (CoG staff) supported NFTs and let me tell you friend, I will never ever touch that BS and all that other crypto currency shit. Nor will I work with or for somebody who supports it. I don't care if it was just an idea or his own personal opinion or whatever, I just didn't want to risk falling into that pit and so I decided to switch to Twine as early as possible. I didn't like the idea of being on edge and having to worry about this, especially since that man already has his little villain campaign going on over there and it's spreading like a virus.

Apart from that...well you can do whatever you want with Twine, while you obviously can't with Choicescript. You see, cs is a very easy and practical coding language and it was so much fun using it for my game, but as fun as it is, it's just not worth the trouble. You can do the same and more with Twine. You can even save your game, add images, music, and overall give your game a personal touch. The options are limitless and there's no one to tell you what to do.

Twine is an open source narrative engine and the community is already big enough to make the learning process as good and fast as it was with cs. It was very difficult at first since there were so few authors using it, but that's not the case now. Even if you have are a very slow learner or have a hard time coding, if it's your story you want to share, you can do that.

TL;DR: Long story short, ppl on the CoG forum (mods and readers alike) were mean and Twine offers so much more possibilities to design your game and has way less restrictions!

If you need a quick rec of narrative game engines, here's a list:

Narrat is a very nice engine too, but since it's still new, it's not as "fleshed" out as Twine, but there's a community to help with problems for it too, and it grows with each day! I'm personally trying to figure it out, since I plan to use it in the future.

Inkle writer (or Ink) is pretty much the same, though way easier to use since you can literally just click which command you wanna use and it inserts it itself. Like e.g add a variable or make a choice etc. It's actually a nice tool for scripting purposes, tho I'm not sure how much exactly you can do with it, so there's that.

You could also just use Ren'py. It's generally used for VNs, but you can just as well use it for strictly text-based games. The community is huge, you can always ask for help and you can code the wildest things with it since it uses python. I mean it's said to be for beginners, but I found it more difficult than Twine, so take that as you will. But anyway, I don't think there are any restrictions to either Twine or Ren'py tho I'm just an amateur and are throwing wild guesses in here lol.

[sissytobitch10seconds]

he sang louder and louder inside the house, and no i couldn't get him out

Fandom: Grishaverse: Six of Crows (Shadow and Bone TV) Summary: Wylan isn't used to loud noises, despite being a chemist and coming from a home with an abusive father. Kaz is always loud, but not in the same way that sounds are. He kind of likes it. Warnings: Sexual situations, masturbation, and background implied polyamory Word Count: 8,226 Ship(s): Wylan Van Eck/Kaz Brekker

Archive link!

A/N: So I had this idea before I had consumed anything other than the show, which means that while there might be tiny bit of book stuff splattered throughout, it's primarily the show. Also, I didn't intend for it to turn out as sexual as it did but then their interaction became more and more sexual as time went on and now we're here. I hope you guys enjoy this weird little character piece that I wrote! Stay sissy and bitchy everyone &lt;3

Wylan may not have been able to read, but he was still very smart.

His father had tried to convince him of his stupidity his entire life. He knew that it was true when it came to reading and writing, but he was still able to excel in science and music. It turned out to be true when it came to learning about people and the culture of a new place, as well.

He had been a fast learner when he was working out his new life in the Barrel. He had learned first that no one was to be trusted at face value, to always look at someone’s hand, and to assess what their body language meant when their sweet words sounded too good to be true. He had learned how to read people that he couldn’t see during the second week that he lived in his boarding room. He could tell how tall someone was, how quickly they were walking, and what their intentions were from their footsteps alone.

The clacking of a cane and a pair of good shoes behind him was brought to his attention as soon as he turned out of the main street where he worked. When he had first begun to search for work he hadn’t thought about picking some place like the local tannery, but it only made sense given his penchant for science and his illiteracy. It was good work that he usually enjoyed, even if he wished that he could be putting his talents with chemicals to slightly better use.

Wylan clocked that the person behind him was following him the second that he turned the corner and the sound followed. Something would have changed slightly if the person had continued straight, further into the merchant lined street to do window shopping. The fact that the steps had continued at the exact same pace as they had before told him that they were going to be turning the corner together.

It was the second time that he had ever been followed home, and he had learned from the first. 

The first time that he had been followed, he had just rushed up to his room and desperately tried to lock the door with the foolish hope that the boarding house master would somehow stop the person that was following after him. He still had a broken rib halfway through the last stage of healing to prove why that hadn’t worked.

He had changed how he was going to deal with that specific situation soon after. Wylan walked into the front of the boarding house just long enough that whoever was following him hung back past the door. He darted around the corner and hid in an alcove until another one of the tenants of the boarding house left, giving a reasonable pair of footsteps for his attacker to pursue. 

He then immediately slipped back out of the boarding house and walked around the back. Raising his arms above his head hurt and ached, uncomfortable because of the broken bone deep in his sternum, but he had gotten very good at ignoring pain. He placed his fingers securely around a brick above his head and then planted his feet on the wall. With measured movements and expert amounts of precision, he scaled the wall until he was finally up at his window.

Wylan grasped the window to his room, the one closer to the left side of the building. He had two windows that overlooked the city from the main part of the room that he had rented but only one of them was prepared for this seemingly inevitable eventuality. He had memorized the outside and inside of it so that he could be fully prepared, never doing anything halfway.

He pushed the glass upwards silently until it was behind the second half of the window. He pulled himself up so that his heels were resting on the edge of the sil while he felt around for the elongated piece of metal. It was sharpened but thin enough that it would be easy to hide within the frame without being noticed.

As soon as it was properly palmed, hidden away but quickly available when he needed to use it, he slipped the rest of his body so that he was inside of his room. He set his feet carefully down on the ground so that they made as little sound as possible. The wind whistled around the building outside and ruffled his jacket just enough that he was worried he might be found out, but the man currently stalking around his apartment hadn’t even turned to face him.

He stood up and then moved away from the window. It took three steps before he was up behind the intruder, the makeshift knife pressed into the hollow of his back. The man was at least six inches taller than him, which decreased the intimidation factor that he had been trying to go for. He didn’t think about it too much as he hissed, “If you want to steal something then you came to the wrong boarding house.”

“I didn’t come to steal anything,” the man replied, his voice dark and raspy in a way that spoke to something feral in the back of Wylan’s mind. Suddenly they flipped over so that the man that had broken into his home was on the advance and Wylan was protecting himself.

It was all very reminiscent of what had happened the first time that someone had broken into his place, but somehow it felt like more was on the line. It might have been simply because he had more things than the bare bones that had lined his rented room back when he could afford basically nothing. On the other hand, something in the back of his mind was whispering that it was different than that. It meant more than just paltry possessions, but it refused to tell him exactly what.

The man reached up so that he was grabbing Wylan’s wrist, squeezing once so that the smaller of the two was forced to drop the shiv that he had been grasping for dear life. The man’s other hand moved down to his hip, causing the cane that he had been holding to clatter noisily down to the ground. They took a step and a half backwards before Wylan’s back was pressed against the wall of his apartment, right next to the window that he had snuck through.

“I have to admit, you do have a rather good plan set up if you were to try that on anyone other than me,” the man whispered. 

They were in just the right spot that the light from the moon and lanterns down below poured onto his face, allowing Wylan to finally see who had been following him all the way from his work. He had sharp cheekbones and jawline, smoothe and pale skin that was almost golden underneath, with a small scar just above his lip and stretching over his cheek. He was ruggedly handsome in an objective way, but his eyes were so darkly dangerous that they made gooseflesh appear on the edges of Wylan’s arms.

The first thing that he noticed sensationally was the fact that the man was wearing gloves. Wylan had spent enough time making leather at this point to know that they were high quality, better than a lot of items that the scum of the Barrel were usually able to pay for. The leather had obviously been made from a healthier animal than the tannery were used to using given the thickness of it against his skin. The pair had been made by someone that had to have specialized in gloves based on the way that the seams felt, smooth compared to the rest of the garment and also fitting perfectly to the hand inside.

“W-what do you want from me then?” Wylan asked. His eyes refused to meet the other man’s and his voice warbled as it emitted from his throat. He cleared it to try and stabilize the sound for the next time that he had to speak, despite knowing it wasn’t going to work. Fear, adrenaline, and a slight bit of arousal were mixing deep inside of his stomach.

The man on top of him suddenly released him, allowing his body to slump back against the wall like it already would have had he been holding himself up. He sucked in a breath when he realized that he had breathed out a long time ago and had never bothered with the other half of the mechanism. His heart was thrumming loud enough in his veins that any Heartrender within a mile of his room would be able to hear him.

Wylan slowly picked himself up, wringing his hands in front of him as he watched every minute movement that his attacker made. For some reason, he didn’t think that it was important to reach down for the shiv that was still laying uselessly on the floor. He began to wring his hands in front of him as he walked forward, towards his workbench.

Wylan had always had a bad habit of bringing his work home with him. That used to mean that he brought his homework back with him to his room, studying under the smallest flickering candle that wouldn’t let anyone know what he was doing until he literally fell asleep on top of it. Now it meant that he had dozens of beakers filled with chemicals of all sorts, some of which had been boiling for days and were finally getting down to the remnants that he could actually use for something. He didn’t know what yet, but he liked the freedom to experiment now that he was no longer under his father’s thumb.

The man stopped and ran the tip of his gloved index finger over the edge of one of Wylan’s beakers. “I was hoping that you could make me something.”

“Make you something?” Wylan repeated, his eyes glues on the pair of gloves and refusing to move. 

“Yes,” the man replied. “I need a couple of light bombs. Something that will cause a big show of exploding and possibly blind onlookers for a time but nothing that would do physical harm to them.”

“Th-then you need a phosphorus bomb,” Wylan replied quickly. He grabbed the bottle that the man was playing with away from him so that he didn’t shake it too much in a certain direction, which would have caused it to explode.

“Are you offering to make them for me, little magpie?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. He looked like some of the birds that Wylan had seen in the gardens from his tutor rooms before everything had gone to shit. 

He twitched slightly as he let his eyes flit over the bottles and beakers to make sure that they were all there and accounted for. He had a couple that were placed in locations that were more likely to get picked up, which he had done on purpose. If the man in front of him hadn’t been proposing a job that he desperately needed then he would have simply let him pick up one of those beakers and then suffer the consequences that it would bring him. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to work with you when I don’t even know who you are,” he mumbled.

Wylan had a sneaking suspicion as he got a better look at the cane. It was a deep black wood on the base and then an ornate, carved bird head with at least a facade of gold for the handle. The gloves that rested on top of it was the second clue that he got, but it simply just made him more suspicious instead of cluing him in properly.

“I think that you know, Wylan. You simply don’t want to be all that aware so you refuse to say it,” he replied.

The smaller of the two swallowed harshly. He didn’t know why, but the other man’s voice and the way that he was speaking were doing something to him. His body was quivering slightly in the too big clothing that he was using to hide his skinny frame from his boss and onlookers that might use it as a weakness. The most embarrassing thing was the way that his cock twitched in his pants, pressing against the center seam as it began to harden with every word that was spoken to him. He had never been that prone to falling to someone or being seduced that easily, but the man in front of him was different.

He listened to the sound of a cane hitting the wood of his floor and steps following after them as the other man made his way around the table and then paused. “Tell me, who do you think I am?”

“The Bastard of the Barrel, the owner of the Crow Club,” Wylan replied, his voice almost catching on his lips as he forced himself to get the words out.

“That’s right. Well done, magpie,” Kaz replied as a sick smirk grew over his perfect, thin lips. It stretched the scar there in a way that Wylan longed to feel under his fingers the same way that he did the strings of an instrument.

Wylan resisted the urge to preen at the praise. He knew that Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, was a dangerous man. The Crow Club was a place that many people visited when they wanted one of the smaller establishments that felt more intimate or didn’t want to be under Pekka Rollins’ rule. Wylan had ventured through the doors of the club for only a moment before the smell of tobacco leaf and alcohol had overwhelmed him. He had only been living in the Barrel for a couple of weeks at that point, he knew he’d be able to handle it better now. 

Still, he had been warned away from that place by the people that he had talked to. He had been warned that Kaz Brekker was in the business of renting an indentured Wraith that he used liberally, just as he did his gunslinger, on people that wronged him.

“Why are you coming to someone like me to fill this job? I think that you know people that are far more skilled in this kind of thing than I am,” he mumbled as he stared down at his table again. He was fiddling with the edge where some of the wood was beginning to splinted from how often his belt buckle had knocked against it while he was working.

“I’m coming to you because I know that you’re strapped for kruge and you don’t want to be involved in my world, so you’ll be discreet,” Kaz replied easily. His gloved hands were grasping tightly around his cane as he advanced on the smaller man. “Am I wrong?”

He didn’t want to admit it. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he realized just how correct the other man was. He was making a good deal of money with his work at the tannery, but it wasn’t enough to support him in a cutthroat city like Ketterdam. He could go without meals, Ghezen knew that he had done it enough when he wasn’t making enough academic progress, but he couldn’t lose the roof above his head. The Barrel wasn’t really the type of place where anyone could get away with sleeping in the streets if they wanted to keep their dignity and personhood.

Wylan grit his teeth as he realized just how correct Kaz had been on literally every single front. He didn’t want to get involved in the crime part of the Barrel even if he was stuck in the destitution of it, so it was unlikely that he was going to get involved with even more criminals. “The job that you’re working on right now has to be pretty busy if you’re willing to put your trust in someone completely new,” he said, glancing at Kaz out of the corner of his eye to gauge his reaction.

The other man finished the walk around the table that he had been doing, stopping so that he was beside Wylan. He reached up and past him, grasping at another one of the vials as he said, “Correct again, magpie. Which is why I’m willing to pay you a little bit extra to make sure that you keep quiet about this no matter who comes knocking at your door.”

“I wouldn’t be able to tell them anything about it anyway,” Wylan replied bitterly. He didn’t want to be involved in this kind of thing, he had grown up hearing about the kind of degeneracy and immoral things that came with the criminal life, which is why he had worked so hard to stay on the straight and narrow despite everything that his life seemed determined to throw at him.

Something in the back of his mind, a very quiet voice, was letting him know that he liked it. He could feel the phantom brushes of clothing from Kaz’s arm every time the other man moved around him, the illusion of breath against his face and neck and hair as they spoke to each other. It sent thrums of fear and adrenaline through his body in a way that he had never experienced before.

Wylan may not have had a lot of practice with it, but he had had sex before. He knew what it was like to see a very handsome man and be attracted to him to the point where the butterflies in his stomach had turned into blood flowing to his dick. He had been in the bedroom with both women and men and discovered what he preferred, usually with a blush plastered to as much skin as possible and the awkwardness pouring from him in waves.

This felt so similar to that and yet so different. He was unable to muffle down the gasp that pushed its way out of him in a millisecond as one of Kaz’s gloved hands touched his back and tilted him slightly forward so that he was touching the table with his stomach. His cock was straining against the inside of his pants, pressing so hard against the seam that he was surprised he hadn’t already popped a couple of the stitches.

“So what do you say?” Kaz asked.

“Mm?” Wylan asked, blinking as he tried to come back into his mind. His thoughts had all been replaced by white hot static as he suddenly realized just how aroused and sexually frustrated he was. Kaz may not have been conventionally attractive the same way that a lot of the people he had been forced to deal with when he was back with his father, but he was alluring and dangerous. He was something that Wylan shouldn’t have been interacting with and that by itself was appealing, ignoring the other layer of captivating mystique that Kaz brought everywhere with him.

Kaz moved away and suddenly Wylan felt like he was dying. The places where they had almost been brushing up against each other were absent of the warmth from the other man, but still buzzing with a magical lightning that Wylan had never felt before.

He resisted the urge to whimper as he turned so that he was properly facing the criminal. “Are you willing to work with me, little magpie?”

“What do you need from me, exactly?”

That short sentence felt like it was cementing him to an early grave more than anything he had ever done. It was worse than when he had decided that he was going to stay in the Barrel instead of moving anywhere else to find safety. Yet somehow, it also felt like it was breathing life into a part of himself that he had been denying since he was old enough to begin understanding the world around him. 

“Three of those bombs that you mentioned. I’m willing to reward you handsomely for it,” Kaz purred, his voice silky against Wylan’s ears despite the rasp that clung to every word like it was created to be there.

“Right,” he nodded. “When do you need them by?”

“I’ll come by by the eighth bell. I’m sure you won’t mind, right, magpie? I know you don’t work tomorrow. You never work on the last day of the week,” Kaz smirked as he spoke. Wylan knew that he had seen some kind of flicker of recognition or understanding in the other man that had clued him in to the fact that he was correct. He both hated and adored that the other could read him so easily, which was a very conflicting emotion to have to dig through when he was as hard as he was.

Discussing business while experiencing the worst orgasm denial that he had ever given himself wasn’t something that he had ever anticipated happening to him in his life. Wylan wondered if this was something that Kaz did with every other person that he encountered, riling them up so that their blood was in their cocks instead of their minds so that they’d be more pliable under his dirty hands.

“I’ll have them ready for you by tomorrow morning. It’s just a one time thing, right?” Wylan nodded the final confirmation. He was trying so hard to make sure that his voice was steady and the waver of arousal wouldn’t give him away.

He stayed where he was, his hands grasping the edge of the table like he was going to slip away into nothing if he didn’t have something physical to hold onto. Kaz pulled even further away from him, which made something deep inside of his chest ache with need. Wylan only tilted his head up when he heard the clacking of the cane making its way up the short set of stairs from his work area to the foyer of his room. He turned properly so that he could watch the other man leave him blissfully and heart wrenchingly alone in his own space.

Slowly, he collapsed down to the ground so that his back was pressed against the leg of the table for some kind of semblance of support. His hand was shaking as he removed it from the edge of the wooden mass behind him and then flopped it across his stomach. His breath hitched in his throat as he began to let his hands wander slowly down towards where his erection was refusing to leave.

Usually when he started thinking about work he’d be flaccid in no time, but nothing was working. Kaz had riled him up too much, he was going to have to get rid of his problem before he worked on the second one that he had gotten himself into.

Wylan’s fingers paused when they got to his belt buckle as he contemplated on whether or not he was actually going to go through with what he had promised. He didn’t really see an alternative, since it would likely result in his death if he suddenly refused to give the notorious Dirtyhands what he had paid for.

“Think later,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. Talking out loud had always helped him process things that stuck to the forefront of his mind and refused to leave him alone, which was a lot more accepted when he lived alone.

He whimpered slightly as the buckle of his belt pressed against his cock. All of his thoughts were focused down onto the problem at hand instead of thinking about everything else he had to do. His fingers fumbled for just a moment as his body was vibrating with the excitement of the promise he had made to not only Kaz, but to himself.

He grasped the belt buckle and slipped the leather through until he held half of it in each of his hands. He tossed them as far out to the sides as they would go while still stuck in the cloth loops on his pants. He undid both of the buttons holding the garment together and then shoved it down until his white underthings were on display. A second later, his dexterous fingers had slipped underneath the material and shoved it down as well.

His mind was just enough his own that he had the common sense to move onto his knees. One hand was grasping his workspace again to keep him steadily upright while the other focused on the burning arousal.

Wylan let his eyes drip shut as his mind replayed what had just happened to him over and over again. He wrapped his hand around the base of his cock as he vividly replayed the way that Kaz’s lips had looked when he spoke to the other, the gravely sound of his voice as it left his throat. He wondered what it would feel like to have those vibrations passing through him, either with a kiss on his skin or by having those thin lips wrapped around his swollen member.

A small gasp passed through his own lips as a shock of pleasure rushed through his system. He was very familiar with that feeling, having spent more nights alone while frustrated about pretty serving boys and visiting merchers than he wanted to admit to himself. 

He thrust downward into nothing, his hand still wrapped around the base of his cock. Wylan didn’t think that he was going to last very long if he gave into his every single whim, so he decided that he was going to stretch it out at least a little bit. He ran his hand down the underside of his cock until the edge of his finger caught along the head. 

He let out another shaky breath and then wrapped his fingers around the tip, pressing his thumb onto the top. “Shit,” he whimpered as he brushed the side of his nail against the slit of his cock, smearing the precum that was already beading there onto more of his skin. He wondered what it would feel like to have Kaz’s gloves in place of his own nail and finger, the seams brushing across the sensitive foreskin and underside of his cockhead.

Wylan whimpered and thrust forward with a smooth movement. His body was lithe and graceful, despite all of the shaking that his frame was doing to hold himself back from going wild. “Come on, come one,” he gasped as his hand slipped all the way down his cock again, settling at the base.

He spread his legs apart so that he was supporting himself while still pointing his erection down towards the ground to try and prevent the precum from getting his only clean set of clothes dirty. He took his other hand slowly off of the table next to him and delved into his pants and underthings, pressing the palm to his scrotum.

Vividly, his mind began to show him what it would be like to have that cane, the noise of which was still ringing through his head despite the other man’s departure, pressing where his hand was. He whimpered and thrust down into nothing a few more times before he began to pump his hand up and down his cock.

His breath hitched and sped up as the pleasure began to build in his gut. His hips were working in tandem with himself, thrusting down into the hand pressing to his balls while also up into the hand wrapped loosely around his cock. Each movement that he made added to the heat that was already pouring into his veins. It was making his shaking body tense and quiver more than it had before, threatening to release at any moment. He could feel the beginning of an orgasm building inside of him until he was sure that he was going to explode.

Unable to keep any sounds back whatsoever, the moans forced their way out of his mouth before he even clocked what was happening. He had been breathing in and out heavily through his nose when he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to be holding his breath but now he drew air in through his mouth, choking back the spit that had pooled there. He was completely unable to form words but the sounds that were being drawn from him by his own hand was enough to show how heavily he had been torn apart.

His body loosened when his orgasm rolled over him. His cock twitched twice in his hand, his palm halfway down the shaft and now stuck there while he dealt with the almost overwhelming feeling. Pearly white cum poured out of him in even stripes as shocks of pleasure rocked through his system. He had been smart enough at the beginning to move himself so that it was all dripped down onto the wooden floor instead of his clothing, something that he was grateful for when he came back to himself.

His mind had been full of static while he had been grasping the fact that he had just gotten so turned on by a visit from a criminal and the charged energy between them that he had jerked off without even getting into his bed. He came back to himself as soon as his toes uncurled and he realized that he was very uncomfortable on the ground.

He moved his hand up his cock, wiping off the remnants of the cum, and then stuffed himself back into his pants properly. He cleaned up his hand and the floor before he turned back to his workbench so that he could do as he had been asked.

---

“I promised I wouldn’t do it again.”

The words felt like a lie as they rolled off of Wylan’s tongue, but he had meant them. He hadn’t promised anyone but himself and he was notorious for breaking the oaths that he swore in his own mind. Usually they had something to do with jobs that he was going to force himself to take for his own comfort or things that he wasn’t going to do because they made his skin feel like living snakes.

Still, having the man that had stolen his heart from inside of his chest standing in front of him made it hard to want to keep the promise whatsoever. Usually he had a little bit of fight in him even if a single growl in his stomach or the impulsive part of his brain shouting a little too loud made him fold. This was one that he had said he was going to have to keep to himself for his own sanity and safety, but it was so hard to want to keep it.

Kaz Brekker was standing in the middle of his laboratory in all of his Bastard of the Barrel glory. He was wearing a pair of straight legged black pants with a black leather belt that had a rather ornate looking golden buckle. Wylan could only see part of the curving design from underneath the patterned blue vest. His jacket had a popped collar and pressed sleeves, leading down to the leather gloves that always covered the flexing tendons in his hands. He had a hat perched over his carefully slicked back hair and his cane clutched faithfully by his side.

Wylan shouldn’t have been paying that much attention to what the other man was wearing, nor should he have let that influence his judgment in the slightest. It was well known that he wasn’t very good when it came to impulse control, though.

“I think that perhaps you didn’t mean it,” Kaz drawled lowly. He took a step forward, the clank of the hard metal tip of the cane sounding at the same time of the click of his shoe. So many of them in the higher parts of society had carried a cane with them as a fashion statement, but Kaz walked like it was another part of his body.

Wylan’s mind thought back to when he had taken the first job, the flash of the cool cane against one part of his body while the leather of his gloves traced over another. It made goosebumps raise on the flesh hidden under his baggy shirt and a flush raise to his cheeks. 

“I did- I did mean it,” he replied as he cleared his throat awkwardly. 

By the time that he got over his cowardice enough to look at his bad decision in the eye, Kaz had already rounded the table so that he was standing in front of Wylan. The smaller man kept his head pointed towards his experiments, as if he was watching the bubbling and smoking glasses to make sure that they didn’t erupt instead of refusing to look at Kaz for fear of losing what little resolve he had left.

“When was the last time that you ate, my dear?” the criminal asked, the nickname making Wylan’s heart flutter in his chest.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” he mumbled.

He could feel the cool leather of the glove trailing over the table, getting closer and closer to where his hands had been absently trailing over the grain to give himself something to do. “Of course it’s relevant,” Kaz replied softly.

Someone with as much fire and vitriol inside of them shouldn’t have been allowed to be so tender, in Wylan’s opinion. He felt like he was turning to oil the same way that butter did when left out underneath the sunlight. The thought of that, half melted butter spread out over old bread rounds, made his stomach growl obnoxiously loudly.

“I don’t like it when my things aren’t well taken care of. If you do this job, then you will become one of my investments. I will make sure that you want for nothing. Understood?” Kaz asked. The trailing hand on the table stopped mere millimeters away from Wylan’s hand. He could feel where the air had been pushed to the side to make room for the other man and yet they were still far enough away that he felt like his body was going to compress and shrivel up with want.

It took him a moment to steady his breathing and ignore the way that he was becoming painfully aroused in his pants, just like he had last time. He shouldn’t have been riled up by something so small, but the bird that had flown through his window all those weeks ago was still driving him insane.

“How did the phosphorus bombs I gave you work?” he asked instead. He tilted his head even further away from Kaz, refusing to look at him so that he could keep the walls around his heart up for a little bit longer. He took several deliberate steps away from the table so that he was on the other side and began to fiddle with a few bottles he had placed out for another project he was working on. “Did I pack enough in?”

“Of course you did, Wylan,” Kaz replied.

His name on the other man’s lips was enough to make what little was left of his resolve on one specific thing to disappear like the last ice on top of a lake on the first day of summer. His heart throbbed in his chest and his stomach flipped with arousal and desperation. The muscles that had been tensed up to try and protect him at least a little bit loosened enough that his entire body began to quiver.

Wylan wasn’t given the chance to say or do anything before more words were pouring from the other man’s mouth, wrapping around him and consuming his flesh. 

“I wish that you had more confidence in yourself. I know that you are aware of my reputation and who I am, so you should also know that by working with you, I have decided that you are worthy of my time and money,” Kaz let out a little sigh. “You’re a worthy investment only because you are capable, magpie.”

“I…” he couldn’t make any of the words caught in his throat bubble up to the surface like he desperately wanted them to. He was trapped in the fugue state as everything that the other man was beginning to consume him. The natural musk of his body mixed with his cologne to create a hypnotic, drugging effect on Wylan whenever the other man moved so that he could catch a whiff of it. The push and pull of their bodies around the table was addictive in a way that no substance, natural or man made, could ever be.

“I’ve offered to add you to my flock, you know,” Kaz murmured. Wylan could feel his breath against the back of his neck, sending up the hairs so that they were standing on end. He was so painfully aroused, it almost felt as though he was going to explode on the spot. He certainly hoped that he didn’t, he was wearing the only pair of clean clothing that he had on him and he wasn’t able to afford so much as food, let alone a place in the wash house so that he could clean anything he soiled.

“O-oh?” Wylan asked, his eyes finally darting back towards Kaz. His heart leapt up into his throat the moment at that his own locked with those dark, dangerous brown eyes.

Finally, a touch was laid upon his skin. It wasn’t what he had been expecting since their first interaction had gone much like the second had, but with Kaz leaving quickly after giving him the order of what he would need. It wasn’t something that he didn’t want, but it did make him suck in a surprised breath and stumble forward towards the table.

The smooth leather of the other man’s glove ran over the skin of his cheek and down to his neck. He couldn’t help but tilt his head to the side, much like he did when he was thinking. The seams of the gloves pressed into the rivulets of sweat that had begun to drip down from the base of his hairline. He could feel his cock straining so hard in his pants that he felt as though he were losing all of the blood in his body just to the one organ.

Kaz trailed his hand down the side of Wylan’s face and neck until he stopped at the juncture of his shoulder. He grasped at the space there, giving a tense squeeze while his thumb slipped around to Wylan’s throat. It pressed further into the sensitive skin until it caused some barely uncomfortable pulling a delicious pressure.

A strangled mewl forced its way through his crushed larynx before he had the chance to try and force it back down. The arousal burning in his gut had intensified even more than it had the last time that Kaz had been at his apartment and he was noticing all of those small things.

“You’re a good boy, Wylan,” Kaz whispered, the huskiness of his voice sending another shiver throughout him. “You saved my life, you know.”

“I-I did?” Wylan asked, trying to keep some semblance of dignity despite the way that he was falling apart in the hands of the other man. He felt the cane in Kaz’s hand tilt towards him slightly so that the wood was pressing against his skin through the cloth of his pants. He whimpered again and tried to not let his legs cave in.

The other man chuckled, a dark and dangerous sound that made the bead of precum already forming on the head of Wylan’s dick spill over so that it ran uncomfortably down his shaft until it was caught by his underthings. “You know what I like to do with people that serve me well, don’t you?”

“N-no,” Wylan shook his head. The only rumors that he had ever heard about Kaz had to do with what happened when he was crossed, none about when he was given what he wanted. He had heard, of course, about the unwavering loyalty from the Wraith and gunslinger that he kept by his side at all times, but there weren’t really a lot of other details about what their relationship might be.

“I reward them,” Kaz replied casually. Wylan felt tears welling in the corners of his eyes as he felt the ghosting breath against his neck, on the other side to where the gloved hand was holding onto his throat. “Each person requires something different to feel as though they are being rewarded. I had a man that wanted nothing more than a single silver coin every time that he did a job well done. Didn’t spend them either, just collected them. I hired an herbalist once that decided she wanted a Durast made hairpin so that she could hold her hair up better when she worked. Neither of them were my Crows, not like you are, but they still wanted something specific from me. My Crows also get something special when they do a good job at what I’ve asked them to.”

“W-what do they get?” Wylan asked. He had a feeling that there were only two crows other than Kaz himself, the Wraith and the gunslinger. Wylan’s veins sung as he thought about what him being added to that repertoire of deadly weapons would mean. Despite everything that he had been taught about how to think of those that lived in the Barrel and dealt with what Kaz did, he liked the idea of his weapons being used to help further whatever mission the criminal had taken.

“Well, my Wraith asks for nights off so that she can do anything that she wishes. My gunslinger asks for a strong bottle of alcohol and free reign over my betting tables with a high capped tab,” Kaz replied lazily. He had released the thumb that was pressing over the front of Wylan’s throat, but he was still using the digit to brush over the pretty red mark that he had left.

Somehow Wylan liked the idea of being bruised in the shape of gloves more than he liked the idea of someone’s fingerprints being indented in his skin. He dug his nails further into the wood of the table below his hands as he tried to keep his arousal back. Images of what he could ask for and what he might get in reply flashed through his mind, which only served to make his problem all that much harder to hide.

“I have a feeling I know what you want already, magpie. You’re quite easy to read, something that I think I can help you with if we ever choose to bring you with us when we go out instead of just keeping you locked up pretty and safe in your chosen cage,” Kaz murmured.

Fear shot through Wylan immediately, which caused his erection to wilt slightly. “I don’t want to be trapped in a cage. Never again.”

“I thought that you said you didn’t want to be involved in the life that I led, pretty bird,” the criminal let out a small hum. “You can only have one now that I’ve decided to invest in you.”

“I’ll come with you. I’ll do whatever you need me to,” Wylan replied immediately. “I can learn how to be like you, to be useful. I don’t want to be locked away. I want to be free.”

“Shh, shh, you’re alright,” Kaz whispered. He took a small step closer so that Wylan could feel the warmth from his stomach pressing through to his back despite neither of them actually touching each other. It soothed the shaking in his limbs and the panic clawing through is chest. “I know what it’s like to be a bird with clipped wings, I would never do the same thing to you. You’ll fly free with the rest of the flock.”

He sniffled and shook away the tears that were trying to run down his face as well as he could with the hand still around his throat. “Thank you,” he mumbled, though his lips were sticking together.

“You’re welcome, my magpie. Now tell me what you want for your reward,” Kaz ordered. The change in his voice, from comforting to strict and commanding, brought the arousal back before it had even had the chance to properly leave.

Wylan whimpered and bucked his hips forward towards the table. He felt as though he was pushing his luck by being as close to the other man as he was. One of the only rumors that did actually exist about the Bastard of the Barrel and his two loyal workers was that he never touched them and they seemed to be inches yet miles away from their boss at all times. Given that and his relative newness to being considered part of that crew, he wasn’t sure what he’d be able to ask for. 

He wasn’t a material person, so that was immediately off the table. He didn’t want silver coins or hairpins or even new equipment. He had everything that he wanted and had already been promised a roof over his head and food in his belly. He didn’t want time away from people since that seemed to be all he got nowadays, even when he was out busking for money in the streets. 

“You,” he mumbled before his brain even had the chance to shut him up. It was the only thing rolling through his mind as he tried to find an abstract concept or gift that he could ask for.

Instead of getting hit or the touch immediately leaving like he was so scared that it was going to, he got a dark chuckle, “I was waiting for you to say that.”

Suddenly the cane was pressed to the back of his calves and slowly dragging further up his body. It pressed firm to his thighs before it turned and slipped between his legs. He had fantasized about it before, but now the heavy wood was pressing directly into the bottom of his cock and over his balls. It sent shocks of pleasure through him so strong that he wasn’t able to keep the noises from bubbling up through his chest.

“Th-thank you,” he immediately bit out. He was bending forward slightly as his legs trembled in the effort to try and keep him upright while he was being flooded with such a high amount of pleasure. He had never been treated as something worthy by anyone that had gotten to know him, so having his deepest fantasy executed on his willing body was euphoria he thought he would only receive in death.

“You do not have to thank me for something that you earned,” Kaz reminded him gently. The hand over Wylan’s throat moved to behind his head, threading gloved fingers through the ruddy brown-red curls until they tightened and dragged his head back properly. He gasped as he thrust his hips down towards the cane and table, where his cock was pinned. “Especially since this is the only way that you will get me for some time. I apologize for that, as I want you too. But we can make do, can’t we, magpie?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Wylan was almost crying at how good it felt. He continued his ministrations with his hips, moving them back and down so that he could toy with his balls along the cane and then forward to stimulate his cock against the seam of his pants and the table. The idea that Kaz Brekker, the untouchable Dirtyhands himself, had just admitted to desiring someone such as him hadn’t even begun to cross Wylan’s mind.

Just as it had before, when he was touching himself to the fantasy of what was happening now, he exploded with pleasure. His cock twitched in his pants as it began to spew white lines of cum into already soiled undergarments. He moaned loudly and unashamedly, for now, despite the tenseness of his head and how it was pulled back. It was hard for his toes to curl from where they were trapped in his steel-toed shoes but his muscles did turn to gelatin, loose and crumbling.

Before he had the chance to fully collapse down to the ground, Kaz caught him and lowered him down slowly. “Was that what you wished for?”

“Yes,” he breathed. 

Kaz brushed the gloved hand still in his hair over the side of his face, much like he had before but tender instead of rough and charged. “Are you alright to clean yourself up and then get started on your new work, magpie?”

Wylan nodded without even thinking about it.

He was fully trapped in the song of the man in front of him, listening to the haunting notes and letting him draw Wylan in further and further until there was no escape. But somehow, he was okay with it. Later that day, when another one of his sexual encounters hurried down the steps to meet with him as Kaz had apparently ordered him to, he found that the birdsong was coming from his own lips.

[dragonsbone]

josana & robb headcanons!! josana & robb headcanons!!!!!!

i apologize in responding to this so late, but i HAD to deliver !!!

their love language is OBVIOUSLY physical touch !! they are a bit subtle in public, josana with her arm looped around his or robb placing a hand on the small of her back. in private though,,,, completely different. they're extremely affection, especially with touch. whether it sexual or not, they melt in each other's touch and it makes me absolutely feral !!!

robb is pretty protective over josana, but for good reason. she is not liked by pretty much everyone bc of her house, her close dynamic with tywin, and bc of her previous opposing allegiance. he hardly ever leaves her side bc of past instances where her safety becomes an issue. he only ever leaves her with people he fully trusts to ensure her protection ( which is the main reason why she's present at the red wedding )

josana loves to run her fingers through his dark, auburn curls. she brushes them gently and slowly at any chance, mostly at night or when he's very stressed from the war

back in winterfell during the feast for king robert, when the starks and lannisters children are enter together, josana and robb are paired with each other as they are newly betrothed. the entire night robb is just mesmerized by her beauty and they get to have some bonding time before things get rlly bad after bran's fall

fun fact: josana romantically falls for robb first

in my own lil au where the red wedding never happened and they lived happily ever after, josana and robb would have so many fucking kids !! this man for sure has a breeding kink like let's be real. they would've been one, big, happy family and it makes me cry that will never happen

speaking of kids, josana is pregnant by the time of the red wedding. she has their son in king's landing. it's a very emotional aspect of the story bc she has a lot of internal conflict. on one hand, she wants this baby so badly bc she would love to be a mother and have one last reminder of her husband. on the other, this baby will be a pawn in one of tywin's schemes. and when she's giving birth, she begs the gods to have her baby look like robb. here's a snippet of that moment: Please look like my darling wolf, she pleaded to the gods. Let my child have his auburn hair and winter pale skin. Give it nothing of me. Not my golden curls, my complexion, or my pride. Don’t let this innocent babe become a lion for my uncle. their son, bennard stark, has robb's complexion, his hair, and is definitely a wolf at heart. the only resemblance he has of his mother are her emerald green eeyes

another fun fact: in the very early plotting stages of this story, josana was originally supposed to die in the red wedding. as you can tell, that changed completely lol

josana will not and refuses to marry after robb. she may have sexual counters with other men ( as she should ), but she cannot love anyone as she did for him. even if it's for political benefit, she cannot fathom the thought of another person as her husband

robb may have been initially taken by her beauty, but what made him really fall for her was the hidden layers of her true self. underneath the prized pupil persona and the prowess of a lion, josana is just a girl. a girl who used to believe merlings would swim in the sunset sea, was very fond of horses and silently mourned for them on the battlefield, and was keen on learning as much as she could about anything whether it's warfare, politics, embroidery, and so on. he fell in love for who she really was

the two songs that makes me think about them the most are a house in nebraska by ethel cain and the echo and the river from the witcher: blood origin soundtrack

ask me anything !!