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chaoticbardlady99 · 10 months

Note

Hello! I really enjoyed your fic with the Tav who couldn’t see well. It was really sweet! If you’re still accepting requests, may I request a similar one where the reader needs glasses to see and during a battle they break or get lost. Now they can’t see well and they’re trying not to panic while there’s threats everywhere, but thankfully Astarion notices something’s wrong and helps them. Thank you!

Admiring from Afar (GN! AFAB Reader x Astarion) Part 1- MDNI 18+ ONLY

Part Title is inspired by the song “She” by Dodie (I feel like it reflects Astarion’s POV/feelings towards Tav in this story)

This was not originally supposed to be as long as it is, but the concept started taking on a life of it's own. I hope you enjoy! I will hopefully be positing Part 2 within the next few days!

CW: Angst (?), violence, jealousy, fluffy (hopefully very? But who knows), smut because apparently I’m in a giving mood (I’m sorry I had to make the joke.), MDNI 18+ only, dom/sub sexual relationship.

Note- this is Unascended Astarion x GN! reader

*This has been proof read one time. It is 2:04 am and I have work in 6 hours LMFAO

Gif belongs to- ibacchante from Tumblr!

The campfire crackles in the distance and you think you even hear the faint sound of music. You desperately yearn to be near the warmth of the fire talking to or watching one of your companions give a dramatic retelling of their experiences in battle.

The warmth of your companions made places like the Shadow-Curse Land feel a lot less scary and foreign- they provide some normalcy in this strange journey.

Unfortunately, you are hunched over in your cold tent with nothing but a light cantrip and your will power. You squint as you etch details into the oxen bone, taking the time to add the touches of silvery white dye to add an ethereal effect. Your hands cramp as you work to keep the paint within the designs you carved into the bone.

You have been painstakingly working on this necklace for a little over a month- maybe two? You have lost count at this point, but the calluses on your fingers tell you it’s been a while now since you started this project.

You polish the bone with your cloth, wiping away the debris from your knife. You admire your handiwork; a perfect carving of the Elven Rune- Cadaith. You were able to create a loop at the top of the necklace for the long, thin, black leather strip you had been holding onto since the day after the Tiefling party- the same day you decided to take on this hand numbing project.

You and your crew of oddballs had come through for the locals and obliterated the Goblin Camp Leaders- the tieflings had come to your camp and had decided to celebrate.

It wasn’t that you were opposed to parties, but you’re not the most social person despite your profession as an Artisan. You miss the calm, quiet group of Druids you used to travel with- you even miss the hardwood floor of the Caravans and how much of a pain in the ass they were to fix. You miss not having to spend every waking moment and all of your strength on battling and the art of deception. You miss your tools and the landscapes you use to find your resources. You love to make crafts out of anything in the wild.

Back to the rowdy tiefling party- again, you aren’t necessarily against parties, but they are overwhelming.

And the men! They are entirely too vulgar after a couple drinks. Silvanus help you if you had another drunk man stumble up to you and ask if he can, “fuck your brains out.”

Another man had begun to make his way towards you when you felt a cold hand grab you by the elbow and haul you off into the forest. It had been Astarion- who you had agreed to share a bed with that night. You had shared a bed before- after a camp party to celebrate killing Auntie Ethel, but nothing could have prepared you for the second time and how mind-blowing it would be (you had been excruciatingly awkward as it was your first time ever- he was pretty understanding thank Gods).

“Astarion-”

“Yes Darling?”

He stops and looks at you- you look around and realize you are far from camp. You fiddle with your hands nervously- picking at your nails.

“I um-” you clear your throat, “I really appreciate you- well- um… coming to my rescue, but I really don’t want to be a bother to you- you don’t need to stay wit-”

You hadn’t been able to finish your sentence before he was gently kissing you. Your body feels like it’s on fire, your glasses are entirely foggy from your breathing and you smile at him coyly as he pulls away. He gives you a genuine, real laugh before taking your glasses off and wiping them clean for you. You put them on, your eyes back in focus as you avoid his eyes.

He leans in and begins kissing along your neck, along your jawline, and back to your lips. He kisses you roughly, his tongue flicking across your lower lip, asking for access. He lifts you up from under your thighs before backing you into a tree.

He grinds up into you- his erection pressed against the burning heat in your core. He pulls at your shirt strings and gives you a look as if to ask if he can continue. You grab his face in your hands and kiss him as an answer to his question.

He discards your shirt and makes quick work of your trousers and under garments- all while kissing you so deeply the world is spinning and your entire body feels numb.

Suddenly he has you on your back as he smiles down at you mischievously. You look away, embarrassed as he takes in the sight of your body; a breathy chuckle leaves his lips as he gets up and makes quick work of his own clothes.

You feel the space between your legs grow warmer and needier as you watch him stroke himself before he settles himself between your legs. He presses soft kisses all over your face as he inserts a finger between your folds and begins to toy with your clit. You whimper and moan as he pumps his finger in and out of you.

“Good girl,” he growls into your ear and inserts another finger, picking up the pace.

A soft, gasp escapes your lips as your walls stretch to fit around his other finger- getting to the point of borderline tears as you feel your orgasm get closer and closer. Astarion watches you use a stream of profanities, your hands gripping the grass so hard it's ripping. He kisses you on your forehead then- he stops.

You keen in protest from the emptiness between your thighs, but your words die on your lips as he pushes himself all the way between your folds, all the way to the hilt. You claw at his back, a pleased whimper escaping your mouth. He begins to kiss your jaw before you capture his lips with yours- he’s still not moving inside of you as you kiss him feverishly- your hands entangling themselves in his hair. He groans against your lips, holding you down by your waist and not allowing you to move. When you attempt to move your hips upward, desperate to get some friction, he groans in your mouth before pulling out completely and then thrusting himself roughly back into you. You look at him in anticipation as he gets off of you, still inside you as he adjusts your left leg so that he can get more access and he begins to massage your sore, neglected nipples with his fingers.

You are desperate for any movement from him and you can tell he knows it- even in your drunken haze.

“Please.”

“Please what, my dear?”

He says before pulling out to thrust into you completely again. You cry out, tears streaming down your face as you look away from him, trying not to let him have the satisfaction..

He hums as he roughly grabs your jaw, making you look him in the eyes.

“Tell me, Darling,” a sly, teasing smile on his beautiful face, “do you want me to fuck your brains out?”

You nod and he pinches your nipples roughly- you arch your back and you feel him lift your hips up before spanking you hard.

"You don't get anything until you answer my question," he goads, his hand snaking it's way around your throat, "so tell me, do you want me to fuck your brains out?"

"Y-es. Yes I want you to fuck me ple-" he cuts you off with a snap of his hips.

He grabs your jaw roughly with his hands, "You know that's not what I asked you."

He begins to slowly move in and out of you, teasing you mercilessly. You groan in frustration- he knows he’s the only person who can say this to you and demand you to say it back to him.

"Please Astarion," you say tearfully, your need for pleasure taking over, "please fuck my brains out."

He smiles at you widely, "it would be my pleasure."

You whine and he pulls out of you, rolling you over onto your hands and knees. He comes up behind you and his hands find purchase in your hair as he begins to pound into your mercilessly. You lose yourself in pleasure- surely alerting everyone and their mothers to your activites- and if it's not the vulgar moans, it's the filthy sound of your bodies colliding.

He pulls you up to his chest by your hair, switching to putting his hand around the upper part of your throat, and puts his fangs to your neck, teasing the skin as he fucks up into you. You have one of your hands wrapped around his arm as he chokes you and the other is touching your clit- the coil of pleasure building up in your stomach as you whisper your consent between moans for Astarion to drink from you. He gives you a pleased hum in response.

The moment his fangs are piercing your neck is the same moment your orgasm rips through you and you have to fight not to slump against him. You feel his strong arms hold you up as he keeps fucking your sensitive mound, chasing his own orgasm. He stops sucking from the bite marks on your neck, lapping up the blood that begins to slowly trickle down towards your shoulders and chest. He let’s go of his grip on your throat and pushes you back onto your belly before roughly inserting himself inside you again.

"You are such a good girl," he grunts, "you are taking me so fucking well."

You begin to feel lightheaded when he finally cums inside you. Good thing you have a potion for that.

You both get your clothes on and he whisks you away to his tent- where you cuddled and talked for almost the entire night.

The sex, as noted, is amazing, but you also enjoy so much more of him than just his body. You know Astarion struggles to believe you find anything about him interesting outside of sex, so you make a point of reminding him about all the other wonderful parts of him and you don't ever ask for sex or sexual favors. That ball is in his playing field as far as you are concerned.

You find yourself gravitating back to Astarion’s tent every night to listen about a new book he is reading or just to let him shower you with (arguably) questionable knowledge about the higher ups in Badlur's Gate . Sometimes you just talk about your lives, tangled in each other’s embraces, and falling asleep that way.

You had begun sleeping in the same tent shortly after he drank from you for the first time. You had been scared during a storm one night and he had heard you sniffling in your tent. You missed the safety of your Caravan during those first two weeks.

He had quickly dragged you over to his tent- griping about his hair, how “I told you that you needed better camping equipment”, and “really darling? Why are you wearing clothes with holes in them? No wonder you’re scared.”

You have had an incredibly close bond ever since and you speak very freely with one another. You still become closed off every now and then (mostly from being socially and emotionally exhausted) but he was content to sit in the silence and just be in each other’s company. If he's in a grouchy mood, you sit with him in silence or let him just talk at you, and you support him when he wakes up from a particularly grueling nightmare. You rarely, if ever, go to your tent or stay in your tent anymore.

However, your current passion project was not to be seen by his eyes until it was completely finished- hence the reason why you are in your freezing, semi abandoned tent. You enchant the amulet with “Invisibility” and after a test, you can proudly say your necklace for Astarion is ready.

Shortly after the fight with the Goblins, Astarion had been complaining to you about how Gale “ate” the last necklace of Invisibility that they had found.

“He did call finders-keepers.”

“Finders-keepers my ass, Darling. If he really believed that rule he wouldn’t have inhaled it the way he did right after finding it.”

“It was rather unbecoming of him, wasn’t it?”

“Cazador has done a lot of horrible, vile things to me over the last two centuries,” he scoffs, “but, Gale eating a perfectly good Amulet of Invisibility has somehow landed in the top 20 of worst things to happen to me.”

After that, you began your work on the Amulet and now that it’s finished- you get to give it to him.

The idea makes your stomach turn.

What if he hates it?

It’s not really his style, but you don’t make gaudy jewelry and you tried your best to make it look like it shimmers (you succeeded FYI, Nat 20 all the way). You hope he appreciates it on principle alone and doesn’t criticize you too harshly if he dislikes it. When you ran the idea by Karlach and showed her your sketch, she was immediately convinced that he would adore your gift.

“Don’t worry about a thing Soldier,” she said cheerily, “Fangs is going to adore it as much as he adores you!”

You wrap the necklace in the nice, silk handkerchief and stuff it into the little leather bag. You take one final deep breath before pushing through the tent flap. You look around camp and see that mostly everyone is in their tent- Astarion included- but Wyll is by the fire dancing. You remember joking about him giving a demonstration for the camp. As you begin to walk towards Astarion’s tent- Wyll calls out to you.

“Tav,” he says brightly, “join me for a dance?”

Another thing you love about Astarion- he is very good at telling people ‘no’ for you. Yes, you should be sticking up for yourself and setting boundaries on your own. You are so wired to make everyone else happy that it impedes your ability to say no. Astarion is helping you learn and supports you when you freeze up, but Astarion is not here in this moment and if he hears what Wyll has said to you- he has made no indication of it.

You smile tightly and put the pouch in your pocket before taking his hand. You are basically robotic as you go through the motions and yet- for some Gods forsaken reason Wyll plants a kiss right on your lips. As he pulls back and sees your look of absolute horror- he begins to apologize profusely.

“Honestly Wyll,” you awkwardly squeak out,”it’s totally fine. I just- um- well… I really like Astarion and I’m not looking elsewhere.”

“I understand and as disappointed as I am- I am grateful for your forgiveness and I hope we can remain friends.”

You smile brightly, “Thank you Wyll and of course. Good night.”

He bids you farewell and you walk with extra pep in your step. You set a boundary and you are over the moon excited to share with Astarion.

Except when you get inside the tent- all of your stuff is right in the entryway. Astarion has his back facing you and is pretending to be interested in a book. You frown.

“Star?”

“Oh don’t worry Darling- I figured I would save you the uncomfortable conversation,” he says with apathy in his voice, “we both know those aren’t your strong suite.”

You flinch at his cold, blank tone and the harshness of his words. You feel yourself becoming consumed with confusion and hurt. Your hand is clutching onto the pouch in your pocket. He looks at you and he looks far away despite the smile on his face.

“Well go along now, I’m sure your new lover is waiting for you. I’m happy for you honestly,” he pauses, giving you a cold, malicious grin, “pretending to be invested in this connection has really been bothersome these last couple weeks.”

Logically, a part of you knows he is just jealous and is lashing out. You should stay and try to explain what happened- reassure him even?

Emotionally? You feel like you just got stabbed over and over again. Oh and then someone came up to you and used a shocking grasp. You try to open your mouth, the tears welling in your eyes as you look at him.

He just looks at you coldly, “Well, leave.”

You wordlessly nod, dropping the leather pouch back into your pocket and you grab your things and numbly head back over to your tent. You roll out your bed roll and stare up at the dark tarp above your head; you let the tears stream down your face as silent sobs wrack your body. You already miss him.

_________________________________________________

You didn’t sleep well that night- you woke up with puffy eyes and a sore throat. You had spent the majority of the night freezing and jumping at every noise. You would get the occasional thirty minutes of sleep here and there, but if you weren’t scared awake, your bruised, broken heart woke you up. Your heart thumped unevenly all night- worried the bumps in the night were Astarion packing up his things and leaving.

Your chest aches as you get ready to leave and you are grateful that the Shadow-Cursed Lands are so poorly lit because it allows you to hide the rough night you have. You are also grateful to see Astarion is still here.

You, Astarion, Shadowheart, Karlach, and Wyll set out to explore more of the Shadowlands. Karlach told Astarion he didn’t have to go if he didn’t want to- you were too tired to say anything in response to his complaints and you suppose Karlach became fed up. He’s quiet after that, so quiet you think he might have left. Except you hear him chatting with Wyll during a short rest.

Shadowheart walks happily next to you- chittering about Dark Justiciars and how she can feel Shar or whatever. You are just trying to focus on her and stop thinking about him. You have been successful in avoiding him and not looking at him for the entirety of the morning and you need to keep it that way.

_________________________________________________

Astarion can’t place where in the conversation he went wrong, but the fight with Malus Thorm has been nothing short of a disaster. The Sisters are ruthless and Malus is much stronger than any of them anticipated at first glance.

Astarion usually fights right at your side, but he assumes that your new lover will be keeping you safe. He suppresses the bile and tears that threaten to come up. He has your protection still and he knows that because Wyll would have thrown him out of camp otherwise. He was never meant to end up with you- you were always meant to be a means to an end.

If anything, he should be thrilled for you. Wyll is a good, decent man and much worthier of your affections than Astarion could ever be.

So why does it hurt so fucking much? And why did he want to kick Wyll over a ravine when he kissed you?

He shakes the thought as he strikes down two more Sisters. He steals a glance in Wyll’s direction (to check on you) and immediately notices that you are nowhere in the premises and the Blade of Frontiers was battling with Karlach. Astarion scans the room in a frenzy of panic.

He turns around just in time to see Malus lift you up by your neck and fling you into a column. Your glasses fell to the ground as your back makes contact with the stone and the sound of shattering bones echoes through the room as the Sisters begin to move forward.

Astarion watches in horror as you are struggling to pop up and begin touching the floor around you , but by the time you seem to realize finding your glasses is a moot effort- the Sisters descend on you as Malus turns his attention to Wyll and Karlach.

Wyll acknowledges what just happened, but doesn’t go to help you. Anger rips through Astarion like a wildfire as Wyll turns and tells Shadowheart you need help. He’s about to help Malus take out Wyll- until another scream for help pierces the air as you throw random cantrips at your attackers.

Astarion rushes forward, cutting his way through the remaining Sisters in the middle of the room. He really could give a shit less at this time if it pisses Wyll off that he was the one who protected you- in fact, he’s probably going to be stabbing Wyll when you all get back to camp.

Astarion destroys the Sisters surrounding you in a flurry of gore and steel. He ignores his other companions as he searches for you frantically.

You had disappeared by the time he came to your aid. Astarion knows that you have a tendency to slip into your Cat form when you are particularly scared and can’t see- using the animal’s powerful nose to guide you away from danger.

Astarion goes near the beds and crouches down- a sigh escaping his lips.

All 8 pounds of you and your black fluff is crouched under the bed and you hiss in surprise when he clicks his tongue at you. You squint your eyes at him before sniffing the air. You cautiously walk forward and sniff his outreached hand. You begin to purr loudly and rub your head against his knuckles.

He laughs with a mix of hysteria and joy as the realization that you are okay settles into his bones.

“It’s okay Little Love, the Sisters are dead,” he says softly, “I’m so sorry, I should have been next to you. I just assumed a beast with such prowess as yourself would be able to fend for themselves.”

You meow in indignation as you climb on top of him to bite the tip of his nose and he can’t help but laugh.

“Does your ego hurt less now, Little Love?”

You give him an amused look that makes him bust out laughing again.

He had asked you once why you were just a Black domestic cat instead of a Panther. You had argued that you are just as ferocious as a Panther in that form. Not to mention, you would have a better chance of shooting an arrow straight than turning into a Panther, but you weren’t about to admit that (even though he knows).

Astarion scoops you up in his arms and pauses- the smell of your blood floods his senses. He grabs you by your scruff and you yelp as he inspects you for injuries.

You scratch at his hand and he drops you. You yowl in pain and leer at him as you begin to change back into your humanoid form.

If Astarion was capable of feinting, this would have been that moment. He drops to his knees beside you and begins trying to find a healing potion to take the edge off.

You have a compound fracture where your shin was and it’s bleeding heavily. Your right shoulder is out of place, your left wrist is twisted in an atypical fashion, and your left cheek is blooming with an angry, purple bruise. He winces when you inhale a sharp breath as you try to breathe in, clutching at your rib cage.

He doesn’t catch the choked gasp that climbs up his throat in time- your eyes search for him in the dark before finally settling on him.

“Your beautiful eyes are really helpful when it’s blurry.”

Your voice is so tired and he can hear the pain in your voice.

“How come?”

“I can actually find you,” you pause, “you make me feel safe.”

You look at him, your eyes glassy with shock. You smile brightly at him and he smiles brightly back at you. He never thought anyone would associate him with protection, safety. Your words echo in his brain.

You’re make me feel safe.

You go to say something again before you look at him with wide, scared eyes and promptly lose consciousness. The scream that comes out of his mouth is foreign to his own ears. It sounds fearful, angry- heartbroken. Astarion tries to shake you awake, yelling your name over and over.

“Please wake up Darling- you’re safe,” he whispers through choked sobs, “come back to me please.”

Nothing. He can barely tell if you are breathing still as your heart thuds softly in your chest. He calls for Shadowheart two, three, four more times.

"Please," he whimpers, "I don't want to have to be without you forever- I can't be."

The weight of his words hits him like a train- his plan had well and truly failed. Under normal, non- life threatening emergency situations, he would probably panic about the strength of his emotions. Instead, he sits here begging for the chance to be able to tell you how he really feels. He wants to move so badly, to drag Shadowheart over here to heal you, but he can't bare to leave you in your vulnerable state. He keeps calling for Shadowheart- his voice begins to crack.

Astarion feels the worst of his anxieties vanish as you suddenly start taking long, ragged, tired breaths. He grabs a healing potion out of his pocket and tilts your head as he pours it into your mouth. You swallow the fluid gingerly. Your eyes are barely open when he hears you communicate through the tadpole.

Thank you for saving me. Again.

Astarion slowly strokes the side of your face, brushing the flyaway hairs out of your eyes.

"I saved you for my own selfish reasons," he whispers, while taking your right hand gently, "close your eyes and rest- I will keep you safe. Shadowheart is coming."

You nod lazily before closing your eyes, your hand in his still. Astarion sighs in relief when your breathing gets stronger, but he is no healer. Where the hells is that damn Cleric!?

“Shadowheart!!!!”

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion romance #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #astarion x you #bg3 #karlach #smut #shameless smut actually #astarion acunin #bg3 tav

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natashascumslut · 4 months

Text

WHY? | natasha romanoff

SUMMARY: You said the wrong thing, and suffered the consequences.

WARNINGS: Angst.. 🥳

a/n - i wrote this at 2 am.. so.. sorry if it doesn’t make much sense and that it’s short lmfao ‼️

A sour expression spread across her face as the words slipped out your mouth, you froze, why wasn’t she reacting?

“What?” She asked flatly, her tone of voice had changed. Her hands fell from your waist. You started to panic, your chest tightening.

“I love you.” You repeated weakly, you watched her visibly become tense as tears blurred your vision. She stuttered, but no words came out. She didn’t love you back. After everything you’d been through together, all the ups and downs, all the breathless nights and sunny afternoons, she felt nothing.

You stepped back, your hand coming up to your mouth to stop yourself from speaking, or puking, you weren’t sure. You scrambled backwards, quickly gathering your bag and keys before leaving her apartment faster than water cascading into a sink.

You expected to hear her voice behind you, calling you back, telling you she was just shocked and that she loved you too. And then she’d cradle you in her arms and you’d feel like an idiot for thinking she didn’t love you back. But you heard nothing, nothing but the tapping of your shoes against the hard floor in the hallway and your ragged breath.

Rain immediately started soaking your hair as you stammered out of the building, what had you done wrong, why did she not love you back? You had done everything to be perfect for her, bringing her coffee in the morning or taking care of her when she was sick, why?

Your soft sniffles mixed with the rain as you hauled for a cab under the pouring rain, god this felt like a movie. Except in the movies, she would come running out into the rain and kiss you. You looked around hoping that maybe, just maybe, this really was like the movies, but the redhead was nowhere to be seen.

A cab finally pulled over, and you slipped your soggy, weak body into the back seat. You felt like disappearing when you noticed the look the driver gave you in the rearview mirror. He looked so annoyed by your sadness, Natasha would’ve cared, she would’ve held you until you felt better. Was it all fake? Did she not actually care when she cradled your face and wiped your tears away, did it all mean nothing to her?

You stared at the rain trickling down the car window, it being far too fast for you to focus on a single drop. But luckily it wasn’t long till you were home, weakly trudging into your apartment. It felt so cold now that she wasn’t here, god, you just wanted to be in her arms.

Maybe if you hadn’t told her you loved her, you wouldn’t be in this situation. You would still be in her warm embrace, cuddling up on the couch. Because believing she loved you was much less painful than knowing she didn’t.

Maybe if you hadn’t been so stupid as to think could she could love you back, you wouldn’t be here right now. You slumped down onto your couch, not caring about your wet clothes.

Your sobs echoed the now eerily quiet, dark room. No longer filled with her contagious laughs or lustful moans, you’d give anything just to hear the sound of her soft breaths near your ear as she fell asleep on your shoulder.

Why didn’t she love you?

You went three weeks without hearing a word from her, not even a text. You expected at least an explanation, or a sorry, but you got nothing. Until you ran into her in a store, immediately recognising the hum of her voice as she spoke on the phone. You froze as you heard the voice get closer, until it was right next to you.

You felt her eyes on you, but you refused to turn to her. Your eyes dragged along the shelf, acting as if you were looking for something, when in reality you were trying your hardest not to cry.

You finally turned when you heard her call your name, your breath hitched as your eyes met hers and you felt as if you were going to puke again. She looked unfazed, like you running out of her apartment after telling her you loved her didn’t affect her at all.

“Hi.” She said hesitantly, you tried to stop the words from leaving your mouth, but they were out before you could take them back. “Why didn’t you go after me?” You asked, your voice was weak and slightly shaky, she winced.

“I.. i don’t know.” She answered, this felt so stupid, you’ve never wanted to disappear so badly. You watched as her eyes changed, as if she regretted it. You felt a tinge of hope, maybe she did love you, maybe she was just scared. But it was gone almost as fast as it came, and so was your hope.

“I do care about you.” She affirmed, your shoulders dropped slightly. You didn’t believe it, and you didn’t think Natasha did either. “Then why haven’t i heard from you for three weeks?” Your eyes were heavy, you were so tired of this. She shuffled uncomfortably, her fingers toying with her rings. You sighed, “Forget it.” You turned, hoping to hear her voice, but it wasn’t any different than it was three weeks ago, she watched you walk away, she let you walk away.

You left the store, no longer caring about the things you went in there for in the first place. You didn’t understand why she didn’t love you, you couldn’t wrap your head around it. Everything you had done together pointed to love, the way she would look at you, the way her fingers danced gently and innocently over your body as you drifted off to sleep, everything.

You just wanted to understand why, but by the looks of it, you never would.

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otomestatus · 9 months

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Hello hi.

Any headcanons with Hakkai that has a tall gf (as tall as him)?

And he's also hidding his relationship from the gang because he doesn't want her to get involded with all that, but Takashi finds out and spills tea.

hello!! this was actually such a cute request i got really excited when i read it and immediately started brain storming LMFAO i wrote a lot more than??? i anticipated???

you gotta be in this for the LONG HAUL because we all know how nervous hakkai gets around girls. yuzuha is definitely the wingman in this situation at first without intentionally trying to be

i personally think hakkai would have a thing for tall girls and that isn’t to say he wouldn’t date someone who is short because what matters the most to him is that you both love each other and support each other, but i can definitely see the fact you’re tall being a bonus to him. and he especially loves that you’re the same height as him.

you wanna wear heels? don’t matter to him because he wants you feeling happy and confident.

if you’re someone who is insecure in your height, he likes to encourage you to do things you normally wouldn’t because of your height even though you’ve always wanted to.

you might be the same height as him, but his clothes still fit a little big on you too.

he’s always telling you that you could model and he’s surprised you haven’t tried to and he admits MAYBEEEE he’s a little bias but you’re also just so gorgeous. a total package

the only person who really knows about you two is yuzuha and it’s because it would be next to impossible keeping something like a girlfriend a secret from her, but she respects that hakkai doesn’t want anyone in toman to know. she’s incredibly amused that he isn’t even telling takashi even though it seemed like that would be the first thing he would’ve done

he makes time for you as much as he can because you make him smile like no other and there’s relief to be found in your presence

you honestly didn’t think twice about keeping your relationship extremely private because he’s always so attentive. he makes mistakes along the way and sometimes there are moments where you feel a little weird and insecure, but he tries his absolute best.

it’s definitely not going to be a forever thing either. keeping your relationship a secret is just temporary. he wants to know there is no chance you’ll end up getting hurt because of what he does with toman.

there were a few instances where you two were out on a date and had to hide really quickly because he spotted someone from toman. it always felt really silly and funny and there was a sort of thrill to sneaking around like that like you were playing hide and seek.

luckily you never have to worry about girls flirting with him when he’s with his friends because he’s just not gonna talk to them or look at them. or probably even breathe near them because they make him anxious.

he talks a lot about his toman friends to you though so you learn about them through osmosis. especially about takashi and takemichi. sometimes when you’re out with your friends or alone shopping you’ll recognize one of the major members he spoke about, but it’s not often. it is a little funny that you know them and they have no idea who you are. you feel like some sort of undercover agent.

HOWEVER, your relationship cannot escape takashi for long. you both had a good run for awhile there, but something is off. something is just not quite right and takashi cannot put his mf finger on it.

it all starts when he comes over to drop something off that hakkai forgot at his house the other night. only supposed to be a short little errand and yuzuha lets him because this is the most normal thing in the world. he attempted to meet up with hakkai first but he was being very adamant about not meeting him and just having yuzuha grab it for him. that was the first alarm bell.

what takashi didn’t need to know was that you both had planned out a date that day and would be out most of the day.

takashi asks yuzuha why hakkai was being weird and even showed her the messages, but yuzuha ain’t spilling shit. she keeps it casual. she’s telling him hakkai is always weird. so takashi hits her with the “where is he” and she’s trying not to sweat. what the fuck does she say… girl is maintaining eye contact, she’s not snitching, but she’s gotta come up with smth QUICK

“bowling.” yeah that sounds about right

takashi accepts this answer, but he knows something isn’t right. however…ain’t his business right?

that is until he steps into hakkai’s room to drop the item on his bed and LEAVE ( he does not leave ). there’s something in hakkai’s room that just…confirms his suspicion that something IS suspicious

there’s an earring on the floor. AN EARRING. it could be yuzuha’s, but why would it be? something is telling him it’s not

next time he sees hakkai he’s trying to see if he can subtly get some information out of him. he’s asking where he was the other day and blah blah blah. doesn’t mention the earring. hakkai seems to have his alibi all planned out though because he’s answering these questions easily. he was not gonna let takashi catch him slipping

he offhandedly mentions the earring to draken and draken isn’t entirely convinced it could belong to anyone BUT yuzuha because they’ve all seen how he acts with girls. draken jokes pigs would fly before hakkai manages to get a girlfriend. takashi isn’t convinced though. the math ain’t mathin.

however he gets a break in the case when he’s out grocery shopping. you, unfortunately, also happen to be there because you’re picking out snacks for the at home movie night date you planned with hakkai that evening. you’re both in the same aisle and out of the corner of his eye he notices something familiar. it’s the mf earring.

now this isn’t damning evidence by any means. lots of girls probably have the same pair, but the coincidence has him shook.

you, on the other hand, had recognized him IMMEDIATELY and you’re currently sweating your ass off right now because you have to act casual but this is takeshi mitsuya. this is the guy your boyfriend talks about who also doesn’t know about you just yet. you just wanted to have a peaceful and quick shopping trip but his presence is just so overwhelming

takashi takes this moment to compliment your earrings. you hesitate even answering, in fact, you stumble of your words a little trying to get out that thank you. and just so you don’t seem weird or awkward you add in the little fact that you had thought you lost one of them last week until your boyfriend returned it.

now THAT feels like damning evidence, but not quite. there’s nothing totally concrete, but he is feeling 100% confident that his suspicions are correct because thats too much of a coincidence. hakkai shinba has a mf girlfriend and he’s going to confirm this one way or another.

he’s sharing all this with draken (who doesn’t believe him) and mikey (who doesn’t know what’s going on) and he knows this sounds like a conspiracy theory BUT GUYS— HEY GUYS HEAR HIM OUT

meanwhile you and hakkai are blissfully unaware of all this happening. you do tell him about running into takashi at the grocery store and hakkai just kinda laughs about it. you both joke about how takashi ran into you, his girlfriend, and just had no idea about it. was completely clueless.

i know you’re all wondering when does takashi finally figure it out… and it‘s pretty anticlimactic. he spots you two before you even have the chance to spot him. you’re both at a cafe just chillin and takashi is walking by with his sisters and everything finally starts to fucking click. he’s getting the full picture.

actually he is quick to take a quick picture and send it to draken and gloat about how he was actually right all this time.

next toman captains meeting is intense. hakkai has no clue that just about all of them know about you now. he’s walking in blissfully unaware. takashi had spent a lot of time filling the guys in about how hakkai has a girlfriend and she’s as tall as him and really pretty ( these are boys we know that was a question that was asked ). honestly they were all shocked to find out he managed to get a girlfriend because he malfunctions when a girl even breathes near him.

mikey does not hesitate bringing it up. they’re all tryna be sneaky about it and make him nervous, but mikey is straight up like, “so, how’s your girlfriend!”

that’s when hakkai’s blood runs fucking cold. they’re all staring at him smirking and shit and he’s like oh fuck they know

regardless they are all impressed and congratulate him on finding someone because they didn’t think he had it in him.

#tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo revengers x reader #hakkai shiba x reader #hakkai x reader #hakkai shiba x you #hakkai shiba imagines

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pinkwright · 2 years

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don't know why, just know i want u | shuri udaku.

ƸӜƷ

pairing — college!shuri x college!y/n

trope — best friends 2 lovers

inspo — james joint by rihanna

warnings — fingering (reader receiving), dom!shuri, reader praises shuri, they smoke weed!!, humiliation kink n i mean shuri laughs at reader a lot, dumbification, possessive!shuri, shuri is touchy n a lil mean, kissing, overstimulation, shuri’s kinda filthy like omg, shuri is mouthy, heightened senses shuri too, dirty talk, shuri’s kinda cocky, dacryphilia. i went simple this time lol so its quick.

a/n — u can definitely tell i like my music to leave my ears ringing LMFAO, it’s my birthday today haha so i decided to work on this for like the whole day as a gift 2 yall lol <3 also i swear a lot irl so the reader is gon do that too my bad anyway hope u enjoy!

⟢˚ @mbakuetshurisprincess @inmyheadimobsessed @letitias-fav @barkbarkbo @saintwrld @shurismainbxtch

ஜ

i’d rather be smoking weed whenever we breathe. every time you kiss me. don’t say that you miss me, just come get me.

kiss it better pounds through your ears as you pack up your bag, wrapping up the charcoal sticks before placing them into their case. a tired sigh leaves your lips as you flick the bangs out of your face and haul the heavy art bag over your shoulder, and you’re shifting the weight to go to carry the large and smudge-prone drawing sitting on your desk when a hand slides across your lower back to the dip of your waist and squeezes softly.

the flinch that grips your body is unforgiving as you spin in the person’s grip but soon your eyes tightly shut in annoyance as you heave out a deep breath, your gaze dragging past the pretty smirking lips of your sly best friend to meet the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. she reaches her hands up and the tune blasting from your headphones fades out as she moves them to rest around your neck, her hands sliding across your skin when she lifts the hair caught beneath them.

“i always tell you to not fucking do that, shuri, oh my god.”

“and what do i always say about playing your music so loud that you’re not aware of your surroundings?”

her voice is chastising and firm in your ears, and it makes you blink before you give her a sheepish smile, “i was gonna remove the one ear when i left the studio.” she raises an eyebrow, the melody of the song is still audible in the now empty lecture studio, and you’re chuckling, raising your hand to playfully shove against her shoulder, “i’m serious, shuri!”

she shakes her head before stepping further into your space, pressing you against the desk as she leans over you, her cologne wrapping around your figure as her arm reaches for the drawing you were working on, your breath hitches and then, she’s gone, carrying the drawing carefully as she steps away from you.

you clear your throat, avoiding her gaze, before straightening and making your way to the foyer, the warm air caressing your skin when you step outside onto the busy campus grounds. your voice is light as you talk to shuri, rambling on about your day as she listens attentively, letting the occasional hum slip out as you both journey on to your dorm.

you’re laughing when you reach the familiar door to your dorm, unlocking the door and allowing shuri to slip into the room and she places your artwork and the bag that she had swiftly swiped from you on the way, atop your desk. you watch her sigh before she flops heavily onto your bed, kicking off her shoes as she makes herself comfortable on the abundance of pillows decorating your bed. your eyes are rolling before you stride to your refrigerator to grab a pack of strawberries and blueberries as well as two cans of iced tea.

when your eyes settle on her, her dark gaze is already on you, following your movements like a cat would her prey, and you avoid eye contact as you walk toward her. her eyes are lidded as she sits up with her back against the wall your bed is pushed against, her long legs stretched against the covers as one of her arms is stretched above her head, pressing into the mountain of pillows atop your bed, while the other is laying lazily between her slightly spread legs.

the sight makes your heart pulse, the breath in your lungs feeling denser as you move to place the items on your side table, feeling her gaze burn into the heat of your skin. you exhale before turning to face her, “i thought you were trying to smoke at your place?” remembering her insistence to walk you to your room to drop off your belongings before you would both make your way to her apartment to let the smoke relax your tense muscles.

“come here.”

you hesitate before going to kneel beside her lithe frame, your heart pumping in your chest, and her tattooed hand shoots out to wrap around your thigh, her slim fingers curling just under the cheek of your ass, and your breath hitches. a smirk curls around her lips before she pulls you to straddle her, her other hand gripping your waist to steady you when you stumble into her from the force.

her fingers refuse to remain still against you, tracing your body like a canvas, and you’re sure she can hear the thrum of the blood in your veins, the unruly pace of the muscle in your chest and you look down at her lips to avoid her eyes, “thought we could just light one here, is that cool, s’thandwa?” her lips wrap around the words like she’s caressing them and it makes the heat inside you grow.

the silent nod of your head has her chuckling, removing her hand from your waist to gently curl around your throat, the warmth of her fingers wrapping beneath your jaw to lift your gaze to her. her eyes are smouldering as she regards you, her grip tightening slightly as your eyes flutter and your lips part.

the hem of your skirt rises against your skin when her hands drop to slide against the bare skin of your thighs, and you’re so wet, so embarrassed because you know you could leak on to her at any moment and there would be nothing to stop her feeling the depth of your affection for her, feeling the wetness of your cunt's craving for her.

the clouds in your mind clear slightly when she takes her hands off of you to reach into drawer of your bedside table, her stretch slightly shifting you on her, drawing a silent gasp from your lips, the material of her sweats barely brushing against you. she quickly rolls a joint for the both of you to share, expertly sealing it before she reaches for your lighter, sitting back up to face you, “open up for me, won’t you, baby?”

she places the joint between your glossy lips before going to light it, the intensity of her eyes keeping you in place as she watches you inhale the smoke. the atmosphere burns as the smoke passes between you, burns under the heaviness of your skin, floods your damp panties beyond redemption, and you’re sure she can feel it, feel just how much you drip for her.

the relaxing release of the tension in your muscles causes you to sink into her form, her hands getting more daring against you, sliding up the skin of your inner thighs, gripping the flare of your ribs just below your heaving breasts, her lips skimming the skin of your shoulder and running up the stretch of your neck. the room feels tight with tension, your mind screaming at you to give yourself to her, beg her to take you, own you like the predator inside her calls her to.

“you’re so pretty, shuri, the prettiest ever.” you mumble, your head tilting to gaze at the skin of her collarbone.

shuri’s smirking lazily, letting your praises sink into her skin, her hands tightening their grip on you before the one shifts up to grip your neck again, the joint forgotten in the ashtray, as she tilts your head up to look into her eyes, “want you to look at me when you say shit like that, angel. need those eyes on me while you tell me how pretty i am.”

the mean lilt in her command makes a sweet whimper escape your lips and you’re nodding frantically, murmuring about how pretty she is and she’s humming to your words, craving to make you cry, make you weep around your words while she drives her strap into the warmth between your legs. her hand is on your waist, pressing you down into her before she brings your face close enough to where your lips brush against hers and it makes your legs clench in desperation.

and shuri’s endeared by the action, wanting to see just how desperate you can get for her, for her love. her voice lulls your senses as she drops her hands to slide up your quivering thighs, “you gonna let me touch you, baby?”

the smirk on her face widens as your eyes shut when you nod, your nails digging into her shoulders as your hips buck against her thighs, she watches her hands lift the hem of your skirt until your panties are on display and her eyes flutter on a groan as she spots just how much you were soaking the material.

when she brushes the tips of her fingers against you through your underwear, you let out a soft gasp, the haze in your mind from the smoke enhancing your sensitivity and shuri smiles against your lips, speaking her words into you, “my poor princess, you've just been so fucking wet huh? dripping against me like i can’t smell when my pussy's calling out to me, baby.”

and you whimper so loud that shuri chuckles, her hand sliding into the band of your underwear to circle against your pulsing clit, drawing firm circles that have your head dizzy, your voice pleading as you gasp out, “please, please.. please.” she shushes you softly before sliding her fingers to circle around your entrance, laughing when your pussy clenches repeatedly, trying to invite her in, draw her into your warmth.

“yeah, this is my pussy, right angel?”

the dark tinge to her voice coaxes your head to drop into her neck, your hips stuttering as the heat licks at your throat pouring from your mouth in heavy, desperate pants, and her other hand slides to grab your ass, squeezing before guiding you to swallow her fingers, guiding you down her fingers like she was helping your pussy take the length of her strap and she grinds your hips against her hand.

"bast, s'thandwa, that's it, let me in, let this pussy know who she belongs to, hm?"

the sob you let out is filthy, thick with spit, and raspy as it flows into shuri’s ears, and she’s groaning into your temple, her fingers thrusting in and out of you, curling before she drags them out, your wetness sliding down her palm and she’s entranced by you. whispering about her desperate fucking girl and praising the clench of her pussy around her fingers, talking about how she never wants to leave the warmth of your walls, how they never want her to leave.

and your lungs are caving before you clench your thighs, your walls spasming unrelentingly as you cry out at your orgasm, your hips chasing the increasing pace of shuri’s fingers as she guides you through it, “just like that, baby, fuck yourself onto me like a greedy little slut.” she’s praising you, cooing into your ear as she whispers condescendingly about her dumb little baby being so good for her, thanking her pretty princess for letting her play with her pretty pussy.

“you’re gonna give me one more,” at your whimper in protest, she lifts your head to look into her eyes, “wasn’t a question, my love. you know i know what’s best for my baby, hm?”

the words make your hips buck against her fingers, the overstimulation causing you to gasp sharply, your hips stilling for a second before fucking back onto her uncontrollably, craving more but protesting it simultaneously. and she chuckles before bringing your lips to hers, slotting the pretty muscle between your parted lips, and you’re panting into her mouth, tears gathering in your eyes, the love she presses into your mouth making you whine.

the heat of her coaxes you to move your hips, her thumb moving to press against your clit as her fingers graze against the spongy tissue inside you, and she’s speaking encouragement into your skin, her lips skimming against the skin of your face, along the rise of your cheekbones, the soft bags of your eyes, sliding down the line of your jaw. a soft smile spreads across her lips when the salt of your tears presses into her senses, the warm drops of your pleasure lighting an ache inside her.

“keep crying for me, princess, let those dumb baby tears fall for me.”

the lump in your throat escapes at her command, wanting to please her, cry for her, let her know how much you love her, your sobs break into the atmosphere as your thighs clench tightly, your weeping pussy clenching so tightly it hurts, scratching at a part of your psyche that only she had access to, and you’re coming around her fingers, drowning her in your love.

“shuri, please, please, i’m coming for you, please.”

your voice is broken, breathy as your body trembles violently, the aftershocks of your orgasm prolonged by the queen’s unrelenting fingers, she hums praises against your now quivering lips, going to pull her fingers out of you even as they try to pull her back in, and she smiles, her pussy.

your eyes are shut when she pulls back to look at you, her gaze longing and lidded as she takes in your state and she can’t stop herself from leaning in to peck your lips, her fingers wiping your tears away before sliding to your shaking shoulders and gliding against your skin to ground you, to bring you back to her.

by the time you’re hiccupping, you’ve collected yourself enough to lift your eyes to look at her, your lashes clinging together like you do to her, and your heart clenches as you see the immense love that pours from her gaze, resisting the urge to look away, you push up instead and meet her lips in a sweet kiss, your thighs still trembling around her lap, making you both giggle into the comfort of each other's embrace.

too busy kissing to remember the snacks or the burning joint a few feet away from you.

how you live and love, like fuck rules? don’t care why just know i love you

ஜ

#pinkwrighting ⊹ ۪ ᖭི༏ᖫྀ.#shuri x black!reader #shuri udaku #shuri imagine #shuri angst #shuri smut #shuri x reader #shuri fluff #shuri black panther #black panther #black panther wakanda forever #letitia wright #shuri x you

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supermaks · 1 year

Note

Do you maybe have like max x fernando lore? Love them and love ur blog!! <33

Max is Nandos favorite nephew and also his psychosexual angel of death in this essay i will

ok so before we get into max and nando lore we need to establish some CRUCIAL Nando Alonso historical context. When max got called up to f1 Nando had already been racing f1 cars for 14 years which first of all.😐 And like I think its fair to say the last .. umm lets be kind and say, 6 he was literally going thru like the 7 circles of hell. Ferrari had just finished doing their ✨thang✨ ((completely obliterating a drivers soul)) to the point Nando was like 'remember that team that kickstarted my descent into madness and, aha, coincidentally, the unstoppable success of the kid who beat me his rookie year and that I literally tried to snitch on and had like a spanish spy stay wid me in the garage because I was SO normal about it and hinged and not at all very um , racially threatened. Yuh ok lets try that again. Oh and its their first year wid Honda too thats PERFECT yes thats exactly what I need I'm a GENIUS'. So in 2015 he signs wid Mclaren and literally during TESTING gets fucking zapped by his own car, allegedly, c0nks the f out and swerves that mf right into the wall. We're talking testing.

Listen. Im trying to establish that by the time our fav anti christ gets to the big show Nando has been going thru it for a minute. His teams consistently fail to deliver, nothing ever goes his way, his car is trying to kill him, and like, cannot stress this enough, lewis hamilton is very successful. Lew hammy is so successful he might become thee most successful. Nando is normal about that.

So here comes the babbiest of all evil babies and nobody knows what his deal is, he talks funny and hes weird and has no regards for his public image. But he's promising. So promising in fact that he could threaten afore mentioned most successful random individual who beat Nando his rookie year. And Nando is like. vengeful adoption. Vengeful child care. Nando's imprint on baby Max is both a long term evil plan and also just like. Immediate realization that Max is different like he's different. ((Not like Lewis is different but lets not get into that rn lmfao)) Max isn't gonna be a media darling. Max isn't gonna be a celebrity. Max is gonna be an f1 champion. And Nando has spent 14 years subjecting himself to cars far below his skill so he can keep being an f1 champion. So while somebody like Seb vettel is like 'why that baby aint got no coat on' ((for two minutes before the baby bites him and hes like no fuck this baby)), Nando is like, somebody give that baby a gun. Nando gets asked about Max's readiness for f1 and says, 'I think before we say anything we should wait to c what he does'. And then when 'what Max does' turns out to be like, borderline crime, in many occasions, actual crime, Nando is still like see, he's perfect ☺️

Like for example spa 2016, Max pulls a defensive move on kimi that has people calling for his teenage head for like the 3948th time that season and Nando straight up says no he didnt do anything wrong. And bro pulls out receipts he explains that shit wid the usual Nando rulebook rizz. For max. A teenage war criminal.

Lets talk Spain 2016 tho. Spain 2016 is actually super important for max/nando lore. Max's first race wid red bull-- and his first win. Start of something new. Inevitable. He absolutely packs Seb on turn 3, same exact way Nando had 3 years before. In 2016, though, Nando's far away from Ferrari and a race winning car. Honda PU gives up and he DNFs. Still hauls ass to congratulate the kid

Its very sweet and kinda tragic and a perfect reflection of their careers at that point. Max bursting on the scene wid the potential of a thousand suns, Nando basking in the sunlight from his place on the sidelines. Its not enough but its still good because its Max and Max is his guy.

They also play soccer together once for that charity match thing in Monaco and Nando kinda stunts and yk frustrated soccer drop out max must've felt some type of way about that.

These are from hungary 2017 and I have no idea whats happening or why they're in a bean bag enclosure but I think they're important

On Max's side of things, I think Nando's camaraderie must've caught him off guard. Getting into f1 at 17 ur not really expecting to make any friends lmfao. But Nando had his back from day one, and loudly, too, and I think for somebody like Max, who was raised on loyalty and commitment and respect from an overwhelming paternal figure that gave him everything except stability, that must've meant a lot to him. Especially because it was Nando like. Max oozes respect for that pensioner bro, in a way that I dont think he does for anybody else in the game. His rookie year Max said Alonso was his biggest inspiration because he kept at it despite not having the car. Yk Max didnt have the car for a few years either. He sees Nando as somebody whos been to battle, just like Nando saw a lil soldier coming into f1.

When Nando had his nicki minaj brb moment in 2018 Max said he regretted never having the chance to race against him. He'd raced against Lewis and Seb, but never Nando and Nando was the one he used to watch on tv racing those two. Meanwhile old man is giving interviews telling people Max is the the best driver in f1 and the only reason he bothers put on f1 those days is to watch Max. ((😐))

2021 is the apogee of many things and one of them is definitely max/nando lore. Nando is back. Max has the car. And Nando will be seated. And he will watch. And when Max does win, Nando calls it 'justice'. Its so fucking intense and deranged but rn we're just focusing on the narrative and appreciating it for what it is: Nando couldnt do it, but he knew Max could, and Max did. His guy did.

I swear they've been honeymooning for almost 2 years now. Nando stopped giving a fuck a long time ago but lately hes literally like this is a Max ONLY event fuck the rest of yall. First Max's 2 titles are worth more than Lewis' 7 because something something deranged pensioner noises. Then Max has talent that you cant teach and hes always been like that since go karts and he's going to be one of the all time greats. Also we're both villains and we're not politically correct ((white men are insane)). And then Max is like yes Nando is my good friend and he talks to me and I like to ask him about stuff and I take him on my plane to races and we get on well despite our age difference because age doesnt matter. 🙂police.

Also literally one of the most important gifs of all time from last year when Max won the wdc shut the fuck up thajnk you

Which brings me to one of the most important podiums of all time. Like the lyrical poetry of this shit are u joking

This gonna be the longest season ever and who knows if it’ll happen again already in Baku or whatvr maybe it won’t but like. We’ll always have Australia 2023.

Also in the post race presser there was such a quintessential max/lando moment I need to break it down to finish this and like go jump off a building lol

youtube

So here u have classic old heads + verstappen post race presser where they get to gentle bully sweet boy until he blushes. This time it’s like Nando talking some shit about how he has to leave because he’s annoying and lewis kinda joins in like ‘he’s still talking’ and Max is all squinty and ekfkwmdk it’s fucking cute ok whatvr. But what I really love about it is that Nando interrupts Max and gives him shit but then makes sure to put his arm behind Maxs back like. Don’t get it twisted. Hes my boy. He literally does the ‘this is a pro max post’ banner irl

Anyway here’s a cute compilation bye

#ask #love u .. 🌷 im. sorry #😐😐😐😐😐😐#Imma just post this and go because theres no excuse #like I didnt even know I was so invested in them #long post

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whatsnewalycat · 1 year

Text

Passenger / Chapter 1

Pairing: Trucker!Din Djarin AU x OFC Charlie Wanderlust

Chapter One: Vermont

[ Series Masterlist ][ Next Chapter ]

Series Summary: In her time tramping across the United States, Charlie Wanderlust has found life on the road to be challenging, but rewarding. When she makes enemies with a powerful figure, a bounty is put out for her capture. Din Djarin, a long-haul trucker and occasional bounty hunter, takes the job as a means to gain financial stability. Their paths cross, and as a result, the winding route of their lives are forever altered.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 3.3k+

Content / Warnings: modern-day au, alternating pov, second person pov, slow burn, vagabond ofc, dog grogu, enemies to lovers, bounty hunting, violence, swearing, truckers

Notes: Heeeeyyyy buddy. Rated explicit because the whole series is just gonna go under that umbrella, I don't care to get into nitty-gritty of rating systems with each chapter lmfao but it will eventually be explicit. I made a Spotify playlist for the series and cross-posted on AO3 (un: glitter_deity), links to both are on the masterlist! OK BIG KISSES HAVE FUN!

Charlie’s Rules for Living on the Road, RULE #3: Keep your wits about you.

The tiny bar you’re in is shabby and crowded. All-American beer signs reflect red white and blue off the nicked-up mahogany bar top that’s so sticky and rich it reminds you of maple syrup. Fitting, considering you’re in Vermont, of all places.

It reeks of expired hand sanitizer. A strange combination of rubbing alcohol and rotting fruit that your nose doesn’t really know how to sort, but you just know you hate it. Thought it would be worth gagging through, but apparently not.

Despite how crowded the small dance floor was during your set, the tips were a fucking joke. Sixteen dollars.

Anyway, Rule #3.

The Paul Bunyan-esque bartender who agreed to let you play for tips must recognize that his patrons are cheapskates, because he approaches you from behind the bar and says, “Tough luck. Want me to make you a drink?”

“I’ll take some water.”

“Can make something harder if ya want. On the house,” he offers, pressing his wide palms against the bar.

“How about,” you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth, then tilt your head at the hard plastic menu display standing erect between his splayed hands, “some mozzarella sticks?”

He raises a thick reddish-brown eyebrow at you, “Sure.”

A satisfied smile spreads across your face and you lean against the bar, propping your chin up on your fist, “You’re a lifesaver. What’s your name?”

“Jim,” he scoops ice into a tall glass and sprays water into it.

A man wearing tawny carhartt overalls and a blaze orange stocking cap approaches the bar. Jim tosses a cardboard coaster in front of you and sets your water glass down, then ambles over to take his order. He tends to a few more customers and you surreptitiously size up their wallets.

Once the demand for his attention wanes, Jim slides a parchment paper-lined basket of sizzling mozzarella sticks across the bar to you.

“You’re a fucking saint, Jim, thank you,” you crack one open, revealing the gooey, cream-colored innards. Steam bursts from the chasm and scalds your fingertips.

When you hiss and drop it, Jim chuckles, “Careful, they’re hot.”

“Thanks for the warning,” you tease, flashing a playful smile.

He pulls up the sleeves of his heavyweight green and black flannel, “So what’s your deal, where you from?”

“I’m from everywhere, and nowhere,” you sigh, then meet his unamused dark eyes and explain, “Kind of a roamer. I’ve been tramping around the country for a while.”

“All by yourself?” Jim raises his eyebrows, and when you nod he frowns, “Ain’t that kinda dangerous?”

“Nothin’ I can’t handle. Get to meet all kinds of people, see all kinds of places. Always an adventure. It’s real living.”

“And how long you been doin’ this?”

“A few years now,” you answer, poking at the busted mozzarella stick to test its warmth, “Are you from the area?”

“Born ‘n’ raised,” he looks around the bar, surveying the faces he must have seen hundreds, if not thousands, of times.

“Do you like it?” you pinch off a piece of the fried food and pop it into your mouth.

“Ain’t too bad,” he shrugs, “It’s familiar, ya know. It’s my home.”

You hum in acknowledgment as you swallow your food, then press your elbows into the bar and lean forward, “Ever think of leaving it all behind? Seeing what’s out there?”

Jim shakes his head and chuckles, “No ma’am, that’s not for me.”

“Why not?”

“You’re just a curious thing, ain’t ya?”

Before you can retort, Jim is flagged down by another thirsty patron. You scarf down the greasy, scorching hot mozzarella sticks as he makes more drinks, then you push the bar stool out and call over to him, “Hey, can I leave my stuff here while I use the bathroom?”

He glances up at you and nods in the affirmative.

On your way back to the bar after your bathroom break, you stroll by a stack of heavy winter jackets sitting unattended at a table. It’s been on your radar since a group of four tossed them down about an hour ago. Since then, the jackets have only been revisited when their owners found their beer pitcher dry and in need of a refill. You couldn’t help but notice the sea of green inside one woman’s wallet before she returned it to its (terrible) hiding place.

RULE #8: Take care of yourself.

You squint up at a sign on the wall while your hand plunges into the pile of jackets. Your fingers brush up against the metal clasp of a wallet. You unfasten it and feel around for two bills, slipping them up your sleeve before walking away.

Adrenaline thuds through your heart, flooding your body with a weightless, buzzing energy. No matter how many times you’ve stolen, it’s still a rush.

When you return to your seat, you heave your rucksack over your shoulders, then your guitar strap, adjusting it until the guitar is safely fastened at your back.

“Taking off?” Jim asks as he clears your empty food basket from the bar.

“I suppose,” you meet his gaze and flash him a cordial smile, “Gonna see if I can find a place to set up camp.”

“You’re not sleeping outside, are ya?” he frowns, “Gonna drop below freezing overnight.”

You shrug, “I’ll be fine.”

“Aww hell, I can’t let you do that,” he protests, then ushers you closer, “Tell ya what—There’s an empty apartment upstairs, why don’t you sleep up there? No furniture, but I figure you have a sleeping bag or something, yeah?”

You search his face, trying to read his intentions and determine whether or not this is a safe offer to take.

He must recognize your hesitation, because he adds, “I’ll give you the key, you can deadbolt it from the inside. Just leave it unlocked in the morning, ok?”

“Really?” your eyebrows press together, “That would be… fucking amazing, actually.”

He tugs a key ring from his front pocket and wrestles one of the keys off, then slides it across the bar to you, “First unit around the corner. Don’t make me regret it, ya hear?”

Din slides his pen into the logbook’s spiraled spine and tosses it onto the empty passenger’s seat. He taps the tablet mounted on his dash and pulls up the load board, surveying available pickups in the area.

After factoring in fuel prices and time on the road, he determines that none of them have a particularly high net gain. Not enough to take his 1999 Peterbilt 379 in for the repairs it so desperately needs, anyway.

With a dissatisfied sigh, he pulls the cell phone from his pocket and dials Karga.

“Din, my old friend, to what do I owe the pleasure?” the man’s jovial voice booms through the speaker.

“Do you have anything in New England?”

Karga hums to himself. Din hears a few computer mouse clicks and the rapid clack clack clack of a keyboard, then Karga responds, “Let’s see here, I have a few bail jumpers, nonviolent offenses, in Maine, New Hampshire…”

“How much?”

“Five thousand for Maine, ten thousand for New Hampshire.”

“Anything bigger?”

More humming, some clicks, then, “Ah! Look here, there’s a private bounty, last seen along I-89 in Vermont. Deliver dead or alive to Portland.”

“Portland, Maine?”

“Oregon.”

“That’s too far.”

“It pays one-hundred fifty thousand.”

Din raises his eyebrows. He’s silent as he considers this. His truck is in a tenuous state, but if he can make it there, he could get every repair needed. Hell, he could buy a whole new truck and still have excess money to donate to The Academy.

“I’ll take it.”

After hanging up, Din gets a new email notification on the mounted tablet. He leans forward and opens the message from Karga listing the details of the bounty.

Name: Charlie Wanderlust DOB: Unknown, assumed to be aged mid-to-late twenties Race: White Sex: Female Height: Estimated between 5’0” and 5’4” Weight: Estimated between 130 and 160 lbs Hair color: Blonde Eye color: Brown Last known location: Near Williston, VT, Travel Plaza of I-89 10/14. Prior possible sightings: near Londonderry, NH, RMZ Truck Stop off I-93 10/12; near Newburgh, NY, Pilot Travel Center off I-84 10/8.

Included are blurry CCTV stills of a petite woman, dressed head-to-toe in black, face mostly concealed by a bandana, stringy white blonde hair spilling down her back from beneath a beanie. The stills appear to be taken in some kind of warehouse, and show the subject pointing a handgun directly at a man whose hands are raised behind his head.

Another collection of photos, much clearer than the shoddy CCTV stills, show the target on her tiptoes, talking to a trucker through his rolled-down window. The snapshots depict them trading a plastic baggie and cash. A bloated dark green rucksack hangs off her back, and an acoustic guitar strap spans her chest, leaving the instrument hanging upside down, flush against one side of the sack.

Din observes her profile and notes the pointed chin and hooked nose as distinguishing features that will make her easy to spot. He surmises that she’s using an alias, because there’s no way that’s a real name. Her posture and trigger discipline in the CCTV stills tells him that she boasts familiarity with gun safety, and is probably armed. She’s backpacking, likely hitching rides with, and selling drugs to, truckers.

When he pulls up a map on the tablet’s screen and traces the path between the sighting locations, he notices she’s trending north. Probably trying to cross the Canadian border, considering most bounty hunters won’t find the difficulties that would come with re-entering the United States worth it. Try explaining to the border patrol why a pretty blonde woman is being held against her will. That will go well.

He zooms in on truck stops and gas stations further along I-89. The stretch of road he wants to search is approximately 200 miles away. It will take 3 hours to get there, maybe less. She doesn’t seem to be moving at a particularly fast rate, but her trajectory indicates she’s close to Canada. Probably only needs to hitch one or two more rides to get to the border.

Din glances over his shoulder into the sleeper cab, at the wrinkly, white, satellite-eared French bulldog sitting at attention on his bed, “What do you think? Should we go catch a bad guy?”

The dog tilts his head in response.

“Come on, boy,” Din pats the passenger’s seat, then the dog hops off the bed in favor of the front seat.

At 7 AM, just as you’re rolling your sleeping bag up, a knock sounds at the door, then the doorknob jiggles.

You jump to your feet and approach the noise, hollering, “Yeah?”

“It’s Jim.”

You unlock the door and swing it open to find the lumberjack bartender standing there with a steaming styrofoam cup in each hand. He’s wearing a new flavor of flannel long sleeve, this one checkered black and red, tucked into his dark blue jeans. His reddish brown hair is damp and slicked back, pale skin tinged pink by the cool air. Or rosacea. Or both.

“Good morning,” you greet and step back to let him cross the threshold, closing the door behind him. The thuds of his heavy leather boots echo across the barebones efficiency apartment.

“I got you a coffee,” he says and sets one of the cups on the kitchen counter.

“Thank you so much, Jim,” you smile and meet his eyes. In the bright light of morning, they gleam a rich golden brown that feels warm and inviting. You drop your gaze and tuck a long strand of blonde hair behind your ear, then clear your throat before returning to your sleeping bag.

As you roll it up, he tells you, “Figured I’d stop by and make sure everything went ok last night. You takin’ off this morning, then?”

“That’s what it looks like,” you tie your sleeping bag tight with practiced efficiency, shove it into your pack, then zip it closed while muttering, “On the road again.”

“Need anything else before ya go?”

This man’s kindness and generosity is almost overwhelming. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s smitten with you. A concept that curdles your heartstrings.

“Um… well,” you sigh and raise your eyes to meet his, “If you’re offering, I could use a ride to the truck stop off I-89.”

“Sure thing,” he grins, the apples of his cheeks pushing his eyes into crescents, “Ready to go now, or you wanna get some breakfast first?”

“I’m ready,” you stand with a grunt and pull on your coat. He watches you do this, and when you glance up at him, he looks away and strokes his bushy beard, then takes a sip of coffee.

Jim insists on carrying your bag out to his black pickup truck. You follow behind him, coffee in one hand, neck of your guitar in the other. The ride to Jolley Truck Stop is accompanied by a Sunday morning country music segment dedicated to Christian songs of the genre. The trees are all ripe with autumn colors, their leaves a gorgeous array of reds and oranges.

“It’s so beautiful this time of year,” you comment as you watch the scenery go by, “Look at that foliage.”

Jim chuckles, “We have a name for the types of folks comin’ around here to look at the trees in fall.”

“What’s that?”

“Leaf lickers.”

You swing your head over to look at Jim, who’s sporting an amused grin, then start laughing, “Leaf? Lickers?”

He snorts and nods, “Yes ma’am.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you shake your head and look out the window again, “Have any exciting plans for the rest of the day?”

“Church, then a Patriots game,” he answers, “Where do you think the day’ll take you, Miss Charlie?”

“Hopefully to Canada,” you murmur, “But we’ll see. Rule number six of living on the road: Embrace change.”

“Good rule to live by,” Jim responds, flicking on his blinker to turn into the truck stop, “I’ll have to try that out for myself.”

“You should, Jim,” you cast a warm smile his way, “Really, I mean it. There’s more to life than Milton. I think you’d like it out there.”

When his truck comes to a stop, he shifts into park, keeping an eye on you as you open the passenger’s side door and hop out.

You grab your rucksack and guitar, then tell him, “Thank you so much for your hospitality. I wish you the best of luck on all your future journeys, Jim.”

“It was nice meeting you, Charlie,” he nods and gives you a wistful smile.

With this, you slam the door shut and approach the sidewalk next to the truck stop, then take a moment to organize your belongings. After verifying you have all the things you need in the most accessible locations, you secure your rucksack and guitar on your back. Jim’s truck rumbles in idle for a while, but you don’t turn around until you hear him pull away.

RULE #9: Do not get attached.

Din is 5 miles out from the last place on his list, Jolleys Truck Stop, when the CB radio crackles to life.

A voice cuts through, “Anyone see that blondie wandering around at Jolleys? Rusty Crawler, Over.”

“With the guitar? Interstate Blackbeard, Over.”

Din’s heart skips and his spine straightens.

“Aye-firmative, Blackbeard. She a lot lizard er what?”

“Negative, Rusty, she has party favors.”

He picks up his mic and asks, “Do you have eyes on her, Rusty Crawler? 38-91, over.”

“Do I ever, 38-91, wheeew,” the man jests.

Din looks over at the dog, who was jolted awake by the radio. He starts panting, his buggy black eyes darting around the cab, little nub of a tail wiggling with excitement.

“Are you ready?” he asks, raising his eyebrows in question to his companion.

“Boof.”

“Good,” Din chuckles in response, then turns his eyes back to the road.

You knock on the red Freightliner’s window and squint up at the driver as he rolls his window down, “Hey there. Are you looking for a west coast turnaround?”

He grins and shakes his head, “No, darlin’, but I reckon I’m lookin for a friend if you’re offerin’ your company.”

“Not on the table, I’m afraid,” you crinkle your nose and wave, “Let me know if you change your mind.”

“Same goes for you, pretty girl,” he hollers at your back as you walk further down the row of idling rigs. An intuitive shiver runs down your spine; you suspect the man’s foul vibes are at fault.

There’s a newcomer in the lineup: an old, silver Peterbilt, shiny with chrome details. The driver is wearing a black baseball cap and aviator sunglasses, but seems to be looking in your direction, so you wave.

He waves back.

As you draw near, he opens the driver’s side door and hops out of the cab. He’s broad-shouldered and tall. The sleeves of his black crewneck sweater pull taut around his chest and biceps. His posture is impeccable, his steps metered, and you’re immediately struck by the assertive energy radiating off him in waves.

Another shiver creeps along your backbone. And it’s just an off kind of feeling that gives you pause, but you stop in your tracks.

RULE #2: Listen to your gut.

He puts one palm up towards you in a gesture of peace and says, “Charlie Wanderlust—”

“How do you know my name?”

Your eyes flick to your distorted reflection in his mirrored sunglasses. The hair back of your neck stands at attention. You take a cautious backwards step.

“I can bring you in warm,” he slides a gloved hand to the back of his cargo pants, “or I can bring you in cold.”

Static booms in your chest. Your stomach plummets to the asphalt beneath your feet, and you scoff, “Fuck you, man, what the fuck are you talking about?”

He tilts his head, as if to mock your feigned ignorance.

A dog barks.

It pulls his attention away for just a second, but it’s long enough for you to turn and bolt in the opposite direction.

All you can hear is your ragged breath and blood whooshing behind your ears and boots pounding against the pavement.

Not just your boots.

His, too.

They get closer with every beat.

A tug on your rucksack makes your heart gallop. You yelp and duck between two semi-trucks, pushing yourself as hard and fast as your legs can go. You reach the end of the rumbling trailer corridor and glance over your shoulder, only to find he’s not there.

That moment is enough to blind you.

It’s like you hit a wall, he’s just that fucking solid.

You bounce off of him, and before you realize what’s happening, he’s slamming your face against a trailer door. His thick fingers tangle in your hair and close into a fist.

“Fuck, that fucking hurts! What the fuck is your problem?!” you wail, thrashing in resistance as he rips off your guitar and tosses it to the ground with a twangy thunk that breaks your heart.

“Hey!” you bellow, “Be fucking careful with that!”

The man strips your rucksack off next, dropping it at your feet. He grabs one wrist, pinching a handcuff around it, then the other.

“Stay there,” he pants, then picks all your worldly possessions off the ground and slings them onto his shoulders.

He yanks the chain of the handcuffs, sending you stumbling back a few steps. You steady yourself, only for him to push you forward and throw you off balance again. Your vision goes red with anger.

“Fuck you,” you spit through gritted teeth, “Fucking asshole.”

He doesn’t say anything in response, just presses his hand between your shoulder blades and prods you onward.

Rage bubbles between the layers of your skin. Every single insult in the book simmers at the back of your throat, but all that comes out is a strained growl.

Then you put one foot in front of the other and let him lead you to your fate.

[ Next Chapter ]

#passenger #din djarin x ofc #din djarin x you #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #trucker!din djarin au #modern day au #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian au #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic

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ballblender · 1 year

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Hey hey. Im here to put in my rq, can I get a Kise and aomine from Knb(if you don't write for two character, Kise will be fine) with a femreader who is like Nagi from blue lock. Like they are pretty good at a certain sports(you can choose any sports) and is very lazy to do things. I hope it's not too long :D. Feel free to decline, tq and have a nice day.

THIS HAS BEEN IN MY DRAFTS FOREVER LMAO

i assume that they're dating, but if you meant platonic, just send me another ask! (i also haven't watched blue lock in a while so my Nagi personality is mostly based off of what i remember from his first few appearances) (she acts more like murasakibara oops)

Kise and Aomine with a Sporty!Lazy!Fem!Reader

CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2

content: just fluff, use of 'babe' (aomine), tennis (kise), volleyball (aomine) both of them haul your lazy ass, use of Y/N

Kise Ryōta

It always surprises Kise whenever he sees you on the tennis court. You're always laser-focused, especially on days where you face difficult opponents. However, your stoicism and general demeanour always comes through.

"Come on Y/N-cchi! Don't you have an important match today?"

"Mmmmggghh..."

He sighs. This isn't the first time. He knows full well that you know that you can't miss this match, even if your opponent's school is rated one of the worst in the region.

"...I don't even have to play...I already know I'm gonna win..."

Kise knows you're right. In fact, every time you're about to play, he gathers DVD's of your opponent, so you can study the both of them together while cuddling.

He decides it's enough. Lord knows that your coach is already tolerating you the best she can, and every day, Kise fears for your position in the club.

Kise yanks off the covers, and faces a nice surprise. Not that kind of surprise.

"You're already in uniform?"

"Mmmphh...I was late training last night..."

He smiles warmly, feeling less urgency, and scoops you into his arms.

Kidding, he flips you over and hangs you over his shoulder, while crouching down to zip up the racket bag you left on the floor, and takes it with him.

He swears that he can feel your body relax, as if you're about to sleep again, flipped on his shoulder.

"Hey, hey! You can't just fall asleep! Your muscles are gonna be tired!"

"Fine..."

Don't worry though, he still carried you all the way to the match.

Aomine Daiki

The two of you would often rest on the roof together. sleeping your troubles away. Honestly, you were one in the same. That is, until Aomine's loss at the Winter Cup.

"Babe, get up, you got practice today right?"

You grumble in turn.

Suddenly, you feel yourself being hoisted up, and thrown over is shoulders.

"Daiki...i'm tired..."

"You won't be tired when you start moving your feet around."

He carries you all the way down to the volleyball courts, letting you slip off of his shoulders and into his arms, carrying you bridal style.

"Y/N. We're here."

He sets you down on the floor, before you promptly spin and bury your face into his chest, digging your nails into his shirt.

He notes how you look like a needy cat.

"Y/N!! Finally you're here!!"

"...Captain..."

Your captain walks over, and you fall into her arms as she laughs, hauling you over to the rest of the team for practice.

You found your groove quickly, sprinting across the court as if you hadn't been acting like a sloth a few minutes prior.

Aomine knew he hated losing; he also knew you hated it all the same.

----

this ask is probably 2 months old lmfao im sorry and i still have a kumatani one i'm halfway through but im writing again

#kuroko no basket #kurokos basketball #knb aomine #aomine daiki #kise x reader #kise ryota #knb kise #aomine x reader #kurobas #knb #knb fanfic #knb drabble

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candycryptids · 4 months

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Quick! Your OCs are being dragged to the dancefloor by a friend - how do they react? Does the amount of people around influence that reaction? Or the kind of music played maybe?

GHFNFJDJFHB!? What a fun question omfg

Chuu has a vice grip on the sofa she’s sitting on if there’s more than 5 people at a party lmao. She’s not gettin up. N o p e. (Can sometimes be lured out onto the dance floor with a Waltzing number, but will rarely stay for longer than 2 songs before she’s found a way to slither out of being an active party participant. She’d rather chill and eat snacks and watch OTHER people look silly on the dance floor.)

Tuesday is ecstatic to be invited to the dance floor- but he only really knows how to do the stuffy Ishgardian Ball Dance when he first gets invited out to a party lmfao. The amount of people present doesn’t really impact his willingness to come out to the dance floor, but once he learns more ways to dance or even how to just, ‘feel it’ and make it up as he goes he gets much more excited about dancing to upbeat or quicker songs. He is Very good at not stepping on Toes :) (almost as if somebody didn’t want to deal with smushed toes…. 🤔)

Tangy is so zazzed to dance. She is…. Not the best at ballroom dancing or like, whatever you wanna call a couples dance, so. Watch your toes! It doesn’t matter how many people are there but being the center of attention can be kinda daunting :’> she’d rather dance to more upbeat music than slow dances so she’ll probs bow out for drinks and a snack during those to take a breather sjfjdkfs … pls also imagine her doing classic ‘dad’ dance moves or something from the Peanuts x3 [cut cos it’s Long 🫢]

….. 🤔 Ishi will gladly dance with a friend (or friends!) at smaller gatherings- and even invite others out to the floor x3 but at bigger more official events? She’s probably grateful for the excuse to step away from whatever Politically Charged Chat she’s been roped into regarding allied tribes or intercity relations. (She isn’t trained in dance, but will readily learn and follow somebody else’s lead •v•)

Mochiie is someone who’s reluctant to take an invite to the dance floor no matter how many people are present if there’s already people dancing and there’s not much space. He’s uh… conscious of his tail. (Poor guy sent a lalafellin couple sprawling once when he got tangled up in his feet, so he tries to be Overly Cautious now)

😂 Colette will indulge a friend in a dance, and relies more on being able to lift/twirl/dip her dance partner for flair - it’s an All-Eyes-On-Them situation. If Eorzean weapons didn’t have a habit of cracking under the pressure she’d probably be a tank. She prefers music with dramatic flair, to match her flashy dancing style. She laughs a lot more when it’s a Smaller group, there’s less performance pressures 🤧 (I should REALLY pose her dancing with Setsuna at some point… I’ll have to bug my partner for some files x3)

🤔🤔🤔 Levraut was the hardest for me to figure out. He’s classically trained in Ishgardian Dance? But he hates it. He thinks the whole thing looks silly, and he’s not so into huge parties (since they’re usually hosted by The Rich And Influential And Expect A Certain Class Of People yk) … he’d be a hilarious ‘sexy lamp’ for someone to dance with though… I think it would take him some time to feel comfortable dancing in the center of everything but he wouldn’t mind kinda grooving in place around the edges.

Until he’s 5 cups in. And then you have to haul him off the dance floor before he makes more of a fool of himself than he currently is, and tries to start a fight with the Violinist, because it quote ‘sounds like you’re killing the cat what made the strings all over again’ (regardless of if that’s true or not; a drunken Lev craves Rowdy Brawling and will Incite It)

… 🤨 I think that’s everyone if only because I don’t have a solid idea what the Trio would be like in a Party situation

#sorry this took so long to answer I got home took a fat nap and then joined the fc to play the fun game LOL #we were Gwiber hunting OwO #ALSO TY FOR THE QUESTIONNNN #Ishi and Kizuna dancing is ridiculous and needs a wide berth. lmfao. Kizuna ALSO has big tail syndrome #I’m constantly wrestling what music in Eorzea is like btw like there’s electric guitar???? in game??#there’s definitely the means to make electronic music ? I know venues have DJ’s but #I’m losing my mind thinking about Venues with that heavy modern club scene being ‘canon’#tho I guess the Loporrits…. 🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔#adventurers are just Built Different.#lev would show up to big fancy parties in order to investigate where the WoL(s) were last spotted or like the state of affairs or chasing #a lead but he’s not one to go for purely pleasure =v= would rather drink and sing badly in a tavern with 5-10 other people #and then get thrown out and threatened with being banned for dancing on tabletops and kissing someone else’s Date #I came really close to trying to figure out Gifs again so I could gif Tangy doing a goofy dance but I got SO sleepy so it might just be #a later gorilla to fight @v@

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eliasiis · 2 years

Text

thief

pairing: crushing domestic kavetham. they're not dating but they are so totally whipped here. also it's modern isn't that fun

word count : 1.6k

to the anon who requested this. i am so fuckin sorry lmfao i accidentally deleted the ask but here is ur kavetham. i am so normal about kaveh guys don't even worry about it

Alhaitham has been looking for one specific sweater for forever.

It's his favorite sweater. It's a light blue, especially soft one- He knows exactly where it is in his wardrobe. Or at least, he should.

But it's not there.

He decides that he'll give up for now.

Now in a sullen mood, he stalks off into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea and sulk in his bad mood. Fiddling with the stove, he puts the kettle on and glares at it, as if it's at fault for his missing sweater.

Kaveh should've been home by now as well. As much as he'd like to say he doesn't care, it does worry him a bit. He doesn't usually stay out this long this day of the week- He prefers to sit around and complain about his professors and his fellow students and his work, and this, and that, and it's plenty annoying, but... The silence is only making Alhaitham's bad mood worse. If Kaveh were here venting at him right about now, he's sure he'd have forgotten about the sweater in favor of bickering back and forth with Kaveh.

But he isn't. The kettle does that annoying trill and he moves it off of the heat.

Making tea is just second nature to him, now. Kaveh is too lazy to get off his ass and do it himself, and Alhaitham knows that Kaveh won't make it right anyway, so it's his job. He does it without thinking, and..

Ends up with two cups of tea. He crosses his arms and glares at the second cup. It's in Kaveh's favorite mug.

He's almost tempted to pour it down the drain, but before he can do that, he hears that annoying voice yelling that he's home.

He rolls his eyes, but he faces Kaveh anyways, gesturing for him to come closer.

"Oh, you... Made tea for both of us? And I didn't even have to ask?" Kaveh questions, but he drinks his anyway. Alhaitham notes that he looks more confused at the perceived 'act of kindness' than he does grateful and resists the urge to scoff.

"Accidentally." He says, sipping his own. He tears his glare away from Kaveh's mug and looks at the way oversized jacket he's decided to wear today. "Is it even cold enough to wear a jacket that big? The heater's on." He comments, but Kaveh just rolls his eyes and sets his cup down purely to cross his arms.

"It's cold outside, thank you very much. How do you accidentally make two cups of tea?" He asks, looking up at Alhaitham as if he's somehow won some sort of imaginary argument.

Alhaitham purses his lips. That smug look of his is so annoying. A little cute, but mostly annoying. "Shut up." He's not at the top of his wits today, that's for sure.

Looking slightly amused and a little of what Alhaitham thinks might be concerned, Kaveh doesn't comment on that failure of a comeback. "What's got you in such a bad mood today?"

Alhaitham considers telling him to piss off and going back to his room, but he doesn't do that. "...I can't find my sweater. The blue one."

"The blue one..? Which- Oh..."

Kaveh is silent.

"Kaveh. What did you do with my sweater?"

Kaveh gasps, as if he can't believe Alhaltham would ever accuse him of touching his things. He's done this multiple times. "Why would I have done something with it? I didn't even say anything-"

"Kaveh."

Kaveh shrinks back a little. It's a little satisfying to shut him up so quick.

"Tell me where my sweater is."

Pursing his lips, Kaveh unzips his jacket. Underneath, is Alhaitham's favorite sweater.

For a moment, there is silence. It's deafening.

Alhaitham glares. Kaveh doesn't dare move an inch.

"...I'm sorry, okay?! I apologize! I am apologizing!"

"..."

"I'm sorry!"

"You have five seconds."

"W-What-"

"Five."

"Haitham, w-wait-"

"Four."

"Can't we talk like adults-"

"Three."

Kaveh hauls ass into his own room, but what he fails to remember is that he'd broken the lock on this door quite a while ago. Instead of running to a different room, he hides in the closet.

Alhaitham rolls his eyes at Kaveh's stupid decision and enters his room as well. "Kaveh. Get out of the closet."

He doesn't receive a response. Stubborn bastard.

"Let me rephrase that. Get out of the closet or I'll drag you out myself."

Still no response.

"Alright. We'll do this the hard way, then." Shoving open the closet, he finds a curled up Kaveh, holding his knees to his chest with his face buried in them.

He looks... Cute. Really cute. Alhaitham lifts him up and out of the closet, ending up holding him bridal style. For a moment, Kaveh doesn't react, but once he's processed what's happening he starts flailing and struggling.

"No! Put me down! Haitham, don't do this, plehease," Kaveh pleads, giggling prematurely and kicking his legs wildly, trying anything possible to escape.

"Keep doing that if you want to fall." Alhaitham says, then immediately throws Kaveh onto his own bed. He can commend the blonde for his escape attempts, but squirming about isn't helping either of them. He pins both of Kaveh's wrists above his head with just one hand.

"Alhaitham, don't! Dohohon't do this, oh my lord, I'm sohohorry!" Kaveh pulls at his arms, kicks his legs, tries to kick Alhaitham off- Nothing works. He already knew as soon as the threat came that he wouldn't be escaping, but a man can dream.

"I'm not even tickling yet." Kaveh flinches at the word. It doesn't escape Alhaitham's notice. He already knows how embarrassing the topic alone is for Kaveh. That's mostly why he does it, if he's honest.

"Don't say it! L-Lehet me gohohooo!!"

"Not a chance," Alhaitham starts. Slowly, he worms his hand under the sweater to scritch ever so lightly at Kaveh's side. He makes sure all five fingers move as slowly as he can possibly make them. "Do you know the emotional harm you've put me through today, Kaveh?"

Riiight. This stopped being about the sweater the second Alhaitham found an opening to do this. "Do you understand how upset I was about this sweater? Hm?"

"I-I already apologized! Stohohop, not thahat-" Kaveh squirms away from that awful, torturously slow feeling but it only follows him. This is awful. He does this stupid 'build-up' every time and Kaveh hates him for it.

Alhaitham's lips quirk up just a little. Of course this would be amusing to the sadistic bastard. His fingers climb ever so slowly up to Kaveh's ribs and his giggling jumps.

"Waitwaitwaitwaitwahahait! Haitham! Don't! I'll- I'll do anythihihingg! Stop, stohohohop!" Kaveh's hips twist and turn and he tries to turn on his side, anything to make Alhaitham not do what Kaveh knows he's about to do, but those slowly tickling fingers don't stop. He doesn't slow down, or get faster, or move at all- He just doesn't stop. It's awful. He can't stand it. He's not entirely sure he actually wants it to stop.

"Anything at all?" Alhaitham's voice comes out as more of a purr than his normal tone. Kaveh had expected that flat, uncaring tone but not that. Despite his hatred of this whole situation, it still gives him butterflies. He hates this. He hates Alhaitham.

"Anything! Don't- Dohohohon't do ihihit!"

"...Then suffer."

Alhaitham's fingers press in the grooves between Kaveh's ribs.

" AAAH-!! No!! Stahahapp!!! FUCK-! Plehehease!!" He shrieks, kicking as much as he possibly can. He gasps in between uncontrollable cackling and he really does try to pull his arms down but Alhaitham is worlds stronger than him. It's useless to try.

"How could you steal my favorite sweater, Kaveh? I know you knew. Tell me." Alhaitham asks. He's actually smirking. He knows that if Kaveh had the ability for any sort of coherent thought, he'd smack him right now, but all he's really capable of right now is squirming and laughing.

"ACK- I'm sohoohorry!! Please!!! Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleheheaaase!!" His pleading itself is almost incoherent. Because he's just so merciful, Alhaitham both releases Kaveh and stops tickling him. How much more generous can one man get?

Panting, Kaveh puts both hands over his face. "You're sadistic. Absolutely horrible. How could you do that to me? What, what if," He's interrupted by his own leftover giggling. He curls up further. "W-What if, ehehe, what if I had died?"

Alhaitham looks infuriatingly amused. "You're so dramatic. We're not done here anyway," He pokes at both sides of Kaveh's waist. "You're still being punished."

"Wh- No! Stohoop..!! Eek-!!" He grabs Alhaitham's wrists, but he doesn't really put any effort into stopping him. He couldn't if he tried. "Haitham,!! Ahaha.. Stop, oh my lord!!"

Alhaitham stills his hands, but they don't move from Kaveh's waist. Neither of them mention that.

"Can we be... Can we be done now..? I'm exhausted from your bullying..."

"Seriously? Bullying? You're such a child."

"Ugh! How much audacity can one man have?"

"Why don't you ask yourself that question?"

"Shut up!! Get off of me."

Alhaitham doesn't respond for a second. That stupid smirk hasn't gone yet. Kaveh can't stand this idiot. "And if I don't?"

Kaveh flushes bright red while Alhaitham stupidly chuckles. He's stupid. Everything about him is stupid. He shoves Alhaitham off and curls up again. "Why are you always so awful?"

Alhaitham rolls his eyes. "Why are you always so annoying?"

Kaveh glares at him. Alhaitham glares back.

Neither mentions that Kaveh is still wearing the sweater.

#hhdnfnjgkdjfk.#i am SO normal about kaveh.#lee kaveh #ler alhaitham #kaveh #alhaitham #genshin impact #tickle fic #my fics

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