#have been dreading this just because it's going to be tedious

[augustheart]

fiiiine i GUESS i'll do my sources today or whatever

[visdiefje]

[blushweddinggowns]

When Nancy’s mom pulled her aside one day to ask her a favor, she never thought that it would involve tutoring the Steve Harrington. The basketball starter that had nearly every girl in their high school wrapped around his finger. 

And sure, Mrs. Harrington was offering some really good pay, but that didn’t mean she wanted to do it. Because Steve was…a lot. He was cocky, he was weirdly aggressive when it came to his drug dealer best friend, and if his grades and lack of self-control were anything to go by, he was also dumb as hell. 

Just because he was the hottest guy in school didn’t mean she wanted anything to do with him. But her mom didn’t really give her a choice, not when she had been vying for Mrs. Harrington’s friendship for years.

And that’s how she found herself on the Harrington doorstep on a Sunday, dreading how tedious trying to make someone with no attention span learn was going to be. She rang the doorbell, impatient for the whole thing to just be done with already. 

She was surprised when it was Eddie Munson who answered the door, clad in nothing but boxers and a t-shirt that Nancy was pretty sure belonged to Steve, unless he had been a secret swimming champion in 1982. For a split second she thought she was at the wrong house, until she remembered that Eddie was supposed to be living in a trailer park. 

He ran a hand through his messy hair, not even the slightest bit embarrassed to be caught without pants on at someone else’s house, “Uh, can I help you?”

“I’m here for Steve? Um, I’m his tutor? Nancy Wheeler?” She wasn’t sure why she said her own name like it was a question, but the way Eddie was staring her down had her uncharastically nervous. 

But his eyes brightened at the word tutor. He stepped aside to let her in, “Oh yeah! He told me that was today, I guess we just lost track of time. Wait here. I’ll go get him. You want a muffin? I literally just made them, unless you're allergic to chocolate? But if you’re not they’re like, really good, my uncle’s recipe so you can trust it.”

He was talking a mile a minute as he led her into the house, happy in a way she never would have expected from him. In school he was so…defensive. Always willing to cut down anyone who made a comment about his weird sense of style. And there was also the little known fact that he sold freaking ketamine in the woods behind school with a small history of violence and theft. She kind of thought that the drug dealer whose wardrobe half consisted of skulls wouldn’t be the type of guy to bake muffins. 

But that didn’t mean she didn’t want one. 

“Um, sure?” She said, jumping a little when Eddie suddenly tossed one her way. 

Before she could even say thank you he was two-stepping his way up the stairs, whistling a tune that Nancy couldn’t help but smile at. If Eddie Munson could be so nice, then the odds of Steve turning out to not be a total dick were looking pretty good.

She could hear him slam a door open upstairs, voice loud and obnoxious, “Time to wake up sunshine! You got some learning to do!”

Nancy wandered over to the stairs as she ate, happily surprised at just how good it was. She couldn't hear much else, just a few groans and some shuffling, then something that sounded suspiciously like a giggle before the two of them made their way back downstairs. 

Steve was just as disheveled as Eddie was, hair a mess as he blearily blinked into the light, like it wasn’t already noon. He at least had the decency to put on pants though, something that Eddie had decided was superfluous. 

He waved at her as they came down, at least apologetic, “Hi, I’m Steve. Sorry about that. I was up late last night doing- I mean watching movies. Kind of let the day get away from me a little bit.”

He put out his hand for Nancy to shake and she couldn’t help but notice just how big they were. She took it, suddenly a little flustered as she spoke, “Nancy. And we’ve uh, actually met before. Believe it or not.”

Steve blinked at her, mind obviously racing to try and figure out when he’d seen her before, “Please don’t tell me we used to date.”

“No we didn’t but- wait. You don’t remember all the girls you’ve dated?” Nancy raised a brow at him, suddenly a lot less impressed. Just how big of a player was this guy?

But at least he had the good grace to look embarrassed, “I-well, it’s not like that. I-”

Eddie put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him in the midst of his stuttering sentence, “Stevie, stop while you're ahead. Now go get some food so your brain can actually function.”

Surprisingly, Steve obeyed, just like that. He just nodded and puttered into the kitchen, leaving Eddie and Nancy to follow him. 

Eddie leaned over, stage-whispering in her ear, “He’s usually a lot more charming after he’s been conscious for more than 5 minutes. I swear.”

They rounded the corner, just in time to see Steve eat half a muffin in one bite. He moaned at the taste of it, and Nancy was suddenly blushing for the second time in one day. 

He smiled at Eddie, hearts in his eyes, “How are you so good at everything?”

Nancy was starting to understand why her mom always said the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. If she didn’t know any better she’d say that Steve was seconds away from asking Eddie to ride into the sunset together. 

Eddie shrugged, even though his face was positively pleased. Steve finished the rest of it with a dreamy sigh, eyes still locked on Eddie.

“God, I love-” Steve coughed mid sentence, and for a second Nancy was sincerely worried that he had managed to choke on a piece of muffin. But the next moment he was fine, glancing over at her before straightening, “Uh, when my parents are gone. You can eat anything you want. Thanks for making them dude.”

Eddie snorted, barely managing to keep his laughter inside, “No problem, dude. But now that you're functioning I’ll let you guys get to it. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

Nancy wasn’t sure just what they would need him for, but Steve nodded anyway. It was almost weird, just how comfortable Eddie was in his house. She had half expected him to leave after he dragged Steve downstairs, especially since it was a school night, but the way he sprawled himself out on the couch said otherwise. 

They set themselves up at the kitchen table, Nancy with their biology book in hand and Steve with a second muffin. She cracked her book open, internally preparing herself for an afternoon of frustration. So imagine her surprise when none came. 

Because Steve Harrington was nothing like she expected. He wasn’t some undiscovered genius or anything, but he was diligent. He didn’t try to make a move on her, which her friends had definitely warned her about when they first heard she was tutoring him. He never got mad when he didn’t understand something, or even impatient. If anything he was just apologetic, a constant barrage of I’m sorry coming out of his mouth whenever he got something wrong that she already explained.

It was endearing to say the least. He even offered to drive her home after. She hadn’t realized that the offer included Eddie poking at him from the back seat and complaining about the music the whole ride home, but still. It was a nice gesture. 

When her mom asked her how it went she didn’t even have to lie. It went great. Not even on the whole he wasn’t a dick side of things. He was making ground when it came to his schoolwork, he just needed a little bit of extra attention. 

She found herself laying in bed that night with a smile on her face, more than excited to see Steve again. Maybe they’d even manage to get a little alone time, just so she could get to know him a bit better.

For strictly tutoring reasons, of course. 

~

Part 1.5 Part 2 Part 3

From an unpublished chapter of this fic (But I'll probably add part two and the reveal here because it kind of works with tumblr formatting!)

[moongreenlight]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley who despite his better judgement lets Soap talk him into picking up a girl for the night.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

Apparently Soap knows a guy who knows a guy in the area they’re deployed. They’d been staying at some shithole inn in France for weeks. Driving into the city to stake out some mark day in and day out. Tedious, mind-numbing work. Sitting at cafes and on patios at pubs people watching. Looking for anyone that may or may not match the vague description that had been provided by some mole on the other side.

Simon could sit still and shut up. Johnny was a separate issue. He could dial in for a few hours at a time, but then he’d start to slip. Bored and antsy, he’d try and strike up conversation. Inevitably returning to what must have been his favorite topic, or the one thing plaguing his mind the most. He’s horny. Fucking hell, is he horny.

Bitching and whining about not being able to get any play here because he doesn’t speak a lick of French and even when he tries it comes out so muddied that nobody takes him seriously. And that the inn they’re set up at is years away from town. Paints him out to be a serial killer.

Simon would grind his teeth and endure yet another one-sided talk about how bored Johnny had been getting of his hand. Even the left one wasn’t doing the trick anymore. He’d resorted to calling in some favors he was apparently owed to get the help of some girls in his evenings off.

“Jesus. Lookit the legs on her.”

Johnny had almost fallen out of his chair swiveling his entire body to watch some girl in a short skirt and a long trench coat stride past their spot outside of a cafe.

“Mhm.”

Simon was in a better spot to watch her pass. Eyeing her frame from over the rim of his steaming mug of tea. Fucking dreadful day. Drizzling rain. Bordering on sleet because of how miserable the weather was. Cloudy with a breeze that felt bitterly cold even through his coat. Shit tea, too. He couldn’t help but allow his mind to wander.

Not like they’d made any progress. Not like they could make any progress being staked out on a side street with no traffic whatsoever. The girl had been the only person other than their server that they’d seen come by in the last half hour. And sure, she had good legs. Better than their server’s at least. Some cranky older woman who’d ignored his attempts to order in French and looked mugged off that she had to deal with them at all, especially sat outside in this weather.

“Hell’s bells. Almost forgot you had a brain in there somewhere.”

Johnny, of course, couldn’t resist making a dig.

“Don’t get carried away.”

Simon grunted.

“Naw. C’mon, L.T. You like girls? They’ve got girls.”

Should have predicted that he was going to run wild with this.

“M’warnin’ you.”

“Loads of girls. Fuckin’ customizable. Send you a preference sheet and everything. Real professional operation.”

Johnny snickered into his paper coffee cup. Given to him along with a nasty look when he’d fidgeted with the ceramic mug he’d first had a bit too much and sent it smashing into the pavement.

Simon wasn’t one to be jerked around cock-first like Johnny, but Jesus. He was wearing thin. Maybe the isolation was getting to him. Maybe a seed had been planted somewhere deep in his mind from Johnny’s moaning. Not to mention, it was impossible to get it up watching French cable porn on a twin bed. He was backed-up and pissed off with the work. And with no end in sight, it could push a man to do strange things.

He shifted his hips forward in his seat, taking a long drink of his tea as he scanned the empty street for the umteenth time.

“Haven’t used up all your favors?”

You would have thought he’d just backhanded Johnny the way his eyes bugged out of his head.

“Gie’s a break.”

“Jus’ a question.”

Simon shrugged, sighing like he was already regretting asking. He was.

“Don’t work me up over nothin’, L.T.”

Johnny grinned, waggling his brows and leaning his forearms onto the table. Now completely distracted from the task at hand.

“Johnny.”

“Sure I could work somethin’ out. Only ‘cause I’m feelin’ generous. Ken yer a’right owing me a favor?”

Simon snorted.

“Sure I can manage.”

Johnny’s eyes were glinting something awful. More lively than he’d been in days. Practically laying over the table and kicking his feet. Thrilled to finally have the means to something Simon wanted.

“We’ll see about that’.”

Conversation moved on. Dragged back to the mission with instruction to change location. They spent a full ten hours out in the rain and the cold and the grey for absolutely no payout. Again. Still at square goddamn one. It was arguably worse than combat. Least on a real mission he’d get some release.

Johnny had stepped away in the early evening to make a call. Just before they were tapped out by Price and Gaz. Likely cashing in his favors owed, because he came back with a smug smile and two pints. Saying something about how Simon needed to quit taking himself so seriously. All work and no play or some stupid shit to that tune. Made a comment in passing on their drive back to the inn about how he should get his quarters decent by nine.

Honestly, Simon wasn’t expecting much. It was a bit of a ridiculous concept to him to begin with. He’d regretted saying anything straight after the words had left his mouth. He wasn’t sure he’d even be able to entertain some two-bit whore, even if she just served to curb his boredom. He never sought out things like this. Never felt the need. He wasn’t like Johnny or Gaz where he had to sneak off during missions for a wank or a quick fuck when time allowed. Not like Price where he’d seek a willing nurse or secretary to grope or bend over his desk on a day off. Sure, he’d take the opportunity if it arose, but he was always more focused on the job while he was at work rather than chasing his next high.

And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken anyone home. Fucked into his hand as much was necessary to keep everything operational. Knew when it was time when he started lashing out on a hairpin trigger. Got lazy on missions. Lost one too many sparring matches during training because he couldn’t focus.

So when nine came and went, he just found himself agitated that he’d requested the woman at the front desk change the sheets on his bed again so late. Ducking out to the balcony for a cigarette when she came in and slipping her a few euros on her way out despite the way her lip curled distastefully. Fucking frogs.

He was sat on the armchair in the corner of his room. Halfway paying attention to whatever channel was on the TV across from him and nursing a tumbler of shit whiskey he’d picked up from the shops their first night in. Swapped his mission clothes for a black tee shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. Tugging his balaclava over his face out of pure habit. Strictly instructed not to wear it out for the sake of keeping a low profile. Though he wasn’t sure how much good that did. He stood out from the crowd with his scars and crooked nose and tattoos without the covering. Whatever. Wardrobe wasn’t his job for a reason he supposed.

The sharp knock on his door grated heavily on his last nerve. Eliciting a low growl, but no movement to answer. It was half ten at this point. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Probably just another group of teenagers lost on their way to a friend’s room.

Another knock, and this time it didn’t stop. A muffled giggle through the door.

“Jesus Christ.”

He grumbled, shoving up and striding over to the door. Jerking the door open and using his hulking frame to cover the small opening he allowed.

Johnny’s fist nearly collided with Simon’s jaw. Distracted by the two girls stood behind him in the hall, giggling at him and batting their lashes. He was grinning like a goddamned devil. Chest puffed-out, shoulders rolled back. Entirely too comfortable.

Simon cocked a brow, giving the group a scornful once-over.

“Aye, L.T.! I come bearing gifts.”

Simon’s brow shot up further, eyes flicking from his friend to each of the girls behind him. Johnny immediately caught on to his confusion and barked a laugh, slinging his arm around the shoulder of the girl on the left. She sunk comfortably into position, leaning into him and giggling like it had been rehearsed.

She was pretty. Both of the girls were. The one tucked under Johnny’s arm had long auburn hair tumbling over her shoulders. Bright green eyes. Great smile. Perfectly groomed. Both of them covered conservatively by long coats to protect from the rain that had gradually started to come down harder and colder through the day. Hard to tell they were hooking by looking at them.

They seemed more familiar with Johnny than what Simon could assume was normal. It made his stomach turn if he thought too much into it, so he didn’t. Instead he side stepped, allowing the second girl barely enough room to slip through the door, and jerked his head for her to move.

“S’pose I know better than to expect a thank you.”

Johnny grinned, entirely unbothered by Simon’s glare that was boring through his skull. Arm already wandering down the auburn haired girl’s back at an alarming speed.

“Not as dim as you look, Sargent.”

Simon sighed, snapping the door shut.

“You’re late.”

He said flatly before he’d even finished locking the door. Turning to face the girl who’d already made herself comfortable on the edge of his bed. Leaned back on her hands, flashing him a dazzling smile.

“Throwing off your schedule, am I?”

You said, voice dripping with honeyed sarcasm. This made Simon recoil slightly. He’d been expecting some trashy, mildly-disgusting woman to come stumbling through the door when Johnny had mentioned he was cashing in favors. Not you. Not by a long shot. You looked, for lack of a better word, spoiled. Expensive. Perfectly styled, glossy hair. A tasteful amount of makeup. Not so much that it marred your features, but enough to make you nearly unapproachably attractive. And relatively covered-up. Expensive looking fur-trimmed coat falling just above your ankle.

Noticeable lack of a French accent. And you weren’t cowering in his presence, which suggested that you’d dealt with worse than him. A thought that sent something strange down his spine. Jealousy maybe? Anger? Sympathy? He wasn’t in the mood to dig further into that.

He crossed the room, lowering himself back into the armchair he’d been stationed in before his night was interrupted.

“You’re an hour and a half late.”

His tone was clipped. His eyes cold and hard. Fixed directly on you in an almost invasive kind of eye-contact. He jerked up his balaclava to his nose to take a deep drink from his glass. Studying you from over the rim. Killing the contents and setting it back on the side table with a soft thud.

You pursed your lips for a fraction of a second, standing from the corner of the bed and pacing across the small room to stand in front of him. Threatening to encroach on his personal space. Smiling tightly in a way that seemed to come with a practiced nonchalance. That same feeling settled in the center of his stomach.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I got caught up.”

Your soft, sweet tone did nothing to tame his irritation.

“They couldn’t even send a professional?”

He shot back tersely, folding his arms over his chest. You cocked your head slightly to the side. A fraction of genuine humor peeking through your smile.

“Plenty professional.”

You shrugged, letting the comment roll off of you. Water off a duck’s back. It irritated Simon to no end and he couldn’t pinpoint why. Trying to settle his mind by watching the way your perfectly manicured fingers began to work on slowly undoing the buttons of your coat with careful attention.

He snorted, tugging his balaclava back down over his jaw.

“That your thing, then?”

You gestured to his face covering. Shrugging off your coat to reveal a fucking scrap of a dress. Much more in-line with what he’d imagined a hooker to wear. A tiny, black, strapless thing that hugged your curves like it had been sewn directly onto you. Black lace garter pulled high on your thigh. Knee-height black boots that must have made you four inches taller than you were.

He cocked a brow, tapping a finger on the arm of his chair.

“Somethin’ like that.”

You cracked a true smile at that. Folding your coat neatly in your arms before setting it on the beat-up dresser to his right. Returning attentively to your spot in front of him.

He stiffened. Already perfect posture becoming rigid to the point of snapping. Keeping his hands firmly planted on either arm of the chair. Narrowing his eyes as he looked over your face in much closer detail.

“It’s late.”

Was all he managed. Voice rough as ever.

“And?”

You tilted your head like a confused dog.

“And you were an hour and a half late. It’s late.”

He shot back dryly. Nails digging into the chair.

“Let me make it up to you.“

You sank to your knees just between his legs surprisingly gracefully given how tight your dress was. Falling delicately onto the disgusting carpet. Faded and torn and fraying. Scratching at your bare knees. Didn’t even pull a face. Conditioned to understand that this was normal. Trained to grin and bear it. Another stone added to the weight anchoring him to his seat.

It was horribly cliche. Such a painfully tacky line, but he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth; so he shifted his hips forward and allowed your slender fingers to dance up his thighs and dip under the waistband of his sweatpants. Aided you in tugging them down to his ankles. Grit his teeth together when you began palming him through his underwear. Trying not to catch your eyes that were fixed up on him. Trying to push the nagging voice in the back of his mind away. Reminding him of just how dirty this was. Made him feel fucking pathetic. Calling in the aid of a hooker like he couldn’t bed a girl himself.

And the worst part. The part that brought up the most self-loathing; was how fucking fast the blood was racing to his cock under your touch. How much he truly enjoyed seeing you knelt down and blinking up at him with a look that could have been confused for adoration. Maybe you were a professional.

He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose when you finally sprung his aching cock free from his boxers. Forcing his head back to avoid your gaze. Pressing it hard against the wall to the point of giving himself a headache. Scarring the soft wood of the chair’s arms with his nails when you licked a hot stripe from his base to the tip.

All of his guilt and knotted up emotions seemed to dissolve themselves at least partially when you wrapped your lips around him. He’d almost forgotten just how warm a mouth was. Infinitely better than his hand. Jesus, was it.

He kept his hands to himself. Not needing to guide you like he had so many others. Tried to let himself relax under the feeling of your hand gripping his base and your mouth working his tip. And he nearly did get swept away when you removed your hand and tried to force his stiff cock to the back of your throat. Allowing you to work at choking and gagging around him for longer than was probably polite. But again, he just found himself irritated. Edging himself out of pure goddamn accident because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t force himself from his mind.

He couldn’t understand why you were such a sticking point to him. He’d had one night stands before. Hell, that’s all he’d had. Never cared much about the quality or condition or history of the girls he slept with. Maybe he had a savior complex he was too stubborn to admit to. Maybe his mind had been so warped and addled over the years that he formed some kind of baseless connection with you for God knew what reason. He just couldn’t fucking stop thinking about you.

He would have liked to. Would have liked to screw his eyes shut and focus on how good you felt wrapped around him. Mouth hot and wet. Wanted to focus on the ecstasy of your throat struggling to fit him. Listen to your soft, choked whines. Let himself pretend you were no different to the others he’d bedded before, but it was fruitless. He made a low sound, a growl that lodged itself somewhere in his chest, before taking your jaw in his hand and pulling you off of him. Cock still throbbing like it had its own heartbeat.

“You need to go.”

He made the mistake of glancing down. Saw the way your perfect makeup had begun smearing around your eyes and down your cheeks just barely. Big eyes rimmed with tears. Nose running, chin and lips glistening. Slick from your own spit. It nearly pushed him over the edge, but he knew inevitably he was prolonging his own torture.

“What?”

Your voice was hoarse because of how much strain your throat had been under. Softer than it had been. Less confident. You looked almost hurt. Wiping your mouth on the back of your hand and sniffing softly. Jaw held fixed in his hand.

“You need to go.”

He repeated, firmer this time. Sucking his teeth. Trying to ignore the way your gentle panting cooled the shining trails of spit running down his shaft and sent a chill up his spine.

Your face twisted in confusion, mouth falling open. Leaning back on your haunches to look him over like he’d suddenly grown another head.

“Is it not good?”

He groaned softly, finally letting go of your head. Not realizing just how much effort it had taken for him to pull you off until he saw the small red marks decorating the delicate skin of your jaw.

“S’fine.”

“Fine?”

You looked properly offended. A little confused. Like this had never happened before- and it probably hadn’t. Of course he’d be the one to stain your perfect record. Of course he’d be the one to warp your pretty face like that. Drove him up the fucking wall.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. Now he was backed-up, pissed off, and you wouldn’t leave as easily as he would’ve liked. If he was lucky, he’d still have half a hard-on by the time he got you out the door. Maybe coax out a less than satisfying orgasm that would at least put him to sleep.

“Gave myself lockjaw for fine?”

You spoke again, those same nimble fingers now gently massaging the hinge of your jaw. He tried to avoid looking at the way your dress bunched around your hips and revealed your panties. Black lace that matched the garter on your thigh.

“It’s late.”

He huffed a sigh. Leaning down to fumble in his sweatpants pocket for a cigarette and a lighter. Needing anything else to focus on. It brought him nearly nose to nose with you. Not realizing until he flicked his eyes up. And you didn’t recoil. Sat there half glaring at him, the tip of your nose almost brushing his through the balaclava. You were pretty even this close. Probably more so.

“You’ve said.”

You shot back cooly, brows knit together.

“Have I?”

He pulled back up, hooking his mask up over his nose once more and sticking the cigarette between his teeth.

“Few times.”

You looked wholly unamused. He flicked his lighter open. Lighting the tip and taking a deep drag.

“Meant it a few times.”

He shrugged, speaking through his exhale. Turning his chin up and away from you so the curling smoke didn’t wash over you.

You snorted, pushing up to your feet, putting your hands on your hips and giving him a once-over.

“You’re seriously asking me to leave?”

His teeth sunk into the butt of the cigarette just a fraction too hard. He felt the crunch of the filter bending under the force.

“S’not you, it’s me.”

He offered. A wisp of a dry smile tugging momentarily at the corner of his lips. This earned another smile from you. He caught it even through the way you chewed the inside of your cheek.

“You married?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. He almost choked on the cloud of smoke he’d been drawing in.

“No.”

His voice was harsh. Like a string pulled taught to the point of snapping.

“So what is it? You don’t like me?”

You shifted your weight a bit, but he could tell it wasn’t because you were uncomfortable. You still held yourself confidently. Shoulders rolled back, posture straight but not stiff.

“Bloody hell.”

He groaned, rubbing his brow.

“Is that it, then?”

You prodded further.

“No.”

You seemed thoroughly dissatisfied with his answers. But he didn’t know what else he could say. You seemed fine. Pretty girl. Got him closer to an orgasm than he’d come in weeks. He just couldn’t get over the fact that you were hired out to do this. Made him feel too dirty. That and he’d already looked too far into the situation. You seemed like you’d been doing this longer than anyone should have to. Strangely enough he felt some obligation to protect you. Wanted to pull you away from whatever situation that had pushed you to this.

“So what’s the hang up?”

You huffed a sigh.

“Don’t usually do this.”

He grunted out, resigning to the fact that he’d have to drink himself to sleep at this point. Leaning down to jerk his sweatpants back up his legs.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You snarked back. He snorted a humorless chuckle from around the cigarette.

“Nothin’ against you.”

“Yeah, alright.”

You shook your head, a small smile curving your mouth. A mix of confusion and amusement. Like you couldn’t believe that this was really happening.

“I’m not in the business of I.O.U’s.”

You said, looking over your shoulder while you walked over to grab your coat from the dresser.

“S’at so?”

He ashed his cigarette into his empty glass. Trying not to snort when you flashed him a sour look.

“You’re sure? I’m supposed to be here all night.”

You were already fastening the buttons on your coat. Glancing past him to the window on the back wall of the small room. The curtains were drawn, but through the backlight of the street lamps outside you could see rain streaking the glass.

“Mhm”

He hummed his answer. Silently grateful that you were finally moving toward leaving. Least he’d be able to get a few hours of shut eye before having to go back out tomorrow. Hopefully sleep off the guilt and the slightly sick feeling that’d settled itself over him.

You left a few minutes later. After making absolutely certain he was sure. Then it was ‘cheers’ and he was dead bolting the door. He got a fresh glass and downed the rest of the bottle of whiskey. Not enough to even get him tipsy, but enough to lull him into a dreamless sleep for the few hours he allowed himself.

He should have been expecting that Johnny would give him a fucking earful in the days following. You must’ve said something to the auburn haired girl and it got around. Wouldn’t shut up about it. Gave him shit like he was getting paid to do it. Couldn’t believe that he’d pass up an opportunity like that.

They got shipped back to base about a week later. Simon was thankful for the short break. Slowly working on forgetting the entire mission. The whole ordeal with you. Focused his efforts on training and filling out the endless towers of paperwork that’d gathered on the edge of his desk in his absence.

And then it was months later. And he’d made good progress on forgetting France. Mission was a bust. Wasted time and money and effort for no payout. Turns out their mark had been in Germany the entire time. Tipped off that they were on the lookout for him. Johnny slowly stopped his teasing. Only occasionally bringing it up when Simon dismissed the efforts of an overly eager private. Things went back to normal.

After getting intel on a new assignment, Price had urged the boys to get together at some pub by base for drinks on him. Chat about next steps and do some more of the team bonding he was so keen on. Simon grudgingly obliged. The bar was full of people seeing as it was a Friday, so he was content people-watching and grunting a few words when prompted. Decent way to kill a few hours.

He’d excused himself to go outside for a smoke, pushing through the crowd until he finally reached the side alley next to the pub. Taking a few long moments to work his way through a cigarette and let his head stop pounding from the noise of the inside. He wasn’t focused on anything in particular, at least not until he heard some shouting on the street.

He furrowed his brow slightly, pushing off the brick he’d been leaned against and sidling out to see what was going on. Not usually interested in the commotion, but moving out of some deep-rooted obligation to supervise a situation.

He saw a car with dark tinted windows rolling slowly down the road. The driver leaning half-out his window and shouting something over to a girl who was walking by herself down the sidewalk. Her back was to Simon, but he could tell by how stiff she was that this wasn’t a friendly exchange.

He groaned under his breath, taking a moment to debate on if he should get involved before flicking his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his heel. Starting down the street toward the girl.

It didn’t take him long to close the distance between them. The girl was walking slowly, he could see the way her head was on a swivel, searching for an escape. The driver of the car was shouting something crass at her and she was making a point of not engaging.

“Alright?”

He called out through the dim street, rolling his shoulders back and tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat. Puffing out his chest slightly in case his sheer size alone wasn’t enough to impress.

The driver faltered slightly, the girl did not stop to look back.

“Yeah, mate. Cheers.”

The man called back, trying to sound casual. Simon grunted and nodded, staying as friendly as he could. Moving a little closer to the curb to shield the girl from view. Thankfully, this was all the interaction the driver seemed to need to get the hint. Pulling off without much more prompting.

The girl’s posture immediately relaxed. Shoulders dropped, slowing her gait to a stop.

“Thanks. I owe you-“

Her voice cut off like someone had pressed mute when she turned to face Simon. He was stunned. Fucking shocked to see your face. This had to be some cruel trick played on him by the universe.

You looked great. Better than you had in France- if that was even possible. Even with the way your face paled, he could tell. Your eyes were brighter. Shining at him like headlights. He would have been able to convince himself he was hallucinating if you hadn’t had that same look of recognition painted over your face.

“Thought you weren’t in the business of I.O.U’s.”

He broke the silence after a few long moments. Both of you stood rooted to the pavement mere yards apart. Your breathless laugh broke the tension like a stone dropped in the middle of a stilled lake.

“I wasn’t.”

He nodded sharply.

“And now?”

You smiled. Brighter than you had before.

“I could be persuaded.”

He scoffed.

“S’at so?”

[wandanatsthings]

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭

Hii, so I’m writing this fic because I see ALOT of Wandanat x Reader where Reader is Basically just skinny white girls and while there’s nothing wrong with that I would love to see something more diverse so this is that enjoy :)

(P.s im dyslexic I’m trying my best)

Word count 1.1k

Warnings: If you consider fluff a warning then ⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️ lol I don’t think there are any, but lemme know if you see anything please!

Summary: Wanda and Natasha help you take out your braids

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

y/n pov It was a Saturday morning and your girlfriends were at work, you were home alone so you decided that it would be a great time to take your braids out. You had them for three months now and your new growth was insane. You had been dreading taking them out because you didn't want your girlfriends to see you like that you thought they would judge you. So now really was the only time to do it so you could have it washed and in a new style hopefully before they got home. You checked the clock on your phone to see how much time you had. You were grateful to know that It was only 9:30 meaning you had plenty of time before they came back tonight at 8. With that, you got up and went into the bathroom to grab everything you needed to bring out into the living room so you could watch TV while you did the tedious task.

It was only about 4:30 and you barely had half of your braids down. Your arms were tired and your back began to hurt. This would be a lot easier if I had help. As soon as that thought crossed your mind. You heard the front door open and close. That couldn't be them. Their home way too early you thought...

Nats pov

Wands and I had left the house around 9:00 this morning leaving y/n home by herself. When we got to work we checked our to-do list to see what it was we had to get done today. Turns out we both only had mission reports due, So we both decided we'd work here at the Avengers Tower for a while and then come home early to surprise y/n.

Wanda's pov

After leaving the Avengers Tower, we went back home to surprise you. As we walked through the house, we could hear your favorite TV show playing and you calling out our names. When we turned the corner into the living room, we saw you surrounded by all kinds of hair products and tools.

y/n pov

As I heard the door shut I called out to see if it was them. “Wands?” “Nat?” After a few short moments, you see them round the corner with smiles on their faces. “Hi…guys, what are you doing home so early?” you ask them feeling a little self-conscious because they were seeing you exactly how you didn’t want them to. “We decided to come home early and finish our mission reports here to spend some time with you,” says Wanda. You look up at them with a smile on your face “Aw guys that's so sweet thank you” You tell them. “Of course detka, Um what's going on here?’’ asked Natasha. You then look around to see all of the combs, conditioner, and grocery bags that surround you. You look up at them and say apprehensively “I'm taking my braids out…” What you hear next surprises you. “Oh well, can we help?” Wanda asked. You looked up at them in shock.

You loved the thought of them wanting to help you. Now neither one of them knew much about your hair curly kinky type but they were always open to learning more about it and asked you questions. “You want to help?’ you ask them with surprise in your voice. “ Yes, why wouldn’t we?” Ask Natasha “Well I mean it is a lot of work and I can't look the prettiest right now.” you say looking down. “I can’t lie you do look a little silly like this but still you are the prettiest anyway you look. I think you look quite adorable like this.” Says Natasha. What she says brings a smile to your face. “Um okay if you guys are sure I would love your help, My arms are tired.” With that, they chuckle a little and sit behind you on the couch. “Okay love you're gonna have to tell us what to do though,” says Wanda “Yes of course” you reply. You had already had the braids cut so they wouldn’t have to worry about that. “So first you're going to pick up a braid, and you can choose to use a rat-tail comb or your fingers. With a rat-tail comb, you will take the end of the comb gently and slowly start to comb the end of the braid to unravel it.”

You demonstrated by using the braid you were working on before they came in. “And if you were to use your fingers, you would do it the same way you would unravel a regular braid, but remember it is still slow and gentle okay?” You look back at them and see them smiling while nodding. “Okay if some of them are a little hard to do just add a little conditioner and it will come out easier.” “okay we got it,” says Wanda. As they start to take the braids down you feel Wanda using her fingers and Natasha using the rattail. Both of them are extremely gentle, Not once pulling too hard. As they complete a few braids you all start to get into a rhythm.

It starts makes you wonder what you were so self-conscious about in the first place. After a while of comfortable silence, Wanda begins to speak. “Thank you for letting us help you with this,” she says “Why are you thanking me, I should be the one thanking you guys. Thank you btw” you reply. “I'm saying thank you for letting us help because this is very vulnerable and we appreciate you letting us get this close to you. For letting us see this beautiful part of you.” “ I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Natasha says. You feel yourself start to get emotional.

You always wanted to be with someone who loved all of you and never made you feel ashamed of yourself and now not only do you have one person who makes you feel that way you have two. “I guess I never really thought about it that way. I'm really glad that I get to share this part of myself with you guys too,” you say. When you turn around to look at them, they're both already looking at you with so much love and adoration in their eyes. You lean up to kiss them “I love you both so much,” you say “We love you more” they both reply. With that, you all continue taking the braids out and time goes by so much faster than it did when it was by yourself. Maybe that was because you had 2 sets of extra hands or because you had your beautiful girlfriends helping you and keeping you company. Either way, before you knew it you were all done. “thank you for helping me again.” you say. “Anytime” Natasha replies. “Okay, now who wants to help me wash it?” “ME!” you hear out of both of your red-headed mouths. You made a mental note to never try and take out your braids yourself again. Why would you when you have 2 very eager girlfriends to help?

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Feedback welcomed!!

[aly-writes]

Hey, I just read your aib fics and I really enjoyed them. So if it’s alright with you, can I ask for chishiya and Niragi with a burnout s/o who is unmotivated even though she actually has potential. Ty!:)

hello? is this a comeback? i'm actually not sure, i've been in the mood to write and decided to try and get back in the groove with one of the old requests sitting in my inbox. this may be a little rusty, but here it is (a year or so late, sorry!) also, totally had to relearn tumblr formatting lol

this is kind of all over the place but i think it's decent for my first time writing in a year and a half!

notes: chishiya's is pre-borderland, both are in college :)

warnings: maybe ooc chishiya? idk

niragi and chishiya with a burnt out s/o

chishiya shuntaro

the burnout wasn't sudden, so he had seen you at your peak

you had been a top performer at whatever you put your mind to. in your case, it had been your studies

both of you were going into similar fields, so he knew how tedious the work could be. even so, you managed to do it diligently and relatively painlessly

he had seen your love for learning firsthand. it was a common event to go out to lunch together and hear you ramble about whatever your professor lectured about that day

things didn't take a turn fast, but he was observant

he noticed your enthusiasm drop ever so slightly. the stars in your eyes dimmed over time and certain subjects turned into taboo topics around you

your usual "i wonder what we'll be learning today" turned into "professor's lesson will probably be useless again"

it seemed that you weren't even noticing it yourself with how subtle the change was. it happened over a few months and took you by surprise

all of a sudden, you were questioning everything about your life

"i should just drop out"

"what's the point anyway?"

these questions soon became a daily thing

soon enough, you stopped showing up to your daily lunches with him

chishiya likes to give off the impression that he couldn't care less. and for most people, that's the truth. but you aren't most people, and he genuinely cares about you

so of course he's concerned the first time you cancel on him.

he had shown up at the usual meeting spot and waited for you for at least ten minutes before he sent you a text. you were always punctual, so this was very out of the norm

your response was "sorry, had something come up. maybe next time?"

he decided to accept it, but before he knew it, next time never came

before either of you knew it, the things you loved to do soon became a chore

you came to dread school and stopped showing up at all. your motivation was in the gutter and the things that came easy in the past were now the hardest things ever

it felt like you were dragging yourself around. you were forgetful and the littlest things began to get under your skin

the worst part about it? you knew you could do better, you just couldn't bring yourself to perform the way you used to

chishiya knows you have potential. he had seen it himself. because you're important to him, he's willing to do what it takes to nurture that potential back into what it once was.

is chishiya the best at talking about feelings? definitely not. but he's clever and understands people at the deepest part of their core. he'll flip a tactic usually used for his own gain into something to help you out

he isn't very direct about what he's doing, he just kind of shows up one day and does it

he'll ask you about your classes and what you like and don't like. he brings it up as small talk but takes mental notes to bring up later

when you spout out something negative or cynical about your classes, he tries to guide you into a position where you'll have to reframe it into something positive

"god, i just can't stand this subject. i don't understand why they bring it up so often"

cue his tactful reply "if you know so much, won't it be easy for you to best anybody else there if the occasion arises?"

"yeah... i guess you're right."

he'll start walking you to class when he has the time to, that way you don't have an excuse to not go to school

chishiya prefers a hands-off approach. he cares about your feelings, but he would much rather observe from a distance and discreetly help you. he's not much for mushy-gushy stuff like a talk about your feelings

when he finally starts noticing your motivation spiking a bit, he couldn't be more relieved

if anybody were to ask him, he would verbally tell them that he was just grateful he wouldn't have to put up with you anymore (but we all know that isn't true :) deep down he only wants you to be the best person you can be)

overall...

chishiya loves you, truly. despite common belief among your peers, he doesn't want to see you fail and will do what he can to assist you given he doesn't have to talk to you about it face-to-face

niragi suguru

putting this as nicely as possible? niragi is dogshit when it comes to noticing stuff like this

unlike chishiya, if you want him to help you, you're going to have to be the one to tell him how you're doing

niragi is a very physical person, but lacks on the emotional side, so he can be a little intimidating if you want to talk about stuff like that

when you come up to him and break the news that you're starting to get burnt out, he really doesn't know how to respond at first

you had been doing fine, so what's with this all of a sudden?

he thinks your emotions are sudden and off-putting. he doesn't realize that they've been brewing for a while

maybe if he weren't a militant it would be different, but his priorities are all over the place

he enjoys running around the place with a gun, but he also enjoys his time with you. it's a little hard for him to balance both

when you finally sit him down and explain, he starts to get it

even if he finds it sudden, he's willing to listen. you're his partner after all, his self-proclaimed number one

you explained to him how tired you were from the games. how exhausted your mind was and how difficult it was to drag yourself out of your room on game days

considering you had been a high-ranking member due to how many cards you raked in during your stay at the beach, he was kind of thrown off

he didn't expect you to be struggling with the thing you were best at, but oh boy is he devoted to getting you back to where you were prior to your burnout

niragi will cut any corner and destroy anything in his way to achieve a goal. especially if that goal pertains to you

niragi is majorly possessive of you. if he knows you're unhappy, his brain immediately jumps to the thought that it will lead to you being unhappy with him. he doesn't like this thought, so he will fix it no matter what

he'll get you your favorite things. you want something specific for dinner? he'll go into the kitchen and threaten the cooks to make it. he notices somebody stressing you out or giving you a hard time? it's safe to say you won't be seeing them anytime soon

his way of dealing with your burnout is just trying to make you as happy as possible. he thinks that happiness will motivate you more, which will get you back in the groove

niragi understands very well how good you are at what you do, which is partly why he tries so hard

you had talent. one of the very few that did well at almost any type of game, not matter the suit

you shined brightest while doing your best, and damn does niragi love to see you shine

seeing you outplay everybody else gives him a thrill that can't be matched, which is the entire reason he got infatuated with you in the first place

overall...

while it may not be the healthiest mentality, niragi likes you the most when you're in top condition. it reminds him of why he fell for you and chose you out of anybody in the beach

when you're at your best and he's at his best, you could basically rule the world

because of these specific things, once he's aware of your burnout, he won't rest until you're feeling better

[jisunghannie]

Loser 4

PAIRING: Bangchan x fem!reader

WARNINGS: Mentions of jagi/jagiya, mentions of Chan’s (FINE) accent, Dom!Chan x Sub!Reader, dirty-talk, praise, oral sex (fem!receive), teasing, LOTS of foreplay, light spanking, mentions and light actions of a second/multiple rounds

SUMMARY: Chan starts to regret his decision about the bet with his members about who would win DDD. He then saw you and thought you would gladly help him, which he was right about.

WORD COUNT: 2,084

A/N:

So sorry this took so long to release! I've been having the biggest writing block and will try to finish posting these. I am definitely feeling more of my angst stories so stay updated to see my sad angst stories!

DDD MASTERLIST

Chan had proposed the idea but deep down inside somewhere he knew that he was going to lose. When he had heard that Changbin had lost, he knew it was over since Minho was going to lose and Hyunjin was in a hit or miss situation. It was something that he took seriously. Especially because he wanted to take you to a romantic getaway. He was nervous that it wouldn’t work out though just because he might’ve lost.

He was completely panicked and didn’t know what to do. Then he remembered that he hadn’t completed his daily task. It was seriously becoming tedious for him. He felt more exhausted these days. The more he thought about it the more that he dreaded getting to the task at hand.

Just while he was deep in thought he heard the door open. He didn’t pay any mind, thinking it was one of his members until he heard you.

“Jagiya, is everything okay?” You asked him as he looked up at you. He noticed your damp hair. “Did you already shower?” He asked as you noticed his tired Australian accent pick up. You chuckled at hearing his tired tone of voice. “You sound so tired Channie. Are you alright?” You asked him as you ran your fingers through his hair. He moved his head up to your hand, similar to a cat as you smiled at the adorable gesture.

“I’m fine, just a bit stressed about the whole situation.” You looked at him confused, “What do you mean Channie?” You asked as he looked up at you with his sleepy eyes. “I regret making that bet because to be honest, I don’t think us hyungs would win. I think the Maknae might win this time around.” He admitted as you smiled at him and kissed his forehead. “It’s okay Channie, you tried your best and that’s all that matters. Okay?” You tried to reason with him as he nodded reluctantly. You still felt bad though.

“How far are you for today?” You asked him as he shook his head, “It’s hopeless.” He said as you cupped his cheeks. “How far?” You asked again as he blushed lightly, “Only 19 times…” He said as your eyes widened, letting go of his face. “Yeah you are so screwed, we have 2 hours until midnight and your endurance level is too high to cum another 4 times in 2 hours.” You told him as he sighed, “Until next year.” He said as you looked at him. “Unless,” You said as he looked up. “You can promise me that you’ll try your best to cum as quickly as you can.” You told him as he smirked, “I promise I can jagi…” He said in a low voice, almost growling, his accent didn’t make it any better.

You went crazy hearing his accent mixed with his current flirty tone. You looked at him again, using your body as an allure to get his drive up because he was definitely getting yours up.

“I thought I told you not to use that kind of tone with me.” You said, your cheeks dusted pink. He just chuckled simply. “I know, I know. But how can I not use it when a literal goddess stands before me.” He said, holding your hand. You smiled at him. “Oh shush you tease.” You told him as he chuckled.

You were only in a bathrobe as he was in a big shirt with the sleeves cut, revealing his broad shoulders and big arms, he wore baggy sweats so if he had an erection you couldn’t tell. You tried not to think about it as you sat on the bed. “How do you want us to do it this time? Mutual masturbation? Me jerking you off? Actual s-” You were cut off by Chan’s bold kiss.

“Just stop talking, talk to me with your body jagiya…” He said desperately kissing your neck earning noises from you. You were surprised by his actions. You didn’t know that Chan could become such a way around you. It was kind of exhilarating. You were so caught up in the moment and in your thoughts that you didn’t even feel Chan undo your bathrobe ribbon and pull it off, dropping it to the floor.

“Channie-” You were cut off again but this time it was by Chan giving you a light spank causing you to cover your mouth. “I told you to speak to me with your body jagi…” He said as you continued to let your hand cover your mouth. You were surprised because Chan never acted this way. The way he behaved was completely different. Usually he was so much more gentle and more vanilla but he was way more enticing and demanding. You just obeyed him as you knew how much winning this competition meant to him. It was definitely something to be interested in.

“Channie, this is certainly new for you especially.” You said as he just gave a deep chuckle.

God you can hear the growl in his chuckle.

You were smiling ear to ear from hearing his chuckle. “Jagiya, you really are trying to test me right now aren’t you?” He said as you smirked to him, “What if I am?” You asked as he pulled you into a kiss. “Then you’re doing a great job jagiya…” He said breathlessly, as he continued to kiss your neck, leaving marks everywhere and soon slipped off your bathrobe.

He saw your delicate body and felt so lucky that this was a sight all for him. He was speechless as he kissed your inner thighs. “I’m so lucky…” He said, his nose touching your thigh, nearing your core. You squealed quietly and squirmed over him as he smiled at your reaction. It was definitely a sight he loved but it was something new.

He placed you on top of his face. You were literally sitting on his face. Nervous about this you stood up slightly and hovered over his face. He then placed you back down to sit on his face once again. “Channie-” You were cut off again. “It’s okay y/n, I want you to sit on my face please..?” He begged as you blushed and relaxed a bit but he knew you were holding back so he held onto your thighs and placed your body on his face as he began to use his tongue before you could let out a sentence.

You covered your mouth in an attempt to muffle your moans. Chan didn’t like that however so he proceeded to use his fingers to stimulate you even further. That made you move your hips wanting more friction between you guys. You blushed looking down and seeing Chan eat you out. It was the hottest thing ever. But you knew that at this rate you would cum soon so you just waited to see what Chan would do. However you never expected what to come next.

Chan used one of his hands and began to insert his fingers inside, his other hand he used to play with your clit, as he teased your entrance with his tongue. You let out the most muffled, yet loud moan ever. Hell, Chan wasn’t even expecting it. He knew that you were feeling good but you reacting like that made him feel proud, in more than one.

You didn’t want to let him hear you like this but no matter how many times you tried not to moan out loud he felt as if he needed to make you moan even louder. He was definitely pussy drunk right now but it didn’t make a difference to you. You were surprised by what he did next however.

He lifted you up and moved you on his chest. He traced his fingers against your bare back. You shivered by how it caused chills down your spine.

“You want it inside?” He asked bluntly as you nodded. You cared less about being bratty at the moment. “Use your words.” He told you as you whined. First, he wanted you to speak with your body and now your words? He was complicated. “Yes…” You replied as he smirked and massaged your ass. “Yes what?” He teased as you gritted your teeth. “Yes… I want it inside…” You finally spoke out as he smirked.

You tried to move off him as he moved you back. He placed your body on his hips. “Show me just how much you want me then.” He told you as you smirked and slowly reached down to his pants. He was so going to regret this.

You kissed his bulge through his boxers as he growled. “Stop teasing.” He said as you just smirked. You then took off his boxers and lined yourself up to him. As you tried to go down slowly, he growled again as you giggled not expecting any of the events that happened next. He then grabbed your hips and pushed you down as you let out a loud moan. He smiled at your reaction, your body tensing up from the sudden action. He then began to thrust up causing you to throw your hands on your mouth not knowing if the others were still in the living room and could hear you guys.

“Just let those noises out, let them know that I’m going to be winning this challenge.” He said as you shook your head. He smirked as he pulled your wrists back as you bit your lower lip to muffle out your moans.

While he thought it was so cute, you found it humiliating to think that the other members could probably hear you guys through the thin walls of the shared house. He then began to get hungrier for your moans and put you on all fours. “You might wanna hold onto the sheets,” He warned, “You won’t be able to stop shaking.” He said as he began to thrust deeply into you, hitting all the right spots.

You gave in and moaned into the mattress clutching to the sheets for dear life as his lips touched your back and nape which soon found their way to your ears, his hot breath touching your ear as you heard him give you a light chuckle. “Told you didn’t I?” He said with that damn accent of his.

He then felt you clench around him with his words as he smirked, “I make you feel that good don’t I?” He asked you as you nodded, “Use your words jagi…” He said, his voice straining at the end, revealing that he was close too. “Yes… God yes…” You said simply as he smiled and pulled you in for a kiss. One more thrust was all it took for you to reach your climax as the intense foreplay already brought you to the edge. After you came, he pulled out and came on your back.

“God jagiya you’re perfect…” He praised as he pulled you in for another kiss. “I still have so many more to finish in order to beat the challenge.” He said as you looked at the time. “Yeah… and you are all out of time to complete it…” You said breathless as he looked at the time. “And? We still can, right?” He asked with his accent, knowing that you wouldn’t refuse him like that. Which he was right as you gave in.

He then wiped himself clean to make sure that none of his cum would get inside as he lined up with your entrance. “Wait! I’m still-” You were cut off his thrust inside, your body still sensitive came around him the minute he thrusted inside as he looked shocked. “Did you just-” You cut him off, “Yes! I was trying to tell you that I was still sensitive…” You said as he chuckled. “You are so cute.” He said as he kissed your breasts. “Let me know when I can go again.” He said.

The next morning you were regretting your decision because you couldn’t walk the next day because you guys had practically pulled an all-nighter finishing all his rounds.

Jinnie: Chan lost.

LK: Whattt how?

Jinnie: I woke up early and still heard him and y/n going since last night.

Yongbokkie: Holy, is y/n okay?

Binnie: Doubt it

Minnie: Chan is such a needy guy.

Hannie: Goodness

Jinnie: Right.

Channie: Go back to sleep and stop talking about me!!

I.Nnie: Then there were 4…

Taglist:

@juskz @annybah @its-hannjisung @cutiespaghetti

[sadesluvr]

Parting Gift

You love Mike, but he's jaded.

Mike Schmidt x GN! Reader

A/N: Something for my FNAF fans! I’ve been watching too much HBO and wanted to write angst, so this fic features a realistic Mike Schmidt. This features hints of Vanessa x Mike, but also his emotional problems in general. We love him, but I don’t think its controversial to say that being in a relationship with him would be difficult... 

Please read my other Mike works if this isn’t your kind of thing! 

Set post movie. 

Word count: 1.6K 

Tags: ANGST / SMUT / Gender Neutral Reader / Reader is human as has weird emotions / Breakups / Hints of jealousy + rage / Hints of fluff / Bittersweet stuff, really 

You never went inside. 

As a detective, you weren’t oblivious to the irony of it all. You’d been to hospitals thousands of times; speaking to suspects, injured colleagues or even to address the dreaded ‘call’, and yet the thought of watching Mike and Abby leave handmade cards at Vanessa “Shelly’s” bedside made you violently ill.  

You knew everything that had gone down at the defunct Freddy Fazbear’s, and it had plagued you to no end. Though Abby and Mike’s relationship had certainly turned for the better, you were angry, frustrated at the fact that he’d been hurt, not only from being physically punted across the room, but the fact he’d had to stare his brother’s killer in the eye, virtually powerless to it all. Even more so, you were pissed that Vanessa had become a factor in your lives. 

You’d only been dating Mike for just under a year, meeting him in a rather cliched manner at a donut stand in the mall. An exchange of numbers turned into casual check-ins, which soon evolved into a relationship – or at least parts of one. It was no secret that Mike was guarded; letting you in, but not too close enough to get overly attached. At first, it felt like you were made for each other – you felt a similar way about you line of work, and how you operated with people because of it – but closer towards those crucial few months of the new year it had begun to grow tedious. 

You weren’t expecting a whirlwind, all-consuming romance, but it certainly wasn’t supposed to feel like this; with days of missed calls, unexplained outbursts and erectile dysfunction making being with him feel like a chore. Some days, you wondered why you’d even bothered asking for his number. Most days, you wondered why he’d responded at all. 

Deep down, you knew none of this was his fault. He'd been fighting to survive since he was a teenager, and it was only inevitable that he’d develop issues. Being a detective meant you were all the more receptive to them, understanding the nuances of why people became the way that they were, and it was painfully clear to you why Mike had changed since the incident. 

He and Vanessa were both conjoined, victims of William Afton in their own ways, yet both bound by blood. You’d been there when he’d stopped on the way home to visit her, listening from the outside as you supervised Abby. Why couldn’t you all go in? It wasn’t as if it were a particularly gory scene; it merely looked like she was sleeping. Why had he made you all wait? 

“Vanessa, I don’t know if… you can hear any of this, but, um… I’m having a hard time just processing everything that happened. 

But you were there for me and Abby when it mattered the most. 

And I don’t think that either of us would be here today if it weren’t for you. 

So… So get better. And we’ll be here when you wake up.” 

The words were as clear as day. Hadn’t you been there for them? Tried to give Abby a sense of a stable life? Tried to help with bills? Offering to send him to counselling? Why had it taken a near fatal murder attempt for Mike to wake up? 

Now, with all the fallout, you were all left with far more questions than answers…and this time you didn’t have the energy to try and solve them. 

“Abby’s sleeping,” you announced, poking your head through the door. Mike was rummaging around his room, trying to prepare himself for work in the morning – a menial task for some, but strangely methodical to him in the moment. He didn’t answer. 

“Abby’s sleeping,” you repeated, and he perked up, a flustered smile tugging at the corner of his lips.  

“Oh...” he said, clearing his throat. “Thanks. I guess I lost track of time…” 

“Yeah.” you mumbled, leaning against the doorframe, clearly waiting for something…you just didn’t know what. 

“Thanks —“ he said after a moment of silence, his soft brown eyes gazing into your own. You could see him nervously gnawing on the inside of of his cheek. “—For helping. I really do appreciate it. I’m not trying to seem like a douche, there’s just been a lot on my mind recently.” 

“I’m not surprised,” you hummed, strolling into the room. “But it’s been bugging you for a while now. Don’t you want to…you know…talk to someone?” 

Mike paused and cocked his head. 

“Like a therapist?” 

“That would be a good option,” you hummed, trying not to dance around the subject. “Or you can speak to me. I won’t even psychoanalyse you, I could just listen, y’know?” 

He bit his lip again, this time glancing down at the floor before back at you. You couldn’t quite make out what he was thinking, but he was certainly showing signs of restraint. Restraint. It seemed to be the defining word in your relationship.  

“…I don’t think you’d understand.” 

“Oh, but Vanessa would, right?” 

He flinched at your raised voice, and glanced nervously down the hall. 

“That’s not what I meant —“ 

“Then what do you mean, Mike?” you huffed, crossing your arms. “You met her a month ago, whilst I’ve known you for a year! You’ve never once given me as much grace as you have her. Ever!” 

“I had a lot on my plate, okay? It wasn’t easy.” 

“I know that! But I was there for you. I watched you pick up those prescriptions, I tried to be a role model to Abby, to help take the load off all those payments, and I got nothing!” you yelled. “I wasn’t asking for a mile, but you didn’t even give me an inch.” 

Mike didn’t respond, instead he ran a hand through his hair, pushing the stray strands away from his face before he rubbed his eyes. 

“How is it that you can mend every relationship you have except the one you willingly chose to be in?” You said, voice wavering as you watched him sink into the bed. It was his natural response; life was crushing and had done so many times, but his lack of fight was extremely telling. He could stand off with a serial killer and haunted animatronics, but not muster a few words to  reassure his partner? 

He was just too complicated for you to understand. 

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled, shaking his head absentmindedly before looking up at you. “Maybe I didn’t think this through…” 

You knew what that meant, and even though you’d been anticipating it – even manifesting it yourself – it didn’t make the blow any easier. Sighing, you steadied your week knees by sitting on the bed next to Mike, grasping at the bedsheets as you stared blankly around the room. For once, it felt like you were both in the same page. 

“I love you,” he said, breaking the tension. You glanced at him, taking in the fact that his eyes were welling with tears and jaw clenched, and you could tell that he meant it. “I really did, y’know? I tried.” 

You nodded, rubbing at your cheeks anxiously before kissing him. His lips were slightly chapped, but you didn’t mind, losing yourself in the way he drew you into his body with you hands, clinging onto you as he made a desperate plea to attempt to reach out to you for a final time.  

Before you knew it, you back was against the mattress, and Mike was on-top of you, hurriedly pulling down his sweatpants before doing the same to you. As your lower torso lay exposed, he pressed a kiss to your stomach, making his way around your belly button and down towards your privates. Shutting your eyes, you wondered what your relationship could’ve been if every time felt like this; electric and passionate…with intent. 

Once he’d slipped his boxers to the side, you gave his erect cock a few languid strokes before inserting him into you, letting out a broken moan as he adjusted to being inside of you. Mike’s eyes fluttered shut as he sighed, and you remembered just how beautiful he looked in his (rare) moments of bliss.  

He stabilised himself on his forearms as he watched you, rolling his hips as he explored your hole, searching for that all-important sweet spot. The room may have been dimly lit; the darkness of night encroaching upon the walls, but he could see you all too clearly. It pained him that he hadn’t before – no, he had, but he didn’t know how to express it – and wondered just how much different things would’ve been had he not met Vanessa, hell, had he not attacked that man that fateful day. He knew some things had changed for the better, some for the worst, and some that only time would tell – and he had a sneaking suspicion that you fell into the latter. 

His mind was hell, but it felt like heaven to be inside you.  

Leaning down, he placed a sloppy kiss to your lips before moving to your neck, groaning as you ran your fingers through his hair and whispered sweet nothings into his ear. 

“Mike...” you moaned. “You’re so good to me...” 

‘For me’ was left unuttered.  

“Please...” you begged; your words almost inaudible over the creaking of his bedframe, and his heavy thighs slapping against your own as he rutted into you. “Cum for me. I need it...” 

Mike nodded, damp strands of his fringe glued to his forehead as he pushed into you a final time, his legs trembling as he came. It was unfathomable that in the heat of his pleasure – the best orgasm you’d had together – he wanted to cry. Breathlessly, you held him as he rode off his high, so tightly that you thought you might’ve pierced his skin, before you spoke your final words into the night. 

“I love you too...” you whispered. “I’m sorry...for everything.” 

You were gone before sunrise.  

[rosewaterandivy]

sings like a church with a choir in it

Summary: A blurb not at all inspired by the tragic events I got myself into yesterday due to poor planning and wasting away in bed due to sad girl hours.

Pairing: Steve Harrington OR Eddie Munson (choose your lover!) x curly/coily/wavy fem!reader

WC: 1232K

Warnings/Themes: anxiety, self-care, acts of service, hair wash day & its trials, shower sex (male receiving)

A/N: Eddie and Steve have intricate haircare routines, I know this in my bones. So obviously they help us with wash-day because it's exhausting! This is for my curly/coily/wavy!girls; I see you, I love you, and my arms are tired too 😮‍💨

Please do not interact if you aren't 18+.

Nota bene: Reblogging, commenting, and liking my work is always appreciated; reposting, however, is not.

Enjoy! 💜

🎵My baby runs ten miles to win it, she moves like her body's got a fire in it🎵

Damn your shitty timing and utter laziness— the dreaded day has finally arrived, a day that will live in infamy.

Despite a schedule that mostly kept things at bay, stress and anxiety had taken over landing you in bed for an extended stay.

But you couldn’t let the precious motivation you’d saved up go to waste. And that’s how you found yourself staring down the barrel of a wash day and an everything shower.

Fuck.

The bed had been stripped and sheets were in the washer, so you couldn’t even sneak back into the bedroom and recreate a cocoon to wallow in.

With a sigh, you crouch down and grab the necessary supplies: co-wash, leave-in, body exfoliant, razor, and the body wash you’d spent far too much on, but just couldn’t pass up— the scent was otherworldly.

Shower products in place and temperature as hot as it would go, you placed the styling tools in order of use on the countertop and wrangled the hair dryer to balance on the side of the sink.

Towel on the rung close to the shower and t-shirt at the ready, you tug the hairwrap from your head and step into the steamy shower, running your fingers against your scalp to further distribute the oil you’d applied last night.

Once under the stream of water, you take a moment to let the warmth sink into your skin. Rolling your neck as the droplets skim down your neck and chest, a deep breath in and out.

Then you get to work.

Body exfoliant first, quickly followed by shaving your legs. Checking for any nicks, you smile at finding none— phase one, complete.

Music echoing through the bathroom, glass and mirrors too fogged to see through— the opening of the shower door startles you, understandably.

“The fuck?!” You yelp, scalp brush in one hand and co-wash in the other. It’s a miracle you hadn’t dropped either.

The magnetized door of the glass shower clicks open. Just a muted, dull separation that lets a fraction of cool air rush in, towing his body in with it.

He smirks, eyeing you up and down as he joins you. You shuffle over to make room, rolling your eyes. A tsk when he takes the brush from your hand, “Gotta save water babe.”

Take the brush from your hand and reaches over to adjust the temperature of the water. His body is warm and solid behind you, beckoning you to lean against him. His arm falls lazily around your hips, “Lemme help you, sugar.”

As you nod and say something about detangling, he grabs a claw clip and holds it between his teeth while his hands work to section your hair. Mumbles something that sounds like, “Think I don’t know how to take care of my girl?” But you’re not sure, the plastic in his mouth preventing an accurate translation.

Half of your hair clipped up and away, he pumps a few dollops of co-wash in his palm and distributes it through the loose sections. Through the mirror by the showerhead, you can see his brows tilt together in concentration.

Too fucking cute.

He takes it seriously, knowing how tedious the wash-day process can be. Is careful not to pull or tug, not that you’re tender-headed necessarily— just hates to hurt you, the old softie. Fingers card through the conditioned waves, the top section falling with a wet smack down your back.

“Sorry,” He murmurs, bottom lip full and red against the bite of his white teeth. 

Snaking an arm to grasp his forearm, you give a gentle squeeze, “S’okay baby.”

Diligently, he continues the process on this section— taking more time to finger curl and define the strands for more volume. 

Your heart clenches at the thought, god, how you adore him.

He’s humming along to the music under his breath, working the scalp brush gently over the crown of your head. The soft bristles are soothing, you let out a soft sigh and all but melt against the hard line of his torso.

A sonorous laugh that echoes through the stall of the shower and reverberates in his chest. He asks you to turn, voice soft and low. Grabs the retractable shower head to rinse your hair, fingers working against your scalp, a lazy smile gracing his lips.

“Hey sleepyhead,” He says, licking his lips in the hazy steam, a click when he slots the showerhead back into place. “Feelin’ better?”

“Mm,” You hum, head resting on his chest teeth bared against slick warm skin, “Almost.” Then your fingers light on his half-hard cock, which is suddenly very interested in your hand. 

His eyes roll back. “Fuck.” 

“Sorry, honey,” you say, but you’re not, because you know how he likes it. 

He hisses quietly, back hitting the tiles as you step between his legs. “Oh.” He stutters breathlessly, watching your gotcha expression.

You slide to your knees like a supplicant, mouth dropping open so prettily. You purr and lick and nuzzle into him as if you can’t get enough, like be content there between his thighs until the end of time.

Doesn’t matter what he says, half-hearted attempts to remind you about getting to your leave-in fall away in small gasps and swears. You just keep rubbing with your palm, your nimble fingers, your tight grip. 

It should be illegal for someone to be as hot as you, he swears it.

He groans when you give him a slow lick up to his throbbing tip, swirling your tongue at the end, then shoving him down until you choke yourself on it. He jerks up reflexively, getting in two quick thrusts before you pull away with a smile.

You’re looking at him like you could devour him, lower lip pinched tightly between your teeth, breath shallow and quick. His abs constrict when you put your hands on them, feeling your way up his ribs and back down, fingers dancing along planes of bone and muscle.

Lips puckered and glossy with spit and precome that doesn’t stop leaking out of him, making these obscene fucking sounds at the base of his shaft, at the curve of his balls, tugging them into your mouth, keeping them there while he prays for mercy.

“Baby,” he growls, patience gone. “I swear to god.”

He means to threaten you with something— a rough fuck, maybe—but he effectively loses his train of thought when you give him exactly what he’s fantasized about since he’s woken up.

Your candy pink mouth turned red hot and wicked. Wet and slick as you slide him down your throat. You keep your jaw slack and bob your head steadily as if suggesting that he take the lead. 

To your delight, he slowly begins rolling his hips. Experimental at first, half-hearted and worried about startling or choking you, but at the first reflex of a gag, your eyes light up before fluttering half-closed and you practically mewl.

“Jesus Christ. Oh, fuck, honey.”

Hooded dark eyes meet yours, looking down the bridge of his nose, lips parted to match. Panting. Grunting. 

“Don’t stop,” Your voice is a ragged debauched thing.

Suddenly bold because he’s at the end of his rope and about to blow—completely collapse and pour down your throat and all over your pretty little face.

And goddamn, he thinks.

He’s never loved a girl like you.

So much for saving water.

[yellowocaballero]

Been a fan of your fics for YEARS. I was just telling my friend how despite how much I read fics I never actually love them, with some of your fics (especially TMA) as the exception. Felt the need to reread some of them and saw you reblogged some ISAT fanart. So. Any thoughts on ISAT you'd like to share?

Hope you have a wonderful day!! So happy I found your fics again!!

I avoided answering this for a while because I was trying to think of a way to cohesively and coherently vocalize my thoughts on In Stars and Time. I have given up because I don't want to hold everybody here all day and I have accepted that my thoughts are just pterodactyl screeching.

I love it so much. I have so much to say on it. It drove me bonkers for like a week straight. I have AUs. It's absolute Megbait. They're just a little Snufkin and they're having the worst experience of anybody's life. Ludonarratives my fucking beloved.

I am going to talk about the prologue.

The prologue is such a fascinating experience. You crack open the game and immediately begin checking off all of the little genre boxes: mage, warrior, researcher, you're the rogue...some little kid who's there for some reason...alright, you know the score. You're in yet another indie Earthbound RPG, these are your generic characters, let's get the ball rolling.

Except then you realize that these characters are people. You feel instantly how you've entered the game at its last dungeon, at the end of the adventure. They have their own in-jokes, histories, backgrounds, adventures. They get along well and they're obviously close, but not in a twee or unrealistic way. They have so much chemistry and spirit and life. I fell in love with them so quickly.

But Sif doesn't. Sif kind of hates them, because they will not stop saying the same damn thing. They walk the same paths, do the same things, make the same jokes, expect Sif to say the same lines. They keep referencing a Sif we do not see, with jokes we never see him make and heroic personality he never shows - they reference a Sif who is dead - and Sif can't handle that, so he kills them too.

They become only an exercise in tedious frustration. Sif button mashes through their dialogue, Sif mindlessly clicks the same dialogue options, Sif skips through the tutorial, Sif blows through the puzzles. Sif turns their world into a video game. Sif is playing a generic RPG. Sif forgets their names. They are no longer people with in-jokes, histories, backgrounds, adventures. They're the mage, the warrior, the researcher, and...some random kid.

I did not understand the Kid's presence at first. I had no idea what they contributed to the game. They didn't do anything. As a party member in a video game, they're a bit useless. Why is the Kid there?

Because Sif's life isn't a video game. Because the kid isn't 'the kid'. They're Bonnie. Bonnie, who the party loves. Why is Bonnie there? Because they love them. There is no room for Bonnie in the boring RPG that Sif is playing. And then you realize that Sif is wrong, and that they've lost something extremely important, and that they'll never escape without it.

Watching the prologue before watching ISAT gave ISAT the most unique air of dread and horror, because you crack open ISAT and you see the person Sif used to be. You realize that Sif used to be a person. Sif used to be the person who made jokes, who gave real smiles, who interacted with the world as if they are a part of it. And you know you are sitting down to watch Sif lose everything that made them a person, to lose everything that made them a member of this world, and turn them into a character in a video game who doesn't understand the point of Bonnie at all.

At the climax of the game, when the others realize that something is deeply wrong and that Sif physically cannot tell them, they realize that there is nothing they can do. So Bonnie declares snacktime. And for the first time they have snacktime.

What is snacktime? Classic JRPGs don't have snacktime. There's literally no point to a snacktime - not in a video game, and not in Sif's terrible life. It's not fixing this, because nothing can fix this. But Bonnie gives Sif a cookie and Sif eats it.

It's meaningless. It's a cutscene. It didn't save Sif and it didn't change a thing. It will make no difference in the end.

But it did make the difference. It made all of the difference in the world. Bonnie is a character who you really don't understand the point of before you realize that Bonnie was the entire point.

ISAT is about comfort media. Why do we play the same video games over and over again? Why do we avoid watching the finale of our favorite shows? What is truly comforting: a story with no conflict, or a story where you always know what is about to happen? Do you want to live in a scary, uncontrollable world, or do you want to play Stardew Valley? Do you want a person or a character?

When I beat Earthbound for the first time (and if you don't know, the prologue/ISAT battle system is just Mother) and watched the ending cutscene where the characters part ways and say goodbye...I felt a little bit sad. I wanted them to be together forever. But that's something only characters could ever be.

[blxrrii]

SICK DAY

S. Itoshi x Reader

Fluff - 3.6K words- No Warnings That time Itoshi Sae got sick, and you took it upon yourself to take care of him.

The sound of his repeating alarm woke Itoshi Sae from his slumber, his hand reaching in a desperate attempt to shut the sound up because, holy shit, was it loud.

A headache shot through his head, resulting in him sucking in a breath. His whole body burned with pain, not the pain and numbness he felt the morning after a really intense practice session; no, he felt fatigued, as if he was bound in the same position. 

It took Sae a good minute or two to gather that he was in his bed next to you, who had somehow always slept through his alarm. 

His burning eyes soften at the site of your peaceful, sleeping figure. Your hair was dishevelled, strands falling in front of your face that Sae refused to move away because he loved your ditziness.

A soft sigh escaped past his lips, his eyes closing as he swore it would only be a minute, and then he would get up to start his day.

Itoshi Sae wasn’t someone who delayed his tasks.

No matter how tedious, overworked, or pained he was, Sae strived to better himself, pushing forward in any way he could. So why was today so different? Why did dread fill him at the mere thought of doing anything?

Disregarding his feelings, Sae gets up from the comfort of his bed, only to quickly grab at the bedpost when his eyesight starts darkening, the sense of falling face down on the floor overcoming him.

A hushed groan vibrated within him, moving his spare hand to rub his temples. He hated this weird, foreign feeling. It felt like his whole body was weighing him down, as if there were hundreds of weights chained to him.

Despite the terrible feeling that spread through his body, Sae continued on to get his day started, stumbling to the bathroom in his tired and sick state.

After Sae finished getting ready, which took him much longer than usual, he grabbed his bag that contained all that he’d need for soccer practice and started to make his way out the door. He didn’t eat breakfast, as he felt nauseous and usually grabbed food from outside most days. 

The midfielder was just about to open the door, his hand twisting at the knob. However, he was quick to stop his actions at the sound of a familiar voice.

“Sae?”

His head spun back quickly, an action he almost immediately regretted when his head pounded at the quick movement. Sae hissed as a result of the pain. Standing next to the staircase was you, eyes still tired from having just woken up.

“What are you doing up?” He asked. You, however, disregarded his question, getting closer to inspect him.

“You look like shit.” Your voice was laced with worry, matching your facial expression. Sae rolled his eyes, looking away from you as you reached a hand towards his face.

“Gee, thanks.” In any other case, you probably would have replied to his sarcastic comment with a snarky one. Though with his more than usual tired look and his deepened voice that sounded like he was on the verge of tears, you decided there were more important matters at the moment.

“I think you’re sick, Sae.” He scoffed lightly, clutching the strap of his bag. In the years he has been alive, the likelihood of getting sick was nearly nonexistent. So, it was damn near difficult to believe that he was now. 

“I’m fine, just tired.” He mumbled, his speech slowed more than it was usually. 

“Sae, you can’t go to practice like this. You’ll catch an even higher fever!” Itoshi found warmth in your concern. (But he’d refuse to ever admit that to you.) Despite this, he kept persisting in leaving. 

“It’ll be ok-” He paused abruptly, turning his head away from you and sneezing into his arm. He was definitely not making a case for himself in your eyes. 

“Yeah, I bet you will.” A distasteful look made its way onto his face at your sarcastic remark, to which you snickered. Sae shoved his hands into his pockets, eyes closing for what felt like just a second to try and stay in the moment forever. 

“…Sae!”

He reopened his eyes, narrowing his eyes at you as if to question why you yelled out his name when he was right in front of you. 

“Hm?” 

“I’ve been saying your name for a good minute-” you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, “did you fall asleep… standing?”

The midfielder wished he could respond back to you, say something to assure you he was fine. Though he couldn’t. His throat burned, a scratchy feeling overcoming it every time he talked. Instead, he decided on a sound that was somewhere between a whine and a whimper, closing his eyes once more to restore the tranquillity he had felt just a minute ago.

And maybe staying home wasn’t the worst thing for him. He was tired out of his mind, his mind yearning to be put to rest, for his brain felt heavier with every sentence he spoke. So what was just a single break? It wasn’t like you were about to let him leave; why not take advantage of his situation?

You sighed once more, grabbing his arm to drag him back up the stairs. You were glad he hadn’t fought the idea of staying home from practice too much, though it wasn’t like you didn’t have a backup plan in case he was more persistent. Sae was too sick to realize you stole his keys from his pocket when he wasn’t looking and couldn’t leave even if he wanted to.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

You both get to the top of the staircase, the practice taking a slightly longer time than usual because you were dragging Sae behind you. Once the both of you made it to your shared room, he stripped off his bag and jacket, throwing both onto the floor because, at that moment, he couldn’t give a shit about either of his belongings. All he yearned for at that given time was being asleep beside you. 

Sae stumbled into bed, practically passing out the moment his head hit the pillow. You sighed, grabbing the duvet covers and placing them on his sleeping figure before getting into bed alongside him.

~

The sun in your eyes wasn’t such a great feeling. 

Having to be forcefully woken up because your eyes are being hit by something so bright it pains you.

You were in a similar predicament at the moment. However, you were stripped of the luxury of turning yourself away from the source of the sunlight so that your back was against the window to shield yourself from the sun. No, instead, Sae’s arms wrapped around your waist, head rested into your neck, his breathing tickling you ever so slightly. The way he positioned himself made it hard for you to move without waking him up.

You huffed softly through your nostrils, contemplating closing your eyes and returning to your slumber. The idea didn’t seem half bad to you; however, you had school, and if you didn’t get up to get ready soon, you would definitely be late. 

You managed to wiggle yourself out of Sae’s grasp, freezing every time he made a sound or switched positions. Ultimately, you managed to escape the bedroom without waking him, leading you to quickly grab an outfit and dart into the bathroom to prepare yourself for the rest of the day.

It turned out that you had lots of time to spare, resulting in you sitting on the kitchen island wondering what to do with the leftover time. You didn’t want to wake Sae because, even if he couldn’t see it, he was terribly sick. 

You weren’t blind to Sae’s poor eating habits. Because he couldn’t cook, he usually subjected himself to buying takeout if he couldn’t have a cooked meal with you. And, if he wasn’t going to order fast food, it was because he had forgotten about eating altogether. 

This led you to take the role of making sure he ate properly. You were pretty good at the task. However, it was hard for you to make sure he ate breakfast, as he woke up at a far too early hour of the day that you were not prepared to wake up at.

You put your phone down on the counter, stretching once before coming to the decision that you’d make your boyfriend breakfast. You wouldn’t be able to see him for most of the day due to your classes, and this would be the most caring thing you’d be able to do for him now.

It didn’t take you too long to make your first perfect batch of pancakes. After plating them and putting the dishes you used into the dishwasher, you tip-toed your way up the stairs and into your bedroom. You nudged the slightly closed door open with your hip, hands currently occupied with the food you cooked for Sae. He was still peacefully sleeping, soft snores leaving his mouth because his nose was clogged.

The corner of your lips twitched upwards at the sight of him, your brain poking at you to run a hand through his ashy red hair. You ended up giving in to the urge, setting the plate and cup of water on the bedside table as quietly as possible. Your hand first went to his forehead, nearly wincing from how hot it was. There was no doubt in your mind he was sick.

Your mind wandered off as you kept playing with Sae’s soft hair, not noticing how his tired eyes started to open slowly.

If there was a heaven, Itoshi Sae was experiencing it right now. 

Thanks to his career path, there weren’t many days that he woke up after you. However, today was different. Today, he had gotten to experience the feeling of hands raking through his hair, the scent of what he presumed to be breakfast filling his nose delicately. And, if that wasn’t enough, from the moment he opened his eyes, long lashes fluttering away from each other to reveal his beautiful blue eyes, he was able to capture the sight of you looking down at him.

This had to be heaven.

The euphoric feeling only lasted a minute, the symptoms of his cold hitting him like a truck soon after. He grumbled in annoyance at the pain that was shooting through his body, bringing the covers closer to his body to preserve some body heat.

You chuckled at his actions, sitting down on the side of the bed so you could talk to him. 

“How are you feeling, princess?” Sae furrowed his eyebrows at your sarcasm, sneering at you, which only made your laughter more prominent. His mannerism reminded you of a child who refused to go to school in the morning.

 “What time is it?” He asked in a dazed voice.

“Uh… 10:30.” You said, looking at the large bolded numbers at the top of your screen. “Shoot, I have to get going for school.”

You scooted your body closer to his face, pressing a kiss on his forehead before standing up to leave. 

“I’ll be back soon. Call me if you need anything-” Your words were interrupted by the redhead, who grabbed your forearm and forced you to sit back down on the mattress. You narrow your eyes at him from the sudden gesture, waiting for him to properly sit up before starting any banter.

“Sae, I really have to go. I’m going to be late.” He opened his mouth to say something but was quickly interrupted by a sneeze.

“Can’t you just skip?” The remark made you roll your eyes. Of course, Sae would suggest something like that.

“No, I can’t just-” You wanted to continue your sentence; tell him no because you couldn’t afford to skip another day. But when he was looking at you with slightly glossy eyes brows, an expression on his face that was practically begging you to stay with him, how could you possibly say no?

“Please?” He knew saying no to him wasn’t something that came easy to you, and he was using it to his advantage. You grumbled quietly, loud enough for him to hear but not articulate enough to understand what you were saying. 

Sae picked up his phone from his bedside table, shuddering at the cool air that hit his arm. He raised his brow when scrolling through the mass amount of messages he received from his coach and teammates. His confused expression quickly changed; his lips pursed as he read the messages.

When he fell back asleep, Sae forgot to inform anyone that he wouldn’t be coming in for practice. And because everyone seemed to depend on him (or at least what he thought), they were having some sort of heart attack from him not showing up.

The football player quickly typed a short, dry response to his coach before turning his phone off and throwing it to the side. His attention was back on you, who had gotten off the bed again and was about to put on a pair of shoes.

“Wow, you made me cancel practice just for you to leave me alone? I’m hurt.” The snarkiness in his voice made you scoff.

“Well from your peachy attitude I can tell your fever isn’t too high. I’m sure you can take care of yourself for just a few hours.” Sae puffed out his reddened cheeks, crossing his arms across his chest. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his mannerism.

“My love, do you want me to do everything for you? Would you like me to undress you and shower you myself?” 

The two of you both knew that you were clearly joking. It was apparent in the tone of your voice. However, seeing as Sae’s lips curled upwards into a sinister smile, you widen your eyes in disbelief. You swiftly walked towards him and flick his forehead to rid him of his weird, perverted thoughts.

He grunted from the slight pain he felt from getting his forehead flicked, narrowing his eyes at you as you smiled delightfully at his discomfort.

“I hope you die.”

“Awe, I love you too!”

~

It was stupid how quickly Sae got you to skip school. 

You were so persistent in leaving, allowing him to rest on his own without you distracting him. However, now that you had his head on your lap, you couldn’t imagine ever leaving him in the first place.

The two of you sat in the living room, the TV blaring noise from a show none of you were actually watching, instead letting it act as background noise. You scrolled through your phone with one hand, the other raking through Sae’s ashy hair. He, at some point, was also on his phone, though he was now sleeping comfortably with your favorite blanket.

Despite what you said earlier, Sae’s fever had started to rise, which caused you to worry more. You were used to common fevers, though he was beginning to exceed what could be considered the common cold.

The thought of calling the doctor wandered into your mind. You knew Sae wouldn’t be too fond of the idea and would try to convince you that he was perfectly fine. He would then later continue on to rant about how a doctor wouldn’t know what was best for him nor how he truly was feeling. (Well, at least that’s what he tried to convince himself from when he was a small child.)

 Despite this, you entertained your mind with the possibility of him having the flu. You definitely did not have the proper medication to treat the virus, and there was only so much that Ibuprofen could do.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the body in front of you shifting positions, moving from facing the television to facing upwards at the ceiling instead. You stared at Sae’s sleeping face for a good two minutes, contemplating once more the idea of making him an appointment. And, after letting out a soft sigh, you turned on his phone and went into his contacts to call his doctor’s office.

You only got so close to hitting the call button that you felt a hand grip your wrist firmly.

“Hey-”

A pair of bloodshot blue eyes stare up at you, a knowing look contained in them.

“What are you doing, mi amor?”

Fuck. Of course, Sae had to use Spanish pet names. He knew how quickly it made you fold, made you into a stuttering mess and forced you to tell the truth.

“I was just… calling your doctor.” The sheepishness in your voice warmed Sae’s heart, almost making him ignore what you said. 

Almost.

He quickly swipes the phone out of your hand, getting off your lap and scooting away from you and towards the other side of the couch. Your mouth was hanging slightly agape at his actions.

“You can’t be serious.” He folded his arms around his torso, knees bent towards his stoic and severe face. He was being dead serious.

“Sae you have a high fever, it wouldn’t be bad to at least check-”

“I’ll be fine. All some dipshit doctor is going to tell me is to rest and take some more days off. Days that I can’t afford to miss.” You roll your eyes at him. 

“Aren’t you the one who’s always going on about how annoying your coach is-” he took you off guard by throwing a pillow at your face, causing your posture to stumble a bit. You bit the inside of your cheek, a menacing look on your face. So that’s how he wanted to play?

“I’m going to beat you up right now if you don’t give me your phone.” You threatened as you fixed your posture, an arm reached out towards your boyfriend. He held it to his chest protectively, squinting at you as if he were daring you to try and grab the device out of his strong hands. 

“You’re acting like a child!” You complained, eye twitching at your boyfriend’s incompetence. You soon came to the realization that Sae was not going to reason with you and that you had to go for a second approach. 

Attack.

You quickly placed your phone on the coffee table to avoid damaging it. Sae noticed your new attitude and put his guard up. 

“You’re really going to fight a sick person? Wow.” You paid little to no mind to his speech as you rolled your sleeves up. 

“You forced me to, I never wanted to do this.” 

“Try me, loser.” 

You quickly jumped on top of him, a gasp escaping his lips the moment you’d done so.

“GIVE ME THE PHONE-”

He held the arm that held his phone as far away from you as possible, not having enough energy to do anything more than defend himself.

“Come reach it, shorty.” You knitted your eyebrows and smacked his arm hard.

“OW.” He hissed, instinctively putting his other arm down, using it to rub the one you hit. 

“You should be the last person talking about other people being short.” You grumbled, taking his temporarily stunned body as an opportunity to snatch his phone right out of his hand. Unfortunately for you, he was quick to react, tightening his hand around the phone. 

The back-and-forth fight lasted for five more minutes, ending quicker than usual due to Sae’s shortness of breath. In the end, his phone in your hand with him wheezing underneath you. You were also out of breath, head resting on top of his. On any other day, Sae would definitely have taken your vulnerable state to steal the phone back. However, he was on the verge of falling asleep again, exhaustion hitting him so hard that even the thought of lifting his hand filled him with dread.

“Aren’t you-” Sae went into a coughing fit, his lungs burning with each cough. “Aren’t you going to call my doctor?”

The sourness in his voice nearly humored you enough to laugh out loud; however, you, much like the boy you were straddling, were tired out of your mind. The idea of getting up, adequately dressing, and then driving all the way to the clinic made your body flood with dread.

“Shut up.” You mumbled, grabbing the blanket that was discarded just a couple inches away from the two of you. Sae’s lips curled upwards as you wrapped the blanket around both of your bodies. He decided, however, not to make a snarky or sarcastic remark on how you changed your mind, instead closing his eyes and letting sleep overcome him.

~

When Itoshi Sae woke up the following day, he was pleased to find that the sick feeling he had felt yesterday had vanished, thanks to your care. He still had slight coughing fits from time to time, but all in all, he had returned to his original state.

The football star didn’t waste time getting ready for his busy day, as he had double the work to do because he missed yesterday. 

He swiftly grabbed his bag off the floor of your shared bedroom, doing his best not to wake you up. He, however, was shown that his attempts were futile, the sound of you shifting in your bed alerting him. 

When hearing your movements die down, he started to walk out the bedroom door and into the hallway, twisting the knob so the door wouldn’t close too loudly.

Only then did he pause abruptly at the sound of two soft coughs from the other side of the wall. 

‘Shit.’

First time writing for blue lock ‼️ lmk how I did :))

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Dirty mind

Part Two to Entertainment.

I love this AU way too much, pour one out for our boy LXC who's going through it.

---

Negotiating accords is often a boring affair. It takes a lot of back-and-forth, a lot of figure checking, going over past documents, current events and future prospects.

To be honest, it's got to be one of the most tedious parts of inter-sect politics and the one thing that Lan Wangji dreads most during Discussion Conference week. He knows he must help his brother with this - there are, after all, documents and pieces of information that only the innermost circle of the sect leader has access to - but that doesn't mean he has to like it, or pretend to.

After all, everybody knows he's not particularly sociable and since it's Lan Xichen that's doing most of the talking, Lan Wangji doesn't have to attempt to make himself any more pleasant than he would otherwise be. Which is not a lot.

However, today it won't be just another annoying, entitled sect leader that the Lan delegation will be meeting with. In fact, for possibly the first time in his life, Lan Wangji is looking forward to negotiations - because they're meeting to settle some new trade accords with the Yiling Wei sect.

Which means that he gets to spend the day around Wei Ying, something he hasn't been able to do much lately. Understandable, considering the fact that his beloved is a sect leader now, but that doesn't mean Lan Wangji doesn't miss him immensely the more time they spend apart.

If Lan Wangji could have his way, he'd be negotiating with Wei Ying himself, alone, in one of the guest rooms that the Conference's organizers have provided them with - but since he's not the Lan sect leader, he has to just be happy joining Lan Xichen for the talks and acting something of a glorified secretary during. This is probably the first time Lan Wangji has ever wished he was sect leader instead of his brother - but he doubts he would be able to so patiently deal with the likes of Sect Leader Yao or Sect Leader Ouyang without causing a diplomatic incident.

Anyway, beggars can't be choosers. Even just getting to share space with Wei Ying is a privilege, and Lan Wangji is going to make the best of it - he's donning his best robes, the light blue, embroidered ones that Wei Ying likes (taking off) most, and he's even wearing jewelry. Well, one piece of jewelry, but it's not a random one - it's a fine, silver necklace with a teardrop ruby that Wei Ying's gifted him on his birthday. The chain is rather long, which means that the pendant lands just above Lan Wangji's sternum. There's a reason for this - a reason that has Lan Wangji smile to himself - Wei Ying told him he liked the way the ruby dangles in his face when they-

"Wangji."

Lan Xichen's voice interrupts Lan Wangji's escalating thoughts, and he tries his best not to appear flustered. He knows his brother can read him well, but he still hopes that it's not all written all over his face.

Xichen sighs. "Let's go, I would hate to be late." And he smiles, ever so warm and polite, but his brother can see the mischievous edge. "I know you would as well."

Lan Wangji doesn't reply, picking up the stack of paperwork he has prepared for the meeting and follows his brother out of the room. If his ears are a bit too red, nobody comments on it.

---

Lan Wangji is quite sure he will never tire of seeing Wei Ying. His heart will forever do sommersaults in his chest at the sight of his love, no matter how often it may be and no matter what he might look like.

But Lan Wangji would be a filthy liar if he said the sight of his Wei Ying in sect leader robes is not overwhelmingly attractive. God, he looks good in anything (and in nothing at all), but there's something about the ornate robes, the air of authority, the way he carries himself that has Lan Wangji take deep breaths and swallow hard.

And Wei Ying has decided to impress that day. Lan Wangji just hopes he will be able to tear his eyes away from Wei Ying's tastefully cut robes, the sharp V of his neckline and the way his hair falls over his shoulders, a thin drape over the fine embroidery of his clothing and-

"Sect Leader Lan." Wei Ying greets, respectfully, his eyes moving towards Lan Wangji's, warm, loving and teasing. "Hanguang-Jun."

"Sect Leader Wei." Lan Xichen greets with a smile. "Please, have a seat and let us proceed."

Lan Wangji is going to die some time during this meeting, probably. With the way Wei Ying looks at him, it will be a wonder if he doesn't lose his mind within the next five minutes, let alone the two or three hours negotiations usually take.

Wei Ying's head disciple, Wen Ning, hands him a few scrolls, and Wei Ying casually unrolls them, looking over the writing there for a moment before presenting them to Lan Xichen.

Lan Wangji doesn't know why that simple movement seemed so incredibly sexy to him, but he has no time to ponder. He knows he has to provide his own sect's documents now.

Wei Ying doesn't let him lay them onto the table, and takes them from Lan Wangji's hand himself. The touch is tender, brief and electric. Wei Ying smiles at him in that certain way that has Lan Wangji weak and turns to Lan Xichen to discuss it.

Lan Wangji wishes he could be more present. These talks are important, establishing a trade route accord and a cooperation treaty with the Yiling Wei sect is pivotal - the region they reside in is of great strategic value, and the progress Wei Ying has made in cleansing the Burial Mounds is nothing short of exceptional. If the Lan sect manages to establish itself as a primary partner for Yiling Wei, they'll gain a significant advantage over the other sects, economically, politically and in terms of cultivation.

But all Lan Wangji can focus on is how beautiful, competent and, to put it bluntly, hot his partner is. He talks with ease, confidently arguing his points, never raising his voice. He's firm in his demands but not rigid, and he seems to be finding a way to meet Lan Xichen's expectations halfway without placing either of them at a disadvantage.

Lan Wangji is very glad he isn't sect leader now. He would have gotten absolutely nothing done if it had been him to negotiate with Wei Ying. He would have just given him whatever he wanted and then-

"Hanguang-Jun, what do you think of the student exchange initiative?" Wei Ying asks, and he doesn't hide the fact that he knew Lan Wangji has been staring at him, resting his chin on his palm with a poorly concealed sultry look. "Since you're in charge of the teaching at the Cloud Recesses, I figure your input is very important."

Lan Xichen sighs quietly beside him and Lan Wangji feels himself flustered. Still, although he has been thirsting after Wei Ying all throughout the meeting, he hasn't been entirely checked out of the conversation. He's good at multitasking, and he can think with two heads just fine.

"It could be beneficial for the juniors to interact with different kinds of people and encounter new forms of cultivation." Lan Wangji responds, smoothly. "I also believe it would help reduce any stigma about the Yiling Wei sect and its methods among the younger generations."

Wei Ying smiles, fox-like, and Lan Wangji has decided he's had enough of being the only one teased.

So, with Wei Ying's attention still on him, he very casually loosens his lapels just enough for Wei Ying's eyes to catch onto the piece of jewelry Lan Wangji has worn especially for him.

"Not to mention," he continues, "it would contribute to strengthening our sect relations."

Wei Ying's eyes flash red for a moment before he turns to answer whatever Lan Xichen has just asked. Lan Wangji didn't hear it and he isn't that bothered about it - the look on Wei Ying's face is enough for him to know this negotiation won't last much longer.

And if he just happens to busy himself playing with his necklace, that can always be attributed to idleness.

It's a bit funny, watching Wei Ying struggle to pay attention as his eyes follow the way Lan Wangji's fingers trace over the silver chain, and every so often let go in favor of the red jewel, messing with it in a way that shouldn't be so suggestive.

Expectedly, negotiations end shortly after. All vital points of interest have been met, there were virtually no points of contention and the final draft of the document will be signed tomorrow.

When Xichen stands up and bows to leave, Wangji knows he has to leave too, he needs to debrief with his brother and send a few letters back home. He will be visiting Wei Ying later.

However, before he can stand, Xichen places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes a bit too hard. "I will leave you to settle whatever had the two of you so... antsy."

He walks out with Wen Ning in tow, and sets a pace much too quick for the occasion.

He knows the inhabitants of the now empty room won't wait long.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Am I the only one that feels that current ace is kind of lacking? Yes I get that twst is supposed to focus on dorm leaders and stuff but it feels like he keeps getting pushed to the side despite being one of the first main characters we actually meet. I wish there was something interesting going for him, like I'm well aware that the traitor theory has been proven wrong multiple times yet I still cling onto it because its one of the few ways he can be significant anymore. In general I just want more ace content plus his unique magic that hopefully comes out in book six, don't take this too literally as my wording my come off as wrong but hopefully you understand what I mean.

I definitely feel like Ace hasn’t been getting a lot of screen time in the main story since the prologue and episode 1, but I think it mostly makes sense. Each proceeding episode has to make way for new characters to play a part, so Ace kind of falls to the wayside with Deuce.

The two basically share the same amount of screen time following episode 1 (right down to their general lack of presence in both 4 and 6), with the big exception being 5; of the duo, Deuce takes center stage in the Pomefiore section due to his developing friendship with Epel, as well as his developing sense of self identity and unique magic. It kind of balances out Deuce taking a backseat to Ace in episode 1…? (Sort of???) Cuz I definitely felt like Ace was more involved than Deuce when it came to inciting rebellion against Riddle. I think maybe the perception of Ace not feeling important as of late is because the last time he was largely relevant was allllll the way back in the beginning of the main story.

That being said, I wonder if Ruler of the Abyss (episode 7) will have Ace getting his unique magic 🤔 since it’s already dealing with a bunch of hard-hitting story beats like Malleus’s impending dread of being abandoned by the people he cares for, Lilia’s departure, Yuu returning home, Grim’s realization that he will soon be alone (plus his potential OB). It’d be difficult for the devs to also squeeze in an arc about Ace feeling inferior to Deuce and coming to grips with what makes himself special… but hey, I still have my fingers crossed! 🤞 It’d be a real treat if we got to see all of Diasomnia’s UM reveals as well as Ace’s as the cherry on top! I think it could be done if 7 was like… super long or just really REALLY well written. Admittedly though, I would find this pacing a little weird, as we’d go from Deuce unlocking his UM in 5 to no progression of Ace’s reaction in 6 to suddenly addressing it in 7; you’d think it would flow more coherently if Deuce and Ace got their UMs in consecutive episodes (instead it was Deuce, then Epel), but I guess adding two extra bodies to the already bulky cast of 6 would’ve been too much 💦.

On the topic of Ace traitor theory 😅 I’m honestly shocked that it’s still around?? It’s not something I’ve ever really gotten behind, as I feel like a lot of the points brought up for it are very vague (like… “His last name is Trappola instead of Heart! He could be setting a trap!” and, “He has an older brother that used to be in Heartslabyul! Maybe Ace wants to get revenge for his brother.”). A fun idea for sure, but I don’t think I’ve seen a really solid explanation for why Ace would feasibly betray his friends in canon.

In spite of how bratty and callous he can be, I do believe Ace genuinely cares for his friends when it comes down to it and wouldn’t go out of his way to intentionally harm them. This is the same dude who took a long and extremely tedious route from the Queendom of Roses all the way back to Sage’s Isle just to make sure Yuu and Grim were okay over winter break, the same guy who was so relieved when Yuu and Grim safely returned to NRC campus.

I think there’s still ways for Ace to be a significant force in the main story (without him necessarily turning traitor), but it largely depends on how episode 7 continues to play from hereon out and what elements it chooses to focus on. It can be difficult to balance all of it, so I wouldn’t blame the devs if they decided to hold off on adding Ace into the episode 7 pot of plot points. If not in episode 7, there’s always the possibility for new main story content released afterwards to talk about Ace’s character (as well as new event stories and card vignettes where he will probably feature).

[mangomonk]

if you could see me in the mirror

↳ summary: astarion loves riling up tav to see all her expressions, but to his mingled relief and chagrin, she never quite seems to notice his. (alternatively, astarion helps tav in a roundabout way, for the sake of his entertainment, he says.) ↳ content: mentions of blood, astarion is a little mean and very emotionally repressed ↳ a/n: surprise i'm also writing for bg3 now! i've given in to the BG3 brain rot, here is a scene of astarion and my tav that's been floating around in my mind. i haven't finished my playthrough yet and i'm lowkey making up monk lore as i go along because i can't find much online, but in this oneshot, monks wear robes and have the runes of their temple's values as body art (inspired by the tattoo options in the game) when they go to fancy schmancy events.

Astarion had an idea of what to expect as he hovered outside her door, seeking his next target for entertainment. He had first attempted Wyll and Karlach, but the heart eyes they were making at each other had been a disgusting enough signal for him to leave. Gale, expectedly, had gone off about his plans for Sorcerous Sundries for a tedious stretch of time and Shadowheart had been no fun until she had mentioned that Xuan had asked her for help getting ready for the coronation.

And that was how he had ended up outside the door to her room in the inn. He could nearly imagine her now. He had seen ceremonial robes before to know that they were boringly cut and modest to a fault — likely even more boringly cut and modest, in his opinion, given that they would be monk robes — but somehow he felt a twinge of anticipation linger in his stomach as he raised his hand to knock on her door. Maybe she’d have her hair freed from that dreadful braid — the thought made his anticipation heighten. And then it made him pause, half-bewildered, half-mortified by his excitement. Gods, I’m starting to lose it. Perhaps he would need to do some serious self reflecting after this. No, he was just bored, he reasoned, frowning, just as the door swung open.

“Shadowheart! Can you—” Xuan stopped abruptly, expression more frantic than he’s ever seen before scrunching in confusion at the sight of him. “Astarion?”

He was half correct in his expectations — her hair was freed from that dreadful braid. Only it hung in wild and uneven inky waves down her shoulders, half-curls sticking out at unruly angles. Some of them looked like right angles, he observed dimly in shock, likely an artifact of being in a braid for too long. That wasn’t the most shocking part, though it rendered him speechless enough.

Smeared across the left side of her cheek and neck were smudges of red. For a moment, panic flitted in him from its likeness to blood. Was she injured? And then another thought — had another vampire fed on her? He didn’t know which thought it was that made his stomach twist. But then upon second glance, he could see that it was too dull to be blood — paint.

“Gods, what happened to you?”

Despite the flicker of embarrassment that flashed across her face — and her entire appearance — Xuan did an admirable job at straightening indignantly, though he could see she was holding on tightly to any remaining scraps of dignity as she puffed her chest out like a proud bird. 

“I’m getting ready,” she said simply.

“I would never have been able to tell, darling,” he observed, gloating to himself as he watched her bristle. This could be fun, he thought, his gaze falling to another smudge of paint that had smeared towards her jawline. Before she could protest, he stepped past her into her room. 

“If you’re here just to make fun of me, let’s save both of us the energy.”

“I’m not here just to make fun of you. I’m here to make fun of you and help,” he said, taking a glance around her room. It was sparsely decorated, just as he had expected. Boring.

“Help,” she echoed, in clear disbelief.

Astarion cleared his throat, throwing her a glance over his shoulder as he stepped up to the table where she had laid out a small tub of red paint. “Less of help you, and more of help me,” he corrected easily. “What would the others think of me if our sweet little leader looks as though she’s just come from battle to the coronation?”

Through the mirror, he could see her scowl at him. “Perhaps they would think twice to cross us,” she said mulishly. 

“Yes, I imagine they’ll frighten at the sight of your hair. Maybe take some psychic damage,” Astarion waved her off dismissively, biting back a grin at her clear displeasure. “Sit,” he said, arching a brow at her challengingly. For a moment, he thought she was going to argue, but to his surprise, her scowl faltered and she trudged over dutifully to the chair, her demeanor not unlike one of a prisoner being led to the gallows. He bit back another grin, before it slackened into incredulity at the sight of her red-stained fingers. “Did you try to do this with your hands ? I know you prefer unarmed strikes, but darling, that doesn't have to apply for makeup.”

To her credit, Xuan looked embarrassed, her expression turned as meek as he thought he’d ever see it. “I— You know—” she started, her golden gaze flitting away from him. A part of him reveled a little in her sheepish expression — it wasn’t often he had ever seen the stoic-faced monk abashed.

During their travels he had seen her face pale close to death, her tired triumphant grin while covered in the blood of others, the grimly determined set to her brow as she set foot in the goblin camp, her unimpressed and irritated scowl when he crossed the line, her faint laugh lines with Wyll and Karlach by the campfire. Though most of his attempts at propositioning her or irritating her mostly rolled off her shoulders, the occasional glare from her always stirred up a sense of satisfaction and something else within him. He liked to think that her general lack of reaction to his seduction and flirtation was her monk discipline, rather than a signal to her level of attraction to him because he could always feel her shuddering in his hands before he's about to feed, her eyes blown wide and dark. And because Astarion was too proud — and he would never admit it, but insecure — that to think otherwise would be nearly unbearable.

Astarion had discovered during their travels that for a stolid monk, she had a wide and entertaining range of expressions. But this meek expression was new. He tucked the image carefully into the back of his mind as he watched her fumble for a moment longer before admitting quietly, “I thought it would be easier than a brush.”

Ah , he thought dumbly. That was right, she still wasn’t comfortable with the brush. He ignored the twinge of guilt — what did he have to feel guilty for? He was already lending a hand more than he normally would have. And if anything, it should have been the wizard trying to teach her how to read and write that should feel guilty. He had seen the small sessions the two held in Gale’s tent in the later hours of the evening after dinner. Astarion was sure Gale was going at a rate too fast for the illiterate monk to keep up with. He could almost bet his newfound freedom that Gale launched right into trying to have her read some ancient spell scripture. If it had been him teaching her, he surely would’ve started with getting familiar with holding a brush properly. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Right, well, if you tell me the runes, I’ll paint them for you,” he said finally after a moment, unable to think of any worthy gibe.

“May I?” She put her hand out. Without really thinking, he nodded. His first mistake. Or maybe his first mistake had been seeking her out in the first place. Though he would never have been able to pinpoint it directly, there had been a reason he had sought out the entertainment of the others first.

“Vitality, sincerity, and compassion,” she recited automatically, straightening. Before he could even sneer at her words, his contempt faltered as she grabbed his wrist gently to flip his hand over. “They look like this,” she said, with enough earnest pride that would have made his sneer deepen had he not been so caught off guard by her fingers around his wrist and hand as she began to trace out the rune along his palm. The ghost of her finger against his palm made his skin itch. Very suddenly, Astarion was swept with the overwhelming urge to flee.

“I know what they look like,” he blurted harshly, resisting the urge to snatch back his hand. Or to wrap it around hers.

“Oh, right of course,” she said, looking embarrassed again as she withdrew her hand. “I wasn’t sure if there might be ancient runes and modern ones or…”

It very well might have been in ancient runes, he realized, inwardly wishing he had actually paid attention to the character she had been tracing. No matter, he told himself as he turned away from her gaze. Knowing monks and their ridiculous fixation on tradition and discipline, they were probably in ancient runes. Astarion picked up the damp cloth on the table and re-wet it into the small tub of water. The water was already stained pink, and her cheek looked as though she had just begun to rub vigorously at it.

“Right, well, I’ll get to it,” he announced to the air as he brought the damp cloth across her cheek, focusing his attention on the droplet that began to slide towards her jaw rather than the unabashed way she was watching him. There was no reason for him to be flustered, but he could feel an unwanted bundle of nerves growing in his stomach. Irritably, he slipped his hand below her chin to tilt her head back, half to get a better angle, half to see her reaction. He was sure it wasn’t the leftover paint that made her cheeks redden. Feeling right-footed again, he smirked down at her, before using the dry end of the cloth to absorb any remaining droplets against her skin. 

He lifted the brush and began on the first rune. At the feeling of the brush against her skin — or perhaps, she realized staring at him openly was awkward at best — her eyes fluttered shut as she sat still in the chair.

Despite the warning bells in his mind, Astarion took the moment to study her face carefully. Her brows were strong, perhaps too strong for her face, but relaxed, rather than furrowed as he normally saw them, they gave her a younger expression. Her lashes were long, but devastatingly straight, a stark contrast to the curl that had fallen against her temple. It’s the damn braid , he thought, not for the first time that day.  Her nose was also boringly unassuming, neither fit for her face nor not fit her face. A scar from their battle at the goblin camp had healed to be a thin, white line atop the bridge of her nose, faint against the tan of her skin. His gaze dropped lower. Her lower lip was fuller than her top, a soft pink that mirrored a familiar hue that he couldn’t quite place. He stared at them for a moment longer — in an attempt to try to remember where he had seen the color before.

All in all, her features separately were rather unremarkable, he decided. Nondescript, even. So why was it, that when her disastrously boring features were put together, she looked so—

“Astarion?”

Her uncertain voice snapped him out of his musings as he tore his gaze away from her lips — he had still been trying to place the color — only to see that her eyes were open now, her too-strong brows furrowing slightly. 

“Did you forget the rune?”

He blinked at her, and then the half-finished rune on her cheek. Right. He was painting it on her cheek. 

He swallowed the unsettling feeling that he had never properly looked at her before. “No,” he sniffed indignantly. “I was just considering the placement. To add some life to your rather dull face.” He added, rather unnecessarily.

Perhaps because the bite was only half there, the insult seemed to roll off of her effortlessly. “Traditionally, it’s supposed to stretch down to my collar,” she said, pulling back the ink of her hair and twisting it across her other shoulder to reveal her neck.

Astarion stared at the nape of her neck blankly for a moment before recovering, drawing himself into a carefully neutral expression. It must have been because he was a vampire spawn that something in him stirred at the sight of the long column of her neck. Yes, that was why. Though his fangs didn’t even ache with hunger, and rather, the ache seemed to come from deep within his chest. “Ah, my favorite part of your body. Or one of my many favorites, beautiful,” he drawled, though his voice came out more forced than seductive. 

“You just said my face was dull,” she grumbled under her breath. If he didn't know better, he would have said she looked miffed. But Astarion knew that his words never had any effect on her.

“Yes, but your body? Riveting,” he said easily. “Whatever training the temples had you doing was good .” He drew out the last word, giving her a cursory once over.

Xuan snorted good-naturedly, but maybe it was because of their proximity, that he could see the way her face crumple briefly, the corners of her lips twitching into the slightest of frowns, before her gaze darted away from his. Astarion suddenly felt the ridiculous urge to take back his words. Maybe even apologize. Instead, he ran his tongue over the point of his fang. “Sincerity, was it?” He asked, though he already knew the answer.

She nodded and he dipped the brush back into the red paint. He stepped closer, half in the bracket of her legs and bent at the waist so that they were eye to eye. To get a better view of where he was going to be painting, of course. He slipped his free hand into her disastrous waves to cradle the back of her head, tilting it back to allow better access to her neck. At the familiar motion, a flash of an image of him biting her neck one of those many nights flickered distractingly across his mind. She must have had the same thought, because she stiffened in his hands briefly, before relaxing wonderfully.

Silly girl, he wanted to shout. Didn't she now it was dumb and naive for letting your guard down around a vampire? He wanted to take her by the shoulders and give her a good shake and scold to put some sense into her. But he didn’t. Because this was exactly what he had wanted — a shield for himself with her guard down so that he could easily manipulate. Somehow though, he didn’t quite feel the triumph he thought he would.

Astarion swallowed thickly and carefully painted the next ruin right below her jaw, ignoring how the strokes on this ruin came out shakier than the previous. “Compassion is next?” The question came out somewhat strained.

She hummed in confirmation. His vision narrowed to the slope of her neck as he watched her throat bob. This one was to go at the nape of her neck. At the touch of the brush, she shivered a little in his hands. Normally, Astarion would have felt a sense of smug satisfaction at the sight, but this time he nearly dropped the brush. He took a shuddering breath he didn’t need and quickly, hastily, finished painting the ruin.

“Done,” he said, taking a quick step back. “That’ll be 200 gold for my artwork.”

She laughed, which did little to still the trembling feeling he still had in his hands. She turned to the mirror to inspect his work, her expression softening. “I haven’t had these ruins on me in ages. It reminds me of home,” she sighed, her voice tinged with awe and warmth. Her eyes were bright and pleased as a flicker of nostalgia flashed across her face. “Thank you, Astarion.” Though the fondness was clearly for the sight of the ruins, he felt a little cracked open. Flayed raw.

Astarion was, perhaps for the first time in two centuries, suddenly very glad that he had no reflection in the mirror that she could see as he watched her fond expression — he was very sure that his would give him away. It was always to his mingled relief and chagrin that she never seemed to notice his expression when he looked at her.

[simlicious]

Am I a programmer?

I've spent the last weeks developing an actual little app using Python...

It all started with a Let's Play of Subnautica I saw on YouTube. Since Subnautica is one of my all-time favorite games, I got the itch to dive back in (pun intended). I play with tons of mods, so I had to check for a lot of updates and also juggle different versions since the last Subnautica update broke a lot of the older mods. So after some back and forth, I decided to remain on the older version for now. Great! But then I noticed that because of that back and forth and uninstalling mods, all my mods were reinitialized, and that meant trouble for one of my favorite mods, Autosort Lockers. The mod adds automatic resource sorting inside the game, which is super handy. But it was built to only work with the game's resources, not modded items. It does offer config files though. So when I last used the mod, I painstakingly edited the configs and added all modded items, which took hours. And now, I accidentally messed them up and was supposed to redo all of that. The thought filled me with dread. So I asked ChatGPT, which I have grown quite fond of recently, to help me. Why did I ask ChatGPT? Well, I need to go a bit further back in time to explain that.

One day, not too long ago, I asked ChatGPT to reformat a long list. ChatGPT said, "Apologies, I cannot process such a long list. Here's a Python script, here's how to install Python, copy the script, run it and it will do what you want." I thought ChatGPT was crazy, surely that would never work!? Nut I was curious and also a little desperate so I did install Python and ran the script and ... it did what I wanted. I was stunned. Could I use ChatGPT to write code for me? Apparently, the answer was yes. So I spent a lot of time directing it, add this, add that, and I noticed that it was not at all as easy as I thought. ChatGPT removed code when it felt like it, and the longer it got the more it messed up. But also the more time I spent copying/pasting Python code, the more I understood. Sometimes, I would just ask "What exactly does this bit do?", and ChatGPT patiently gave me answers. Running the Python code from the command prompt got tedious very quickly though. I asked: "Can't you make a button for me that I can click??" To my surprise, ChatGPT said: "Sure, let's make a gui." And that was it, the moment I fell in love with Python. So I made a few attempts at this and that, most only half-finished because the project got too ambitious for the little knowledge I had.

I heard about an AI especially made for writing code: Github's Copilot. I decided I had to try that. Since it only worked in real programmer's tools, I installed Visual Studio Code. Now I really felt like a programmer, using fancy tools! And Copilot made things easier, much easier. It did not delete all kinds of code like regular ChatGPT. It was even more helpful. I was super motivated and got to work on my "Autosort Lockers Filter Update Helper" since Python is very well suited for automating stuff. Because several config files were involved, and several values needed to be loaded, converted, compared, merged, loooked up, reformatted, and saved into multiple files, it was quite the undertaking, but I am at a point where most of the logic actually works and I have a real program with real buttons that I can click on. I made a program that actually works with my very limited coding knowledge! It would not have been possible without the help of AI. My patience and long hours paid off. Can I call myself a programmer yet? I'm not sure, since the code was written mostly by AI, not me personally. But I can confidently call myself the director and mastermind behind it 😎 and I actually want to learn more about Python so I can one-day code stuff myself without needing AI to do it for me. Here is a picture of it (I am proud of those blue buttons 😊): I've spent the last weeks developing an actual little app using Python. It all started with a Let's Play of Subnautica I saw on YouTube. Since Subnautica is one of my all-time favorite games, I got the itch to dive back in (pun intended). I play with tons of mods, so I had to check for a lot of updates and also juggle different versions since the last Subnautica update broke a lot of the older mods. So after some back and forth, I decided to remain on the older version for now. But then I noticed that because of that back and forth and uninstalling mods, all my mods were reinitialized, and that meant trouble for one of my favorite mods, Autosort Lockers. The mod adds automatic resource sorting inside the game, which is super handy. But it was built to only work with the game's resources, not modded items. It does offer config files though. So when I last used the mod, I painstakingly edited the configs and added all modded items, which took hours. And now, I accidentally messed them up and was supposed to redo all of that. The thought filled me with dread. So I asked ChatGPT, which I have grown quite fond of recently, to help me. Why did I ask ChatGPT? Well, I need to go a bit further back in time to explain that.

One day, not too long ago, I asked ChatGPT to reformat a long list. ChatGPT said, "Apologies, I cannot process such a long list. Here's a Python script, here's how to install Python, copy the script, run it and it will do what you want." I thought ChatGPT was crazy, surely that would never work!? Nut I was curious and also a little desperate so I did install Python and ran the script and ... it did what I wanted. I was stunned. Could I use ChatGPT to write code for me? Apparently, the answer was yes. So I spent a lot of time directing it, add this, add that, and I noticed that it was not at all as easy as I thought. ChatGPT removed code when it felt like it, and the longer it got the more it messed up. But also the more time I spent copying/pasting Python code, the more I understood. Sometimes, I would just ask "What exactly does this bit do?", and ChatGPT patiently gave me answers. Running the Python code from the command prompt got tedious very quickly though. I asked: "Can't you make a button for me that I can click??" To my surprise, ChatGPT said: "Sure, let's make a gui." And that was it, the moment I fell in love with Python. So I made a few attempts at this and that, most only half-finished because the project got too ambitious for the little knowledge I had. I heard about an AI especially made for writing code: Github's Copilot. I decided I had to try that. Since it only worked in real programmer's tools, I installed Visual Studio Code. Now I really felt like a programmer, using fancy tools! And Copilot made things easier, much easier. It did not delete all kinds of code like regular ChatGPT. It was even more helpful. I was super motivated and got to work on my "Autosort Lockers Filter Update Helper" since Python is very well suited for automating stuff. Because several config files were involved, and several values needed to be loaded, converted, compared, merged, loooked up, reformatted, and saved into multiple files, it was quite the undertaking, but I am at a point where most of the logic actually works and I have a real program with real buttons that I can click on. I made a program that actually works with my very limited coding knowledge! It would not have been possible without the help of AI. My patience and long hours paid off. Can I call myself a programmer yet? I'm not sure, since the code was written mostly by AI, not me personally. But I can confidently call myself the director and mastermind behind it 😎 and I actually want to learn more about Python so I can one-day code stuff myself without needing AI to do it for me. Here is a picture of it (I am proud of those blue buttons 😊):

...and the configs the app updated:

The app is not in a publishable state and I guess I would need to do far more tests and let someone who can actually code Python look it over before I would feel comfortable sharing it with anyone else, but it feels incredible to have pulled off something like this. I just wanted to share this accomplishment with someone!

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern AU) - Game Night

Jaskier loves music. It is his career, and he spends the majority of his days listening to it, creating it, and sharing it. It's an important part of his life that he is very passionate about.

But that doesn't mean he doesn't have other interests or things that he obsesses over. He likes games in particular. He'll sit down with Geralt and the other Witchers and play some video games, a card game, or a few rounds of pool. Sometimes he'll play a board game with Geralt, Yennefer, and Ciri.

But there is one game he gets really excited about playing. He is a huge fan of D&D. He has a custom D&D table, and has made a few diroamas. And he is obsessed with collecting dice. He follows several custom dice makers on tiktok, and is constantly showing the ones that catch his eye to Geralt, but he very rarely buys any.

Everytime he goes on a tour with his band, or goes on the Path with Geralt, he always keeps an eye out for places that might sell dice. He almost always comes back empty-handed.

He could easily buy anything he wanted, being a sucessful bard, and a Viscount, but he rarely buys anything for himself. He prefers to use his money for more sensible things, like taking care of his family, and making sure his band has what it needs. And making sure he is more fashionably dressed than Valdo Marx, because f**k him!

Yennefer doesn't understand Jaskeir's obsession with the dice. The closest she can compare it to is a magpie's obsession with shiny things.

He had been so excited when Eskel had brought him a custom made set of dice that looked like they contained small galaxies. He had hugged the Witcher, then run off, doing this weird little excited goblin run. The dice had been placed in a display box, on a special shelf in his room. He would occassionally bring them out to use for special game nights.

And he doesn't just use the dice for his games. He uses them when he and Geralt can't agree on something, or to make a decision.

Yennefer cannot acurately the describe the feeling of utter dread/panic/suspicion, or Impeding Doom that twisted up her stomach every time Jaskier hands her a die and says "Yen, quick! Roll this for me!"

Yennefer: *reluctantly rolls die*

Jaskier: "20!? Thanks, Yen!" *runs to the kitchen excitedly shouting* "Geralt! Geralt, 20!"

Yennefer *sits there internally panicking* 20 what? What was the number for? Was it 20 kittens? Was it number 20 on a list of options for snacks? Was it a destination? Was it the number of grapes Jaskier was going to try to shove up his a**??? She doesn't know. All she knows is that if Geralt starts laughing, it's going to be something cringey, stupid, dangerous, or possibly all three.

She hears them giggling in the bathroom later, and someone whispering "Stop laughing, you're making them fall out!"

Yennefer bangs on the door. "Jaskier! You better not be shoving grapes up your a**!"

"I'm not!"

*muffled giggling*

Yennefer: You better not be shoving grapes up Geralt's a**!

Geralt: *muffled giggling*

Jaskier: *disappointed whine* "Awww-! D*mn it, Geralt! Now we have to start all over!"

Yennefer decides she doesn't want to know.

She doesn't really have a great deal of interest in D&D itself, but she knows just about everything there is to know about it, thanks to the weekly game nights.

She was excited at first, listening to them talk about their campaigns the following day, but when she actually sat in on a game, she found it...tedious. Their characters,on the other hand, were interesting and creative.

For example, Jaskier's character (a Bard, of course) was just a pair of hands that (at first) communicated in a combination of sign language and rude gestures, played the lute, and made sex jokes.

His character later gained the ablity to speak by making a 'talking' motion with the hands. And proceeded to talk and argue with himself, carry on an almost non-stop Statler and Waldorf running commentary, sing, and make rude/inappropriate gestures. And try to randomly poke his companions in the a**.

His favorite spell was 'Mega B*tch Slap', which he'd made up, they'd argued about, but had ended up allowing it because 'why not?'.

The world itself was interesting, but the actual quests/adventures took forever. This was mostly because they spent the majority of their time rolling to end a parade of arguments. Most of the game was spent rolling to see if one of them would be allowed to do something.

They spent an hour at an Inn, rolling to see who the barmaid liked best.

They rolled to see who the horses liked better.

They rolled to see if Lambert could start the campaign completely hammered.

They rolled to see if one of them could fight a battle bucka** nekkid

They rolled for d*ck length.

They rolled to see if Geralt was allowed to turn himself into a horse.

They rolled for Horse Geralt's d*ck length.

Yennefer discovered that there was barely a serious moment in any of their campaigns. All manner of improbable and impractical things happened. Dead Cow Balloons, Dead Elf Boogie Board, Crab Tornado, Exploding Chickens, Bag of Singing D*cks... and the she couldn't forget the most powerful weapon ever forged. The Jabbing Stick of Instant Death. It was literally just a stick with a pointy end, but one jab and it was all over.

Yennefer did find all the absurdity and unpredictability amusing, but she just didn't have the patience for all the rolling.

Which is why she volunteered to be in charge of cooking for game night. That and she was appalled when she found out what they were eating during their gaming sessions.

Yennefer had walked into the game room with some drinks, "What the h*ll are you eating?"

"Grilled Cheese Sandwiches and Tomato Soup?" Jaskier had said, casually stirring his soup.

"That's not-! Those are cheese puffs floating in, in tomato sauce!"

"I put some of that chicken powder stuff in it,"

"That's not tomato soup! Or grilled cheese!"

"But it's like tomato soup and grilled cheese." Jaskier replied.

Yennefer turned at the sound of a plastic water bottle crinkling, and saw Geralt squeeze a mushy white substance into his mouth, then follow it up with a handful of shredded cheese straight from the bag. "Geralt! What the-!"

"Baked potato," Eskel explained, shaking some instant mashed potato flakes into his water bottle, letting Geralt heat the water in it with Igni, then shaking it.

Lambert glared at her, daring her to say anything about the bowl of pizza rolls covered in so much ranch dressing that he was eating them with a spoon.

There was a soft scrape of a plastic spoon against metal. Coen was eating Spaghetii-O's right out of the can.

"You all eat like f***ing stoners!!! I'm going to make you some real food!"

From then on, Yennefer cooked for them on game nights. It was simple fare, mostly things that made her feel like she was feeding a pack of children.

Dinosaur chicken nuggets, macaroni, and cheese, hotdogs, etc. But they never complained about it. In fact, they seemed excited about the food. Especailly one dish that she discovered was their favorite.

Jaskier had walked into the kitchen for some drinks, saw the cans and the hotdogs on the counter, and gone bolting back to the game room, with an excited whoop of, "F**K YEAH, BEANIE WEENIES!!!"

Sometimes, if Jaskier hadn't been too aggravating that week, Yennefer would make tavern food for them, to kind of fit the theme of their game.

Yennefer would leave them to their game and go about her evening, then curl up with her old cat plush, Sammy, and go to sleep. Sometimes she would have to make a trip to the game room to yell at them to be quiet.

And in the morning, she was woken up by The Ritual of The Most Holy Burrito. Every morning following a game night, five grown-a** men would microwave breakfast burritos, hold them over their heads, and dance through the living room while singing every verse of the sacred hymn "Yum Yum Breakfast Burritos".

She started leaving blankets and pillows on the couch after she'd gone in one morning after a game night and found them all sleeping scattered around the room and using various items as blankets.

Lambert was using a week-old pizza box someone had forgot to throw away.

Coen was under the gaming table.

Geralt and Jaskier were using Eskel.

Yennefer had started a collection of Game Night Aftermath photos that she regularly shared with Madeleine when they would go out on their Girls Only Days.

Unless the photo was so extraordinarily humorous or adorable that she would text it to her immediately.

Like the photo of Jaskier using Eskel's a** as a pillow.

Or the picture of Geralt passed out on the game table with his tits out.

And the assorted photos of shirtless Witchers in cuddle piles

Yennefer decides that game nights aren't so bad after all.