#god though the trouble I had to go to to find this painting

[cookinguptales]

also, the triumvirate is now complete

[how-very-superbat]

Lengthy Superbat Fics!

I'm not sure how to really define 'lengthy' so I'm going for 20k+ (and Superman x Batman of course)

I just looked at how many I have and oh my god this is going to be very long. I will put a *** next to my favourites

From This Day Forward by Mithen (29k) When Kal-El of the House of El must marry a wealthy Terran for diplomatic reasons, Krypton will never be the same.

Action and Re-Action by Mithen (24k) In the first issue of Justice League after the reboot, Batman told Green Lantern he had never met Superman before. This story takes that statement at face value--but what if Bruce Wayne had met him before?

Stranger in a Strange Land by Mithen (27k) (Literally how does Mithen have time for all this) Kal-El of Krypton arrives on Earth as an adult. To the Justice League's surprise, Batman volunteers to introduce him to human ways. There's an immediate bond between the two men, but cultural differences and miscommunication complicate their relationship.

"Did you all have to get sick at the same time?" by Writer_loves_tropes (25k) Alfred is away on a well deserved vacation and Bruce is left to take care of the three Bat boys by himself. He's pretty sure he can easily take care of an eight year old, an eleven year old, and a twelve year old without having to call Alfred for backup. He's Batman. Batman can handle anything, right?

An Honest Conversation by frozenpotions (60k)*** “So Bruce’s longtime best friend had suddenly decided to start eye-fucking him at random. So what? Bruce was used to being the object of this kind of attention. It didn’t bother him. It was—should have been fine. The issue was that it was Clark, and Bruce had enough trouble remaining rational about him at the best of times.” or Bruce and Clark go from friends to lovers the long, long, long way round. Featuring a number of revelations, a well-meaning but nosy son (Dick) and, most prominently, two adult men being completely and utterly useless.

as to which may be the true by susiecarter (53k) It isn't difficult to go on in the wake of Superman's death. His resurrection, though, poses a problem—especially when it turns out there's no such thing as the right moment to explain that Martha Kent's obnoxious billionaire friend? Is also the man who tried really hard to shove a kryptonite spear through Clark's face.

all each riddles, when unknown by susiecarter (52k) Clark, struggling to deal with the events of Black Zero Day, is assigned a straightforward human-interest piece—on Wayne Enterprises. Then Batman catches Superman's attention, Clark Kent starts investigating Batman, Bruce Wayne spends a lot of time arguing with hitting on Clark Kent, and Bruce's best efforts to find a way to hurt Superman start to bear fruit. And then things get complicated.

and if the sun comes by susiecarter (30k) Steppenwolf isn't interested in accepting defeat and walking away. Superman's proven that he's the key to conquering Earth, and Steppenwolf returns with a plan for how to deal with him. A plan that Bruce is able to throw a wrench into—but not without certain unintended consequences.

Only Human by saltedpin (23k) Clark temporarily loses his powers, and while it's initially jarring, he gradually adjusts and tries to go about on a somewhat normal routine after telling his inner circle (which can also include the League since they're building themselves up). Problem is that he is somehow an even bigger danger magnet than Lois in this state.

Loading and Aspect Ratio byJUBE154 (45k) It had started out as a simple design, black everything with black outlines and black hood. It got a little more intense as the world went on, got wind of his ghost on the streets, and became scared of The Bat. So Bruce got a little more creative with it, Alfred and him had a good laugh over the name, the scare. So now the suit had a visible bat-theme, an insignia to drape in the shadows and to paint across the streets of Gotham: “The Batman can fly, you know, I’ve seen his wings.” (A world where nobody has wings, but people think they do, and that changes everything.)

Whoever Falls First by liodain (34k) "There's more kryptonite out there. When the Superman returns, there's going to be an all-star battle royale in the criminal underworld. Every megalomaniacal freak will want a piece of it so they can get a piece of you. And some of them will manage. They'll weaponize it and won't hesitate to use it against you, and when that happens I will not have you flailing around like an idiot." aka: Bruce teaches Clark how to fight.

Repeat Your Favourite Mistakes And Love Them All Again by watchingthestars13 (160k)*** "Oh dear," came Alfred's surprised voice from the stairs, and all of them turned to look at him. His face was a little pale as he stared at all the boys, Jason's huge t-shirt, Tim's dress, Damian wrapped in a spare cape that was in the batmobile. At least Dick was able to fit into Tim's Red Robin pants, and Jason in Damian's Robin pants. Had Bruce been a lesser man, he would've said 'dear god, help'. All it took now was for their eyes to meet before Alfred composed himself.

Opposites Eventually Attract by Pandamomochan (34k) When an accident forces Clark and Bruce to be no more than ten feet apart from each other at all times, both heroes are forced to evaluate what their relationship really means to each other.

The Long Hangover by CoffioCake (55k)*** Clark knows he should take a break: His powers are on the fritz, he feels like shit, and Batman’s treating him like a liability. But Gotham's villains seem to have it in for Metropolis' Big Blue Boy Scout and Clark won't just wait around for answers. Batman might be the world’s greatest detective, but Clark Kent is one of the Daily Planet’s most tenacious reporters. This is definitely a job for Superman.

Conflated by PamiGami (31k) “Are you sure you’re feeling quite all right, sir? I was but fairly sure the head hadn't been impacted.” “No… no, please. Listen. I’m in his body, but I’m not him. I can prove it.” Ill at ease, Clark rubbed at the back of his head, not stopping to think about the weird sensation of feeling not his own curls, but somebody else’s hair. The man continued to stare at him with piercing and scolding eyes. “I believe you.” He nodded. “Mister Wayne doesn’t say please this early in the morning.”

the cost of being a good dad by Mawiiish (96k)*** Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian are all tired of watching Bruce struggle with the stress of trying to handle the newly formed Justice League. He needs an outlet, he needs to relax, he needs to get out of the house, he needs... he needs to start dating. And what he doesn't know won't hurt him, right?

Get Over It by rotasha (32k) Bruce needs to get over his inconvenient feelings for Superman and he meets an attractive reporter who he thinks can help him do just that. Little does he know...

[poeticpascal]

Trouble (Pedro Pascal x Rockstar!Reader)

Masterlist | Request here!

Summary: Pedro had never heard of (Y/N) (L/N) before his latest appearance on The Graham Norton Show. By the end, his assistant wishes it had stayed that way, and he wonders how it took him so long to find her.

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: mentions of drug abuse (now recovered), allusions to but no specific mention of an overdose.

A/n: I am very nervous to post this! I've never written a fic about an actor like this before, so depending on how this one does lol, you may be able to expect more from me like this. Please let me know what you think, and don't forget my requests are open!

“And he used red this time! We were getting so worried that he wasn’t interested in all 3 primary colours-”

Pedro sighs, glancing towards the door to see if his assistant was coming back yet. No sign.

He turns back to the old lady who’s been talking now for what - 4 hours? 5? It felt like it. She was sweet, and he didn’t want to be rude, but god if he had to spend one more minute hearing about her grandson’s latest finger painting-

“So sorry I took so long! We’ll have to get going Pedro - your next interview is in 10.”

His assistant - Alicia - burst back into the room and Pedro was sure he could feel his eyes well in relief. He takes the lady’s hand, shaking it and giving her a warm smile. “Mrs Alderman, I’d love to hear all about Harvey, but I’ve gotta go. It was lovely to meet you!”

She smiles in understanding and clasps her own hand on top of his. “It was lovely to meet you too, Peter!”

Alicia snorts behind him, and Pedro gives up with a final, defeated smile before heading out of the cafe and back towards his car. He’d only wanted to nip in for a second, to grab coffee and a pastry, but then Alicia got a phone call, and Mrs Alderman started talking to him in the queue, and by the time they left his goddamn coffee had gone cold.

They clamber inside, Alicia pushing a few files onto the backseat as Pedro stares. “I almost died, you know,” he quips, half muffled as he takes a bite of his croissant. He hums at the taste, light and buttery; maybe it had been worth it.

Alicia rolls her eyes, used to his antics by now. “I was on the phone to the BBC. They’ve confirmed who you’ll be on The Graham Norton Show with.”

“They have? Who?” 

He generally felt nervous going on the big chat shows, especially with how in demand he'd been recently. But Graham had been so warm, especially for his first time on the show, that when they asked him to come back he'd accepted without hesitation.

And really, he was quite looking forward to it.

Alicia doesn't seem quite as excited though. She flips open her notepad, littered with delicate but hasty scribbles of various projects and dates, and begins to read out the names.

“Robert Downey Jr, he’s promoting Oppenheimer.”

“I'm gonna meet Iron Man?” Now he was nervous.

“Kate McKinnon. She's in the Barbie movie, I think.”

“Amazing.” He'd always wanted to meet her.

“And…” she sighs. “(Y/N) (L/N).”

“Who?” No seriously, who?

Alicia snaps her head up to look at him. Surely he didn’t not know who she was? “(Y/N) (L/N)? The singer?”

Pedro just shakes his head, unbothered. “Nah, never heard of her. She any good?”

“No, Pedro, that’s the point.” He cocks an eyebrow, gesturing for her to continue as she looks back and forth between him and her notes. “She’s a publicist’s worst nightmare. She’s the lead singer of this band, The Heartbreakers, they’re huge. Like, Taylor Swift-huge. But if Taylor Swift did heavy metal.”

“And why don't we like her?” he asks.

“Because she’s trouble. She’s had big drug problems, she argues with everyone, she goes on stage and pulls all these crazy stunts. She’s always in the news, Pedro.”

He can’t help but think she sounds like fun.

“Can’t be that bad, right? If she’s that famous?”

Alicia shakes her head, “she's famous, but that doesn’t mean she’s not dangerous. People love you right now, Pedro. I’m just concerned that if you’re seen to be… friendly with her, people will raise their eyebrows. It won’t look good.

He thinks for a second. It really wasn’t in his nature, this whole PR thing. He liked meeting new people, and listening to them, and connecting. Maybe not Mrs Alderman - and now he's thinking about that nightmare again - but, for the most part, yes; Pedro liked people.

And not giving someone a chance because of his public image didn’t feel right.

Alicia sees the cogs turning in his brain, so she flips the pad closed, giving him her full attention now. “I know it’s strange, but I mean it. It’s not a hole you want to get dragged into. Her fandom is huge, the media's obsessed with her, parents hate that their kids listen to her and kids love to piss off their parents by listening to her. I’m going to speak to them about getting you sat on the opposite end of the couch... I just want to make sure you’re not linked with her. Trust me.”

With that, he nods his head. He does trust her - at the end of the day, he didn’t even know who this (Y/N) person was. So what if he didn’t speak to her much on the show?

—------

“WHAT?!”

He had to pull the phone away as Bella’s near-screech pierced his ears. They yell again, something along the lines of “are you serious? Pedro, are you serious?!”

“Yes I’m serious, what’s the big-”

“Oh my god I can’t believe it! You’re going to meet (Y/N) (L/N)! Will you mention her to me? I saw her tweet once that she watched the show and oh my god I need her to follow me on Instagram-”

“Wait, Bella, wait,” Pedro rubs his thumb and forefinger between his brows, not exactly thrilled that what was supposed to be a call to calm his nerves the night before the show was now filled with so much rowdiness. “I don’t even know who she is! You listen to her?”

They gasp, and he just knew they were pulling a dramatic, jaw-dropped face on the other end of the line. “Come on man, I know you’re not the hippest guy around but you have to know who she is!”

He giggles, throwing his hands in the air. “‘Fraid not, Bella. I’ve no clue. I do know i’m not supposed to talk to her though.”

Now there was a real gasp, not the purposefully dramatic kind. “What? Pedro, you can’t not talk to her. You have to. She’s the coolest person, like, ever.”

Pedro scoffs, “what about me?”

“When you get sleeve tattoos and banned from performing at the VMAs, you might get considered dude.”

“She was banned from the VMAs?”

You know that feeling, when someone tells you not to do something, and you don’t want to do anything else?

Yeah, that.

“I’ll send you the link, it was so cool. She said she’ll be allowed back next year anyway 'cos they need her to stay relevant.” He giggles again at that, and yeah, he couldn’t deny his intrigue.

“So that’s why you like her? She's all rebellious and stuff?” Pedro chews on his thumb as he asks, the anxiety of tomorrow not quite forgotten, but listening intently as Bella rants on.

“Nah, I mean she is controversial, but I just think she’s amazing. She acts all tough and rock 'n' roll, but she's really great deep down. I went to see her band once a couple of years ago, and this girl fainted so she stopped the whole show to make sure she got water and was okay. She’s just misunderstood, man.”

“Is it true she’s a drug addict?” He's not sure why he felt the need to ask. Why he cared. Maybe it was just to build a better picture, or maybe because Bella loves her so much, and he cares about their interests. Maybe, he had a sort of… concern, for her. For this enigma.

They knew each other well, and Bella could sense Pedro’s interest. More than anything, they were just excited to tell him about their favourite singer. “She used to be, it was crazy. She’d go on stage high and everything, people really hated her then. But she’s been sober now for, like, a year? She talks about it a lot. This is what I mean dude - everyone remembers all those shitty things but I think she’s so strong.”

He hums in agreement, thinking back to Alicia’s warning a few days earlier.

“Do you think it’d be bad? If I talked to her?”

It was Bella taking a moment’s pause, now. “I mean… Alicia’s not wrong. She’s not exactly got the cleanest image a celebrity’s ever had. I guess it’s up to you to decide what matters most.”

It was quite profound really, and Pedro was reminded of just how mature they were for their age.

“The most important thing is that you give her my instagram handle.”

And just like that, the moment’s gone. He laughs, shaking his head and muttering “you’re a dick”, before falling into conversation about other things. He fully intended to look up (Y/N) (L/N) before he fell asleep, but the hours went by quick and soon enough he'd drifted off, phone in hand and tomorrow's nerves dispelled for now.

—------

Maybe this whole Graham Norton thing was a bad idea.

Pedro was tired.

It had been a long flight to London, a long drive from the airport to his hotel. And a long, long wait at the studio before they even thought about getting filming started.

He’d been in hair and makeup for a good while, and according to Alicia, it would still be another two hour’s wait until they got him sat on the big red couch.

Yeah, he was tired.

He steps out, the muddied skies of London painting a grey-cast shadow on his face, the frosty winds hitting his skin. It was nice. Different. Much harsher than the LA sun he was used to.

He looks around; it’s just him there in the car park, leant against the windowsill and letting his eyes drift shut. It’s peaceful, and if it weren’t for the rushing of the motorway that ran just beside him, he’d almost feel alone.

“Mind if I join?”

He jolts awake, startled out of his near-tranquility, facing the woman who’d crept outside through the same doors he did. She was casually dressed, far more so than the BBC staff he’d seen today; she must be a temp, or an intern or something. A heavy black hoodie swallows her frame, and he wished he had a similar one as his ice-cold breath fell into the air. His eyes draw upwards, and he thinks to himself just how pretty she is. (Y/H/C) hair is bundled in her hood, loose strands blowing messily in the wind. She has no makeup on, so he can see greyish bags hung under her eyes, her lips stained pink, a soft blush blooming over her cheeks from the frosty air. There’s a roughness to her, something harsh, and it makes her so utterly alluring.

“Yeah- yes, of course. Of course.” He offers a smile, and she smiles back, and his heart races.

He shuffles to the left, unsure of why he’s making room for her on the windowsill; they’re outside, he’s a stranger. There’s a bench not far from the door, perfectly fit for her to sit on. And yet she follows his movements, and leans against the porcelain outline of the large window, searching for something in her pockets.

“D'you smoke?” She produces a pack of cigarettes, and digs out a lighter from her back jean pocket. Pedro watches as she slips one of them between her lips, covering the end with delicate hands as she lights it, revelling in the taste and taking a long drag. He notices then her long black nails, perfectly painted and delicately holding the cigarette in place, elegant and weapon-like at the same time.

There’s a nonchalance to everything she does, and it’s enticing. She doesn’t look at him when she asks, or when she expels the smoke from her lungs, keeping her eyes set forward and undoubtedly feeling the weight of Pedro’s on her face.

He forgets he’s supposed to answer.

“Er, no, thank you. I’m being good.” He offers her a smile, forced as he tries to remember his own whereabouts, too entranced by the beauty and the charisma that fell from this woman in droves.

The two are silent for a little while, he can’t be too sure how long. He smells the smoke from beside him, sees the wisps drawl from her tongue and into the cool air, and for someone who considered himself rather charming, he couldn’t for the life of him think of something to say.

He doesn’t have to.

“What're you doing out here, then?”

And this time she is looking at him. They’re sat close, and his eyes meet hers with ease, warm and welcoming. He feels a little more comfortable now, like she’s a friend; her warmness makes it hard to feel anything other than at peace.

He smiles, bashful. “I’m working.”

“Working?”

He looks down at his shoes, rubbing them against one another. It was always a strange conversation to have, explaining who he was to people who didn’t know. It felt like showing off a little; more than anything, he didn’t want to make a big deal of it.

“Yeah, I, uh… on the show.”

She giggles, and it sounds so sweet that his tummy heats up. “I’m only kidding. I know who you are. The Last Of Us, right?”

There’s a sincerity to her tone, nothing like this thick, false charm people try to use when they know he’s famous. It didn’t feel like she wanted anything from him in that moment. He nods, looking back up at her and his breath hitches when they immediately lock eyes again. Her lips are turned into a sly smile, cheeky almost, and he can’t help but grin back.

“I liked that show,” she says before taking another long drag.

“Thank you. That means a lot to me. Makes this fuckin’ huge press tour worth it.”

She laughs. Not the quiet giggle she gave him before, but a proper laugh, one that makes her eyes brighter and her nose scrunch up. Pedro laughs too, caught up in her, and when their chuckles die down they relax into a comfortable silence for a few moments before he turns to her again and asks, “how about you? Are you on the production team?”

She ponders her answer. It’s the first time - in the 10 minutes since they’d met - that she’d seemed to falter. Like she was unsure. “Yeah, you could say that.”

He didn’t push it. Maybe his fame was a problem. Did she feel overwhelmed? Or judged? He didn’t know - but a twang of sadness settled in his gut, and he wondered what to say next.

She recovers quickly, though. Stands back up a little straighter, puts the butt of her cigarette out against the wall, and faces him once again. “You seem nervous."

Pedro chuckles, nervously. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only when you scuff your shoes within an inch of their life and readjust your glasses every 10 seconds.”

“And here I thought I hid it well.” Cocking an eyebrow, the woman looks at him knowingly and tilts her head, encouraging him to go on.

“I always get nervous before these things... it feels worse this time, though. I just know Robert Downey Jr is gonna think I’m so weird, and then there’s this other lady I gotta avoid-”

“Who?”

She was abrupt, quickly apologising for interrupting him. He didn’t mind. “She’s like this... musician? I think. I’m sure you’ll know who she is. I’m awful at keeping up with whatever the kids are doing now. (Y/N)- (Y/N) something.”

There was a pause, awkwardly long. “My assistant says I gotta stay away from her” her continues, feeling a need to fill the gap. “Just doesn’t feel right to me, you know? To judge someone like that before you’ve even met them?”

He watches as she nods her head, deep in thought. She meets his eyes and nods again, faster, showing to him now that she agrees. She understands. He’s not quite sure how she understands, but he believes her; she didn’t strike him as the dishonest sort.

Pedro’s phone vibrates in his pocket, startling them both and they share another soft laugh. He grabs it, seeing Alicia's text flash on the screen - You’ve got a meeting with the producers to go over filming. 10 minutes. Ah shit.

“Everything okay?” There’s concern in her voice, and Pedro wonders if she knows he has to go. If she’s just as disappointed as he is.

“Yeah, yeah. I just - I gotta go.”

She’s definitely disappointed. He knows because her bright eyes fall the same way his did.

He’d never quite felt like this; like a magnet was drawing him to someone and like it would hurt in his soul to let her go. It occurred to him then, he didn’t even know her name, and he’d be damned if he was going to crawl back into the world of PR and publicity stunts and rehearsed answers without finding it out.

“It was nice to meet you. I don’t know if you- you want to get a coffee? Or something? After filming?”

The same harsh edge she had when they met, the one that had slipped and softened as they talked, seemed to have crept back as a once-sweet smile became that sly, cautious smirk. He couldn’t quite understand what she was thinking, what the cogs that so clearly turned in her mind were churning up, but he knew he didn’t care as long as he got to see her again.

“I’d like that.” Pedro sighs in relief, smiling again and sticking out an ice-bitten hand. “I’m Pedro.”

She giggles, offering her own hand and he stalled at the feeling of her fingers wrapped around his own. “I know.” She retorts, and he laughs, and just when she opens her mouth to tell him her own name-

“Pedro! We gotta go!”

Alicia shoves the door open, not even looking up from her phone which was presumably inundated with countless emails and phone calls, and Pedro sighs before looking desperately into the still nameless women’s eyes. She just smiles, dropping his hand and digging hers into her pockets. “Go on. I'll catch you later.”

He nods, swallowing and offering a small, regretful smile before pushing himself off the wall and following Alicia back inside. She huffs at him, speeding back off down the corridor and muttering something along the lines of “these goddamn producers”. He looks back a final time, to where the woman still sits in the windowsill. She waves, and he grins, unable to hide the childlike excitement her little gesture gave him before waving back and letting the door shut behind him.

—------

“We’ve got a fantastic show for you tonight, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s get some guests on!”

Pedro hears the roar of the audience, only a single wall between them and him as he waits to hear his name. He looks around the room; Robert and Kate are stood with him, chatting away at something he’d stopped listening to a little while ago. He felt better now he’d met them - they were lovely, so down to earth and genuinely happy to chat to him and hear what he had to say. It made him less nervous, and you might even say he was looking forward to this now.

There was no sign of her though. The singer - (Y/N). Alicia had scoffed, “typical,” just 10 minutes earlier, when there had been no sign. And she still wasn’t here.

“We’ve got the newly Emmy-nominated actor, best known for his amazing roles in The Mandalorian and HBO’s The Last Of us,” the audience’s roars got louder, “Mr. Pedro Pascal!”

It’s time.

He pulls his suit jacket a little tighter around himself, laying his palm flat against the bottom of his chest. With the other hand, he waves, smiling brightly at the crowd who cheered him on. Graham greets him, pulling him in for a hug and welcoming him back, before pointing him towards the end of the couch. Pedro gives the audience a final wave, mouthing ‘thank you’s and trying to express his gratitude for the love that filled the room.

Kate and Robert came next, shaking his hand and ‘introducing’ themselves again, despite the fact he’d already met them an hour earlier. A producer runs up to Graham, whispering something in his ear before darting off in the other direction. Graham rolls his eyes playfully, turning towards the audience and announcing, “we’ve got a late one!” The audience laugh, and Graham just organises his cue cards as producers usedthe extra time to prepare the camera angles and get the lighting right.

Graham looks at the couch, smiling with a wink. “Don’t worry - she’ll be here in a minute.”

“Is this (Y/N) again?” Robert asks, grinning.

“You’ve met her?” Pedro jumps in, falling into small talk among the four of them.

“A couple of times now yeah,” Robert replies. “I think she’s great, really funny. She's just… not the most put together person.”

They laugh, and Kate recounts her own story of having to wait on some celebrity or another, entertaining the crowd.

Graham parts from the conversation after around 10 minutes, holding a finger to his ear piece and nodding at whatever he was being told from the other end of the line. He stands up, smiling wide and turning to the audience, “she’s here! We have our rockstar ready.”

Cheers immediately erupt, and Graham turns to the guests to check they’re all ready to carry on with the show. Pedro nods, anticipation building as he spots Alicia from the corner of his eye, keeping watch.

“And don’t worry everyone, we’ll cut that little intermission out!” The room laughs. “Now I’m very glad introduce our last, but certainly not least, guest of the night. She’s the lead singer of Grammy-nominated band The Heartbreakers, she’s one of the most famous women in the world right now, and she’s only a tad terrifying. Ladies and gentleman, please welcome - (Y/N) (L/N)!

The audience becomes the loudest they’ve been all night, standing and yelling as the final guest takes the stage, and -

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It’s her. The woman from outside, the one he’d been thinking about all afternoon. The one whose name he never learned. 

She looks different; she looks like the woman he’d been warned about. She looks dangerous. Where a black hoodie had hung from her shoulders, a black lace dress now clung to her figure and he could see the tattoos that littered her sleeveless arms. The bags under her eyes were gone, as was the pink on her cheeks; her skin was painted, perfected, sculpted with darker shades and glowing radiantly. Her lips were black and glossy, so neatly done that she almost looked like a doll. Thick eyeliner carried a smoky shadow across her eyelid and beyond, drowning the same (Y/E/C) eyes he’d memorised in black.

She was ethereal.

And she was his one, single instruction for the night. Don’t get involved in her.

She waves at the audience, smirking in the same sly way she’d done to him earlier; he saw more clearly that they were the same now. She has the same charm, same charisma, same allure and yet she seems all the more potent now as she strides across the stage in 6 inch heels and pulls Graham into a tight hug, like old friends. She whispers something in his ear, and he throws his head back with a laugh before she saunters to the couch, where the three guests stand up to greet her. She and Kate introduce one another with a kiss on the cheek and a warm smile, before she gives Robert another tight hug and they share a word that Pedro can hear now. “I have to stay here an extra 10 minutes ‘cos of you” Robert quips, causing (Y/N) to pull back and look at him with a cocked brow.

“You know I’m worth it, Downey.”

With that, she turns to face Pedro, and his breath hitches the same way it did when they’d first met. Her grin falters slightly, and there it is again; that honesty. She almost seemed like she was putting on a show, with her slow saunter and cheeky remarks, but there was nothing false about the way she wrapped her arms around him and looked into his eyes.

“My name’s (Y/N).”

He just laughs. He can’t help it. She makes him feel giddy. “I know.”

The audience’s applause dies down, and (Y/N) takes her spot as the star guest, and the first on the couch closest the Graham. He talks between them and the crowd, commenting on what a great line up they had today, despite certain delays, which has the audience howling again. (Y/N) laughs with them, shaking her head and pretending to cover her face with her hand, before looking up at Graham and saying, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, okay? I got held up!”

“Well you have to tell us what happened,” Graham retorts, and they banter as (Y/N) recounts getting stuck in the backstage toilets. She has everyone wrapped around her finger, listening to everything she says and laughing at her jokes, and Pedro can’t find himself believing the warnings Alicia had given him. 

He remembers Bella, and how much praise they had for her, and he gets it. He sees what they see.

“Well you’re here now, that’s all that matters. We actually haven’t seen you for a while!” 

(Y/N) nods, her demeanour becoming slightly more serious. “No, it’s been a strange few months.” 

Graham continues, “the last time you were on the show was 2021. And obviously as most of us here know, you've had quite a difficult time since then, right? Tell me how you’ve been.”

She takes a sharp breath, and Pedro could’ve sworn she glanced up at him before she answers. “Well, yeah. I’m sure it’s no surprise to anyone that I was struggling with addiction for… most of my career, really.”

“‘No surprise’?” - Graham interjects - “you used to get high on stage!” It seemed judgemental, but it quickly became clear that he and (Y/N) had that sort of friendship, the kind where you can talk to one another so blatantly. She purses her lips at him, and he giggles, which makes her break the feigned offence and giggle too. 

“Look, man, that’s rock and roll.” The room laughs again. “No but seriously, yeah, it just got worse and worse until… well, you know what happened. it was hard. But I’ve gotten clean, I haven’t touched that shit in what, 8 months?” The crowd launch into cheers and applause, echoed by Graham and the other guests. Pedro could see how much it meant to her, how she tried to keep a stoic appearance despite the tears beginning to glisten in her eyes. She mouths a thank you, and he longs to skip right past Robert and Kate to be by her side, to hold her. She recovers quickly, something Pedro notes she seems to do a lot; cover her moments of weakness as soon as they start. Instead she sits up straighter and jokes, “I think everyone’s worried I’m gonna be boring now, without the drugs.”

Graham laughs, “I mean, you are known for being one of the more controversial artists out there.”

“If anything, I think being high slowed me down. I’m just gonna get worse, now.”

“Oh god, don’t say that,” Graham jokes, “you’re going on tour again soon, I’m not sure we can handle it.”

The audience cheer even louder at the mention of the tour, making (Y/N)’s smile grow wider. “Yep, new album, new tour. It’s all happening.”

Graham turns to Pedro suddenly, as if remembering he had three other guests to rope into the conversation. “Do you listen to this sort of music, Pedro? The Heartbreakers?”

And, shit. Pedro can feel Alicia’s eyes burning into him from off-stage, and he recalls her warnings about this very situation.

Don’t make friends with her

Don’t give the media something to talk about

Don’t ruin your reputation

And yet, her voice got quieter and quieter in his head, as the sound of (Y/N)’s laugh and the pierce of her eyes became all he could think about. The decision was pretty easy to make, really.

“I actually hadn’t heard of them, until today.” Graham chuckles at his reply. “But I think I’ll have to start listening.”

The crowd cheer, and the pair lock eyes for what could’ve only been a few seconds, but felt like so much longer. She tries to fight the way the corners of her mouth pull upwards, white teeth poking through painted black lips, but when she sees him smiling back at her she lets them go and drowns in the butterflies she’s so unused to feeling.

God, he was in so much trouble.

[libertyybellls]

silver soul !

pairing; finnick odair x fem reader

summary; you’ve been reaped for the 68th annual games,as you say your goodbyes you realize the ocean is not the only thing you are leaving behind.

contains ; ANGST, sadness, unconfessed loves.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

you’re sitting atop the smoothest rock nearing the shoreline, too close to be dry but too far to be soaked. the air is cool despite the season. something somber lays in the air- as if nature can read the silence between you and finnick.

oh, finnick.

you wait for him to speak, for him to say goodbye and let you go. let you move onto your impending doom. but he doesn’t speak- he doesn’t even move. no noise is emitting from him, you’re not even sure you can hear his breathing- the typically obnoxious huffs and puffs he exudes are gone and he remains next to you in these final moments on district 4- refusing to speak.

he’d prayed to any god that would listen for the 68th hunger games to have mercy on you. he wouldn’t give just an arm and a leg for your safety. he would give anything that belonged to him to ensure that you’d return home, back to him, back to whatever you two were in.

he could’ve crumpled to the floor when he’d heard your name called, when nobody had volunteered. why you? why not anyone else? anyone but her.

“i’ll be okay.”

you couldn’t promise that, you knew it was a lie, you’re only 16, you have nothing to depend on getting you through the games.

“i’ll be your mentor. i’ll find you sponsors. let me help you.” finnick pleads, his eyes lowly looking into yours.

it is only then you want to break into pieces in his arms. you want to sob. you want to retreat back to your family, back to his safe presence. he looks so pure with the sparkle of grace in his eye, deeply at variance to the picture that’s been painted to the capitol. his altruistic belief in you when even now, you are certain you won’t make it far in these games, gives you a rush.

you don’t respond to his desperate offers. you only look down to your lap- at your dress playing with the simple garment. you laugh breathily, “what are the odds.”

‘not in my favor’ he selfishly thinks. he may still have a life whether you win or lose this game- but will he be alive? will he have his anchor?

he shames the world, shames the capitol, shames all of the people who sat back and let you walk onto that stage, shames the game makers who would ever let you step foot in that arena. he needs you to be okay. this world is cruel, cruel to do this to his girl.

“please trust me, i will get you out of these games. you will be a victor and we can live in peace, y/n.”

he sins. he lies. he deceives. straight through his teeth. no matter the outcome you will never live in peace once your out of this. you will never be the same girl.

you think back to his own games. though he has yet to directly say his nightly terrors, his daily horrors, the acts he’s committed that he will never say as he looks into your loving eyes. the capitol has not had lenience on this boy, only a boy, but with troubles of a man.

there is no outcome of this predicament that either of you favor. no scenario in which the world grants you the rest you deserve. you want to scream, cry, pour your heart into him. let him fully consume every fiber that holds you together, all the words you’ve never yet said to him lay heavy on your heart. now it is your turn to stay silent, to lose all oxygen in your lungs, let the blood leave your face. but your voice fails you, “i trust you finnick.”

i trust that i am safe with you. i trust that you won’t let me die. i trust that i will make it back to you. i trust you.

he pulls you into him, his cheeks are wet, there’s a lump in his throat but he does not speak. he simply holds your head onto his chest- his fingers lock into yours as if that’s where they were made to lay.

your words continue to lie dormant in the back of your shared minds- but you let the angry waves speak for you. the greying sky share your sadness, the cold drops of water that reach your legs will bring you back to life- rejuvenate your soul ties. this is the peace you’ve been granted- this is all that is fair in your life.

only in this moment will he have you as you are now, in his arms, still so fragile but he holds you intact.

[heartfullofleeches]

I miss nightlight reader [android darling that glows and main objective is to help those who have trouble with the dark find comfort]

Picture nightlight being created to lull an aging deity back into slumber when it comes to terrorize a sleeping city. It cannot be killed, but its mortal vessel can be destroyed and nightlight is tasked with distracting it till its blood is spilled once more. It knows it's being tricked, but the doll's sweet songs and gentle lights draw it closer everytime. In its tomb the god dreams of ruling a desolate world with only the doll to remain as the one token of mankind's worth for all the years they ruined what was never theirs to inhabit.

Nightlight reader who's tasked with guarding a lonely little cabin in the woods and leading people safely though said forest from the creatures of the night. So beautiful are their bright colors, but they burn to the touch for those who have only ever known darkness. The creatures entertain the doll by making shadow puppets in their lights and offering them presents from those lost souls they've already taken. They beg for the doll to turn off their lights so they can cherish their loving hold for mere seconds. Their pleads can never be met for if nightlight ever offers them more love than they've already given the critters will never allow them into the light again.

Nightlight darling who is a reminder for saliors at sea there is always something more to return to on land. Their faint glow cutting through the thicken fog mends any broken soul and heart and their lullaby fills them with passion unlike any other.

Nightlight darling who becomes a corrupt crime boss's sole comfort in this fucked senseless up world after killing their old owner. Nightlight asks where their old master is from time to time and their new friend just tells them they're still sleeping. Nightlight always believes them since they saw them sleeping on the floor before being taken. All that paint will make their clothes sticky when they wake up

We had one Yan moth for nightlight - why not a whole group? Cuddle piles in their den with all of those big fluffy creatures crawling over each other to suck up as much of nightlight's light and warmth as they can. Taking turns holding the doll like a small toy and smothering them in little kisses.

I could go on but that's enough for now

[thoughtless-muse]

a/n: the title (and some other parts of the story) are inspired by the song ‘bad blood’ by taylor swift and no, i am not ashamed of it lmao. this is my first time ever diving into this type of story, so I’m equal parts excited and terrified. if you have any critiques/tips, please let me know below! also, “scout’s honor” is by no means abandoned. I’m going to be writing/posting chapters of each story at their own pace :)

chapter summary: you had been alone for over a month now, combating against stumbling dead people who slobbered for your flesh. when a random stranger finds you in the aftermath of a blackout, the last thing you expected was for him to ask you to join his group. but he did, and in a desperate move to escape those four walls, you accepted – not knowing at all what was in store for you.

word count: 2.4k

c/w: canon-typical violence/gore, sassy!reader, fem!reader, language, past-established relationship, very subtle allusions to a troubled past

prologue

“hey, lady, are you, uh… are you okay?”

the words were garbled and a tad distorted, and for a moment, you thought you’d merely conjured the voice from the depths of your frayed conscious — but the boyish face that stared down at you when you fluttered your eyes open threw that theory straight out of the window.

for a moment, you simply stared in silence. you stared at the boy’s face, taking note of the pink flush of life to his flesh — not gray, not rotted, not bloody; pink. his face was clammy, sweaty, with the skin pulled in different directions to paint an expression of worry; an honest to god expression.

a person. this was a living, breathing, real person standing above you. at least, he seemed real enough, but —

“are you real?”

the question bubbled, croaky and hoarse, past your lips before you could reign it in. the boy scrunched his bushy brows together and his squinted eyes narrowed until they were near closed. a clear expression of confusion. huh, another expression.

“um, yeah, I am.” the boy responded, though, in his bewilderment, the statement sounded more like a question than a fact. a laugh wrenched itself from your chest.

“you don’t sound too confident about that, mystery man.”

“I-I’ve just never been asked that question before.” the boy sputtered, a tad defensively, lips pulling into a frown. expression after expression from this one, it seemed.

“I haven’t had to ask that question before,” you grumbled out. pain pinched your ribs when you propped yourself up on your elbows, no longer feeling the need to lay flat on the warm pavement. “don’t exactly see new faces in the city much, let alone breathing ones.”

“you mean you’ve been in the city this whole time?” the boy exclaimed quietly; his eyes were wide now, revealing orbs the shade of dark chocolate. they weren’t fogged over, dead, or unseeing, but glassy and expressive. human.

a ragged, raspy croak broke off your sentence before you could even start it. your muscles jolted in response, but before you could react, the boy let out a shocked yelp that was followed quickly by a wet squelch right next to you. you trailed your eyes down to find a small hand-ax splitting the rotted flesh of the groaner to your right. the one you swore you’d killed not long ago.

“huh. thought I got that one,” you noted mellowly, swinging your eyes back up to the boy to give him a small nod. “thanks.”

“yeah, uh, no problem.” the boy panted, returning your nod. his eyes darted from side to side before he thrust out a hand to you. all you could do was stare at it.

“it’s not safe out here in the open. we should really get inside a building or something,” the man suggested, words edged with subtle nervousness. you scanned your surroundings slowly; there was a cluster of groaners shuffling towards you, but they were at least twenty yards away — not much of a threat given the granny crawl they were traveling at.

mystery man, however, became more nervous at the sight of them.

“c’mon, I know a place that’s clear. it’s not far from here.” he urged, extended hand trembling faintly. you let out a huff and grasped it with your own. your ribs bloomed with pain once again when the man hauled you up, but you bit back the groan that it prompted; you’d had worse than this, and you’d long since learned to suck it up and just keep truckin’.

when you were stable on your feet the man released your hand and reached down to free the hand-ax from the fallen groaner’s head, his face scrunching in disgust at the wet sucking sound the action elicited. it actually amused you to an extent.

“okay, mystery man, lead the way to safety.” you stated flippantly, manipulating your arm in a ‘the stage is yours’ sort of gesture. the man gave you a bit of a stinky side-eye before jerking his head to the left.

“it’s just this way,” he whispered. he padded to the sidewalk quietly, head whipping in each direction, body tense as if he expected a groaner to simply jump out unannounced at any moment.

what a scaredy cat, you thought jocularly.

“also, my name is glenn, not ‘mystery man.’” he added in a mutter.

you merely hummed in acknowledgment, more so for the man than yourself; you knew that by sundown he’d be gone with the wind, you’d forget all about this glenn fellow, and his name would be lost to your memory forever. no point in trying to stick it there in the first place.

silently, glenn led you through skinny, trashed back alleys and skirted past dilapidated structures, until at last he reached a large brick building. the door, which looked to be some sort of emergency exit, was a cool, gray metal, the hinges lined with rust and the surface slightly bleached from the harsh rays of the sun.

“it’s in here,” glenn murmured, grasping the handle and yanking it open. the hinges gave a deep, audible screech as he did so. “we cleared this out a few days ago.”

“we?” you parroted, trepidation flaring in your gut. it was fine when it was just glenn, but the thought of a group of people, one composed of unknown numbers, set off all kinds of alarms in your head.

groaners you could handle any day of the week; they were predictable, simple — just ambling corpses with no real thought process. humans… humans were different. complex, unpredictable, dangerous.

glenn noticed immediately when you hadn’t followed him through the threshold of the door; he glanced back at you, brows scrunched once more in confusion — it only took him a few moments to register the look upon your face before his eyes were widening and he was sputtering, “o-oh, it’s fine, my group isn’t – uh, they’re not dangerous. they won’t hurt you. and in any case, they aren’t w-with me today – I always make runs alone.”

“I’m s’posed to take your word for it?” you shot back, eyes narrowed dangerously. glenn gulped audibly and flicked his eyes between you and the interior of the building, lips working without producing any sound. he looked so helpless, like a lost puppy, that you couldn’t stop yourself from deflating.

“I believe you,” you uttered. “at least, I will for now. I mean, you don’t look all that dangerous. I reckon I could knock you on your ass in two seconds flat.”

a threat wrapped up within a petulant jab; not exactly your proudest moment, but part of you felt cornered, and it seemed to get the job done. glenn’s eyes flashed with surprise, and maybe a bit of fear, and his voice was less than stable when he murmured, “there’s no one else in there, I swear.”

the tense set of his shoulders, his wide eyes, and the shakiness in his voice seemed so genuine, that you couldn’t help but bark out a laugh.

“are you actually scared of me, mystery man?” you jested, genuinely bemused by how sincerely glenn considered your concealed threat. was he actually taking you seriously? glenn’s throat flexed as he swallowed and nodded.

“well, I just watched you take down about a dozen geeks with just a pocket knife; so, yeah, kind of.”

you chuckled to yourself and gave glenn a once over. maybe he wasn’t so bad, after all. he appeared genuine and harmless. kinda cute, too; in an innocent, boyish way, of course – boyish had never exactly been your style, but you could enjoy the aesthetic of it.

“well, glenn, why don’t you go ahead and show me around?” you purred, rolling his name across your tongue and not bothering to wait for a verbal confirmation. you pushed past glenn and into the dank, dusty building, eyes immediately sweeping across the bare shelves and stained walls. not a groaner, nor human, in sight.

glenn ambled further in and shut the door behind him with a soft whoosh and click. the room became near saturated in darkness, the only light being that of the sunlight filtering weakly through the gaps between the boards nailed to the windows. glenn wasn’t lying when he said it had been cleared out, but he didn’t mention anything about it being groaner-proof.

“is this, like, where your group stays or somethin’?” you inquired, your eyes narrowed and scrutinizing of every detail. there were no mats or makeshift beds that you could see, no visible provisions, and the space lacked the tell-tale signs of human inhabitance.

“oh, no, uh, this is just a rendezvous point – or, it will be. like I said before, I mostly do runs on my own.” glenn passed by you as he explained, coming to a kneel in the middle of the floor where the sunlight was most luminous. he slipped a large, beige bag from his shoulder and planted it on the ground, flipping the top and burying his hand inside.

“runs?” you wondered aloud, watching the man closely as he began to pull items from the bag one by one. medical gauzes, bottles of hydrogen peroxide, boxes of bandaids, a couple cans of vegetables occupied the space beside him bit by bit.

“yeah, runs. we made a camp a while back, at an old quarry just outside the city. food and water aren’t much of issue there, but other things” – glenn glanced up at you a bit sheepishly – “well, they run short sometimes.”

“so they send you out alone to get them?” you surmised, prompting an airy chuckle from the kneeling man.

“ah, no, I actually offered. I know the city like the back of my hand. getting in and out is no problem for me.”

you nodded your understanding, chewing the tender skin on the inside of your cheek – you were inclined to believe glenn, considering he had yet to prove himself untrustworthy, but there was something that was gnawing at you; something that you needed some clarification on.

“so, uh, if you came out here to get supplies, why’d’ya come over to me? and why did you bring me here?”

glenn paused his task for a brief moment before sighing softly. his lips thinned as he seemed to ponder how to answer.

“because I made a promise to myself. I told myself that if I ever ran across someone here in the city, I’d ask if they want to come back with me,” glenn answered quietly, though by the clench of his jaw, you could tell he wasn’t quite done with his explanation, so you bit back the other questions swirling on your tongue. “I guess I just hoped to myself that if the roles were ever reversed, someone would do the same for me.”

the residual tension that had been locking up your shoulders ever since entering the building drained away like a river to the ocean. you smiled softly and plopped down on the floor a few feet away from glenn. with a teasing warmth in your chest, you queried, “so you saw me and decided you wanted me to come home with you?”

glenn rolled his eyes, but the flush in his cheeks betrayed the effect your suggestive comment had on him.

“not like that, it’s just – it’s just that things aren’t as easy as they used to be. your best chance at survival is with a group.”

“I’ve done fine on my own,” you responded back flippantly, planting your palms behind you and leaning your weight back atop them. “I mean, I’ve been here since it started.”

glenn swiped his tongue over his bottom lip nervously, scanning through the contents on the floor before rapidly scooping them back into his bag.

“yeah, I, uh, I noticed that you’re capable. it’s just that – things won’t always be so easy, you know?”

irritation shot through your chest like a hot lance, your somewhat good mood ruined instantly.

“did I say it was easy?” you seethed, anger punctuating your every movement as you swung your hands back in front of you and leaned forward.

just as it had at the door, glenn’s mouth began to open and close rapidly as he tried desperately to recover. his wide eyes flicked down to your waistline, the area he knew held your pocket knife, and he scooted back a small bit while simultaneously dragging his bag in front of his body; an attempt to keep distance between the two of you.

“I-I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant that – that without a group, surviving will get harder and harder.”

you weren’t entirely sure if it was from lack of sleep, stress, or the cursed, buried memories that had been incessantly dragging themselves back up despite your multiple efforts to keep them down, but you had been highly irritable the last few days. every time you closed your eyes, you saw his face, you heard his voice, taunting you with the sweet nothings he whispered long ago. you still felt his phantom touches that had long since grown cold.

you just wanted it to stop.

you wanted to find the strength to throw that little box out of the fucking window, and to burn that one shirt he left, the only things left to remind you that he wasn’t just some conjured fever dream. that’s why you’d been out in the street in the first place, drawing as many groaners as you could to yourself just so you could picture his face as you plunged your knife through their soft, rotten skulls.

and maybe, just maybe, find the strength to drop the knife and let it end.

but you just couldn’t. you couldn’t throw the box out, you couldn’t burn the shirt, and you most definitely couldn’t let yourself die; it went against everything he taught you.

with a sigh, you opened your eyes, which you had never even remembered closing, and regarded glenn once more. his eyes were still wide, clouded with something that was a mixture of nervous and worried, his hand trembled atop his bag, and his bottom lip wavered.

“you said you promised yourself that you’d invite whoever you found in the city to your camp, yeah?” you quizzed, the question one that glenn had not expected you to ask, if the brief confusion on his face was any indicator. after a moment’s hesitance, glenn nodded.

“yeah… our camp is pretty well established, and I know we’ve got room for others. does that, uh – does that mean you want to come back with me?”

you’d never second guessed your choices, nor the consequences of those choices, and you weren’t about to start now — so, with a cheeky smile and a wink, you purred,

“sure thing, glenn. I’ll come home with you.”

a/n: so I recently checked my analytics and uh… 114 followers?? what??? like I’m — I’m speechless y’all. thank you so so much I can’t even begin to express how much it means to me <3 I promise I’ll be doing my best to dutifully deliver content to y’all as fast as possible <33333

TAGLIST: @daryldixmedown @alanalanalanalanalanna @just-always-tired @chylerluvschim @girlydollydarling @marvelcasey05

[sweaterweatherever]

Christmas Blues (Xavier Thorpe x Reader)

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x AFAB reader

Summary: In which the reader decides she is going to take Xavier apart to make him forget all about his Christmas blues.

Warnings: Smut. Shitty families. Sub Xavier. Crying. Showering together. (Please, don´t do as the reader and close the taps when you aren't actually showering. Let's not waste water.) Hand jobs. Unprotected vaginal and oral sex. Praise kink. Cum play? (Is that a thing?) AGED UP CHARACTERS. This can be read as a stand alone, but it's kind of a part two to Pretty boy.

Requested: Yes. For the subby crying Xavier anon. Is also the filthiest thing I have ever written.

A/N: To everyone who has a hard time around the holidays, I give you my warmest hug and hope you can find someone like the Reader, who helps take your mind off it. If you have a troubled relationship with a family member, like Xavier or you have lost someone (like me) I hope you find comfort, because I know how hard this time of the year gets.

You had to admit, you were excited about the Christmas break. You normally loved Christmas, being a time of fond memories from your childhood, great food and time spent with your family. And with Xavier. It had become kind of a tradition, you see. The Thorpe's weren’t the most affectionate family, so they didn’t really care where Xavier went for the break. Your mother had decided to take him in when you had mentioned he had nowhere to go in the first year of your friendship.

She had kept inviting him to spend parts of the breaks there because she had loved him. How couldn’t she? Xavier was charming when he wanted to be, and cared deeply about you. That was enough to win her over. This year, though. This year was the first year you were going to be together on break as a couple. Your mother wasn’t going to get home until the 24, being away on a business trip. She trusted you enough to leave you to your own devices, still convinced no funny business was going on between the two of you. This idea was, of course, aided by you. You had conveniently forgotten to mention you were now more than best friends, knowing she would never allow you to be on your own then.

“So, here we are.” You said, paying the cab driver and looking desperately for your keys in your purse, while Xavier took your luggage. The journey had been long and exhausting, but you were in a good mood.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell her.” Xavier holds the door for you, allowing you to pass first and disable the alarm. “She is going to kill us when she finds out.”

“If I told her, we wouldn't have the house to ourselves.” You answered, turning on the lights. The sight of your childhood home made you smile. Your mom had put up an artificial tree before leaving, but had left it bare, with the boxes you knew contained the ornaments beneath it. You would have fun decorating, that’s for sure. “You can’t say how much you disapprove later, when I’m sucking your dick in the shower.” You gave him a blinding smile.

“Oh my god.” Xavier said, looking scandalized, both at the crude words and your nonchalance. “Get me dinner first, at least.” You burst out laughing, and he was unable to contain himself any longer, laughing along with you. “You are a terrible influence.” Xavier stepped closer to you, hugging you from behind. You loved it, he was warm and smelled nicer than usual, having docked the clothes he used to paint and choosing to wear something more appropriate for traveling. The ever present smelt of turpentine was much fainter than normally.

“I know.” You pulled him for a kiss, turning your neck slightly. He looked cute in his winter coat, you couldn’t help it. "So, shower, or dinner first?” You asked.

“Depends. If we are showering together, shower first.” He said, lightly trailing his hands along your ribs and making you squirm. Xavier knew you were ticklish, and often took advantage of it.

“Shower then.” You said, watching him go upstairs, luggage forgotten. “Oh, I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave.” You shamelessly eyed him as you walked behind him. You might have been teasing, but a plan had already started to form in your head. Holidays were tough on him, filled with bad memories and the longing for a loving family. You wanted to keep him distracted, so the tortured part of the tortured artist didn’t turn too literal. You had an empty house, and you were on break… Maybe you could finally take him apart, which you had been unable to do at Nevermore, the lack of time and space getting in your way. Your reasons weren’t only selfless, though. You wanted to make him cry so badly. You betted he would fall apart beautifully.

You had had exactly one awkward conversation about his sex life with Bianca, back when you only were best friends. From what you remembered, he found it hard to let go fully during sex, not trusting her enough. You had both been drunk, and you wanted to avoid keeping talking about it because you had been pinning for him back then. But you could tell he found it hard still.

“Xavi?” You said, opening the door to the bathroom. He was facing the shower, busy with getting the water at exactly the right temperature. He had taken his coat off. You took out some towels, placing them on a counter near the shower. You also took out a tiny towel because tile floors were hard on the knees, damn it.

“Y/N.” Xavier said, turning to face you. He pulled you in for a kiss, stroking your hair gently. He gave a tug at your sweater. “Let’s get you out of this.” You stopped him before he could take it from you, holding his face between your hands. His pretty eyes peered at you, confused.

“Xavi… I wanna try something." You said, taking his hoodie off. “I want to take care of you tonight.”

“You always take care of me.” Xavier answered, with a puzzled expression, helping you get his shirt off too. You kneeled in front of him, unbuckling his belt. “Oh. Oh.” He said, finally getting it. “I guess… If you'd like to.”

You took his pants and underwear next, gently rubbing his thighs to make sure he wasn’t cold. He was half hard already. You smiled, teasingly.

“What?” He asked, not an ounce of shame. “I got a pretty girl kneeling right in front of me, unbuckling my belt and stroking my thighs. Besides, with you, it’s almost Pavlovian.”

You got up, pressing a kiss to his lips. You kept it short and sweet, not wanting to get him too excited. “Get in, we are wasting water. I'll be right behind you.”

He gave you a long, disapproving look, but obeyed. You started taking your clothes off, focused on efficiency. You quickly entered the shower, watching as Xavier was already in the process of washing himself and unaware of your entrance. Once inside, you took a moment to drink in the sight before you. His tall form, long lean body, glistening from the water. Hair sticking to his shoulders and looking darker, eyes closed in relaxation. You placed a hand on his back, careful not to spook him.

“Hey.” Xavier pulled you for a hug, naked wet body pressing against yours. This way, you were both under the spray of the shower. “You are cold.” He tilted your head slightly backwards, so your hair got soaked too. He took the shower gel, and rubbed it on his hands, making some foam.

“Xavi, give me that.” You said, taking the shower gel from him. “Can I wash you?”

“Sure. You can try, but I think it won’t work.” He gestured to the air above your head, referencing your height difference. Xavier was right, you were several inches shorter than him, which made it harder, but not impossible.

“You underestimate me.” You passed a sponge with a bit of shower gel over his chest, slowly making your way down his body. You stopped when you got to his hips, noticing Xavier had been getting harder by the minute. “I love that you are so sensitive.” You said, but did nothing about it. Xavier was getting flustered, either at your comment or actions. You washed his erection in a completely perfunctory way, barely touching him. You went to your knees in front of him and kept on washing him.

“Y/N!” He whined. You gave him a blinding smile. “Do something.”

“I am doing something, you silly. I’m helping you get showered." You got back on your feet, and gestured to him to turn around. He obeyed, still grumbling. You eyed his shoulders and neck. Now that would be a challenge. You got started at his legs, making your way upwards and noting with interest how goosebumps formed on the skin you touched. When you had him all lathered in soap, except from his shoulders and neck, you pushed him gently under the spray. Xavier tried to grab the sponge from you, probably to return the favor, but you stepped away, cleaning yourself quickly and joining him on the spray as fast as you could. Then, you extend a hand outside the shower, grabbing at the towel you had left nearby just for this reason. “Sit down, Xavi.”

“Like in the towel?” He asked you with an amused smile, but obeyed, long legs sprawling on the shower floor. You climbed on his lap, completely naked and holding shampoo and conditioner. “This is so unfair.” Xavier complained, feeling the way your pussy was resting against his erection. You would only have to align him, and he could be thrusting inside you. But you didn’t, choosing instead to start massaging the shampoo on his hair. His expression immediately changed, eyes closing in bliss. Xavier was such a puppy, you thought, filled with affection, a touch to his hair and he melted. You washed his hair, being extra gentle and massaging more than necessary to get him as relaxed as you could. Xavier kept quiet, only giving slight noises of happiness sporadically.

Then, you applied the conditioner, letting it sit while you washed your hair. Carefully, very carefully, you detangled his hair. He kept his eyes closed the whole time, head laying against the tile, arms around your waist. You applied conditioner to your hair and got up, offering him a hand.

“Come on, babe, time to get up. “ Xavier slowly opened his eyes, a calm, happy expression you hadn’t seen in days taking over his face. The holidays were hard on him, you knew. But you hadn’t realized how bad it had gotten recently. Guilt curled in your stomach, and the resolve finally settled. Tonight, you were going to make sure he forgot all about it.

You helped him get up, rinsing his hair and your own. Then, you wrapped him in a towel and sat him down on the toilet. You quickly dried yourself, and got out the hairdryer, using it to dry his hair. The look on his face made you giggle. With his hair wet, he looked like a disgruntled kitten.

“You are so cute.” You said to him, brushing your hands through his hair. He didn’t acknowledge what you were saying, his eyes closed once again. Good. You were getting somewhere.

You did quick work of your hair, drying it enough to braid it, still wet.

“Xavi.” You said, touching his back gently. “You can go to the bedroom and wait for me there while I pick this up. Don’t get dressed.”

“I can help you.” He pouted, and you couldn’t help but kiss him because he looked too cute. “ I’m serious, you have been doing all the work and I…”

“You are doing perfectly.” You said, stroking his jaw gently. “So, because you want to keep being good, you will do as I say.”

Xavier’s eyes widened, and a blush took over his pretty face. He seemed to be realizing exactly how the night would go.

“Yeah… I’ll… I’ll do that.” He stammered and walked out of the bathroom. You wrapped yourself in a robe. You did quick work of the towels and clothes, carrying them to the first floor and taking advantage of the opportunity to take out a frozen pizza and turn up the heating. When you got back to your bedroom, you found Xavier laying down, covered by the sheets, and messing with your phone. The reason became apparent when some song began to play. You grabbed some of your lotion from your vanity and padded, dropping the robe along the way, towards him.

“Hey. “ You said, sliding under the sheets next to him. Xavier smelt like you, having used your shampoo and conditioner. You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Can I give you a massage?”

“Sure.” He put your phone down and looked at you. “How do you want me?”

“Stay on your back.” You answered, and climbed once again on top of his hips. You drew him into a kiss, slowly turning it more heated. Then, you put some lotion on your hands and warmed it up, applying it to his chest with gentle motions. You made sure to rub at his nipples, making him give a startled gasp. You kept on kissing him, pretending nothing was happening. You lightly ran your nails down his stomach, making him buckle under your touch. Afraid of falling off the bed and killing the mood, you tensed your thighs against his hips.

“You said you were going to give me a massage.” Xavier broke the kiss, looking at you with accusatory eyes.

“Oh, but I am.” You pressed a kiss to his jaw, making your way to his ear, hands still running down his torso. Then, you ran your tongue along the shell of his ear. At that, Xavier gave a full-body shiver.

“Come on, please. Don't tease.”

“I’m not teasing.” You kept going, kissing his neck and sucking a hickey in his collarbone. Your hands kept going down too, eventually getting between your thighs and grabbing his half hard cock.

“You are evil.” Xavier said, screwing his eyes shut. “Pure evil.”

“Oh, but Xavier, I am only giving you a massage. “ You smirked, giving a few pumps at what now was an erection. The lotion in your hands made the glide easier, and Xavier seemed to like it because his hips were practically fucking your fist. “Come on, babe, open your eyes. You are only getting a massage, it’s no big deal.”

“Oh god, I hate you.” He said, throwing an arm over his face.

“You don’t. Now be a good boy and open those eyes for me.” You added more steel to your voice. “If you don’t obey me, I will stop.”

At the threat, his eyes immediately opened.

“There's my good boy!” You coed, chucking his chin. Xavier gave you an annoyed eye roll.

“Are we going to get on with it?” He whined.

“Oh, Xavi, you are such a brat. “ You started pumping his length with a more purposeful rhythm. You had a plan, after all. You pulled away a little, sitting on his thighs to have a better view. His eyes almost scrunched closed a few times, a frown on his face from the effort and concentration to keep them open. His breath was more erratic, a drop of sweat making its way down the hollow of his throat. Xavier’s thrusting got more desperate, buckling under you. He started moaning, and you suppressed a smile. You loved him, but god, Xavier was loud. “Close, pretty boy?” You asked, without really wanting confirmation. You knew his tells. His hands were already gripping your thighs hard enough to hurt, and the endearment only made his grip harder.

“Yeah.” Xavier had a pinched expression, lips tight and clearly trying to hold his moans.

“You can be as loud as you want, baby. We are alone.” You said, caressing his jaw.

“Y/N!” His back arched, long neck making a perfect curve and looking good enough to bite. He was on the brink of his orgasm, so of course, that’s when you stopped.

“What the fuck?!” Xavier took you off his lap, angrily, and dropped you on the bed. Something stirred in you at the casual show of strength, but you saved the thought for later.

“Now, that was rude.” You answered, without a care in the world.

“Rude was what you did to me, I was about to…” But Xavier seemed unable to say the word, choosing instead to tear at his hair dramatically. “You are a tease.” He accused.

“About to what?” You asked, sweetly. “Come on, Xavi, you know the word. Come, orgasm, the big O, climax.” Xavier stared at you, mouth hanging open.

“I can't believe you. You are an asshole.” He said instead.

“Oh, I’m so sad. Why don’t I let you fuck my throat as an apology?” You asked, peering at him innocently from beneath your lashes. Xavier eyed you suspiciously. He knew you were up to something, but he liked fucking your throat so much, it was clouding his judgement. “I’m serious, come on, get up. I’ll sit on the edge of the bed.”

Xavier did as you said, still with suspicion in his eyes.

“Come on, pretty boy.” You said, taking him in your hand and giving him a lazy lick from root to tip. You took the head in your mouth, lapping at the slit, and making a face at the taste of the lotion on his skin. It was messy, you licking at him sloppily, knowing the saliva would help later.

Xavier’s hand stroked your temple, looking at you with eyes full of love and the dopey expression he got when you gave him head. You suppressed a snicker, knowing he was absolutely lost on what was going to take place next. Slowly, and doing your best not to gag, you took him all the way in. It was not an easy task, Xavier had both length and thickness on his side, and it made your jaw ache, and your eyes filled with tears. You kept repeating like a mantra in your head, “Breath through your nose.” When you finally got him all the way inside, nose brushing against his pubes and Xavier looking like he had just seen god, you braced yourself and pinched his thigh.

Xavier gave a startled yelp, followed by a moan when the pinch made him thrust inside your mouth. You grabbed one of his hands, placed it in your head, and used his ass to hold yourself. You gave him a look, ordering without words to get started.

And so, he did, hesitantly, pulling in and out so slowly he might as well have been auditioning for a slow motion scene in a porno. You pinched his tight once more and this time, he actually screamed, buckling in your throat. You snickered.

“Can you stop pinching me?” Xavier asked. You gave him a look that you hoped conveyed your displeasure and moved up and down over his length faster, hoping he caught your meaning. “You want…” He said, a little winded. “You want me…” He cut out with a moan, and you rolled your eyes, stopping the motion. “To fuck you harder?” Xavier asked. You nodded emphatically.

“Right.” He said, grabbing your head more firmly and started thrusting earnestly. You gave him a smile, showing pointy canines, dangerously close to his cock. He kept eye contact with you, growing more confident by the minute. When he started to get too confident he was going to come, moans getting louder and louder, you pulled away.

“Fuck.” Xavier sat down on the bed next to you. He was too much of a gentleman to chase your mouth, and too afraid of overstepping or hurting you. “Okay, I'll bite. What do you want?” He pleaded, looking at you with desperate eyes. His fists were clenched, whole face contorted into an ode to frustration.

“You have an interesting reaction to being teased.” You answered, dropping onto his lap once again. Your thighs were wet with how turned on you were. You weren’t a sadist, but the way Xavier looked when he was just on the edge was the prettiest thing you had ever seen, and you were a sucker for pretty things. “I like it. “ You rolled your hips against him, feeling how hard he was, teasing your clit with his tip and barely suppressing a moan of your own.

“Please, please, just let me fuck you.” Xavier begged, one hand going to your breasts, flickering your nipple with his thumb. “I'll make you feel so good, baby, I swear.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that.” He perked up at your voice, seeing the chance to come.

“Come on, please, baby, let me fuck you, come on…” Xavier begged.

You ground your hips against his cock, giving a low moan.

“Please, you are so wet, I can tell. Please, babe, let me make you feel good…” He begged, voice sounding broken. He was close again, you could tell.

“You are my pretty boy, you know it, right?” You asked, exploiting the vulnerability he was letting show. You knew it wasn’t an easy thing for him… “I love you. You are my partner, my best friend, the best human on earth. You are pretty inside and out.” Your hips sped up, and you noticed how Xavier kept trying to turn his head. You grabbed his cheeks, forcing him to keep eye contact with you. Were his eyes wet? “I love you. I will always have your back, even when no one else has. You are mine, Xavier. I’m not letting go.”

Just as he was about to come, you lifted your hips, evading his thrusts. He gave a frustrated yell, and his eyes filled with tears. You smirked, and felt tempted to make a victory dance. Instead, you kissed him. His tears kept falling, confused little sobs getting swallowed by you greedily.

“Oh, Xavi.” You said, pushing him inside you. “You are a pretty crier.” He really was. His eyes and nose got slightly red, eyelashes looked even longer, green eyes bright.

“Please," He begged, and the look on his face was priceless. Xavier looked lost, completely overwhelmed; you could tell he needed an anchor. So, that's what you became.

“Xavi, Xavi, my good, pretty boy.” You bounced on his dick, harder, forcing him to focus on you, and not to get caught inside his head. “You are being so good, you look so beautiful. Let go, I got you.” You clenched around him, and because he was such a good, pretty boy, he obeyed, coming with a shout and eyes filled with tears. You wished you had a way to capture his expression forever, already knowing it would haunt you. But you didn't say anything, letting yourself fall over his chest. His arms hugged you, his softening erection still inside of you.

“You didn't come.” Xavier said, after what felt like an eternity. One of his hands went to the end of your braid, starting to take it apart.

“It doesn't matter. This wasn't about me.” You burrowed your face in his neck, pressing a kiss there.

“It matters to me.” Xavier said, hands slowly making their way to your core.

“Xavier…” You whined. “I want to cuddle and get some food into you. I don't need it.”

“But I want to.” Xavier ran a finger lightly over your back, and you shivered. You were aroused, that was certain, but you knew it would go away. Taking care of him was more important.

“You are messing with my aftercare.” You settled for that, instead of admitting your thoughts, knowing if you told him, there wouldn't be convincing him otherwise.

Xavier stayed quiet.

“Thank you,” He finally said, pressing a kiss to the top of your hair. “I know what you were doing, and it helped. But I want to thank you like this. Let me? Please?”

“Fine.” You grumbled. You weren't as aroused as before, but wetness was still pooling between your thighs. Part of it was Xavier's cum, part your wetness. “But I'm going to put something in the oven, you have until it is ready.”

You got up, wincing when you felt it drip down from you. You went to grab your bathrobe, deciding to sacrifice it for the greater good, but Xavier stopped you.

“Don't clean yourself up. I like you like this.” You blushed, suddenly self-conscious of your naked body. You put the robe on, and went to put the pizza in the oven, setting a timer.

“Twenty minutes.” You said when you got back. Xavier was sitting on the bed, looking tired. “We can just cuddle.”

“No way.” He said, gesturing for you to lay down. “I bet I can get you to come in less time.” Xavier laid down in his stomach and hooked one of your legs over his shoulders. He wasted no time in getting started, lapping up at your hole, eagerly eating you out. The thought of him, cleaning you up without any care for the fact he was drinking his own cum, shouldn't be as hot as it was.

“Xavier.” You begged, pulling his hair.

“Shhh.” He took your clit inside his mouth, sucking at it. He placed two of his fingers inside you and scissored them, before he started fucking you with his tongue. You were close already, and it only took a couple of circles drawn gently around your clit to tip you over the edge. You moaned weakly.

Xavier dragged himself upwards, pressing a kiss to your lips. He smelled like you and him combined. You eagerly kissed him back, groaning when you felt him smile smugly.

“I told you I could get you to come before the timer went off.” You rolled your eyes.

“You are so smug.” You complained, pushing him a little. “Anyway, these sheets are ruined, but there's pizza downstairs.” You tempted him.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” Xavier asked, cupping your face between his hands. “Because I do.” Then, just as the little kid he still was at heart, he got up and jogged out of the bedroom. “Race you to the kitchen!”

You got up, hurrying behind him. Happy that he wasn't thinking about his shitty home life and instead, only thoughts of pizza, and you remained.

[thebelugawhalefriend]

Many Loving Kisses - Yan!Royal Harem x Reader

PART TWO

CW: Yandere themes, Fem reader, Homophobia, Polyamory, FxF and MxF, Slight mentions of religion

Note: This is based on a dream I had a while back that actually opened up the idea of polyamory being healthy to me. While the dream involved an emperor from Japan and his harem, I'm very worried about writing for a culture I'm not completely learned up on. So! I've written it to fit a Medieval setting ^^

"The King has requested your daughter's hand in marriage." A messenger read from his scroll upon a white stallion, your parents looking on in shock. "His Majesty? But... Why our daughter?" Your mother starts, but her partner puts her hand on your mother's shoulder. "Do you dare ask why our gracious King would bestow upon you a dowry for your daughter? After he pardoned the unholy sanctity of your union?" It's then your other mother, "Auntie", steps in with venom in her tone. "Now you listen here, you brute... My wife didn't dare insult the king! She simply asked why he would want to take our only child away from us. Disgracing our union is unnecessary!"

To this, the messenger seethes. Withdrawing from his horse, the towering brute of a man steps closer to your mothers. "He did request that anyone unwilling to hand over the bride to be shall be taken to be executed. Would you prefer I end your lives? I'll be more than happy to-"

"Stop!" You immediately waved your arms up, trying to get in the middle of the dispute, "I'll go- please! Just don't hurt my mom and auntie...!" It was now their turn to look upon you with shock. "Baby..." Your mother lifts her hands to hold your face. "You don't have to do this. We'll do anything to keep you safe-" "Mama, it's not worth sacrificing your lives over something like a marriage. I love you both too much to see someone take your lives..."

Sundown's pink hues darken the skies as you wave your final goodbyes to your moms. To ensure you wouldn't change your mind, some of the men who had tagged along with the messenger tied you tight and carried you upon horseback. While your parents were paid a great sum for your hand, you couldn't help but worry about what the king's wife would think. How would this work? Would she be okay with the king having you as a second wife? Of course, his first wife will still be Queen... But what will you be?

Nightfall approaches as soon as the men who carried you in tow arrive at the gates. The king, in all his glory, looks upon the arriving carrivan with great disdain. The messenger leads on with pride in his chest and eyes. "My King, we've brought your bride to be as you requested!" "And you tied her like an animal to a slaughter?!" The king's sharp tone immediately deflated the messenger's ego. "I- uhm- It wasn't I who requested she be bound like that! Men, what have you done to our lady? At least treat the maiden with class!" The crew hastily undoes your ties as the messenger puffs out his chest yet again. Though, the king seems unimpressed.

"I've had quite enough trouble with the likes of you, Stephen. You treat your job as if I bestowed upon you a knight's status... One more misuse of your power and I'll have you imprisoned for the rest of your days." His golden eyes now fall upon you, gaze softening upon seeing your figure. "As for her, let her come and follow me. She's to be acquainted with my wife before any plans are set in motion."

Now, it's hard to not fall for a king so handsome. Stunning muscular features, a chiseled face as if a sculptor carved him from marble, and long curls of red hair pulled onto a loose ponytail. Freckles mark his face and skin like stars and constellations, with multitudes of scars connecting them. You start to wonder if God personally painted him to look like a galaxy... "I do apologize for how my men have treated you. It's difficult to find men as honorable as my own knights, dearest (Y/N)."

"You... Know my name, Your Highness...?"

"Why wouldn't I? You've been all my wife has been talking about for the past few weeks! It took me the longest time to come around to the idea but... One look of who she spoke of and I couldn't agree faster."

"King Fl-"

"Please, you may call me Rose." His smile is so warm, it brought your face to a rosy red. The tenderness of his words... That spark in his eye... It's hard to believe that this would be yours to even have, not to mention have his wife willing to share!

Once you both happen upon an ornate willow door, Rose gives it a gentle knock. "Darling?" A soft voice calls from inside the room. "Is that you?" "Yes, my dearest wife! I have brought someone you'd most adore to meet..." "Oh! But Rose, I'm just about indecent! Visitors can't gaze upon me right now..." The red haired man rolls his eyes with a bright smile, "Oh, alright, I suppose (Y/N) can wait a few moments longer."

With that, the door creeps open. "Please, let her come in!" You swallow a large lump in your throat, trotting in carefully. The inside of the room is spacious and rather decorated- even for a queen. Paintings of fables and animals decorate the walls, each framed with delicately carved wood. Walls themselves were murals of flowers and leaves, furniture threatening to overflow with delicate knick knacks and jewelry. What catches your eyes is the large pink bed with sheer canopies of white hanging over. On the sheets sit a tall and curvy woman. Eyes a striking purple and hair as black as a raven's plumage. What stands out most about her are her larger than life scars along her collarbone. While Rose's own were small, hers looked like she had fought a wild beast... The only thing that covers her is a purple nightgown, only going so far as to cover most of her thighs.

"You must be (Y/N)." She stands from the bed, brushing off her legs and looking at you with a bright smile. The mere sight of her vulnerability brings a deep blush back to your cheeks. "M-My Lady... I'm honored to... Uhm... Meet you!" You try to curtsey, but the queen merely laughs at your attempt and approaches your feeble form. "Please, there is no need for formality, little one! From now on, you can call me Azalea. But, any amount of nicknames will do." With that, she reaches her hands to your face and cups them along your jawline. "Look at you... You're so beautiful... So joyous and kind... I knew from the moment I saw you, I would love to have you marry my husband and I!"

It wasn't too long ago you met the queen. Only about a month, if you had to make a guess. She had been making her rounds along town in disguise despite her husband's protests. That's when she happened upon your family's stall. Adorned with colors and beads, it immediately was obvious that you were all selling jewelry. "Greetings!" You beamed from the stall, the queen's attention caught on you. "Would you... Actually, hold on a moment." The curious monarch watched on as you picked through one of the racks of necklaces. From them, you picked a particular piece- An orange and red beaded necklace with a ruby as the showpiece. "You look like someone who could use a little more red-"

"Oh no, I can't- I'm sorry, I don't have any..." While the Queen fretted this potential trick, you put your hands onto her own. "I didn't say you had to pay for the piece. I... Actually made that one myself. I would be honored to have someone as beautiful as you wear it." She was quick to catch onto your "flirting", to which she laughed and looked into you. "If I didn't have a husband, I would snatch you right up! If only men were so flattering as you are." You gave her a little look of confusion, "I didn't mean to try and take you as my own- Oh, but I would if you wanted me to-! Just uh! Uhm..." That assumption brought a great fluster to your face. "I genuinely mean it, miss. I have a great feeling about you! I don't often get them but... Mom says when you get that feeling, you just have to... Put it into action. Does that make sense?" The tall woman laughed again, "Absolutely not, but I appreciate the gift you've given me. Perhaps fortune will be as giving as you are..."

At the time, you didn't even realize just what her status was. It wasn't until this very moment of her hold on your face that you finally could recognize her.

"You were that lady I met last month, weren't you?" Azalea beams with amusement, her familiar laugh ringing in your ears, "It took you long enough to figure that out! Ah, but don't you worry about it, just proves my disguise is effective." As she keeps you in conversation, her body urges you to join her on the bed. By that, it's merely a hand pulling you to the mattress and a gentle push urging you to sit. With you next to Azalea, Rose peeks right in with curiosity.

"How are my wonderful girls?" He steps right in, Azalea sticking her tongue out and pulling you in for a protective hug. "This one shall be my own wife! You can't have her, Rose!" Her tone is playful, but for a moment, you could have sworn you saw that primal desire of possessiveness. "Oh, you wound me, darling! I paid her dowry, only for her to be snatched away?" He comes in closer, leaning into his wife with that exact same look. "I don't think so... Come here!"

The redhead pulls you and Azalea in for a tight embrace. Between his muscular chest and Azalea's soft breasts, you're sure you will suffocate under this pile of affection. Though, it isn't long until he pulls away to let you breathe. "Goodness, my apologies (Y/N)! I should be more careful with my two favorite flowers..."

Their gentleness and affection all reminds you of your moms. How they would shower you with affection and each other with love. It brings a certain ache to your heart, but... You'll see them again, right?

"King- Sorry, Rose?" "Yes, my flower?" "What will become of my moms?" Your freckled lover pauses for a moment, "Your mothers? What of them? They've been compensated for your dowry." "When will I see them again?" This time, Azalea comes in to answer. Her limbs wrap around you and pull you into her lap by the waist. "Oh, my dear, we can't have you wandering about in public! You'll be a spectacle out there! Besides, you'll already have a lady who will care for you every day..."

"But... What of my friends?"

"What of them? They'll get to watch you marry us! Besides, you'll have a man who will be your company from dawn until dusk." While Azalea holds you, Rose brings a hand to your chin and strokes it lovingly. That facade of care was quickly starting to feel like a trap you've fallen into.

"That's... Lovely and all! I really do appreciate that I'll be spending my days with you both. I just worry that... Well, you both have many duties as king and queen. Surely I could be allowed outside...?" Both of the lovers freeze. It's as if you admitted to murder! The tension of the room grows thick like butter, with Rose's gaze turning from soft to absolutely enraged. Yet, his tone is still calmed. Too calm.

"My darling little flower..." His grip on your face tightens, "The outside is far too dangerous for you to venture into. You're to stay here with us and be our company. Do you understand me?" Your eyes widen and you nod feverishly, Rose letting out a sigh and pulling back. Azalea turns you slightly so you could look into her honeyed look using those familiar amethyst eyes. "Don't let it scare you so easily, loveliest... We love you! We won't hurt you if we don't have to. We'll keep you safe here... No matter how hard it'll be!"

[hyunvom]

passing notes in secrecy

synopsis: life's not that easy when you're in love with the prettiest boy who just happens to be an idol, but you'll make it, right?

cw: childhood friends to lovers, smut, idol!hyun

word count: 1,1k

In the soft hush of midnight's embrace, you tiptoed through the corridors of stardust and dreams. Your heart a symphony of secrecy and longing.

You've been with him for five months, even though you've known him your whole life, long before the world knew the crescendo of his name and fame was but a distant dream. Your stories were woven together in the tender threads of childhood's innocence. You used to be just kids, sharing stories and secrets under the benevolent shade of the old oak tree in your neighbourhood's park down the road, where the houses were all painted in a beautiful cinnamon color. You would visit each other every day, some days at his house, some others at yours. His mother would always welcome you with a huge smile painted across her face and freshly bakes cookies, always. You'd lie on the grass, or the beach sand, or the wooden floors of his room.

As your teenage years unfurled like pages in a book, your friendship deepened into something more profound. In the golden haze of sunsets and the soft whispers of wind, you found yourselves drawn together by an invisible string. He wrote a song about you one day, when he was around the age of 15 and you 14. All the unspoken words of his heart spilled into paper. With trembling hands and a courage down from the depths of his affection, he slipped the parchment into your school bag, a secret serenade to the girl who held his heart. You started dating that summer. You remember it as the best summer of your life, and the last one before you lost him.

That following fall, he embarked on a journey of trading the familiar comforts of home for the uncertain allure of a music company's door. He always wanted this, he would always talk about wanting it. And he was truly an artist. He wrote beautifully, his words always so tender and artistic, he would dance like a god, moving like water, and his voice was as beautiful and soft as one could be. You always believed in him and encouraged him to try, and never thought about what follows all this. And he got in. He made it. He made it and you lost him and yet you would not want it any other way, because the love you shared and the bond was not a common one.

He trained for two years, two years of barely seeing each other, he basically lived inside the walls of his company, practicing hard, his dancing, his singing, his rap. You met the people he would debut with once, and they were lovely. You had dinner with all 8 of them that day.

"You guys do know if we actually debut you have to like, broke up right?" the one named Jisung said.

The table fell silent and someone visibly kicked him under the table but you can't remember who it was now. Hyunjin had looked at Jisung angrily yet shocked he brought it up, like they had talked about this before and he could not believe he said it in front of me, and then just continued finishing his food while taking huge gulps of his wine.

"What do you mean? Why?" I had asked.

"It's dangerous that you're still dating now, actually. If the company finds out Hyunjin's definitely getting kicked out for not focusing on his debut. It's strict as hell, you know this" Jisung continued explaining, in a soft sorry tone.

Hyunjin had stood up and went outside. He used to smoke sometime here and there when he was really tired or stressed. You followed him outside the restaurant were he opened a new pack of cigarette and stood right next to him, reaching for his hand.

"You know.. what he's saying is true" he said. Silence on your part as you let him continue.

"If they find out it's going to be so messy, I will get in so much trouble and if something happens to me, everyone's debut gets affected, it's like a fucking domino. And eventually even if we continue this I will not have time to take care of you and be around you and you'll grow tired of me never being there cause I won't be able to and if someone ever finds out after i debut it's yet again over for my career and I put everyone at risk again. I just don't"

You stopped him, silencing the cacophony of stress with a gentle touch. Your fingertips, like whisper promises touched his face softly, and with bravery born of longing leaned in, interrupting his thoughts and anxieties with the melody of your lips pressed tenderly against his.

"It's okay" is all you said.

You broke up 2 months later.

In between the next 3 years, you watched him from afar. You got a boyfriend when you turned 19, a nice boy you met at the library where you'd spend most of your days outside of uni. You spent beautiful moments with him, you gave your v card to that boy that summer, and he was a great destruction from Hyunjin. But that's all he was, and when you realized that you felt like such an awful person. You broke up with him later that year, as Hyunjin continued to never leave your mind. But how could he? His band became a huge success. He was everywhere. On billboards around town, on the radio, all over social media. You could not escape him even if you wanted to. But you didn't mind. Seeing him thrive, even without you, brought you an absurd amount of happiness and peacefulness, knowing that he'd doing well, living his dream.

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

Dressed as an employee with the card he specifically made secretly for you so you can easily sneak in, you slipped into the bustling company. You heart racing, as it always does during this part, pretending to be an employee to pass through doors.

You and Hyunjin found your way to each other a few months ago, when he visited home to see his parents. It was irrational and you weren't thinking, but the second his lips touched yours, as now full grown adults, things could never go back to how they were. He was even prettier now, if that's even possible. His hair was long, black. His lips still beautiful and full and so soft. His body was bigger, and harder than what you remember, probably because of his dancing. He fucked you in his childhood room that night. His hand on your mouth and other times kissing you hard to muffle your moans as his whole family was in the house.

"You have no idea how many times I've dreamed of this" he said as he laid you on his bed, getting you under the covers. He let you undress him and explore his body, taking your time with it. He was so hard under his boxers and leaking already, you palmed him through them and kissed him like this would be the last time you'll get to put your lips on his. You left comments about his size and you felt him both twitch and smirk through the kiss.

"When did you get so handsome?" you asked.

"When did you get this fucking hot" he responded.

He opened you up later that night, kissing you down the softly and eating you out hungrily, with so much skill. You wondered how many girls he's done this to, and you asked without thinking. He doesn't respond but he looks up at you while hes down there. He started inserting fingers, one by one, while continuing to play with your clit between his tongue. When you were finally ready for him he came close to your face and kissed your nose.

"I haven't done this in years. Be gentle" you tell him shyly yet in a playful tone.

"Oh so you've done this before?"

"You haven't ?"

You stare at each other for a moment, then smile.

"Now that we're here, I wish I never did, so I could do it with you" you said. And he simply said "These things don't matter to me" before kissing you again.

He let you ride him, so you could take your time and control the movements that were happening, and it's safe to say he loved being at your mercy. Your hands intertwined, sweaty foreheads, soft whimpers. He sounded beautiful. That one boyfriend you had back in the day was a nice guy, but the few times you had sex felt like a joke right now. He was silent, strict with it, forward. Hyunjin was vocal, touchy, loving, considerate. You felt like you were having sex for the first time, cause you were one way or another. At the end of the day what did virginity even mean.

When your hips got tired, he immediately noticed and started moving you up and down on him. He changed positions a few minutes later, now being on top of you. He fixed your hair that was all over your red face and kissed your hands while entering you, much harder this time. You could feel both your orgasms coming. Out of nowhere, he put his hand on your belly, and dragged yours right there a second later.

"Can you feel me. That's me baby. All of me"

Looking deep into his eyes, shocked, ears and cheeks red, you both came, as he started playing with your clit fast and then pulled out and spilled on your belly. He got up immediately after the events and cleaned you up, dressed you up in your pajamas and then got in the bed. You didn't sleep that night, not until 5am at least. You stayed up and talked. You talked about everything. Your lives, what you've been doing, how this insane life he was living is like. You told him about the boy you met that summer, and he told you he has been with someone from his company for a few months after he realized his heart does not belong there and broke things off. You asked him who the girl was, and when he answered he notice how your face dropped.

"What is it?"

"Oh I know her, shes really pretty and talented, no wonder"

"And yet you're the prettiest girl in the world and the one i cant get this stupid mind of mine to let go, all these years"

You talked about what was going to happen, and both agreed that you wanted this, even if it was risky. It was okay, his dating ban was lifted long ago, and you'd be careful, you could do this.

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

Sneaking in the company using your card, you finally end up on the third floor, successfully unnoticed. You always meet him here since this floor is always empty. After a couple minutes pass you hear footsteps and hide behind a trashcan, and the second you realize it's him you jump up on him and hug him. You kiss, trying to be silent, and then he takes you to a tiny room he uses to write and record music.

The space is tiny and he has never brought you here before.

"Oh. This place is tiny we barely fit in here. What do you even do here?" you ask.

"It's my little space, I come here to concentrate and write."

You move your head in understanding and then he suddenly pulls you on his knees, as he's sitting down on the one and only chair that fit this room.

"It's also soundproof"

"Oh." you smirk and kiss him, running your hands through his beautiful hair, ruining his ponytail.

Suddenly, after minutes of purely making out, he positions you directly above his knee, and starts harshly pushing up, going right under your skirt and directly hitting your wet spot.

"So warm down there, you're wet for me already baby?" as you hum in response. He keeps saying dirty, yet loving things in your ear as he's fucking you with his knee, and at some point you take control and start moving yourself. Your hands on his chest, on his shoulders, in his hair, on his neck. He fucking loves all of it, you can see it, you can hear it. After reaching a crazy orgasm, you get off of him and immediately unbuckle his belt.

"Oh love you don't have to that's fine, let it be about you only this time"

"God you have no idea how much i want you do you?" you responded and gave him singlehandedly the best head of his life. After he came down from the high of his orgasm he pulled you up and kissed you hard, yet with so much tenderness.

Being with him was definitely a challenge. Everything had to be done in secret. Behind malls and bars and late at night where only the moon and the stars could see your faces. But you wouldn't change it, not for the world, he was your own little world.

[stayandot8]

Touches

Genre: fluff

Relationship type: established boyfriend/girlfriend

Important Contents: mentions of anxiety

asked and answered. Hopefully you like it, anon. I hope you feel better. And remember, there's always a place for you here. ♥️

WC: 1.1k

masterlist

Anxiety is a bitch. 

Everytime my leg started shaking or my fingers were looking for something to pick at, I knew I was in trouble. It wasn’t even a conscious decision most times. I wouldn’t even notice it until my mother would put her hand on my knee and squeeze, giving me a look that said ‘please for the love of god, stop’ and those were never fun to be on the other side of. When I would catch myself doing it, I would try to stop, but it would take some unknown edge off of whatever emotion I was feeling a little too much of. Just letting it out was the only way it wouldn’t explode out in some destructive manner. Letting something else be stimulated was better than any other alternative. Or something like that. That was how it felt anyway. And those fidget toys didn’t really help either. They were fun for a bit, but when I needed them, I wouldn’t be able to find one.

When I started dating Chris, it didn’t stop per say, I would just catch myself doing it less. I would be distracted with something we were doing or he would have enough of my attention that it wouldn’t be deemed necessary by my subconscious. But when it was quiet, when it was just us two, I would find myself doing it again. Sometimes I would feel the pads of my thumb, looking for something to pick at or my foot would be moving of its own accord and I would force myself to stop before he noticed. It never worked though. 

He was always subtle with it too, never bringing it to my outright attention. When he saw my feet tapping, he would start tapping too. His fingers would start tapping on my thigh like a drum, like he was going along with me to some silent song or beat that only we could hear. Or his feet would start to tap all on their own. Both instances he would start bobbing his head along with whichever it was whether he was in a conversation or not. He would say it wasn’t because of me, but sometimes he would start right after I stopped. Like we were in sync. 

We were waiting for someone in this large boardroom, sitting on different chairs next to each other. Chris didn’t tell me what we were doing in here, but all eight of them were talking joyously around me, all smiles and jokes. I assumed it wasn't anything serious if the atmosphere of the room was any indicator. I just didn’t know what I was doing here.

Chris was immersed in a conversation with Felix about something else to do with their homeland, paying me no mind. Which was fine, I didn’t expect his attention all the time. He had other things to think about. He was turned away from me, talking avidly. The spark had returned to his eye for the first time in a whale now that promotions were done, and it was the most relaxed I’d seen him in days. The preparations for their upcoming dome tour were causing him to come home and immediately crash with only enough energy to strip and koala himself around me. He rarely got sleep without me there, and I just plain didn’t sleep without his radiator for a body next to me. 

I was looking around the room for anything remotely interesting to look at. These JYP rooms were so boring. All white walls and tan long tables that added no extra color to the room. Not even any decorations on the walls to distract a person should they deem the meeting uninteresting. Maybe of of Hyunjin’s paintings could go up there. That’d be nice. Maybe some curtains over that window too…

A hand had reached for mine, brushing his thumb across my lip as he pulled mine away from my mouth. It pulled me from my daze, the familiar veiny hand knowingly taking mine. Without even glancing my way, he pulled my hand into his lap and started to use my nails to trace across the pads of his own, a comforting touch.

It was mindless. Subtle enough to anyone looking at us to only see that we couldn't stand not touching each other. But for me, it was a way to stimulate my hands without being too much of a distraction, one of my biggest discomforts. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be seen, but to be noticed when the attention was on something else was not high on my to-do list. Ever. 

The grain against my nail was enough to pull me down to earth, Chris’s gentle press on them an invite to join in on their conversation. Silent communication was what we were good at. 

“These walls are so boring. They should put one of Hyunjin’s paintings up or have him draw something for them.” I interjected when there was a slight pause. 

“I was just saying that the last time we were here! Wasn’t I?” Felix looked to his elder, who smiled brightly at our conjoined hands. 

“You did, you did.” He chuckled at how excited Felix had become at the mention of his member’s hobbies. He was still running the pads of his fingers over my nails gently, just enough to tickle. 

“I think he could put one of the flowers over on that wall, really. It would liven up the place. Maybe someone would actually be excited to have a meeting. Hey hyung!” Felix turned away to tell his member, leaving Chris and I to stare at our hands together. 

“Why am I here? This doesn’t have to do with me, does it?” I whispered in his ear, a slight quiver giving me away as I nudged my shoulder into his. 

“No, baby, no. It has nothing to do with you. You just make these things so much easier. I can concentrate with you here, as weird as that sounds. You make my brain go quiet.” His eyes were shining at me and I couldn’t fight my grin if I wanted to. 

“You know what’s funny? You do the same for me.” He brought my hand up to his lips and kissed it gently. 

“Besides, there’s no confidential information in this one so I thought you could tag along to keep the boys in line while I talk.”

“I don’t remember adopting seven kids to keep in line?” I raised an eyebrow at him.

“You did when you said yes to dating me.” He kissed my hand again as the door opened, people filing in and taking their seats. I watched them come in and whispered back to him. 

“I want another look at those papers.” He turned back to me and shrugged.

“Not my fault you didn’t read the fine print.”

Bastard.

[starliights-shining]

Hello!

Can I request TFP Soundwave, Shockwave, and Dreadwing with a gn human reader who likes to draw and paint on the walls, but the cons always tell them not to and often put them in a "time out" when they don't listen, but the human doesn't care and continues to do it?

Thank you!

Yes you can! I Always forget to go to the bottom on my ask box and do these request, so if you requested something late march and haven't seen it, I just forget to look and do these ones. I'm not neglecting you, I swear. I hope this is what you were looking for. Enjoy :)

Pairings: TFP! Soundwave x Reader, Shockwave x Reader, Dreadwing x Reader

Warnings: None,

Shockwave 

Shockwave I feel like doesn’t really care about you drawing, just you drawing on the walls outside of his lab. He tries to keep you and your drawings in his lab, but you’ve drawn all over the walls. So you go out, draw on other walls. Which means time out, he had his own little corner for you, colorless, a chair that faces that blank corner. He makes sure you don’t draw on that corner, EVER. 

Shockwave kept an optic on you, but would often forget about the activities you do. Drawing, it's what keeps you calm and makes life enjoyable. So when he was off in his lab building god knows what, you took your drawing box and went to find a new canvas. The Nemesis needed color, and you were going to supply that color, especially since the only colors that existed were from Knockout and like one more. The swooshing sound of the door opening filled your ears as you left. You little metal box, clinking in your hands as you walked the large cold halls. You made it to what you assumed was the main control room hall, the emptiest spot on the entire ship, and was always closest to Megatron, but you simply do not care. You made a little spot and got to drawing, this time you’d make a mural, something nice and friendly for other cons to see and think happy thoughts to. You had gotten half way, when you heard the loud footsteps of someone. Your head turning and your eyes landing on Shockwave. His singler Red optic seemed to glow differently this time.

“These illogical actions cannot go without punishment.” 

He said as his large servos went to pick up your utensil, and scooped you up in one go. Before you knew it you were back in his lab, facing that same blank corner, he stood to your left, a digit pointing at the ground. He didn’t say anything, but you knew it was time out. You let out a sigh and then slumped in your chair. He went back to work. 

It had been about 5 minutes, you were bored, staring at the blank gray slate wall. You stuck your hand in your coat pocket and felt a cylinder stick. You pulled it out to see it was a paint marker in yellow. A wicked smile makes it home on your face and you turn to look at Shockwave over your shoulder. His back towards you as you uncapped the marker and started drawing. 

You had the entire corner with yellow flowers and butterflies and a few other things. You were starting on a new flower when a dark gray servo grabbed your wrist. You dropped the marker, your eyes trailing up his arm and to his optic. Even though you were in time out, and he had supposedly taken the markers from you, you still managed to give him the vibes of not caring. He released your wrist, and walked away, he figured no matter how much time out he gives you. He cannot stop you, it’s better you draw in here then out where other Cons could get you.

 

Soundwave

Soundwave, I feel like he cares a little too much about what other Cons will do to you, if they catch you drawing, so he tries to keep you in rooms where he is. I also think he doesn’t care about putting you in time out, his version is just sticking you in a room where you can just draw and be safe. I also think if it comes down to it, he’ll let you draw on him as well, if it keeps you outta trouble and away from other Cons. 

When you disappeared Soundwave looked everywhere, you weren’t found in your normal spots, and he tried to follow the scattered drawings you made, but it ended up leading him nowhere. It wasn’t until he got a com from Starscream to meet him in the control room. 

There you were, trying your best to get out of the grip Starscream had on your arm, your little cloth bag of your markers dropped on the ground next to you. Your free hand was pulling at the metal servo, and a pained look on your face. 

“Your pet has a habit of getting out. You should keep a better optic on them if you want to keep them alive.” 

Starscream pulled you closer to him, holding your arm up above your head. Your eyes traveled to Soundwave, who was now standing next to you and the con, a servo on Starscream's arm that held onto you. The cons stared at each other, before Starscream let out a nervous laugh and let go. 

“Just keep your pet controlled.” 

He walked away, you both watched before you looked up at Soundwave. His visor was blank as he looked down at you, you could hear a small whirring noise and a smiley face appeared on his visor. You smiled back, you knew he’d put you in time out for the trouble you’ve caused today, but it didn’t matter. As long as he was the one to retrieve you, you didn’t care. You bent down to pick up your bag and when you straightened back up, Soundwave had a servo on your upper back, while his other directed you out. You followed, letting him usher you in the direction of the comms room. He opened the door and walked to the little makeshift room he kept for you, the same servo positions to usher you into the room. He was showing you time out, you walked in and watched him close the door. You sat down, not wanting to draw, you didn’t feel in trouble, more like just locked in your room for back talk, just there was no back talk. You wanted to take the initiative, and actually be in time out, and you did, arms crossed as you stared at the wall in front of you. This only lasted for like 2 minutes, before you picked up your paint makers and went back to it. 

It was the sound of the door opening that broke you from you drawing trance. You head whipping to it, Soundwave stood in the doorway, a servo up as he waved at you, causing you to laugh. He stepped away, showing you that you were no longer stuck in time out and allowed to move around. You smiled, and continued drawing the pretty purple smiley faces on every flower. 

Dreadwing

Dreadwing feels like the type to not like your drawings. His version of time out is making you wash it off the walls, and you hate it. Arms crossed as he put you in front of your art with a bucket and a sponge, an evil looking digit pointing at the wall. He thinks the drawing is cute, but he will not have you disobeying his order and rules. No drawing means No drawing, no exceptions. 

You were left for 30 minutes, it took you 5 to find your hidden markers and find a spot to start. The pretty mural was of him, a nice flower field, a few bees and you were there too. Since he was always busy these were the closest things you would get to actually going outside with him. So when he rounded the corner and saw you drawing on it, you froze, saying ‘If I don't move he can’t see me’ unfortunately, it didn’t work. 

“(Y/N), what did I tell you about drawing on the walls?” 

His tone was cold, dead almost, normally he tried to put something in it so it didn’t scare you but this time there was nothing. You sighed, capping the marker and starting to pout. Plan B was in motion, pout and look cute, he can’t say no if you look cute right? He did, a servo out in demand of your markers, and you listened, handing him the box he had hidden twenty times now. 

“Come on.” 

You got up from your spot and followed him, you knew where he was going, time out, a corner in his quarters. When you arrived you walked straight past him and to the chair. That same pout on your face and your arms crossed. He didn’t say anything, just left. When he returned he had called your name, in his servo was the bucket. You left out a loud huff, following him to the mural where he told you the same thing he did last time. 

“Clean,”

He stood next to you, in watch, just to make sure you did what you needed too. You started with the bottom. The green grass washes away with every left to right motion you made. You were cursing yourself mentally for always drawing, you could just like not, but why would you. This ship was borning the same gray color with that ugly gray color, and the occasional purple, you made it known to Dreadwing it did not mix, but he didn’t care. Your thoughts were cut short by the sound of another Con. 

“Good, keep your pet working. Maybe this way it’ll be useful. Those awful drawings shouldn’t be staying” 

The snarky comment came from Starscream, who walked past the two of you. You looked up at Dreadwing, he didn’t say anything, his optics just following the Con as he walked out of view. You picked back up the sponge again, getting ready to continue washing away your art. 

“I regret to inform him that you will not be washing this off. Come on, we can leave this one here.” 

You smiled, his hatred for Starscream seemed to save your beautiful mural. Maybe you should draw in spots Starscream will walk by more often. 

[daydreamgoddess14]

Support System pt. 5

MASTERLIST

CH1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4

Roy Kent x Reader

I'm on a roll. Roy Kent making me feel things 🥵 This one is a bit angsty but buckle up - we're getting to the good stuff soon!

Yes, this is the second update in one day... what of it? That picture of his thighs made me do it.

Chapter 5

The rest of the week goes as you’d originally planned for the most part. Lexie was absolutely fine to go to school the next day and you’d already worked out your work plans based on when you were actively trying to avoid Roy. Now, you weren’t so sure that you wanted to do that. By Thursday, you could feel a low ache inside but couldn’t put a finger on it. Work hadn’t been happy that you’d ducked out on Monday afternoon, but you’d tried to fight your corner. It became clearer that they weren’t the business you wanted to work for.

It had left an annoying feeling behind that no matter what you did, you weren’t enough for them. So much so, that by Wednesday, you took in a letter of resignation. They made some noise about becoming more flexible but not wanting to alienate other people who worked for them - they called it ‘special treatment’. You’d argued that everyone should be given more flexibility and more support in their work-life balance - no matter what that life outside of work looked like. They’d painted you as the bad guy and made it look like Lexie was the reason for needing flexibility when, really, you wanted the same for everyone in the business. Giving two months' notice terrified you, it accelerated the need to find a new job. You had savings, but they wouldn’t cover your bills forever. Every night saw you scouring the job sites for something as close to Richmond as possible. But all of that wasn’t the cause of the ache. It was more of an anticipation. Butterflies at rest. You’re approaching the school doors on Thursday afternoon, getting ready to join the queue of people picking up, when you see both Sara and Roy. The butterflies are suddenly up in arms, and the ache explodes into something more. Oh shit.

“Hey! Has your week picked up? Roy said he had to rescue you on Monday, was Andy a total dickbag?”

“Oh god he was horrible, I have no idea looking back now why the fuck I married him. And my week is bloody terrible - I quit my job.”

“What?!”

“Why the fuck did you do that?”

“I couldn’t carry on the way I was, it was a nightmare. With both them and Andy not being remotely supportive it just makes life so difficult.”

“What are you gonna do?” Roy frowned.

“I’m looking for something closer to Richmond if possible. If not, then the city is fine but the company has got to be a bit more progressive than where I am now. Trouble is there’s not much call for deputy Directors.”

“What about skipping the deputy bit?” Sara asked. You shake your head,

“Don’t think it’ll work. Typically that would be too much - more hours, more demanding. I love my work and I can handle demanding - like, really demanding. But I desperately need the flexibility so I can be around for Lexie.” Sara nodded.

“I get you. You should get yourself a Roy, they’re invaluable.” She poked her brother lovingly. You ignore the comment and the fuck off he responds with. “Easter holidays next week! Are you doing anything?”

“I was going to try and go away for the day somewhere. Jump on the train down to Brighton or something?”

“That’s a great idea! I’m off for a couple of days - we should all go.” The girls pour out of school hand in hand and you agree with Sara to plan a beach day trip. In the meantime though, the girls demand another sleepover. “I’m working honey, but if Uncle Roy can take you then of course you can go. As long as it’s ok with Lexie’s mum.”

“Course it is. I’d love to have you, Phoebe. Friday or Saturday, whichever is easiest for you.” You tell Roy.

“Do Saturday and you can all come to the match on Sunday?”

“Yeah, ok, we’d like that.” You smile and the butterflies go crazy. 

~~~~~~~

Lexie insists on a full on pajama party for her sleepover, she makes you bring blankets and pillows downstairs and banishes you to any other room - preferably the kitchen so you can keep them supplied with snacks. By the time Phoebe arrives at 4pm, she’s transformed the living room into some sort of Disney inspired boudoir.

“Come in.” You smile at them both, opening the door wide. Phoebe heads straight for the living room and the door is firmly closed. “Well… I guess they don’t need me.”

“What are you going to do instead?” Roy asks curiously.

“I have a book and a bottle of wine in the kitchen, that’s me all set.” Giggles and bangs sound from the next room, “Not sure I’ll be getting much sleep though. Beer? Wine?”

“Yeah go on then.” He follows you to the kitchen and picks up your book before he’s even sat down. After reading the blurb he takes a picture of the cover.

“You can have it when I’m done.” You offer, turning down the speaker which had been blasting Taylor Swift a little too loudly.

“Not you as well,” he pointed at the speaker. “This is all I get to listen to.”

“They’re 8. She’s like their queen. And yes, I can’t help listening to it as well.” You smile. “Would you like to stay for dinner? I can’t promise Anna and Elsa will join us, but you’re still welcome to stick around.”

“Thanks.” Watching you potter around the kitchen for a while, he picks up the book, makes sure to save your place and flips to the beginning. Assuming he’s engrossed, you concentrate on cutting bell peppers and onions for fajitas, the silence is comfortable, he’s so quiet you pretty much forget he’s there. The music still plays in the background,

“All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life. Got a feelin' your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life. And I want you now, wanna need you forever. In the heat of your electric touch,” you sing softly, bopping to the music. It’s not until you go into the pantry under the stairs for spices and see him at the table, watching you, that you remember he’s there. “Fajitas ok?” You stop short and clear your throat. There’s a smile just bubbling in the corner of his mouth, waiting to break free.

“Forget you had company?”

“Fuck off. Maybe.”

“Fajitas are great, thanks.” You forget shyness and awkwardness. It’s your new favourite song so despite his presence, you carry on as you were with slightly less dancing. The girls are persuaded to join you for dinner, even helping you with the homemade guacamole. Roy puts up with the three of you singing along to Taylor Swift at various pitches. “You sound like a bunch of fucking cats.” Phoebe responds by singing loudly down his ear with her wooden spoon microphone.

When the girls are settled with popcorn and a film, you see him to the door. “You’re not stupid, you know.”

“Pardon?”

“Last week. You called yourself stupid. Fucking repeatedly actually, and you’re wrong.”

“Oh. Umm… thanks. Felt pretty stupid. Anyway, like I said, I made a mistake.”

“Yep. Begged me to forget it.” He said quietly. The way he lingered on his words had your heart thumping and your body flooding with desire. You’re sure you must be trembling, your thighs press together and you swear you could come apart just from the way he’s looking at you. But then the girls are dancing through the hall and it’s a sharp reminder that you’re not alone. You see the disappointment flicker in his eyes right before he gives you a small smile, “goodnight. Call me if Phoebe starts playing up. Tickets are waiting for you for the match tomorrow.” You nod, not sure you can trust your voice to stay steady, not really sure you can trust yourself to put a full sentence together.

“Bye.” You whisper. 

~~~~~~

“Lexie! Come on, we need to go and get the train!”

“I can’t find my goggles!”

“You don’t need goggles, darling, the sea is going to be freezing! I know it’s a heatwave but I don’t expect much swimming!” Who were you kidding, two 8 year olds in a heatwave would absolutely be getting in the sea at the first opportunity. You had a beach bag packed with suncream, towels and everything else you could possibly need. You and Sara had planned together so that you didn’t duplicate and have too much to carry. “Lexie! Let’s go!” She bounces down the stairs and straight out the door, leaving you trailing after her. At the station, Sara and Phoebe are already waiting and you're surprised to see Roy with them. “Sorry, couldn’t get Lexie out the door!” You hadn’t seen Roy since the night the girls had their sleepover, apart from seeing him down at pitchside for the football match. It was Tuesday and the last couple of days had felt like an eternity. You feel his eyes looking you up and down as you approach the platform. You get on the tube into the city and change for the train to Brighton. The Easter holidays meant everyone had a similar idea and the trains are packed and hot. Your sundress and hat are no match for the heat, you have to take your hat off and use it to fan both you and Sara. You’ve given the girls the only two seats you could find so the three of you stand to one side to keep the aisle clear.

“Fuck this. I should have driven.”

“Where’s the fun in that!” Sara laughed.

“How are you not hot?” You ask, he’s still in jeans and a t-shirt.

“Thought I was?” He asked quietly while Sara was distracted looking back to check on the girls. You roll your eyes and shake your head, turning away from him to look out of the window. “You look lovely.” He adds, putting a hand on your hip as the train sways you from side to side. He doesn’t move it once the train has steadied. When you get there, you follow the crowds down to the beach, the girls running slightly ahead and Sara and Roy either side of you. As you get closer to the beach, Sara steps in between the girls and takes their hand to keep them close. You get caught up in a group of people but you can still see Sara up in front. Through the crowd, a hand takes yours and pulls you in. Roy interlinks your fingers. “Don’t get fucking lost, we’ll never find you.” He says. Sara waves that she’s found a space and you make your way in her direction, not letting go of his hand. The second you put Lexie’s hat back on her head after smothering her in suncream, she grabs Phoebe’s hand and runs to the sea.

“Stay in sight!” Sara tries shouting after them but it’s impossible to tell whether they’ve heard. 

“I’ll go,” you offer with a grimace, “let’s see how fucking cold it is.” You kick off your sandals and pull your sundress over your head, revealing a royal blue swimsuit underneath.

“Aha!” Sara stops you and throws a bottle in your direction, “cream first. I’ll go and find us some drinks. Beers?”

“Ooh yes please.” She goes off in the direction of the beach vendors. You spray your shoulders and arms with the sticky cream, trying to get as much of your back as you can. Once you’ve finished, you pass the bottle to Roy, avoiding his gaze.

“Be careful,” he says softly, you can’t see his eyes through his dark sunglasses, fortunately. You squeal as the water hits your legs,

“It’s fucking freezing!” You shout to Sara as she returns with three bottles of beer and two of fizzy pop. She leaves everything with Roy and joins you as you watch the girls play mermaids in the cool, shallow water. “This was such a good idea. I needed this.” You hold your hat and look up to the sky, basking in the warm sunshine. 

“Such a good idea,” she agrees. “Though I thought Roy’s brain was going to short circuit when you pulled that bloody dress off! God, it was bad enough when you came down onto the platform earlier - I think he stopped breathing! But then with that underneath,” she gestures up and down your body and whistled,

“Oh don’t be daft.”

“I’m not, you look great. And Roy thinks so too.”

“Hmm if you say so.”

“I’m his sister. I have met every woman he’s ever brought home. Every model, actress, singer… you name it. Back then, when he was younger, he did it because he knew it was what was expected of a hotshot footballer for Chelsea. You get the hot girls. But fuck, they were boring. He was boring when he was with them! Since he’s gotten older, he doesn’t give a shit. Dates whoever he wants. Keeley was lovely but not quite right for him. He might look and act like a grumpy fucker, but he has so much love to give and he wants to be loved. He’s intense, I know. But when he finds the right person, god she’s never going to want for anything.” You’ve both waded into the water up to your thighs, your hands drift across the top of the water. 

“I’ve never been loved like that.” You admit.

“Me either. Be pretty fucking good wouldn’t it?” She laughs. "Also, we definitely deserve it."

"Oh god, we really fucking deserve it!" 

~~~~~~~

You manage to persuade the girls to get out of the water for a bit so you can get food. While you've been gone, Roy has dug the girls beach towels from the bags, changed into shorts and is reading. You'd happily thank every god, deity, or lucky star for the sunglasses you're wearing because your eyes are drawn to his legs as if you haven't seen him play football for as long as you can remember. The sun dries you quickly so you pull your dress back on. "Who wants food?" You ask the girls, who are eager to agree. "I see chips. I'll be back as soon as I can, Lexie, be good for Sara and Roy please." 

"I'll help." Roy's on his feet before Sara who wiggles her toes in the sand and waves you both off. It's a short walk to the beach bar, but it's busy so Roy gets you both a beer while you wait. Space is limited but there's one side of a picnic bench spare for you to share. Your knees knock together as people squeeze by and there's hardly enough room for you to sit side by side. He turns on the bench to put one leg either side of the seat and you mirror him. Your back is to his chest but you don't lean back into him. His fingertip traces the strap of your dress from the top of your shoulder down to where it joined the back of your dress, across the centre of your back and up the other strap. His touch makes you shiver, even in the heat of the sun. "You need more cream, you're going pink," he said, "and you have freckles here." His knuckle grazes a line from the back of your ear into the dip of your neck and it's all you can do to breathe normally. The waitress comes over with a tray full of food cartons which you accept, grateful to give your hands something to do. You get up from the bench and hold the tray in one hand so you can offer the other to Roy while he bears his weight on his bad knee to get up from the table. You did it with such little fuss or acknowledgement that he's left staring after you as you start back down the beach to Sara and the girls. You find shade in the afternoon and take it in turns sitting with the bags to get out of the heat while the girls barely stop for more suncream and water. By the time you all pile back into the train home, they're exhausted and you're not much more awake. The return journey is quieter so you get a table with 4 seats. The girls squeeze into one and fall asleep almost instantly. Sara curls into Phoebe and watches out the window. She smiles across at you,

"Such a fucking great idea." She repeats your comment from earlier. 

"We're stopping over next time," you laugh quietly so you don't wake the kids, "I'm knackered!" She agrees and lets her eyes close. You do the same thing, your head coming to rest on Roy's shoulder. As you get back into the city, he brushes the hair from your eyes, 

"Time to wake up, nearly home." Your initial reaction is to push your face further into him, but this only makes him laugh. "Come on, and you," he kicks Sara under the table. No one is happy to be woken up. You drag yourselves to the underground, into a train back to Richmond and finally into Roy's car. It's not even that late - but it's been a long day. He drops Phoebe and Sara off first and then makes his way to yours. Living between the two has been a big bonus in terms of how much they've helped out with Lexie. She's asleep in the car, so he picks her up and carries her up the path. Once you've unlocked the house, he puts her on the sofa while you dump the overflowing bags in the hallway - forgotten hats and stuffed toys from the arcade spilling out. 

"Beer?" You whisper from the doorway, and he nods. You drink them standing side by side in the kitchen. You can't wait for a shower, your skin feels sticky with suncream, sea water, and the ice cream and sweets you've been eating all day. He pushes you gently with his arm, 

"Today was fucking brilliant."

"It really was. You must have spent a fortune winning those toys for the girls."

"Worth it. Won one for you as well, don't forget."

"How could I? I've always wanted a neon pink rubber duck." You grin. "It can keep me company in the bath."

"You're fucking killing me." He mutters, shaking his head. 

"What?"

"I've had to watch you in that swimsuit all fucking day and then you go and say shit like that?" He puts his empty bottle down and turns to stand in front of you, one hand either side of you on the kitchen counter. You're boxed in, but he's giving you enough space. You can tell he's giving you just enough time to say no, if that's what you want to do. You hold his gaze and don't say anything, the tiniest glance at his mouth is all the confirmation he needs to take the same step forward as he did a couple of weeks before. This time when his nose brushes against yours, it's less timid. He captures your mouth in a hot and fierce kiss. You turn your head just so, giving him better access and the hands that had stayed patiently on the counter were on you in half a second. One up in your hair and the other on your hip, your waist, the small of your back, bringing you as close as possible. Your hands move up his arms and around his neck, nails dragging through his hair. You've never been kissed like this before, never. It's so full of longing that it takes your breath away. His body presses against you, pushing you into the counter, his good knee between yours. Your head falls back so you can try to catch your breath but it's impossible when he moves to kiss a path down your neck. You can't help but moan as he nips at your sunburnt skin. You want more, so much more, but you know Lexie is only in the next room and the last thing you'd want is for her to wake up. The kiss has you in pieces already, it's intoxicating. He comes back to your mouth again for a slightly tamer kiss, "you taste like sunshine," he smiles. You open your eyes just to see it and it's beautiful. Both breathless, he takes the smallest step back. Somewhere in the hallway, your phone rings, bringing you both back to reality. You let it ring, reluctant to move away from his touch, eyes still only on each other, when Lexie brings the phone in with a big yawn.

"It's daddy." She says, handing it to you, and you see the defeat in Roy's eyes.

~~~~~

[mvltisstuff]

hello again, i’ve requested a few times (the feels and sweet nothing) and i was hoping i could request again? (i think i might add an emoji at the end bc i love your writing and will keep requesting as much as you allow ❤️❤️) anyway, i hope you’re doing well and things are going good.

i was wondering if i could request a buck fic where is partner is an artist and he finds a sketchbook of sketches of him and when he asks about it they talk about how pretty he is and how deserves to be appreciated and just making him feel super loved with it. thank you if you get to it and ofc no troubles if you don’t. take care 🥰

also is 🚒 good for a way to recognize me??

wasteland, baby! - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

a/n: omg you always have such creative ideas! i love receiving requests so always feel free :)) 🚒 = ❤️‍🔥 i also won’t be posting as frequently for the next few weeks due to finals, but after that i’ll be posting a ton!!

buck had come over to y/n’s apartment after his shift for dinner, and the scent of thick acrylic paint and primer had stung at his nostrils. he began to love the smell, as he knew that it meant she was around. he had let himself in with his key, taking in all of the perfectly placed plants and artwork on the walls.

she had a canvas that was almost complete, with just a few finishing touches. buck had walked over to it to examine. her talent was extraordinary. he knew it was out of this world, and the way she was so proud of her pieces his made his heart swell up with love.

“hi, buck!” y/n says, beginning to walk out of the hallway from her room to her art. she was wearing a pair of dark green pants and a white t-shirt which somehow complimented her beautifully. her face had small specks of blue and red on her cheeks and black and grey streaks on her shirt. “sorry it’s such a mess in here, but doesn’t this look great?”

“no, don’t worry about the mess, but how long did that take? it’s amazing!” buck stutters a big, not being able to comprehend how art like that could come out of her hands.

“thank you, love,” she replies, taking his belongings and placing them down for him. “how was work today? anything good?”

“just a normal old day, but you know it’s the 118.”

“it is never normal at the 118,” y/n smiles and gives him a cheek kiss before going to wipe her face off. buck goes to sit down in her living room on the couch, and she follows behind him with a quick change of shirt. she placed a small pizza in the oven to cook for them, and cuddled up next to him while they told each other stories about their day.

“it was wild, y/n,” buck starts. “i mean this woman literally rose from the dead after like 15 minutes, after being under a street. oh! you’re going to love this- and we saved some puppies in a sewer.”

“oh my god, are they ok?”

“they’re all fine, but i’m not sure if we are right now.”

“what do you mean?” she asks, slowly and carefully.

“you don’t smell something burning?”

she takes a deep inhale and looks over to her smokey kitchen. it wasn’t too bad, but definitely enough to make it inedible. “shit! fuck, i forgot about it!” she says, bouncing the pan up and down while trying not to burn herself.

y/n was busy discarding of the pizza when buck looked over at her with joy. he had a cheeky smile on his face and was laughing at the forgetfulness of both of them. he looked back down in front of him and the coffee table, and he saw a book that y/n always has on her. she brings it to work, to her family, anywhere she goes, she has it. it was her beloved sketchbook, filled with hundreds of small doodles and big pieces. buck has seen a lot of things in it, admiring each one before he comes across a bookmarked section.

when he flips the pages of the book, he notices that the person that is sketched and shaded looks particularly familiar. he makes note of the sharp nose and soft, but hard jaw. he sees the famous birthmark on the side of his face. he’s never looking right on, though. he’s always focused on something or has a light grin on his face. buck knows these are of him, but he doesn’t think he had any importance to be the top drawing in her book.

y/n walks back in to greet her boyfriend, “i think we might just have to ord-“ she looks at the sketches that she had put on that paper. a heat rose up into her face, reddening her cheeks and making her feel a sense of embarrassment.

“a-are these me?” buck asks, quietly. y/n nods, slowly, praying that she didn’t make him uncomfortable and that she will see him again tomorrow. “i-um..”

“you don’t have to say anything, buck. i never meant for you to see those and if you don’t like them, i’ll never do it again i swear. you just, you’re so beautiful, buck. and i love to draw beautiful things.”

“i just don’t know what to say, these are so good. i feel like you know me more than i know myself,” he says, chuckling a bit.

“you like ‘em?”

“i love them,” buck says.

“good, i just couldnt stop myself. you are always so pretty, no matter what and i want you to know that, so i tried to convey it through this. i was going to show you eventually, but i wanted to do more.”

“why me, though? you could draw anyone,” buck asks.

“no one else is you! you might have a pretty face and all but there is really nothing more beautiful than your soul. you are filled with so much love and sweetness and i’ve been dying to find a way to show you, because you are loved, evan. i love you and i wanted to put my two favorite things together. not a day goes by where i have anything but love for you.”

suddenly, the feeling in bucks chest is rising stronger, feeling like it’s going to burst. when it does, he has strong riptides of tears in his eyes. with a pure smile on his face, he passionately leaves a kiss on her lips, and he feels loved for the first time.

growing up, his parents never showed him love. he always begged for it from everyone he knew, and now he feels like it isn’t deserved. but someone, y/n made him feel like he will forever be worthy of love. and he will never forget how she fixed him for the best.

[oomfvia]

⛧critical failure

pairing: astarion/gender-neutral bard tav, astarion/gender-neutral bard reader (second person)

spoilers for act 3

sfw, friends to lovers :)

2,547 words

posted this on ao3, liked it and thought it'd be nice to put on here too after fixing some typoes

preview:

“You know,” Astarion says, a singsong tone to the disapproval in his voice. “Was this really the best use of your gold, my dear?” He tilts his head in that way you’ve previously found handsome, but now it’s terribly infuriating.

It takes all the willpower in your body to not scream at the fool standing in front of you. Well, yes, Astarion! It could almost be a life-changing use of my gold, if you’d just fucking notice that I’ve been gathering expensive memorabilia of you for the past few days, priorities like a gigantic cult-brain be damned.

larian doesn’t make astarion react even if you go through great lengths to show him his own face. it fills me with joy to think about how you could get an entire statue commissioned of the guy and he would just shrug and wonder to himself who that handsome elf is LOL

in this timeline you (tav) don’t sleep with astarion at the tiefling party because you were a lightweight drunk out of your mind. yes, you curse yourself for missing that opportunity every single passing day at camp.

An unexpected perk of renting out the entire second floor of the Elfsong Tavern was being able to decorate the place as much as you liked, giving it a personal touch for as long as you made camp there. You made it a habit to bring back as many stuffed animals you encountered along the way in your journey, cramming plush owlbears and kittens into your pack as carefully as you could to avoid staining them with blood.

Occasionally, you hung up the odd painting or two, but none that were especially valuable — just the ones their previous owners wouldn’t miss. Though, you had to admit that none of them struck a particular chord. Perhaps you just haven’t ransacked enough abandoned homes.

Out of all the heroic acts you can tell the tale of, you would consider exterminating ghosts to free a possessed artist to be one of the weirdest. When Oskar Fevras, finally back to his senses, offers to draw a painting of you, you’re tempted for a moment to take him up on his offer. A gallant, heroic portrait of the aspiring saviour of Baldur’s Gate! It’s the stuff of a bard’s dreams. A perfect centrepiece for camp, would it not be? Except, you suddenly hear an exaggerated sigh from your right.

“You know, I’m just starting to think that rescuing the poor artist from the Zhentarim was more trouble than it was worth,” Astarion muses aloud. “A painting, after all of that slo-“

“Hold on,” you interject hurriedly and wide-eyed despite your attempts to sound As Normal As Possible. You turn to the rest of your party, a growing smile on your features.

“I need to have a talk with Oskar. In private. Artist to artist. Just for a minute!”

You’re all too eager to guide your party back to the bottom of the staircase, before returning to the artist with an excited glimmer in your eye. Oh, Gods, this is going to be amazing. Surely, you can get away with calling this a simple, friendly gesture without being questioned too much. In a hushed tone, you discuss your very specific request with the artist, keeping your voice low to avoid it being picked up by pointy, elven ears.

When you return to camp with your new painting titled ‘The Sanguine Seducer’ (Oskar had a…peculiar taste for names), you find an appropriate spot on the wall for it. Not too near the muse’s side of camp for it to be too obvious, but near enough for him to eventually take notice.

To your dismay, said muse does not value your new find in the same way, even when you ask him about it while stifling your excitement.

“Another one to add to the collection, I suppose.” Astarion says, acting far too nonchalant for your liking.

You realise that to a vampire with no ability to see his own reflection, it’s another portrait in the same vein as the others on the wall. You have half a mind to tear that picture of the maid holding a duster to shreds, as well as the one of the Red Prince hung up next to it. Instead, with a soft sigh, you return to your side of the second floor after bidding Astarion a curt goodbye, balling up the fists resting on your lap. Should’ve just gotten Oskar to paint me, bloodied armour and all.

Your other companions either don’t acknowledge the painting’s inspiration, or were intentionally refusing to. You don’t blame them — if your own shame was this overwhelming, the second-hand embarrassment must be painful as well. And with a few days having passed, it’s far too late for you to just tell him. Well, it isn’t, but your immature sense of pride wouldn’t allow for it.

Was there any other contrived way you could show Astarion a reflection of himself? Your mind whirs with the same intensity as it does in battle, trying very subtly not to burn a hole into the vampire’s forehead with your stare. How did he make reading a tome look good? And how did a man this well-read not recognise himself, or at least, the admittedly well-painted replica of his visage?

One fine afternoon, you chance upon a corpse, or at least, what little was left of it. You'd recognise the garish pattern on that mangled pant leg anywhere. It’s heavier than expected, and you end up relying on Lae’zel to haul Dribbles’ leg back to camp. You follow her in grimacing at the bloody, squelching sound it makes as she places it in her pack. Just as you were about to leave that awful cavern, it finally clicks. That Mephit from the circus.

As the rest of your companions take a well-deserved day of respite, you leave camp early with a stash of long-forgotten equipment, every piece having been replaced with something far more suited to the battles ahead. After what seemed to be hours of bartering with the local merchants, your pockets feel a great deal heavier, interrupting the spring in your step that you would’ve had otherwise.

Stoney is more than happy to receive your gold, and just as promised, you find ‘Astarion the Sensuous' delivered to your door the next day. Of course, this comes with a fair bit of judgmental stares from your fellow adventurers. Unfortunately, it includes Astarion himself, his expression quizzical as he looked upwards at the sculpture.

“You know,” Astarion says, a singsong tone to the disapproval in his voice. “Was this really the best use of your gold, my dear?” He tilts his head in that way you’ve previously found handsome, but now it’s terribly infuriating.

It takes all the willpower in your body to not scream at the fool standing in front of you. Well, yes, Astarion! It could almost be a life-changing use of my gold, if you’d just fucking notice that I’ve been gathering expensive memorabilia of you for the past few days, priorities like a gigantic cult-brain be damned.

The only thing that stops you is the thought of how Astarion’s face has been lost to time for him, after centuries of losing the man he used to be. It keeps you barely grounded, leaving a bitter taste on your tongue. Perhaps if you had just bedded him, which he seemed very willing to participate in during that party with the tieflings, instead of snoring into your bedroll, you would be able to muster up the courage to just yell at him.

That same night, you vent your frustrations with one too many rounds of Hoot’s Hooch, wallowing in your muddied thoughts. The painting. The statue. Astarion. His past. How much you’d like to see Cazador Szarr’s head on a stick.

After a few more drinks, you find yourself somehow both temporarily blinded and dancing uncontrollably. If not for Karlach mercifully pulling you back to the Elfsong Tavern, perhaps you would’ve been there trotting your feet clumsily through the night.

When you’ve all but given up on showing Astarion his own reflection, it happens when you least expect it.

Battling Cazador Szarr is quite possibly the worst experience of your life. There was already so much to take in from your way to the site of the Black Mass — those poor Gur children, that harrowing list of names, Sebastian. Not only are you fighting an incredibly powerful vampire lord, but you have to squash that blasted lump in your throat threatening to bring tears to your eyes in the process.

You emerge triumphant, but barely alive. Your chest rises and falls heavily as you attempt to regulate your breathing to the best of your ability, taking laboured inhales and exhales. Through blurry eyes, it takes all of your concentration to focus on the unfolding aftermath. Astarion, after centuries of being puppeteered, finally had the upper hand against Cazador. You wouldn’t want to miss it for the world.

“Get over here. We can do this,” Astarion beckons, an uncharacteristically desperate tone to his voice.

Your own comes out raspy, and the metallic taste of the dried-up blood staining your gums is equally as horrific. “What do you need?”

“I need your eyes. In a manner of speaking.”

Before Astarion can specify what exactly he needed your eyes for, your tadpole is all too eager to reach out. Your perspective floods Astarion’s mind in a series of vignettes of silver curls, sharp fangs, and deft fingers. The same features he’s seen at camp, both painted in deliberate strokes and painstakingly carved into marble. Alongside them, a heart-wrenching sense of longing that has festered for far too long.

Whether for better or for worse, fatigue overwhelms any potential embarrassment you could have had. The tadpole’s connection is severed as suddenly as it was formed, your body and mind completely exhausted to their limits. And as you find yourself falling to the floor, you utter out what you had wanted to say all day, ever since you entered this damned castle. What you had wordlessly thought to yourself as you watched him pace through the halls, looking the most vulnerable he had ever been, wanting to be anywhere but here.

“Astarion…Please, stay…”

You wake up in a cold sweat, your upper body screaming in residual pain as you lift yourself up from the bed. Rapidly blinking, you scan your surroundings, familiar wooden walls dyed orange hues of the sunset, gentle light streaming in from the windows. The Elfsong Tavern. To your left, ‘The Sanguine Seducer’. By the door, ‘Astarion the Sensuous’.

To your right, the man himself, seated on the floor beside you and once again absorbed in a tome.

“Astarion,” you choke out, your tongue now dry and tacky in your mouth. It breaks his concentration, and he immediately turns his head upwards to look at you. With a single movement of his wrist, the book shuts with a satisfying thump. You meet his gaze, the inner corners of your eyebrows raised in panicked concern. Did he complete the rite? Is he the Vampire Ascendant now? Or is this the same Astarion you saw in the morning, lost and confused and all he ever remembered was that poor excuse of a home?

“Please tell me you-“

“Dead. I’m free from him. Forever.”

Oh, thank the gods.

“The vampire spa-”

“All of them are making their way to the Underdark as we speak. And yes, including my siblings. Someone has to make sure they keep their fangs away from whatever horrors may be lurking around.“

“The oth-“

“Our other travelling companions have very graciously decided they’d rather leave us alone for….whatever this is.”

“Can you stop interrupting me?” You sputter in frustration.

“It was impossibly easy to guess what questions you’d ask, with how long I’ve had to wait for you to wake up. Now, have some water. You look dreadful.”

Astarion stands up, strolling over to the nearby table to pick up a glass of water. You drink from it eagerly, releasing a throaty sigh as your throat finally feels quenched. He watches your graceless behaviour with narrowed eyes, visibly unimpressed.

“More importantly, your little nap allowed me the time to think of what choice words I had for when you’d finally wake up.”

Your breath catches in your throat, Astarion’s pointed tone reminding you of things that you’d rather forget. Out of all the possible ways that tadpole could have gotten you into trouble, you didn’t think it’d betray you in such a juvenile way. Exposing your secret crush, out of all things? It almost feels like retribution for meandering around Baldur’s Gate, breaking up turf wars between the Guild and Zhentarim, and picking up abandoned children from the streets, instead of vanquishing The Absolute.

“I don’t know whether to thank you, or laugh at you,” Astarion continues, the hint of a smile on his features.

Your cheeks are practically burning up at his words, and all you can do is gawk at him, equally flustered and mortified at the same time. He takes it as a sign to keep speaking, for which you are more than grateful for.

As Astarion speaks, his smile grows, showing glimpses of his fangs. “Oddly enough, by collapsing on the ground like that, you saved me from myself and let me walk a new path where I can be free. Truly, honestly free.”

In Astarion’s voice, you find warmth, sincerity, and…gratitude. You bite your lower lip gently, swallowing heavily. It breaks your resolve to bury your affections for him, like a dam that shatters, water flooding past the cracks. Even if you hadn’t fallen for him long before, how could you not fall for him now?

“I…I’m glad to hear that, Astarion,” you say, making a valiant attempt to portray the essence of calm composure. “But it was all you,” you insist, slightly knitting your eyebrows together. After all, you’ve done nothing but make a lovesick fool of yourself.

“You did more than that,” Astarion responds, the smile lingering on his lips. “If I had ascended, those…tributes you’ve collected of me might have become inaccurate to my image. I suppose that’s one way to tell me that you prefer me the way I am,” he adds with a slight shrug. You respond with a roll of your eyes, though clearly out of bashfulness rather than any genuine ill will on your end.

“Anyway. If you have any other…commissions on your mind, I’d like to at least be asked to pose next time,” Astarion says, his smile turning into that familiarly haughty grin. After such a long day of seeing him looking awfully bleak, it was unusually reassuring.

You scoff at his teasing words. “There weren’t any, and there certainly won’t be now that you've caught on.”

“How bardlike of you, to dedicate art to your beloved. Very tasteful art, now that I’ve gotten a closer look at it,” the vampire says, ignoring your protests. He glances at his portrait on the wall, looking more than pleased. If only out of consideration for his circumstances, you bite back the multiple retorts you can think of, letting him dangle this over your head as much as he likes.

“And what do I get for all of my good taste, besides having to listen to you gloat?” you ask, tilting your head towards him with a resigned smile on your face.

“Darling. I’m sure that when you’ve healed those broken bones, I’ll have thought of a multitude of ways to repay your devotion in kind.”

You exhale deeply, letting your shoulders slack. How bad could a bruised ego be at this point?

“Took you long enough to realise it, you halfwit.”

You punctuate your sentence with laughter at the absurdity of it all. Astarion joins you, laughing in that effervescent tone that makes your chest squeeze.

Your conversation is drawn out for hours until the dead of night. When you wake up at dawn, you find your limbs tangled with Astarion’s under the blanket of your bed. It leaves the sweetest ache in your shoulders when you rise.

As you prepare for the myriad trials the new day would certainly bring, you entertain the thought of putting a quill to paper, celebrating tender kisses and exchanges of secrets from a newfound lover through lyric poetry.

[godihatethiswebsite]

Desert Oasis

✽ Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x f!reader (The Mummy AU)

Main Masterlist

°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°

✽ Part 2 - Cultivating a curious mind

You know what? I blame @dragonnarrative-writes for all of this. It's all their fault for poking this part of my brain in the first place even though I was originally just trying to poke theirs ><

There were only so many places you'd been allowed to go growing up even with a chaperone at your side. Mother brought you up the way any well respected young lady should be, and to be honest you felt much more at home in your skirts and dresses working on your drawings in the parlor than you did climbing over the fence in your backyard like your cousin convinced you to. But your father worried Kyle was improperly rubbing off on you and wanted to find you something to fill your head with where you could still be kept an eye on.

His solution: the Museum of Antiquities in Cairo.

After all, how much trouble could you get into reading about dead guys? At least they wouldn't be trying to chase your skirts as you got older.

Father owned his own shipping company that dealt with the transport of goods and wares, ancient artifacts included. He knew the people who were in charge of the facilities and thought this could be a replacement for the adventures your cousin liked to try to drag you on.

The beautifully painted sarcophagi drew in your imagination like a moth to a flame, chiseled sculptures and pillars depicting ancient beings far different than the god you'd been brought up believing in. And weren't you just the most well behaved little girl when your father brought you along on his business trips. All he had to do was put a book in your hand about the Old Kingdom and you'd stay seated right where he left you until it was time to leave. The drawings in your room turned less from pretty landscapes and fresh vases to imitations of the reliefs you'd seen from photographs of burial chamber walls. Your mother was slightly alarmed at first, but once she saw you still happily keeping up with your piano lessons and needlework she quickly gave in.

Once you were old enough to walk around the city by yourself, you stopped by the museum at least once a week just to spend hours wandering the halls - sometimes more if you noticed a new shipment of wares showing up on your father's ledgers that week slated for delivery. Always so eager to witness the unveiling of new items even if they'd never get put on display. One of the perks of growing up around the loading docks and being a sweet well mannered child to the workers.

You didn't work at the museum with Dr. John Price, but you'd frequented there an awful lot to have come to decent terms with the man. Always gruff, a bit rough around the edges, but boy did he have a mind for antiquities.

He wasn't always the easiest man to deal with; someone who didn't have time for the stupidity that came with being around the uneducated masses during business hours. He'd been working there in some capacity or another since you'd first became a patron, though back in those days he'd been a lot less rigid.

At one point you'd been barred from looking at a book that your father deemed had too much suggestive material in it - it was a tome about Tawaret, goddess of childbirth and fertility - and sent over to your favorite reading chair with something about Pepi II instead. Try as you might you couldn't get into it, mind still lingering on the forbidden subject which was just the latest in your stream of mythology research. You'd been half-heartedly flipping through the pages when a shadow passed you by and casually deposited the desired reading material in your lap, not even bothering to glance your way as he kept moving and turned down another aisle. He was clean shaven back then, but he'd made an impression as a kindred spirit willing to look the other way.

Now almost twenty years later you did your best to stay out of his way and disturb him as little as possible, but every so often you'd be fortunate enough to stumble upon him on a good day where he'd indulge you on certain topics of conversation that flowed smoothly, allowing you to see the lingering passionate twinkle of a younger man hiding behind eyes so full of wisdom and tired experience.

(And if you happened by chance to occassionally pass by a tall, large, tank of a dark robed man waiting patiently for his turn to have an audience with Price on your way out of his office - following you with his deep brown eyes and a cloth cover shrouding the lower half of his face from view - you kept your gaze to the floor and gave him a wide respectful berth, only risking a glance back at the individual long enough to see the broad planes of his back disappearing behind Price's door with a click of the lock)

[Edited 5/8/24: changed formatting, title, tags, and numbering system]

[apollowhoo]

Can I’m have a platonic request from owl house collector x parental reader who always wanted a child but it couldn’t then y/n meets collect and learn his history y/n decides to adopted him and y/n is very overprotective over them also I’m don’t see collector as a god who have a appearance and mind of a child for me it like a child who have powers of a god headcanons please

(this is like the 3rd The Collector request)

(The Collector goes by he/them and i'm using him)

The Collector x Parental!Reader

you probably never found a guy that you liked. You always wanted a family but a family needs a good father yk?

you met The Collector while you were taking a walk in the woods, it wasn't too warm or cold. It was the perfect weather to take a walk.

When you stumbled across The Collector, at first you thought he worked at the circus or something like that. I mean he was wearing an unusual outfit and he had what you assumed face paint on his face.

You guys started talking for a bit he was a nice boy. You kinda felt bad for his ''parents''. They must've really love him, he was a very cheerful child.

When you eventually learned that he didn't had parents at first you kinda felt bad for him and then it hit you...this wasn't a ''child''.

I mean you should've realised sooner, no kid would dress up like this and be wondering around the woods this late.

He is a god. But he seemed so sweet and it was obvious that he didn't had a place to stay in, did gods even needed homes?

You offered him to stay over and to your surprise, he accepted your offer!

Ever since then, you guys started living together, like a family.

The Collector is someone who gets bored very easily so it's really hard to distract him you'd have to play with him for hours for him to get tired. He's just too energetic.

Don't get me wrong you like playing with him but at times you get tired. He's just so exited to find someone who is willing to play games with.

At first you were low-key scared of him but at this point he's like your real child.

He might be a god but he has the looks and has the mind of a five year old. You'd see him as a five year old. I mean he's very whiny when you don't give him attention, if you're busy he wouldn't leave you alone until you play more games with him or he'd sometimes try running off by himself even though you tell him that it isn't the best idea.

You tried making him look more like a ''witch'' but uh...that doesn't go so well. He isn't all that patient and he'd just would not let you to do your thing because he's always moving.

You don't really want him to leave the house because someone might try to do something to him or he'd just scar the other wizards/witches. He has very high potential to cause trouble around.

He doesn't like this rule so he often tries getting out of the house and each time you catch him.

He's extremely clingy to you like he'd just come up to you and hug you out of nowhere and when you ask him why'd he do it, he'd just say ''I don't know''.

Also you have top give him affection back. If you don't, he's gonna be very sad...and whiny.

He'd play any game you want with him. It doesn't really matter as long it is a game. You guys mostly play hide and seek.

-Over all you both love each other and find comfort in a way?