#i feel like “art” gets tossed around way too casually but

[midnakoopa]

Just got to the ending of Outer Wilds and uh. How do I put this?

HOLY

FUCKING

SHIT

[lazyjellyfish300]

DD

Fem Reader x Miguel O'Hara who is your Uber Driver

Commissioned art by @ejpuki on Instagram, same as the one above, this is just a link to the original post. Please support the artist 🖤

Synopsis- in an AU where fem reader drinks too much and the bartender calls a random Uber for her which happens to be Miguel O'Hara himself. Her friends suck and ditch her. There's a lot of tension on the ride home...with a twist on the og Miguel O'Hara comic. Word Count 4.5k

Pt 2, Pt 3 1, Pt 3 2 , Pt 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7 , Part 8 , Part 9

T/W: 18+ only, minors DNI, alcohol, drunkeness, mature language, implied masturbation, some sexual content/fantasizing, some self-deprecating language (reader is insecure), age gap (reader 26, Miguel 34)

This is my first EVER fan fiction piece! If you have a crush on Miguel O'Hara from Across the Spider Verse, this is for you...

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"Next song is for all the bad bitches in here tonight, let's make some noise." As soon as the song starts you recognize that it's Agora Hills and a switch goes off in your brain as you yank your friend, Hailey by the arm to the dance floor while she struggles to get the last sip of tequila sunrise down the hatch as the ice cubes attack her face.

It was a Saturday night, now very early Sunday morning in mid-November. You and your two friends are in a slightly seedy club in Brooklyn. Right now, all three of you are trying to escape the first-world problems of modern day society, and common issues that would plague late-twenty year old adults like stagnant jobs, anxiety-inducing texts from distant family members about plans for the holidays, and a casual fling that started to sour about 3 days ago.

Right now, all you want to do is dance to this song. And go home for some relief because the tequila is making you horny and your situationship hasn't texted you back for going on 16 hours now.

You and Hailey giggle as you both throw your heads back in bliss to the music, holding each other's pinkies as you try and awkwardly spin on the dance floor.

"Wait!" Hailey calls out and stutters as she lets go of you and tries to squeeze through a sea of musk, 5- Gum, and Bath and Body Works perfume back towards your other friend, Brin, who's still at the bar.

"Fuckkk. Whatever girl." You drunkenly roll your eyes and close them again, throwing your arms in the air, moving to the beat. The song is making you feel even more electrified than before. You toss your head back and move your hands from your shoulders, to your chest, down to your thighs. It's one of those moments where you feel dangerous.

God I love being a woman! You picture going home with a stranger. A tall man's lips crashing down on yours in your dark bedroom in drunken passion, falling backwards onto your bed. You picture yourself pulling your clothes off slowly while his hungry eyes scan your curves…

Your fantasy is interrupted when you feel a clammy hand touch your hip, just below where your see-through top ends. Your eyes shoot what you hope is an annoyed look at the offender. A brown haired guy in a white t-shirt with a flannel who looks like his name is Tanner, smirks at you as he moves past you, but not before letting his eyes dart to your cleavage line under your black bralette. You groan and move the other direction and realize Hailey and Brin are nowhere to be found. Your drunkeness wears off for one second as you slowly jerk around, trying to make your way towards the bar.

A tall brunette with a half sleeve tattoo, glasses, and her straight brown hair in a claw clip is counting her drawer.

"H-have you seen my friends?" you ask her stupidly. The tall brunette looks at you, her small sticker name tag on her baseball tee shirt reads "Reagan."

"I can't hear you, hunny." Reagan has seen this a million times. "Last call just ended. Do you have a ride home? I said, do you have a ride HOME?"

Reagan leans over the bar, holding onto your wrist. Her breath smells good at least.

"Okay look, can you hand me your phone please? Let me help you order an Uber." You blow air out of your lips like a horse and sloppily hand her your phone. "Enter your passcode, please."

You type in your passcode and watch the glint from your phone reflect on her glasses as she orders an Uber for you. Luckily, your address is already saved to the app. "Okay, sweetheart, wait here with me. Miguel is coming for you in 4 minutes." She hands you back your phone and credit card. "Sign here please."

Fuck, did I transfer that 200 from my savings before I got here? You think as you sign the receipt she hands you. The total is $58.75. You scrape the tiny excuse for a pocket inside your skirt and hand Reagan a crumpled up 20 as a tip. Reagan takes it, eyes widen a little bit at the sight of the 20.

Did she mean to give me this much?... Fuck it. She gives you a small, concerned grin.

"Thanks... let me get you some water."

You nod and slump your head forward on the sticky bar.

Suddenly Reagan is shaking your shoulder.

"Hey! Your ride's here!"

You realize you might have fallen asleep temporarily. The room is still moving like you're trying to balance on a waterbed. She places a styrofoam to-go cup in your hand filled with ice water as she grips your left arm.

"Here, just take off your shoes, hunny." She bends over and pulls off your clunky heels and holds them in her free hand. You feel like you're 4 years old. You feel tears well up at the sudden kindness.

"Okay hunny it's okay, come on now." She pulls you outside and to the curb where a black Audi is waiting. The cold air assaults your bare legs and your teeth start to chatter. The driver recognizes his passenger is quite inebriated and gets out, walking towards the struggling pair.

You feel your bedroom eyes creep up when you see him. Oh no, he's hotttt!

You curse in your head silently for not checking your reflection before he got there. You're sure you're a hot mess though.

He's tall, huge, even. Definitely way over six feet. Dark tousled hair with dreamy brown eyes underneath sculpted brows are locked on you as he gets closer. You instinctually run a hand through your hair, trying to make it look more voluminous. Probably a lost cause at this point.

He's wearing black joggers with some worn Nikes. His black hoodie is baggy but you have a very good imagination. It covers a set of broad, wide shoulders and what you're sure are bold chest muscles underneath that lead to a delicious pair of V lines and an endearing happy trail of hair running down his belly button that lead directly to his-

"Can I carry something for you?" His rich voice pulls you out of your indecent thoughts for one second then sends you right back there again.

"Um, yes can you get her shoes please?" You hear Reagan's voice go up an octave.

Girlll me too. You think to yourself.

Miguel takes your heels in a pair of strong, large hands. As he does, he tugs his sleeve and checks a black Apple watch, veins running up a thick forearm. Called it. This guy was jacked. Probably a gym bro. Definitely has a girlfriend. You feel yourself get sucked back into reality. You were probably a 7/10 at best. And right now, probably a strong 4 after your shenanigans tonight.

Miguel opens the back door, allowing Reagan to tuck you in.

"Get home safe hunny," she says.

"Thank youuuu," you slur back to her as you sit, disheveled with your sippy cup of ice water in the backseat opposite of the driver's in front. Miguel gets in the driver's seat, the scent of Old Spice seeps in.

He smells good too?! You feel yourself wanting to sin. He sits in the front seat for a few moments in silence, fiddling with his phone.

"2949 Ocean Parkway?" he asks in his mesmerizing voice.

"Yeah, that's right." You feel yourself perk up. You're starting to sober up slightly but you still have enough liquid courage left to start asking him a lot more questions than you normally would.

"Your name's Miguel?"

"Yes," he answers. "Did you have a good night tonight?"

"I did! It was supposed to be girl's night, I'm not sure what happened to them, though."

"Your friends left you?" His dark eyes glance in the rearview mirror at you.

Sighhh "Yeah, I guess they did."

"You need better friends." One of his hands comes up and grips the shoulder of the passenger seat as he sits up and looks over his shoulder, his eyes meet yours for just a moment, then focus on the back window as he pulls out of the parallel parking spot. You can't help but stare at his chiseled jawline and his neck, imagining yourself planting a line of kisses on it while he groans and grits his teeth...

"You know what sounds amazing right now?" You ask in a flirty tone, interrupting your own dirty thoughts.

He cracked a small smile. "What's that?"

"Taco bellllll." You rest your cheek on the shoulder passengers seat, looking at him.

He glances at you, then keeps looking ahead as he drives.

"Well, if you want to update the route I'd be happy to stop anywhere you want."

You laugh.

"I don't know how to do thattt." The car comes up to a red light.

"Here, want help?" Miguel looks over at you as you hand him your phone which has the app still opened, courtesy of Reagan helping you from before. Miguel quickly types, his eyes going from the traffic light to your phone as he tries to enter the new address for the closest Taco Bell.

"Got it," he hands you back your phone, another whiff of his cologne coming off the fabric of his hoodie as he moves his arm back to rest on the center console while he drives with his left hand.

You glance down at your phone and then back at him, still leaning forward with your cheek pressed against the back of the passenger seat.

Unbeknownst to you, Miguel was curious about his new passenger, probably the last ride he'll do tonight. He didn't get a good look at you when the bartender was putting you in his car. He glanced over at you again when he thought you weren't looking, but quickly moved his eyes back to the road when he saw you were staring at him already with your cheek pressed against the passenger seat.

"You tired?"

"Kind of," you fake a small yawn while still holding your position.

Miguel laughed. He thought that was kind of amusing, how you were clearly faking being tired and shamelessly staring at him while he drove. He knew he was a good looking guy. Once you got into his car, he felt like he needed to take care of you and make sure you got home safe since your shitty friends wouldn't.

Your eyes wander to the space between his chest and the steering wheel, trying to imagine yourself in it, his strong arms wrapped around you as your hot, frantic, breaths fogged the windows as your bodies pressed together...

"So, y/n , right?" He asks.

Fuuuuck he said my name...

"Yeah..how did you know?! Oh right, the app, the app..."

Miguel smiles.

"So, Miguel, how is it being an Uber driver?" you ask. Feeling brave, you touch his elbow resting on the center console. Miguel's fist clenches tighter around the steering wheel at your touch.

"It's...not bad. It's been pretty busy tonight, actually. I went to the gym earlier then just have been taking a few folks like yourself around town who were going out as well. "

"That's nice. You know, we're gonna be best friends by the end of this drive," you grin, taking another sip of ice water.

"Really?" Miguel smirks. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Your heart flutters at this question. Why is he asking me that?!

"Uhm, no.. I was talking to a guy but I think he ghosted me."

"Heh, I'm sorry to hear that." Miguel replied, not sorry at all.

"Do girls ghost you? Or-uh, I mean- do you, do you have a girlfriend?" you manage to spit out.

Miguel smiles at your stutters.

"Nah, I'm single. I do have a daughter though."

Your smile disappears for a moment. A daughter? "Awhhh, what's her name? How old is she?"

"Her name's Gabriella. She's 6."

"That's sweet...." Miguel's handsomeness mixed with the liquor is enough to cause all rational thinking to exit your brain. I could be a step-mom, easy! I love kids, what the hell?

"So, how old are you?" You ask.

Miguel chuckles. "Isn't it rude to ask a stranger's age?" He glances over at you and the corner of his mouth raises at your slightly mortified expression. "I'm just messing with you- I'm 34."

"Dang, I'm 26," you answer as you look out the window.

"You're still pretty young," Miguel remarks as he turns down a new street.

"I definitely don't feel that way," you answer as you slump in your seat. You decide to check your email. Once you open it, a message that you don't want to see is at the very top. It's a random Yahoo email address you don't recognize which means only one thing: your asshole, estranged dad. You click on it quickly to clear the bold lettering indicating it's unread, and catch a quick glimpse of its contents which is a novel with no spacing. You quickly delete it with a loud sigh.

"Everything okay?" Miguel asks.

"Just my dad. Somehow he made another email address and tried to contact me again. It's a long story though we don't have to get into it..." your voice cracks slightly.

The skin around Miguel's eyes softens when you mention your tense relationship with your father. He himself knew that pain as well. His father, George O'Hara, wasn't a model parent, either.

"I'm sorry you're going through that," Miguel says emphatically. "I don't have the best relationship with my dad, either."

Once you hear this, the last bit of liquid courage in your system inspires you to spill the tea.

"He and my mom are divorced, and, well he's just a narcissist, right? Growing up, I didn't see it, but his whole family is full of them. My grandma never wanted him to marry my mom and so ever since their wedding day, she treated her like shit and when I came along, it was no different. I used to wonder why at Christmases she got bigger presents for the other grandkids and ask why she didn't show up for my birthday parties. My dad never did anything about it and always took their side. I finally realized it when I was about 16 when they divorced, and that's when I said fuck it. If you're not gonna stick up for my mom or me, I don't really want anything to do with you or your family."

Miguel nodded, just listening to you speak, glancing at you in the rearview mirror so you knew he was paying attention.

"Wow, I must say, that sounds horrible. Good on you for sticking up for yourself and your mother. As a parent myself, I can't ever imagine treating my own child or their family that way..."

You sigh.

"Yeah, shit's fucked. But there's nothing I can do about it, you know? I just don't have the strength to talk to him right now. But he never fails to try to reach out about this time every year. Since it's the holidays."

The car arrives at another red light. This time, Miguel turns around to face you while you're stopped, his eyes directly looking into yours.

"Don't feel guilty for doing what's best for you. No matter how hard it is. I know that most people think that family is everything, but, truth is sometimes they can hurt you the most." Miguel then turns back to the wheel.

You feel a flutter in your stomach as though an invisible spark appeared. You were strongly physically attracted to your handsome Uber driver, no doubt about it, but after hearing him speak, you realize there's more behind his captivating features. You feel the very beginning of a connection starting to form and suddenly you wish you had all night to talk to him. Miguel felt the same way, too. In fact, he was going 5 miles under the speed limit and riding the slow lane to try and prolong the encounter. Luckily, you were still too tipsy to notice.

"Well, this should cheer you up..." Miguel pulls the car into the Taco Bell parking lot. You groan internally when you realize you're going to have to go inside. You step out of the car, the cold air assaulting your bare skin again. Miguel notices you shivering.

"Here." Without hesitation, he peels off his hoodie and hands it to you. You want to die as soon as you put it on, and once you see him standing there without it on. He's even more toned than you realize. He's wearing a grey athletic shirt that hugs his broad shoulders just right, his defined chest and ab muscles tapering off into a narrow waist. His hoodie is still warm and smells intoxicating. You feel your hormones going crazy when you bring the collar of the hoodie to your mouth and nose, shamelessly getting drunk on the scent he left behind...

You do a mini sprint to catch up to him as he's already making his way towards the restaurant.

Miguel looks at you from the corner of his eye and his heart skips a beat. He adores the way his oversized clothes drown you. The hoodie is big enough to be a dress on you. He imagines this would be how you two would look together getting a bite to eat, only after making you scream his name 30 minutes before....

You and Miguel enter the Taco Bell and he gives an awkward grin as he holds the door open for you.

"Why don't you sit down or use the restroom if you need, let me order for you," Miguel says.

Your heart melts, but you decide you better seem modest with your order.

"Umm just a gordita crunch, small Baja blast, and a 2 pack of Cinnabon delights please."

Miguel smiles. "You got it." Suddenly, he feels close to you. You trusting him to order food for you and take you home after a rough night out while letting you wear his clothes.

While you go into the bathroom, he approaches the counter.

"Hello, I need two gordita crunches, a large Baja Blast, and a 12 pack of Cinnabon delights, please" He takes out his card and pays for the food without a second thought.

Meanwhile, you come out of the bathroom after cleaning up a bit, still wrapped in his warm hug of a hoodie and wait near the door. Miguel strolls over with your food and grins at you.

"Are you ready to go?" You nod and grin back and you two make your way back to his car. Suddenly, you realize.

"Do you have Venmo? Let me know how much I owe you."

"Absolutely not." Miguel answers firmly. "Here, why don't you sit up front this time?" He opens the passenger door for you. You beam at him.

Is this real? Is this guy really doing all this for me and I just met him? You've never had a man treat you this well. Not even your last relationship could be bothered to hold a door open for you or pull out a chair. You get in and Miguel hands you your bag of food, the delicious aroma making your stomach growl. Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion when you realize there's a lot more food in the bag than you told him to order originally. Miguel gets in the car and starts to drive again.

"Did, did you order extra food for me?" You laugh as you turn to him. Miguel gives you a small half smile but says nothing. You take a bite of the gordita crunch and let out a loud, "Mmmmmmm!" Just what you've been craving all night.

"Thank you, thank you so much you have no idea..." Your sentence tapers off as you stuff one of the piping hot Cinnabons into your mouth.

"You're very welcome." Miguel answers as you arrive at another red light. You realize Miguel didn't get himself anything.

"Do you want a Cinnabon bite?" You hold the box and give it a little shake.

Miguel offers a polite smile. "No thanks, those are all for you."

"Whaat, you can't turn down one of these. Have you even had these before?" You say playfully.

He chuckles at your playful tone. "I haven't, actually. But I trust your judgement."

"Come onnn...it's the LEAST I can do after everything you've done for me tonight. You're seriously gonna make me feel SO bad if you don't take at LEAST one." You give the box a couple shakes as if it's going to entice him more.

Miguel sighs. "Alright, you got me. I'll try one."

You smile wide as he takes one of the Cinnabon bites from the box you're holding in an outstretched hand. Your smile almost breaks your face as you see his reaction to his first bite.

"Jesus.." he mutters as his brows furrow in disbelief. He looks down at the remaining bite in his fingers as though he can't comprehend its existence. "That's spectacular, actually."

"Have another one!" You beam.

"Don't mind if I do." Miguel pops another one in his mouth and he brakes again at another red light.

He glances over at you and notices a little bit of taco sauce on the corner of your lip. "You got something..."

Suddenly, your heart stops as he raises his hand to your face, cupping your cheek between his thumb and pointer finger, while his middle finger cradles your chin. His lips part in concentration as he gently presses his thumb against the corner of your mouth, retrieving the smudge of taco sauce. Your mouth falls open a little bit too. He gives you a little smile as he brings his thumb to his own mouth, cleaning the sauce from his finger.

That might have been the hottest thing you've ever seen in your life. At this point, all you want to do is grab his face and make out with it. Traffic be damned, your runny mascara be damned, your deflated hair be damned, you don't care anymore about any of that. He could ask you to do anything and you'd give it to him without hesitation.

Miguel is thinking the same thing. He did that on purpose. If it wasn't anymore obvious he wanted you right now then he wasn't sure what was. His gaze falls back to your lips. He suddenly realizes you've begun to lean in closer to him. Your noses are inches away from each other. God, he wanted you. To lick passionately into your mouth with his tongue. Being able to hold you and grip your ass as though he was a starved man who couldn't get closer to you even if he tried. Watching your brow furrow with pleasure, hearing your voice and watching your breath fog his windows and the heat rising in his body knowing he was the cause...

Reality busts in like the Kool-Aid man.

She was drinking tonight. You just met her. She's your passenger. Technically, you're still working right now...No, it's not right...

Miguel pulls away suddenly, and, as if the universe has his back, the traffic light turns green and he presses the gas, driving once more. Your breath catches in your throat and your heart starts to pound again.

Doesn't he like me? What happened....? What did I do....? Did I misread the signs? I wanna hide in my room for the rest of my fucking life now.

You clear your throat and take a long sip of Baja Blast. The uncomfortable silence and tension becomes a thick fog. You recognize your apartment building coming into view and your heart sinks.

"Home sweet home..." Miguel pulls into the parking lot. "Is here a good place to drop you off?"

"Yeah..." You try to make your tone sound like it's back to business. Miguel nods and grips the steering wheel with both fists in the 12 o' clock position as he watches you gather your things.

Ask for her number, you fucking pussy... Truth is, when it came to matters of the heart, Miguel's heart was glass.

"Thank you for the ride and the food, and, and just everything..." you step out of his car, defeated. You really didn't want to be the one to make the first move. If he really wanted to he would...

Miguel looks back at you with a neutral expression.

"Of course. You have a safe night, now." He starts to pull away.

"Miguel!" You realize you're still wearing his hoodie and you go to take it off.

He looks at you through the rolled down window, still driving away and shoots you a gorgeous smile and shakes his head at you in refusal, giving you one last wink that nearly knocks you over.

You sigh with frustration and watch his car disappear into the night, trying to memorize his license plate but your brain is hazy and the numbers on it escape your mind as soon as they enter. Your heart leaps in your chest when you realize you might be able to contact him through the Uber app...

No no, you let him talk to you first. Did your last situationship teach you nothing, you dumb hoe?! Don't be that desperate girl...

You wrap the droopy arms of his hoodie around yourself as you walk up the stairs and take a deep sniff...burying yourself in his scent so you never ever forget it. Even if he didn't want to spend the night holding you, you could go to bed with a huge smile on your face knowing you walked away with a piece of his clothing, the essence of what he left behind wrapped around your body all night long. An intangible connection that bound you two together...

Miguel sighed as he drove away. He just didn't have the bravery tonight. He didn't want to come across as creepy. The reality is, you were a slightly intoxicated stranger, a vulnerable woman younger than him, and he didn't want to abuse his power over you in that way. He looked at the empty passenger seat next to him and laid one of his hands on it, feeling the warmth you left behind. Trying to remember the way your thighs pillowed on it...the way your soft lips opened in shock when he wiped the sauce from your mouth, the small line of saliva from you that he caught on his thumb and licked into his own mouth..

He inhaled deeply, his jaw tensing and speed on the road increasing as he felt his body getting hot... He tried to lock your perfume in his nose for as long as he could, imagining himself inhaling it directly from your soft neck... holding onto the remainder of your presence, just...just until he could get home and relieve himself of his dire wants...

You, the perfect stranger who found herself in the passenger seat of his car tonight, and unknowingly wound up in the back of his mind for good...

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Hope you liked it! Thank you SO much for reading. ❤️ Part 2 is coming soon!

Pt 2

[minkdelovely]

love and power

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chapter three “is this the life that lies ahead now?”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: drinking on an empty stomach (do not attempt in real life, but this is hell baby), allusions to poisoning, reader is hungover and has a poor appetite, uh oh art thou pining?, slow burn eventual: smut

word count: 2.8k

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine

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After getting some water you tried falling back asleep to no avail, tossing and turning for at least an hour before deciding to call it quits.

Leaving the hotel in the middle of the night wasn’t the best idea, but you felt like you’d start tearing at the wallpaper if you stayed in your room. Cliche as it was, fresh air had always helped you relax while you were living. You thought back to the family garden and sighed. You’d give anything to be able to sit there now.

Your thoughts drifted to your father as you changed out of your pajamas. Things had changed so much in your day-to-day after coming to the hotel that you realized you couldn’t remember the last time he had crossed your mind. You felt a tightness in your throat when you tried to remember what he looked like. It was hazy, but he was mostly there; strong with a brilliant smile. How long would it be before you couldn’t remember him at all? Even the way you heard his voice in your mind didn’t seem completely right, an imitation of a memory.

Was he doing okay? Was he still mourning you? Or did he think you were just missing? Did the money go through? Did he know what you did for him to get it? There was no way to know.

“Can’t sleep?” 

You jumped at the sound of Husker’s voice, so lost in thought and determined to get out of there that you hadn’t noticed him at the bar. It wasn’t surprising that he was still down here, though, being just before midnight. In fact, the real surprise was that he was here by himself. You decided to put leaving on pause and made your way over to him, taking advantage of the rare moment of privacy. Besides, what good would it do to dismiss Husker when he had been so discreet about this morning?

“More like slept too much,” you said, sighing as you took a seat across from him. 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Husk jabbed amiably, turning to grab an empty glass. 

You groaned. “Well there goes my hope of looking better than I feel. I was thinking maybe a walk would help, but—” Husk gave you a look, rightly making you feel sheepish. 

“Didn’t go so hot this morning, huh? Thought you’d have better luck at night?” he said, half-joking, and passed you an amber-colored drink. The worry must’ve been showing on your face, as he cooly added, “Don’t worry, it’s been a ghost town in here for over an hour. It’s still only me and Angel who know about what happened.”

“Is he at work right now?” you asked, relaxing a little and took a casual look around. “I really don’t know how I can make it up to you both. This morning I…,” you sighed again and ran a hand through your hair, feeling the exhaustion seep back in. “I don’t know. Hopefully I’ll just forget about it, or convince myself it was a nightmare or something. But I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”

You recalled your reflection in the mirror before you showered, unrecognizable to yourself under the layer of gore caked to your skin. 

Husk waved his hand, but the softness in his eyes felt like a rock in your stomach. “Don’t worry about it, we’ve both seen crazier shit in our time. But yeah, he’s been gone for most of the day. Said Valentino was having an ‘emergency’ but I have my doubts. He’s always pulling Angel in for dumb shit.”

You nodded and finally took a sip of your drink, shocked by how much you enjoyed it. A pleasant bitter taste lingered in your mouth, and you had to actively fight the urge to chug down the rest of it.

“Valentino’s his boss, right? Alastor’s done a pretty good job of keeping me preoccupied, but I think I’ve heard you guys talking about him before.”

“That’s the simplest thing to call him, I guess, though I prefer to call him an asshole,” Husk grumbled and you both shared a small laugh, the alcohol already making you feel lighter. 

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you, Husk refilling your glass as you rested your head in your hand, gazing through the windows to the city below. Would you be able to pinpoint the alley if you concentrated hard enough? Someone had to have stumbled on him by now, right? Like his little sidekick… Did he ever go back for Donny? Something else clicked into place as you thought of him and the events of the morning: unless someone came after you for retribution, you would get away with it. That’s just how life is here.

No missing person report, no investigation, no forensics, no trial, no jail sentence. Weren’t you already “doing time” by being here? It’s not like you could add on to it. Not that you intended to do it again, but it was a step in the right direction of making peace with yourself. Maybe you really would forget about it someday, maybe not. There were some things that stuck with you forever.

The image of your grandmother came to you then, the last time you had spoken with her. She was sitting in her favorite chair near the fireplace in the library, her face set in the ever-present scowl you resented so much. She really was such a miserable creature. You saw yourself place the tray of tea and almond shortbread cookies down on the dark-lacquered, antique coffee table between you, knowing it would the last thing she ever ate. And tried to fight the smile pulling at your lips.

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“It occurred to me in the night that you still owe me something from the butcher,” Alastor said casually, his face buried in the newspaper. Irritation shot through you quick as lightning, but you prevailed against the urge to dump the coffee you were bringing him all over his lap. 

As the grandfather clock in Alastor’s room chimed the hour, the pulse in your head threatened to kill. Apparently hangovers were very real in Hell (because of course they were), and this one was a doozy. Husk had only given you three drinks, but since you had wrung yourself so dry it was  enough to leave you feeling like absolute shit. Beyond some water, the only thing you managed to ingest so far this morning was a piece of plain, burnt toast to try and soothe your aching stomach. It had taken all you had to keep it down. Needless to say, you weren’t starting the day in the best of moods.

Not that you ever thought Alastor would take it easy on you anyway. The look he gave you when you showed up in your new dress was so self-satisfied that it made you want to crawl under a rock. And when he said that you looked like death warmed over, you wanted to use said rock to knock his teeth in. It was the first you had seen of him since the incident in your room yesterday, though you tried not to dwell on the fact that he had returned at some point while you were asleep. In the grand scheme of his behavior you’ve been exposed to, that was really the least of your worries. 

Through the veil of annoyance you found yourself looking at the mug in his grasp, remembering the strength of his hand holding your chin. Your breath shallowed as he brought the rim up to his lips. Fuck. Tearing your eyes away, you did your best to swallow the lump in your throat. This couldn’t be happening.

He was just toying with you yesterday. Nothing new, you told yourself. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes how much he enjoys feeling superior. Not that you had ever seen him pull a stunt like that on anyone else, but who knows? It’s not like you were with him every second of the day. Even in this very moment, he was messing with you. 

Was it your fault that he had only grabbed his clothes off the filthy floor of that alley and left the other bag to rot? Of course he’d see it that way, and if your headache wasn’t as terrible as it was, you might have told him exactly that. Especially considering that you were already out money for the liver, and he was more than likely expecting you to pay again.

“I’ll head out after I’ve finished with your room, unless you’d prefer I go now and clean when I get back,” you answered smoothly, hoping he’d give you permission for the latter. How he had even managed to track in the dirt you saw on the area rug was a mystery. You just knew that it would keep you busy for a decent amount of time and you weren’t looking forward to more scrubbing on your hands and knees. “And if the clothes are ready to be picked up again, I can get those, too.”

Alastor peered over the newspaper, eyebrow raised, his eyes and smile alight with mischief. “My, someone’s eager to be in my good graces today! No need to bother with the laundry, but I hope you won’t mind if I join you going into town. I don’t feel like staying cooped up in the hotel. Go ahead and clean now, I’d hate for those stains on the rug to set. Besides, you know how I despise coming home to a mess.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

While he waited for you to return after freshening up, Alastor took a look around his room, admiring the results of your hard work. You were turning out to be much more resilient than he had anticipated. Though your expression was hardly ever enthusiastic, you’d never be able to tell by the way you cleaned. Someone taught you well, he thought to himself, breathing in the scent of cleaning products that nearly overpowered the floral almond you always left behind. So pleasant.

Though if he was being honest, he was starting to run out of ideas on how to keep you busy. He would mess up the bed, despite rarely sleeping in it, and leave his housecoat, shirts, and bowties draped over various pieces of furniture for you to pick up and put in their proper place. The mud and dirt on the rug had been a last-minute stroke of genius, but it wasn’t something he cared to repeat too often. God forbid he became predictable. 

There was part of his room you didn’t have access to, and Alastor doubted that he’d ever let you see it — nor anyone else, for that matter. It’s not like it was a space you’d be able to clean in a traditional sense, anyway. After the hotel was rebuilt he thought it would be a nice idea to separate his serene bayou from the rest of the living quarters. Remembering how Vaggie had so rudely barged in on him in the past, it wasn’t something he was keen on happening again. And it was comical to watch you glancing at the locked door, pondering what could be behind it. 

He knew he couldn’t keep you cooped up as his personal chambermaid forever though, unless he wanted to be hounded by Charlie and Vaggie about it. Which he decidedly did not want. And he could admit that this cleaning game was getting stale… How could he switch things up before he tired of you completely? How could he get you to show him another spectacle like yesterday?

A knock at the door snapped The Radio Demon out of his thoughts.

“Alastor? Can I come in?” Charlie said from the other side of the door. By the tone in her voice, he could tell she was here to discuss business. He sighed quietly to himself and went to the door, swinging it open with a charming smile. 

“Why of course, my dear! How may I be of service?” Alastor closed the door behind them and led her to one of the chairs by the fireplace, taking the one opposite her and crossed his legs, neatly folding his hands over one knee. “It’s just the two of us. Sylvie left to go spruce up before we head into town,” he said, noting how Charlie was glancing around the room.

“Oh, good!” she sighed, putting her hand over her chest in relief. “That’s, um, kind of what I came here to talk to you about. I know you’ve been…,” she paused, hands dancing as she searched for the right word, “…acclimating her to working here — and I don’t want to step on your toes — but I think it would be really nice if she could join in on daily activities. No one has really gotten a chance to get to know her yet, and I’d hate for her to keep missing out on opportunities to bond with everyone.”

He had jinxed himself, but at least it was only the princess he had to deal with.

What to do? It’s not like he could say that your cleaning skills needed improvement when evidence to the contrary surrounded them; the room was pristine. He could argue that it would be prudent to keep some level of permanent staff unless they wanted to be in a never-ending state of training new hires, but something told him that wouldn’t be the best approach. At least not for now. Alastor had no intention of letting any souls under his contract be taken from him, for redemption or otherwise. Still, seeing the others develop their relationships with each other had been fun to observe. How would little Sylvie fit into the dynamic?

“I suppose I’ve been a bit selfish with her, haven’t I? I’ll be sure to leave room in her schedule starting tomorrow, but I hope you’ll understand that mornings are sacrosanct,” Alastor said agreeably, straightening his coat as he stood up from the chair. “Unless there was anything else, I’ll go and tell her the good news.”

Charlie followed suit, grin wide and eyes sparkling as they made their way back to the door. “Of course! Oh, thank you Alastor, you have no idea how excited I am!” It was impossible not to. Her enthusiasm was nearly contagious. “Vaggie and I are thinking something up right now as a surprise for everyone, but the details haven’t been totally worked out yet. I’ll let you know as soon as possible though — gah! I can’t wait for tomorrow!”

Alastor merely smiled in response and they parted ways in the hall. He wasn’t thrilled to be losing his monopoly on you so soon, but knowing that he now had to be more intentional with his time was invigorating. Curious to see how you’ll react to being invited to group activities, he made his way to your room, already hard at work thinking of new ways to push your buttons.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You were surprised to see Alastor in the hall when you opened your door, since you had been instructed to return to his room when you were finished touching up. The quick jump-scare he caused sent a fresh wave of throbbing to your head and you hissed under your breath, unable to stop yourself from massaging your temple.

“You’re up to something,” you grumbled, walking past him to make your way to the elevators. 

He feigned offense, easily stepping into stride with you down the hall. “Chivalry is lost on you twenty-first-century souls! I don’t know why I bother.”

You glared at him from the corner of your eye, taking in the sardonic look on his face as you stepped into the elevator. It was best not to push your luck with him, considering you still had an entire outing in Cannibal Town to get through. You were about to say something when the elevator stopped after going down a couple floors, the doors opening to Angel Dust. He looked exhausted. 

When the two of you made eye contact, he glanced away, the air in the elevator quickly turning nervous as he walked in. Was it because of yesterday? Maybe Angel hadn’t been as comfortable with it as Husk made it seem… Suddenly he hit a button, stopping the elevator in its tracks. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, steeling himself. 

“Hey, so… you know how you came home lookin’ like fuckin’ Carrie yesterday?”

You felt Alastor’s static humming in the space between you; the first reaction he’s had since Angel came into the elevator. 

“I wanted to apologize sooner but—”

Angel waved his hands, cutting you off. “No, no, please, you don’t have to,” he said, a small laugh escaping him. “Look, uh… I’m only bringin’ it up cuz I just gotta know.” He was actively fighting a smile as he continued, “The trouble you ran into? His name wasn’t Donny, was it?”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r

[katsu28]

Steve and hugging from behind would be so cute 🥺

anything for u my dear nova <33 the hugging from behind part is literally just a speck in all this fluff oopsie but pls enjoy

steve harrington x reader, 1.4k

There was something about Steve Harrington that made you unbelievably nervous. A good kind of nervous, of course—the kind that sent your stomach into a fluttery mess and made your fingertips tingle every time he touched you.

You shouldn’t be nervous around him, but you’d been together for three months and still found yourself fighting the urge to unabashedly stare at him whenever you spent time with each other. 

Another reason to be nervous—you were spending the night at his place for the very first time.

It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to spend a whole day together, but you always went home at the end of the night (much to Steve’s dismay). So a few hours ago when he casually suggested you just stay the night instead of leaving and coming back in the morning, you almost freaked out. 

Now you were here, standing in his bathroom fresh out of the shower, staring at yourself in the fogged up mirror and willing yourself to just be normal. It was Steve. There was nothing to worry about. 

Steve was sprawled out on his bed when you finally mustered up the courage to make your way to his room, tossing a raggedy baseball above his head and catching it.

Well, trying to catch it was a more apt description. His focus immediately shifted to you as you padded in, the ball bouncing off the mattress next to his head and nearly hitting him in the face in the process before rolling onto the floor. He scrambled to his feet, ball forgotten. 

“Hi.” He said softly, smiling at you with the brightness that rivaled the sun. You echoed his greeting, clutching at the towel around you. “Uh, here. This is for you.” He held out a well worn looking shirt, soft cotton brushing against your fingers as you took it gratefully. “I can—I’ll turn around while you get dressed.” 

“Thanks, Steve,” You mumbled, suddenly feeling shy. There were those damn nerves again. Steve turned around like he said he would, rocking back and forth on his heels while you pulled the shirt over your body. It smelled like laundry detergent and cologne and so very Steve you decided right then and there you were definitely keeping this shirt. “You can turn around now.” 

He whirled back around, letting himself take in the sight of you in his clothes. It was something straight out of a dream he’d had a few times. “You’re so pretty.” 

“You’re not so bad looking yourself.” 

Steve preened at the compliment, looking mighty pleased. He’d already changed while you were in the bathroom, clad in only a pair of old Hawkins High sweatpants slung low on his hips. 

His chestnut hair was free of product, fluffy and a little all over the place with a artful curl hanging over his brow. You had to fight the urge to brush it out of his eyes, though you suspected he probably wouldn’t have minded one bit if you did. 

“C’mere,” He murmured, stretching out an arm towards you. The look in his eyes held so much warmth, so fond and sickly sweet you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d ended up with a toothache come morning time. It spurred you forward, folding yourself into Steve’s embrace like it was second nature. Like it was where you belonged. His nose dipped into your hair and he inhaled, arms wrapping around you tight. 

“Did you just sniff me?”

“You smell really nice.” He defended meekly, cheeks turning an embarrassed pink. You kissed him to remedy it, smiling against his lips when he kissed you back immediately. His hand rubbed along your back whilst he maneuvered the two of you towards the bed without managing to break the kiss, but the need for air unfortunately won out. 

Steve pulled the covers over the two of you swiftly, settling close—but not too close, in case you liked to have your own space while you slept. 

You tucked yourself snug against his side instead, cheek pressed against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you again, and you were content there. The sound of his heartbeat hammered a million miles a minute in your ear, and it made you feel a little better knowing that he was just as nervous as you were. It actually eased your own nerves a tenfold. 

“Is this okay? Are you comfy?” Steve asked worriedly. It was cute how attentive he was. You wanted to tell him that being wrapped in his arms was one of the comfiest places in the world, but just opted for a nod, nuzzling a little closer to him in lieu of an answer. Steve still got the message loud and clear, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

It didn’t take long for either of you to fall asleep, you because of the steady rise and fall of Steve’s chest, and him because of the soothing warmth you radiated. He could fall asleep like this every night and still never get tired of it. 

-------

You were expecting Steve to be next to you when you woke up the next morning. But when you opened your eyes and rolled over to look at him, the space beside you was empty. 

He was in the kitchen when you finally found him, standing at the stove when you padded in, humming along to the song playing softly from the radio over on the other counter. His back was towards you as he poured batter into a pan on the stove. 

A sizeable stack of perfect pancakes sat on a plate beside him, with crispy edges, just the way you liked it. You wondered how he knew that, seeing as you’d never told him before. Then again, Steve always seemed to know what you liked. 

You crossed the room quiet as a mouse, sliding your arms around him once you were close enough. 

Letting out a surprised noise at the feeling of your embrace, it only took him a second to realize it was you.

“Morning, sweetheart.” He hummed, settling his free hand over your linked ones at his navel. You pressed your forehead between his shoulder blades, reveling in the warmth of his freckled skin and stayed there for a while, feeling him inhale and exhale with every breath he took. It was quite soothing. “How’d you sleep?” 

“Good. Really good.” 

“Sure sounded like it, what with the way you were snoring in my ear the whole night.” 

“I was not!” You gasped, rearing back. Steve’s body shook with laughter, and you realized he was just poking fun at you. “You’re an asshole.” 

“An asshole who’s making you breakfast right now.” He pointed out, flipping the pancake for good measure.

“True. You’ve been promoted to just a little shit then.” 

“Lucky me.” Steve snorted. “As much as I love this, you’re kinda cramping my style. I don’t wanna accidentally elbow you when I try to wow you with my triple pancake flip. Go sit at the counter and do what you do best—look pretty.” 

You obliged, but not before sighing overdramatically. “Trying to get rid of me already, Harrington?” 

“Dunno…is it working?” 

“Just for that comment, no, it isn’t working.” You huffed, propping your chin up in your hand. 

“Oh, good. Was kinda planning on keeping you around for a while.” 

“Just a while?” 

Steve shrugged without turning around. “Maybe forever.” 

You sat in silence with his words, maybe a little longer than you meant to, because Steve whirled around, brows crinkled with worry. 

“I’m sorry. Was that—that was too much, wasn’t it?” He blurted, shuffling over to where you were. “Did I just make things super weird? I didn’t mean like forever forever, I just thought it sounded smooth. Which, obviously it didn’t ‘cause—” 

Leaning over the counter, you slid your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. This one was sweet and firm and had Steve melting faster than the pad of butter he’d placed atop the pancake stack. 

You let your forehead press against his when you pulled away. “I like forever.” 

“I do too.” He grinned, nearly going cross-eyed trying to look at you up close. He dotted another kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Y’know, I’m really enjoying the whole shutting me up with kisses thing you’ve got going on lately. I think you should keep doing it.” 

“Oh, do you?” You chuckled, sitting back down in your seat. Steve came around the counter to slide onto the stool next to you, scooting your own stool close enough to his that his knees bracketed yours. Now it was his turn to bring you in for a kiss instead of an answer. 

Forever with Steve suddenly seemed like the best idea in the world, especially if it meant you’d get to have mornings like this all the time. 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

[florencemtrash]

Hummingbird: Chapter Four

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

Warnings: Violence and injuries

Seven months later

This shit was getting old.

One of Doc Oc’s tentacles rammed into Miguel’s side, tossing him against a wall and leaving a crack in the concrete. She smiled in satisfaction, oblivious to the spider-venom blaster he’d stuck to the underside of the mechanical arm. With a quick chirp and blast of energy the arm was blown off. It landed with a pitiful twitch on the ground as electricity sparked through its circuitry.

“Let’s go!” Hobie whooped, slamming his fingers down the guitar strings with so much force Miguel was surprised they didn’t snap in two. 

Doc Oc screamed, blown backward by an eclectic spray of pink and purple newsprint. 

Three arms down, five more to go… or so they thought. 

New arms sprouted from their old stumps, flailing around for a brief moment before they shot out towards Hobie. 

He barely dodged the series of blows.

“Is that hammer space, bruv?!” 

Joder.

Hobie lept around the barren stage, launching battered amplifiers slathered in a dozen layers of stickers towards her. A stray limb punched through the drumset as Hobie spun out of the way. 

He gasped. The amps they could replace, but no one fucked with his instruments.

“Is it time to call for backup?” Lyla asked Miguel as Hobie gripped the neck of his guitar (the battle-safe one of course) and swung at Doc Oc’s head.

“Do not call for backup!” Miguel growled in annoyance. 

He could handle this.

“Yeah, I didn’t even ask you to come, mate!” Hobie yelled over the sound of Doc Oc sailing over the empty mosh pit and crashing into the guard rails. “I ain’t part of no band.”

“You literally just finished a concert three hours ago!” 

“That got nothing to do with you.”

Miguel groaned, ready to bash his head into the wrecked drum kit. 

No puedo más. No puedo más. He found himself thinking that a lot lately.

But as much as Hobie and Miguel liked to pretend they hated each other, they made a good team out in the field. They swung from the ceiling lights, electric blue and pink lights showering down on them in that crazed, photomontage way that tinged every part of Hobie’s world. It was enough to give Miguel a headache. 

The worst part about the multiverse is that there was no telling what kinds of powers and modifications existed out there. For example, Miguel didn’t know a Doc Oc existed that had lasers shoot out of their tentacles.

“I feel like it’s time to call for backup.” Lyla repeated, casually watching from the safety of her AI existence as Miguel’s webs were split in two and he took a sickening punch to the jaw. He shook his head, blinking away the dots in front of his eyes as he took a moment to rest in the comfort of his rubble sofa.

“Do not call Jess. She’s on maternity leave.”

“I wasn’t talking about Jess.” Lyla grinned mischeviously. 

Miguel narrowed his eyes, “No. Absolutely not.”

It was too soon, far too soon for him to drag you into a fight like this. 

“CALL FOR BACKUP!” Hobie cried out from the confines of Doc Oc’s tentacles, squirming around and trying to use his head spikes to free himself.

“You weren’t saying that earlier!”

“THAT’S THE TOXIC MASCULINITY TALKING! YOU GOT TO BE COMFORTABLE WITH CHANGING YOUR OPINION AND ADMITTING YOUR FAU-”

A portal opened up stage left. 

Miles swung out first, black and red suit standing out like an ink stain.

“¡¿Alguien pidió ayuda?!” Miguel could hear his smug smile through the mask.

“You already called him!?” Miguel scowled and hopped onto his feet, sprinting to join the fight as Miles landed his first punch against Doc Oc. 

Relief flooded his system. He thought that-

“I actually called her.” Lyla said, pointing a finger with a grin.

Miguel’s heart skipped a beat.

You stepped through the portal, adjusted the gloves on your newly designed suit and teleported yourself onto Doc Oc’s back, casually blinking away any tentacles that got too close. 

You were absolutely buzzing with excitement. Nevermind that you were currently blinking across spacetime to avoid the lazers that left behind scorched scars on the grass. This was your first real mission outside of occasionally helping Miles with his friendly neighborhood Spider-Man duties. And in Hobie’s dimension no less! Ever since you’d seen his unique color palette and design you’d been itching to see his world for yourself. Maybe you and Miles could take an impromptu field trip to the nearest museum afterwards.

“Lyla said you didn’t want to call me.” You said, happy with the way his eyes slightly widened beneath his mask. He coughed to clear his throat.

“You’re supposed to be at work.” Miguel said, tearing into Doc Oc’s tentacles with his forearm blades, “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“It’s summer break.” 

“You said you were teaching summer classes.” 

“I am! Only five kids are enrolled and he,” You tilted your head towards Miles, who waved back before he tore off an arm, "was the only one who could come to the Met field trip. Which you so rudely interrupted by the way.” The smile in your voice exposed the fact that you were quite ok with the interruption.

Miguel rolled his eyes half-heartedly, hoping you didn’t notice his restrained smile.  “Let’s just get the job done.”

And you did. 

Fighting a flesh-and-blood supervillain was a far cry from the simulations you’d fought at Spidey HQ where the only injury you could sustain was a blow to your pride when Lyla flashed the battle stats on the screen. Your training also didn’t account for the absolute chaos of working with a team. You nearly got in the way of one of Miles’s spider venom blasts and accidentally teleported onto Hobie’s back, throwing him off his rhythm long enough for a punch from Doc Oc to send you both crashing. Miguel had nearly lost his mind after that.

But after walking away from the fight with only a bruised jaw, cut upper arm, and a very disgruntled Doc Oc in tow, you were going to call your first real superhero outing a success.

“Sorry about earlier,” you said, extending a hand out to Hobie from where he groaned on the ground. He grabbed your arm and rolled onto his feet, shaking the dust off his jacket.

“Eh, it’s part of the learning.” He straightened his coat and reattached one of the pins he’d tucked safely away in his pocket, “Not bad for a first anomaly though.”

“Hmmmm, are we counting Spot?”

“No.”

“Damn.”

A shadow fell over your shoulder and you smirked, turning around on your heels to come face to face with Miguel. The fight was over, but somehow Miguel looked even more tense and irrate than before. Behind his back you saw Doc Oc yell and punch at the orange walls of her prison. 

“Are you here to say good job?” You teased.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, voice tight.

Hobie brushed past you, “I’m good, cheers.” he said, patting Miguel on the shoulder before heading over to where Miles stared in awe at the anomaly. You felt more than saw Miguel roll his eyes.

“I wasn’t asking you.” 

“I know.” 

Hobie’s reply widened your smile. There was something glorious about seeing Miguel lose his cool. Normally you tried to get him to smile or laugh, but sometimes annoyance was an easier emotion to muster from him. It reminded you that beneath all that hard-won armour was a man just trying his best.

“I’m fine, Miguel.” You said. 

He gently tugged at the bottom of your mask and you took the hint, pulling it off entirely. Miguel’s frown deepened as he gently tucked a finger beneath your chin and turned your face to the side, eyes narrowed in on your swollen jaw. You tried not to blush under his watchful gaze. It really wasn’t a terrible injury, and with your enhanced healing it would fade within a day, but it stll felt like a gut punch to Miguel.

You were used to this kind of attention from him. The first two months after joining the Spider Society had been a pool of uncertainty that you’d flapped around in with little control - you’d been uncertain about your powers, the multiverse and your place in it, and your relationship with Miguel… especially your relationship with Miguel. 

His aloofness was only matched by his sincerity and once you’d forgiven him for what he’d done to Miles, you found him easy to like. His grouchiness and sarcasm pulled smiles from you as easily as water from a spring, and it didn’t escape anyone’s notice that you were the only one who could make him laugh and crack through his walls. But there was always that itch in the back of your mind that told you he only cared because you looked like his wife, not because you’d both grown to know and care for each other. 

You tried not to think about it too often. 

It made moments like these harder to handle.

“Nada que no pueda manejar.” You said softly, pulling his hand away and towards the anomaly, “Now come on. This anomaly isn’t just going to hop dimensions on its own.” 

Miguel opened his mouth as if to say something, but ultimately relented, allowing you to lead him to where Hobie and Miles bent their heads towards one another, shooting jokes back and forth as easily as their webs.

Margo portaled in to help Miguel take Doc Oc to Earth-928 and you watched their retreating backs disappear with a blink before Hobie turned towards you and Miles, rubbing his hands together and pulling you both into his side.

“Now! Who’s ready to see some real art?”

______

“I can’t believe all the museums in your dimension are Koons-themed.” Miles said, slouching in his seat and looking positively disappointed.

“Why’d you think I took you to the back alleys, mate. Real art’s cheap.”

“Say that to my bank account after a trip to Blick.” You muttered, biting into your empanada with a groan of satisfaction.

You sat cross-legged on top of the bench, watching Margo’s cyber body split into two as the Go Home Machine whirred to life. Its metal claws clicked together, sounding like the chirping of birds as it spun its web around Doc Oc as she watched with no small amount of curiosity.

“You think you could ever do that?” Hobie asked, leaning against your shoulder and slinging his arm around you casually. 

You raised your eyebrow, “What, forcefully send a living person back to their home dimension?”

He shrugged nonchalantly.

“You try interdimensional travel without your fancy watch and tell me how easy it is.” You said with a grin, poking at his side until he squirmed away with a chuckle. You took the opportunity to steal a french fry from him.

“Alright, alright, stop. I think you could do it.”

The four of you watched as the Go Home Machine finished its kaleidoscopic work. Miguel always had a clinical view of the work he did and the machines he created. Whenever it was traveling to another world, or encountering a new being (Spider-Person or otherwise) the last thing on his mind was beauty or a fascination with the ways things were. That’s where you two differed the most. So while Miguel hardly ever stayed around to watch the Go Home Machine run its science-magic, you always craned your neck to catch glimpses of the worlds beyond Earth-928.

“I better check in with Miguel.” You said, hopping off the table once Doc Oc was safely back in her home universe.

Hobie, Miles, and Margo all shot each other a knowing look before you could notice. 

Now that school was out for the summer you found yourself spending more and more time on Earth-928, and after six months of training you could walk to Miguel’s lair from any part of the building with a blindfold on. The first few weeks you hadn’t been able to suppress the slight unease at entering the dark room where many of the captured anomalies would sneer at you like you were a meal to be hunted.

Now… not so much.

“You’re still here, Norm?” You asked, catching sight of the familiar gentleman who shrugged and smiled. He sat comfortably on the floor, purple hood and goggles abandoned beside him to expose his weathered face.

“Still here,” He repeated, “I suppose I’m not as high a priority to send home now that I’m not, you know, evil anymore.” He sighed, “I just can’t believe my luck. I leave an alternate universe and not even a year later I’m sucked into another one!” He chuckled.

“I’ll talk to Spider-Man about it.” 

“Peter?!” His eyes brightened at the possibility.

“Ummm…no. Sorry.” 

He nodded, shoulders deflating every so slightly, “Thanks anyway Spider-”

“Y/sh/n, actually.” Miles and Gwen had helped you come up with it.

“Well, thank you Y/sh/n.” He said and waved you on before he could steal more of your time.

“I told you it’s dangerous to talk to the anomalies.” Miguel said, eyes still trained on the screens as you blinked next to him. One day you’d manage to sneak up on him, but today was not that day. 

You frowned when you saw he was still wearing his mask. 

“Well you’re talking to me right now, aren’t you?” You said, bumping his shoulder with your own before climbing onto the empty space on his desk he subtly reserved for you.

Miguel stiffened and his fingers froze over the keys. It had taken you months to fully forgive him for all the terrible things he’d said and done to Miles - the things he may have said to you if you didn’t have his wife’s face… if you were just a regular anomaly.

“That’s not what I-.” 

“You also said Earth-199999’s Peter Parker took care of the Green Goblin. I think we’re fine.” 

He nodded and sighed. His eyes were killing him right now and even the faint flicking of the red-orange lights from the screens felt like blows to his skull. 

“He wants to go home.” You said and saw his eyes flicker to the anomaly on the screen, red and tired.

“I know. He’s scheduled to be sent back tonight. I promise.” 

You nodded with satisfaction and snapped your fingers, a pair of sunglasses blinking into the palm of your hand, “You should take a break. You’ve been working non-stop for over two days now.”

“I’ve got work to do.”

“The multiverse is not going to shatter because you take a thirty-minute lunch break, Miguel.” 

He eyed you warily and shook his head, fingers flying across the touchpad like they were racing to win gold. 

He always did this. He always worked himself to the bone until you would find him red-eyed and slumped over the tabletop for one of his thirty-minute “power-naps.” 

“Lyla.” You called out. The woman appeared perched on your shoulders.

“You rang?”

“Can you please tell Miguel that the multiverse isn’t going to collapse before he does?” 

“Ooooh you said please. I like you.” Miguel muttered a few choice words under his breath, “The multiverse is holding steady. I’ll alert you if anything changes at all.” Lyla winked at you and disappeared. 

“Realmente necesito cambiar su código.” Miguel grumbled.

“¡Ni se te ocurra!”

Miguel tightened his lips but said nothing. You slid over to sit in front of him and pushed against his chest until he finally relented and sat down in the chair. He didn’t want to admit this, but the only reason he agreed to sit down was because he’d fractured two ribs in the fight, and you pressing against his chest hurt like a bitch.

“Did you really come all this way just to get me to rest?”

“Obviously.” You tossed the sunglasses into his lap along with the extra empanada you’d been carrying around the last half-hour. You hoped it was still warm, but then again, if it weren’t for you he probably wouldn’t have remembered to eat at all. 

The corner of his mouth tilted up. “Gracias.” 

“Solo cállate y come. Lo juro, es como si estuviera tratando de mantener viva una planta de interior. Una planta de interior muy obstinada.”

He tilted his head down, hiding his face as his mask disappeared. 

You held your breath, reaching out instinctively to hold his face in between your hands. Color rushed into his cheeks, emphasizing the dark, purple bruise that crawled its way up from his jawline to his cheek bone, the flesh around it swollen and warm when you carefully traced it with your finger. The bridge of his nose was similarly bruised, the strong slope of his nose tilted ever so slightly to the left. 

Miguel also stopped breathing, the pain hardly registering as he felt your eyes against his skin as physical and real as your hands.

You became all too aware of the closeness, the way he was looking at you. A familiar and malicious voice scratched the back of your mind - What are you to him? Who are you to him? Who is he really thinking about when he looks at you like that?

You let go of his face, your heart sinking in your chest.

“¿Qué te sucedió?” You murmured. His brown-red eyes were wide and soft.

He cleared his throat, disappointment gathering in his chest when you withdrew your hands, “I guess I should have called for backup sooner.” 

“Where else are you hurt?”

“I’m not-”

“Where else are you hurt? Y no te atrevas a mentirme.” 

Miguel melted under your fiery gaze. You weren’t one to show your anger - teaching teenagers had strengthened your patience - but Miguel had a special way of pushing your buttons, whether he knew it or not. 

“I may or may not have cracked a rib… or two.” 

“Miguel!” 

“I’ll heal!” 

“Estúpido, bastardo terco.” You muttered under your breath with no small measure of affection.

You reached over and gently pressed on his stomach, hearing him hiss in pain. He grabbed your arm to get you to stop, shame coloring his bruised cheek.

“I’ll be ok. I promise.” He whispered when you leaned down from your seat to inspect his jaw again. Any longer under your watchful gaze and he might just combust.

“I know you’ll be ok. I just…” Your lips tightened. “I don’t like to see you hurt.”

You’d been in this situation before with Miguel a few times. It always ended with him promising to take better care of himself, holding to that promise for a few weeks, and then falling back into old, self-destructive habits. The others said he had gotten better about taking care of himself ever since you’d come into the picture, but you found that hard to believe. 

“I don’t like to see you hurt either.” He admitted, gently rubbing up and down your forearms. He eyed the tear in your suit, and the clean white bandage that peeked through. 

Who is he really thinking of?

You told that voice to shut up.

“So you can imagine how worried I get when I see you like this.” 

Miguel sighed, running his hands through his hair and mussing up the curls. He could imagine it all too well. Every time you left for your own dimension a knot of worry would sink in his chest like a boulder dropped into a lake, and it wouldn’t dissipate until the next time he saw you safe and whole. He flinched at the very thought of you sporting bruises and cracked bones like the ones he had - the scars he bore after years on the job.

“What would you have me do?” He asked, “I can’t just give this up.” 

“I’m not- No one is asking you to. I know you need to do this. But you don’t have to do it alone. You know any of the other Spider-People would be more than happy to help monitor things in the Spider-Verse.” 

“One - it’s the Arachnoid Humanoid Poly-Multiverse. And two - the other Spider-People aren’t like me. They can’t do what I do.”

“You’re right, they’re a hell of a lot funnier” He scoffed, setting his jaw in a scowl that had pain flaring up the left side of his face. “And they don’t go around punching teenagers.”

“That was one time!” 

Your lips turned in a downward smile, trying to suppress your laughter at the indignant expression on his face. The scowl on his face slowly but surely loosened, twisting into a barely concealed smile.

“Stop doing that.” He muttered.

“Doing what?” You asked innocently.

“Getting me to smile and laugh. It hurts my ribs.” 

“All the more reason to get some rest, Miguel.” You said, ruffling his hair and gleaming with satisfaction when he finally allowed himself to smile. You plucked the sunglasses from his lap and placed them on his face, careful not to upset his healing nose.

How was it possible that he hated and loved the way you said his name so much? He knew you cared for him. The first two months had been tense and filled with questions of what you were to one another - A mistake? A bad memory? Husband and wife? It had been a time when every touch, glance, and hidden smile had been given with a measure of uncertainty and restraint.

Miguel didn’t feel that way anymore. When you messed up his hair and forced his hidden smile out into the open he just saw you. Not some version of his wife. Not someone he’d barely known. Not someone he’d lost. 

Just you.

“If I promise to take the night off to sleep and let Ben and LEGO Peter take care of it, would that satisfy you?” 

You hummed in thought, “How many hours of sleep are we talking about?” 

“Four.” 

“Seven.” You countered.

“Five.” 

“Deal.” You stuck out your hand, a wide grin on your face that Miguel matched when he shook your hand.

“What would I do without you?” He asked sarcastically.

You scoffed, “Shrivel up and die, probably.” 

<- Previous chapter Next chapter ->

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Author's note: Here's Chapter Four! Y/n is feeling some insecurity about her relationship with Miguel... I wonder if that will come up again in the next chapter 👀...........

As always, please let me know your thoughts! Hope you enjoy :)

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[paperweight91]

It Went a Little Like This

Summary: All Andy really wants is his happily ever after, is that too much to ask?

Pairing: Andy Barber x reader

W/C: 2850

Warnings: Dark!Andy Barber, allusions to non-con/dub-con, stalking, Andy’s lost it guys.

A/N: Okay, since I sent @krirebr the FMK and she killed the dark!one, I thought it only fair to share the story about why that one was soooo dark. Moodboard by @krirebr , dividers by @firefly-graphics. Please send all the feedback on this one, it’s much darker than I think I’ve ever written, and I’d love to know what everyone thinks! Comments and reblogs feed my soul ❤️

The convenience store around the corner from your house always had these little handmade knick knacks that you loved. You were surprised the first time you found a little handmade porcelain dog to add to your collection. After talking to the cashier you found out they bought locally made art once a week to give the artists exposure. You had fallen so irrevocably in love with that cute little pup you made it your mission to return once a week to find more.

As you perused the latest inventory, you saw a figure down the aisle. Looking up you recognized the man instantly, Andy Barber. His family had been spread across all the local news feeds for a year. You had always felt bad for him, going through the trial for his son, his ex-wife’s mental break. It was all so much for one person. You gave him a small shy smile and bowed your head as you tried to decide between the spotted Dalmatian or the cuddly looking pug.

Weighing both cute little creatures in your hands, you almost dropped them as Andy approached. “Cute.” He said reaching over you to pick up a Saint Bernard with its tongue lolling out. “You collect these?” His tone was inquisitive if a little confused.

You brightened at his interest, feeling your face heat slightly in embarrassment. “The store buys them from local artists to help get them exposure. And look how cute they are!” You held the Dalmatian in your hand up higher for him to inspect.

He chuckled at your eager response stroking a single long finger across the back of the dog. The action was innocent, but it sent something thrumming straight to your core. “You have many of these?” He quirked a brow at you.

“A few, I’ve never really collected anything before but I come back every week for these.” You smiled brightly up at him. A broad grin spread across his face, your enthusiasm clearly rubbing off on him.

He placed the Saint Bernard back on the rack, his eyes tracing each cute little face until finally he landed on a golden retriever playing in grass. “Thanks for the tip.” He reached out and gave your arm a reassuring squeeze before turning to head to the cash. “The dalmation’s the winner.” He tossed casually over his shoulder.

You let out a snort, going back to the two pups held lovingly in your hands. Finding more and more he was right, with a sigh you gently placed the pug back with its companions and made your way to the cash yourself.

The following week found you back in the artist aisle of the convenience store. This time Andy found you almost immediately. You were frowning at this weeks selection. Frogs. Who collects frogs?

“Nothing to take home today?” He smiled as he approached.

You grimaced as you looked at the faces. Sure they were kind of cute, but you just didn’t get it. “Frogs. They’ve never had them before.” You tried to pick your words carefully. They weren’t terrible, just not for you.

Andy laughed as your face twisted into a frown. “Come look over here, they’re not porcelain but you might like these better.” He clasped your hand in his and pulled you down the aisle. There were glass pups of several different varieties. You tried to suppress your excitement at his find, finding yourself bobbing up and down on your toes, your fingers itching to grab at them. He chuckled and released your hand and you eagerly grabbed two. Needing to inspect them up close.

After a few moments of silence you finally came back to yourself. You felt your body heat from your toes to your face at your childish reaction, in front of a stranger no less! You cleared your throat awkwardly and introduced yourself, juggling the glass pups carefully so you could extend your hand to Andy.

A slow smile spread across his face, his eyes twinkled in the low light of the store. The wrinkles that lined his eyes seemed to smooth at your own warmth. “Andy.” He said taking your offered hand in his own and pumping it up and down a few times. You found yourself drowning in the blue depths of his eyes. The beard that lined his face twitching up as he noticed your clear distraction at his looks.

It took you a moment to realize you were still holding his hand, and staring at him dreamily. You shook your head to clear your thoughts, it was inappropriate more than anything. “Sorry,” You mumbled, diverting your gaze to the glass puppies in your hand.

Andy stroked the back of your hand still clasped in his with the back of his thumb once before letting go. He gave you a wry smile, “Nothing to be sorry for, I’m glad I could help.” He placed his hands in his jeans pockets and scanned the shelves. “I’m not much for these, but seeing how happy they make you, I may become a convert.” He winked and ducked his head down, like he was embarrassed at the statement. You were sure you saw a bit of pink tinge his cheeks before he did.

“Thank you Andy, really! Although,” You hummed as you surveyed the precious puppies, “I really should cut back on these. I think I’m running out of space.”

He huffed out a laugh, “Maybe you should come back next week and see if they’ve got the porcelain ones back.”

You nodded, but seemingly like he could sense your reluctance, he plucked a beautiful small Labrador from the shelf. “Maybe just a small one?”

When you looked up you saw what could only be described as puppy dog eyes. You laughed and placed the others back on the shelf. “I think a small one couldn’t hurt.” You reached to pull the lab from his hand, “Let me.” He said.

You gave him a befuddled look. “Andy, I can’t let you buy this for me. You just learned my name!” A look flashed through his eyes so fast, you almost missed it. Ire at your casual rebuff. Taking a step back you shook your head, all mirth leaving your face.

Seeing your unease he immediately sprung into action, “I’m sorry.” He handed you the small glass pup and placed his hands on his hips. “I didn’t mean to. Ugh, I’m screwing this all up.” He brought both hands up and scrubbed them down his face. When his fingertips were at his chin and you could see his eyes again you saw regret and something else swimming in the blue pools. “What are you screwing up?” You reached out and placed a hand on his bicep, feeling the tightly coiled muscle loosen at your touch.

“I saw you here, a few weeks ago. I’ve been, after everything, I just.” He hung his head and gave a mirthless laugh, “It’s been a long time since I’ve had to flirt or any of this and I’m suddenly realizing I’m quite terrible at it.”

“Oh…OH!” You suddenly realized that Andy, was not at all as interested in the small figurines you had been excitedly showing him the other day, he had been interested in you. “Oh I’m sorry Andy. I didn’t mean to, I uh, I actually have a boyfriend.”

You felt the air between the two of you change, like someone had sucked all the oxygen out of the room. Andy’s arm flexed underneath your fingers. He searched your face and let out a sigh, “Can’t blame a guy for trying, right?” His free hand came up and removed yours from his arm. “I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one day, I’m…I’m gonna go.” His shoulders slumped as he curled in on himself, turning and exiting the aisle, and the store, before you could even respond.

Your heart beat wildly in your chest at the exchange. How had your day gone so weird? You shakily released a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, trying to expel the tension from your muscles. Something about the whole exchange with Andy had set you on edge. It’s what made you lie about a boyfriend that didn’t exist. Shaking your head for what felt like the millionth time today, you placed the cute little glass Labrador back on the shelf and made you way to the exit of the store. You vowed not to return for a while, let you both cool off a bit before another accidental run in.

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since your awkward exchange with Andy and you were itching to go back to the convenience store. You weren’t sure what it was about those cute little figures that had completely taken over your heart, but you knew you had to go see if they had gotten any dogs back in stock. You tried to distract yourself with chores, and movies, but you were so restless you could barely focus on one task for more than a couple minutes at a time.

You snarled at your reflection as you passed the mirror in your entranceway for the umpteenth time. Pulling on your jacket and boots before you even realized what you were doing. It was ridiculous really. It’s a store, lots of people go to stores. And so what if Andy was there, he was probably too embarrassed by your rejection to come back anyways.

Nodding to yourself in the mirror, you grabbed your purse and made your way down to the road. It was surprisingly warm for the time of year so you decided to walk to the convenience store. Silently berating yourself as you walked for letting a man, you didn’t know, throw you completely out of whack over nothing. He hadn’t even been that bad! He just seemed awkward, and you immediately rejected him without a second thought.

So completely in your own head, you didn’t even notice the silent figure approaching you from behind. Your pace was slow enough that they easily caught up, and pulled you into an alley off the road before you could even squeak. They placed a gloved hand over your mouth, but it didn’t matter, you were in too much shock to scream. You felt a prick in your neck before everything slowly went dark, and your limbs went slack.

Your eyes fluttered open, bleary and unfocused. You couldn’t remember anything, and your head felt like it was full of cotton wool. Something was wrong, but you weren’t quite sure what. You brought your hand up to rub at your eyes, and heard a low murmur from your right. “There she is, how are you feeling, sweet girl?” You froze at the voice, you knew that voice. You struggled to place it, but you felt strong arms pull you back into a warm broad chest. It felt nice.

Soft hands stroked along your sides, before lacing through your own. You felt the scrape of a beard on the back of your neck as he nuzzled into you. “I was worried honey, you slept for so long. Are you back with me now?”

You felt like a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped on you, your brain finally caught up to what was going on. The alley, the prick in your neck, Andy had taken you. Before you could stop yourself you began to shake. Terrified of what the man whose grip on you had gone from soft to iron could actually do to you.

“Don’t be scared honey, you’re okay.” His voice held an edge, but there was a roughness to it as well, one you were all too familiar with. “Just be good for me. Be my good girl okay?”

It was posed a question but you could see it for the threat it was. Be my good girl, or else. You knew you had to tread carefully if you were going to get out of this. “Andy, what’s going on?”

He sighed and you felt him rest his forehead against your shoulder. “Honey, good girls don’t ask questions. I know this is new for both of us. It’ll take us some time to get used to it. Just let me take care of everything.” He let go of one of your hands to turn your face to him by your chin. Bringing his own face close enough so his breath whispered out against your lips. “I haven’t figured out all the rules yet, but we can do it together, okay? Now are you gonna be my good girl?”

His eyes held a darkness, the one you had seen flash through them at the store a few short weeks ago. Your voice seemed lodged in your throat, and only breathy little whimpers seemed to escape. You could feel the tears building in your eyes and fluttered them closed as you nodded your acquiescence. You just needed to buy yourself some time.

You felt his lips twitch into a grin against yours. “Good girl.” He whispered before kissing you. At his praise you were surprised to find yourself getting aroused. You rubbed your thighs together as surreptitiously as you could. Andy licked into your mouth as his hand traveled down to the hem of the dress you were wearing. He bunched it up above your hips and gently traced his index finger up and down your thighs. You shivered, and bit your bottom lip, trying to contain your reaction to his soft touches.

“You need to relax, honey. Why don’t you let me help you?” You could hear the smirk in his words and he got up from behind you. He gently laid you on the bed and hovered above you. He stretched himself like a cat before leaning in to kiss you again. This time you gave in immediately, searching out access to his mouth. His kisses were intoxicating.

He gently cupped your cheek with one hand, his thumb soothingly stroking. You brought both your hands up to his shoulders, before settling by being gently clasped around his neck. His beard scratched your cheeks as he kissed you, a feeling you found somewhat unpleasant as you weren’t used to it at all. You whined into his mouth, and he slowly pulled away.

“That’s it honey,” he had mistaken your whine as one of pleasure and not pain. “Just let me take care of you, you’re being so good for me.” He trailed kisses down your neck and buried his face there. Your eyes darted around the room, looking for something, anything that could help you.

Andy pulled on the buttons at the front of your dress, opening enough to expose your chest. You inwardly cursed at your choice of a front clasping bra. Looking up at him with big tear filled eyes you brought one hand to his cheek and drew his gaze from your chest. “Andy, I don’t know. I’m scared.”

He shushed you and pulled you to his chest. “No honey, no. Don’t be scared, there’s nothing to worry about okay? I’ve known from the moment I saw you how perfect you are. So sweet, so beautiful. I knew, honey. Don’t you trust me?”

He pulled away so he could rest his forehead against yours. You saw nothing but truth in his eyes. Still you felt the tears leak from your eyes and a sob lodge in your throat, scared your tears would bring his anger back.

“Shhh honey, it’s okay. Why don’t we wait, huh? It’s been a big day for both of us. I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning.” With that he extricated himself from your grasp and went over to the dresser. He pulled a silk nightie from the drawer and sleep pants for himself. “Come on, let’s get ready for bed.”

You nodded stiffly, and with Andy’s help took to your feet. You stripped out of your dress, feeling Andy’s eyes on you the entire time. Chancing a glance up at him you saw the steel return to his eyes as your hand twitched towards the nightie. Sighing you unclasped your bra and tossed it in the hamper, you pulled your panties down and stepped out of them, tossing them as well.

From your peripheral you saw Andy nod, and took that as permission to put on the nightie. It was short, but felt like heaven on. You climbed back into the bed as Andy swapped his jeans, t-shirt and boxer briefs for his sleep pants. You turned on your side facing the wall. Hoping he would fall asleep quickly.

He cuddled up behind you, pulling you tight against his chest again. One hand settled across your stomach, the other he wedged underneath your head. He slotted his leg between yours and sighed, truly content. “You’ll see honey, we’re going to be amazing together. I promise.”

You nodded and quietly let your tears flow freely, staring at the porcelain Saint Bernard sitting on the bedside table. Accepting that for now at least, you were the property of Andy Barber.

[rissararity]

Wrote a little fic inspired by this meme. Art is not mine!

Astarion/Half succubus bard oc. Cat calling, references to SA, comfort, friends to lovers, partners in crime, protective Astarion

Might eventually become a more put together fic, if it does it would be a slow burn friends to lovers

“Do we have any other takers? Any more bets? How about you, sir? Betting man?” the gorgeous bard beamed while she played a melody to raise anticipation on her lute.

“You know what? Sure.” The man tossed a couple gold into the pot.

The crowd cheered while Astarion gave a close lipped smile, eye fucking a couple of the women in the group.

A few more coins trickled in, clinking against the others.

“Now watch and be amazed as I throw this dagger, up to the second floor, it bounces handle side down off that, that then that,” he pointed to a couple of things, “and into the center of that barrel.” He announced with a flourish, parading around dramatically.

While he distracted the crowd, the bard cast a little spell to ensure he’d succeed. Astarion felt the power and confidence surge as her spell took effect, making a big show out of throwing the dagger.

While it flew through the air, Liv took the opportunity to pick a few pockets then make her way to the front before the trick shot was over.

As the blade hit home, the crowd was a mix of cheers and jeers.

“Aww better luck next time, friends!” She offered a supportive smile that hid the inward smirk she felt.  She validated a few peoples feelings and casually got each of them to walk away.

The bard scooped up the gold while the rogue retrieved the dagger. They smiled at each other for a moment before quickly and discreetly leaving the area.

To an outsider they’d look like lovers exchanging a look. But they knew they were shit eating grins of victory, and they were in fact not lovers, but 200 gold richer.

Each.

As they reached the end of the alley, they waved to Gale, who stood with hid arms crossed. “Again? Really?” he glared, falling into step on Liv’s other side.

“Oh relax, you benefit from the spoils too. Most of this ends up going to potions and gifts for you.” The half elf snickered, purposely hip bumping him.

The wizard’s glare softened and he ducked his head. “I suppose that’s true. But if you two get caught, you’re on your own.”

The elves smirked at each other, “Somehow I think we’ll manage.” Astarion turned his ruby gaze to Gale who rolled his own.

The men grew uneasy while the trio walked by a group of men who began to whisper after them, staring at Liv in particular. The vampire could have torn their heads off with his bare hands for the disgusting way they spoke about her.

Gale glared back at them, putting an arm around her shoulders protectively. “Honestly, Liv, we can’t take you anywhere civilized.”

“I’d hardly call this place…much less those meat sacks civilized.” Astarion agreed, now wishing he’d been the one to grab her first.

“I’m not doing anything on purpose.” She muttered, dropping her chin.

“Boo hoo, it must be so hard being effortlessly gorgeous.”  The vampire rolled his eyes.

“When I cant go anywhere alone without being hassled, propositioned or having wives threaten me for stealing their husband’s eyes-“ “And hearts.” Gale added.

“Right. A few of them did say that.” She pouted, “I know I can more than take care of myself but I get so…” she crossed her arms over her ample chest and shivered with a frown.

The group had noticed fairly early on she seemed fairly oblivious to the leers she got everywhere she went, and that  when she no longer was, the attention made her extremely uncomfortable.

She could flirt her way out of trouble no problem but was easily flustered and nervous if a man just started commenting on her body. It made a pit form in her stomach that stayed until someone else from her party found her.

Even Shadowheart had played the role to make the men think they had no chance.

She sighed, “And Astarion,” he looked at her. “You sound jealous when you say stuff like that. You’re too pretty to be jealous.”

Gale smirked as the vampire’s jaw dropped for a moment, blinking in surprise “I…er..um..you’re absolutely right.” He pushed his hair from his face and shook out his shoulders, “You passed the test.”

Liv rolled her eyes while the wizard shook his head, a small smile on his lips.

Red eyes grew annoyed as he saw this, prompting him to cross his arms and pout, “I’ll meet you back at camp.” He strode of into the masses of people on the street.

The pair laughed, keeping their leisurely pace.

“He adores you,  you know.”  Gale told her once their laughs became little giggles.

Her cheeks grew dark, “No, he would have made a move by now if he did. We’re just good friends.”

He arched an eyebrow, “Is that so?”

She mimicked him, raising her own and dropping her voice, “Yes, that is so.”

The wizard made a face, “You’re too good at that.”

Wind whipped her long blonde hair around while carrying her laugh.  “What can I say? I give a performance like no other.”

Liv yelped as a hand seized her elbow. “I bet you do, babe. Why don’t you come with me and give a private show?”

Her entire body froze as ice set in, eyes wide with fear as her legs stopped moving.

“I’m going to give you one chance to let go of the lady and be on your way.” Gale’s voice dripped with venom in a way she’d only ever heard in situations like this.

The barbarian sized him up then laughed, yanking her arm confidently, causing her to stumble closer. “Fuck off, mate. If you can’t defend your woman, don’t bring her outside.”

They couldnt go throwing magic in the middle of town, the creep knew that.

What he didn’t expect,  was Gale to cast a hold person spell, locking him into place.

He then gently unfurled the man’s fingers from Liv’s arm and put a protective arm around her waist. “You need to learn some manners. Best hope we don’t ever meet in a battlefield.”

The man’s eyes burned with rage as Gale pressed a kiss to the still shocked bard’s temple and led them back into the crowd.

She pressed herself into her companion’s side all the way back to camp, trying to match his breathing the entire way.

No one knew what caused this reaction in her, but they had an idea. None dared broach the subject and figured talk if and when she wanted.

Normally in battle, she was fearless and thoughtful. But when confronted with someone like that barbarian she locked up.

When they returned to camp, Astarion had already thought up a snappy quip-the perfect amount of sting and sass.

Unfortunately,  it died in his throat as soon as he looked over at them. One look and he knew.

Gale was softly rubbing her forearm, reassuring her while he led her to his tent.

The vampire frowned and exchanged a look with the wizard on the way.  He immediately regretted his hasty exit earlier. He noticed pursuers were more easily deterred when she was with more than one man.

Astarion silently crept over to listen, able to hear their magic friend leading her through breathing exercises. When she’d calmed down, Gale finally left the tent to get some dinner.

He was about to stand only for Shadowheart to beat him to it, heading toward Gale’s tent to comfort the half elf.

 Annoyed as he was, he knew for Liv’s sake that only one person could be with her at a time.

Much to his dismay, she stayed for an entire hour and a half.

He started to head over only to stop in his tracks when the tent door moved and Liv emerged, looking tired but otherwise okay other than her red cheeks and the fact that she used a spell to change her appearance to the one she preferred-the one that more clearly showed her half-drow ancestry.

Her skin kept its pink hue but her hair shortened to a pixie cut, blonde at the root morphing into silver tips that sat perfectly in place. Her blue eyes shifted to one bright blue and one silver. A ring sat in her septum above her lips that wore a coat of black paint, matching her winged eyeliner and eyeshadow.

Her pointed ears were dotted with two in her cartilage on both sides, and a silver ring on the lobe. She bore tattoos of solid black up her throat with flame-like tendrils licking at her jaw, a small flame adorning her forhead.

This was who she preferred to be. Who she felt the strongest,  and most confident as. It was also her defense.

The others knew not to be surprised or comment on what she decided to look like that day. The long blonde look was always used for public performances; it had even earned her the title “The Angel” by word of mouth.

Astarion thought she was perfect both ways, but he knew the other men liked The Angel, while Shadowheart and Karlach shared his adoration of who he dubbed the demoness, the little devil, and simply the drow.

She hadn’t noticed him,  and headed for her bedroll by the fire.

Astarion’s chest tightened as he realized he was too late to comfort her. If he hadn’t ditched her this probably wouldn’t have happened. They’d be sitting around the fire while she played her lute and told them legends and stories.

He should have stayed. This was his fault.

He should have stayed.

Jaw clenched,  he thought, I’ll never abandon you again, my angel. You have my word I will remain close at hand.

What he couldn’t see, was her small smile as their tadpoles relayed the message in his voice.

In fact, he'd been so distracted that all his thoughts of guilt and protectiveness were made privy to the blonde.

He didn’t know it, but they grew closer that night without him ever speaking a word.

--

The following morning when they returned to the little town of Hodge to continue their search for information. Gale noticed Liv go out of her way to insure they passed by the same intersection from last night.

It was fairly early and the roads were fairly clear,  blue sky above them.

As they neared it, Gale stepped forward and took her hand. To everyone’s surprise, she turned her blue and silver gaze to Astarion and held her other hand out to him.

Shadowheart pouted as the visibly confused vampire somewhat hesitantly took her hand and walked on her other side.

Liv squeezed both of their hands as they strode down the road like they owned it. When they got to the next street, she pressed a kiss to the back of Astarion’s hand and gave him a grateful look before letting go and repeating the gesture with Gale.

The vampire blinked in surprise as an odd fluttering feeling danced in his stomach, Gale’s cheeks darkened a little as he returned her smile.

He followed her blindly like they were magnetized, eyes wide as he tried to make heads or tails of this feeling.

Her still short hair shined like silver in the sun, contrasting the warm, sunny light from the blonde near her scalp. Even painted with dark makeup, she was breath taking-silver septum ring glinting back at him a top her confident smile.

Especially when she was exuding confidence like she now was, leading them through the streets to their first contact.

Her rapier carefully tucked into her overcoat, lute strapped to her back, she walked through intersection exuding joy once again.

Astarion’s maroon eyes stayed locked on her profile while he continued to remain at her side. Gale went to talk to Karlach, leaving the two side by side leading the group.

The vampire's eyes flicked down to her hand, yearning to hold it again; to feel her soft, dainty hands in his calloused but well manicured ones.

The butterflies in his stomach hadn’t quite settled down yet-he’d heard some young women gossiping recently and learned that’s what it was called.

Though if it meant what they insinuated it did he refused to believe that was what was happening to him.  

He supposed Liv was pretty enough…oh who was he kidding?  They didn’t call her The Angel  for nothing. She was beauty incarnate, in both of her forms. Her movements were naturally elegant and graceful, her acrobatics during battle were unreal.

Everywhere she went an air of lavender and vanilla followed. You couldn’t be in a bad mood when she was around-he would know. He tried.

She was exactly what Cazador would have sent him after.

At that, he looked away from her shamefully. He didn’t deserve to walk beside her, figuratively or literally. His steps slowed so he could merge with the others but this stopped when her hand brushed the back of his – making his breath catch for a moment as sparks shot up his arm.

She caught his eye and winked, a small smile on her soft lips.  “Walk with me, Astar.”

He was about to scold her for the nickname but for some reason from her he didn’t mind it.

“Gale holds your arm through town.” He murmured quietly as they walked.

Her cheeks darkened, “So he does.”

“It’s only fair-rr- I mean….proper.” He collected himself. “It’s only proper that a lady gets escorted.” He raised his chin, keeping his eyes ahead.

“Of course.”

“After all, you tend to get sidetracked and lost.”

“Sounds like me.”

“Hells forbid you see a cat!”

A  little annoyed now, she glared, “Are you gonna do it or what?”

“Of course I am, don’t be stupid!” Came his rushed reply just before he almost aggressively looped arms with her like Gale often did.

Behind them, the entire team silently laughed. Gale crossed his arms over his chest, batting away Shadowheart to pretended to try and loop arms with him. He turned away from her and glared playfully before pushing her into Karlach who caught her then gave her arm a reassuring pat before going back to minding her business.

Astarion glared venomously at any one that looked at them too long, thankfully only a few people due to her still being in little demon form. He felt like her bodyguard, and as such had to be the scary dog that made outsiders keep their distance.

And unlike most bodyguards,  he actually HAD bite.

Meanwhile, Liv was blissfully unaware of the mission he’d given himself, waltzing down the street casually.

When they arrived at their agreed upon meeting place, Liv wanted to go in alone but the entire group was quick to shut that down.

“Just in and out-it’ll be quick. Everyone leaves happy, no big deal.”

Astarion’s lips quirked up in a grin while he held his laughter, little sounds sneaking out. Karlach immediately began to belly laugh, drawing the attention of a few townspeople. Gale sighed and shook his head while the bard looked at him oddly.

“Sweet summer child.” He pressed a patronly kiss to her temple and hugged her cheek to his chest for a moment.

With knit brows, she let him hold her for a moment. “Anyway, any alternative plans then?”

“Well, you aren’t allowed to go anywhere alone so write that down.” The vampire rolled his eyes, missing her little smile.

“Our best bet here is to not arouse suspicion, and to appear as normal as possible to blend in. I think Liv and I should go in together,  since we look the most like the locals." The wizard spoke up.

“Human, you mean?” Shadowheart asked, crossing her arms at the other half-elf.

“And not head to toe in armor. Not exactly common garb in these parts.”

She relented, “Liv and I could go. Two women won’t look odd and I’m sure she has an outfit I can borrow.”

Gale gave a snappy retort, angering the Cleric. They bickered over who was going in with Liv until Karlach  physically turned their heads to show them Astarion had already whisked her away and toward little café, both in all their silver headed glory.

After casting an apologetic look over her shoulder, she spoke “You didn’t ask me to put on the angel.”

He paused, “I’ll never ask you  to change, darling. However you feel best is how I want you.”

She squeezed his arm, smiling up at him while he avoided her gaze.

Luckily everything went according to plan for once and they got another lead.

Before they returned to their team, waiting in the distance in the town square, they decided to slip out the back door  to see if they could make a few extra coins.

Liv put on the angel to aid in the con on her own accord, excitement in her stomach as she and Astarion approached a small group of people already with a game in progress.

---

“Where is she? I need to see her.” Astarion pushed past Shadowheart and headed toward Wyll’s tent.

“She’s going to live. Don’t interrupt her healing session. It’s…private.” She trailed after him, wishing Wyll hadn’t taken some personal time away so he could cast a hold spell.

Ordinarily  Shadowheart was stronger than Astarion, but now he was in a protective rage, eyes blazing like a wildfire as he sought his little devil.

This fueled him to overpower her, tugging free of her grip and delivering a sharp shove that sent her on her ass, blinking in shock.

He entered the bubble of silence cast around Gale’s tent and froze as he recognized the sounds of lust and sex, as well as the all to familiar scents that went along with it.

His blood ran cold as he hid and peaked in. He knew what to expect but was still aghast when he saw Gale on top of Liv.

Liv’s nude body was dotted with scrapes and bruises from their last fight, her head lulled to the side, eyes half open. She didn’t react much to the wizards deliberate, confident thrusts, her breasts bounced in recoil to punctuate each one.

Gale bit his lip, brows knit as he began to speed up. Liv's shallow breaths along with a few gasps softly joined the other sounds.

Astarion felt rage like never before and had the biggest urge to reach straight through Gale’s back and pull out his still beating heart.

But he knew that was a bad idea.

Liv’s head turned to the other side and she accidently met the vampire’s eyes, her own going from half lidded to wide, cheeks ablaze.

Feeling much like a scorned lover,  though not sure why, he silently sneered at her and left.

--

The following morning, the air was tense between the two troublemakers-Astarion and Liv.

Gale hadn’t noticed him, and she hadn’t told him.

She avoided her rogue as much as possible without drawing attention, seeking a distraction.

Otherwise back to her normal self, she pulled her violin from her bag of holding  and began to play an upbeat jig, a smile on her face as she watched Karlach and Wyll prepare breakfast.

Gale and Shadowheart clapped in time with the music, smiling and enjoying the morning.

His eyes narrowed at Gale as he approached, considering how he could catch the wizard’s robe on fire, stopping short to watch the end of the song.

Liv hesitated a bit upon seeing him, but being the professional she is, she didn’t let it hiccup the song. Gale noticed the jovial mood in her eyes dulled, and used his tadpole to connect to the vampire -immediately realizing what had happened.

The bard finished the song with a flourish of her bow then bowed for the applause  that came from everyone that didn’t drink blood.

Gale connected to Liv for a moment to see if she knew, appreciating that she told him the truth and didn’t make him search her memory.

I think it’s time to tell him, Angel. He’s the only one that doesn’t know and he’s clearly upset.

She sighed, I have to, now. We can’t keep going like this.

He gave a short nod, then made an excuse about wanting to show Liv how to feel the weave so they could both go into the woods together.

They were correct in assuming Astarion’s jealousy would have him tailing them.

Once they were away from camp, his body froze mid-step as Gale cast a hold person spell on him.

The pair turned around and headed over to him, ignoring the slew of curse words falling from his fangs.

“What in the hells do you think you’re doing?!” He growled at last.

“We need to talk- and by that I mean you need to listen. We can’t have you attacking Gale or running off before we explain.”

He glared at her, inwardly annoyed that the passing breeze carried over her lavender scent.

“I’m not sure what I saw other than the two of you acting like a couple of randy teenagers.”

Liv crossed her arms, nodding, “That’s exactly why you’re stuck right now.”

Gale’s lip quirked up for a moment at her flat tone before he spoke, “That’s all you saw? Are you absolutely sure there was nothing else of note?”

“Gale, darling, I’m not going to comment on the size of your staff if that’s what you’re fishing for.”

The wizard blinked in shock, blushing,  “No! No that’s not what I meant.”

Standing slightly behind him, Liv giggled, cutting herself off when Astarian glared at her again.

“Think back. Really think-I’ll even help you.” She cast a focus spell on him while he huffed and closed his eyes.

His mind’s eye took him back Gale’s tent, his eyes glued to the scene before him. Liv looked exhausted from their last battle. Her body was scraped and bruised here and there and bags sat under her eyes.

Her baby blues lacked the spark they usually held.

The vampire knit his brows, growling at the other man. “Did you do something to her?”

Gale’s jaw dropped, Liv spoke up and vehemently denied it.

“It’s not like that either. I look right as rain today, right?” she gestured to her face- bright and clear as always.

He nodded.

“You know I’m a half elf, right?”

“Of course. Drow-correct?”

Liv smiled, happy he remembered that given her normal, warm and sunny appearance. “Right. Well…it turns out…the other half wasn’t human.”

“I’m sure you’ve noticed Liv is much more adept at magic than a normal bard…hells I’ve been trying to convince her to let me train her as a spellcaster…”

She rolled her eyes.

“Anyway, the other half…my father…was an incubus. So…I’m half elf half-“

“Succubus.” Astarion sneered, “It all makes sense now. The power you hold over others with the simple toss of your hair.”

They waited to see what he would say next, giving him a moment to think.

“That’s why you look so much better than you did…last night.”

She nodded, “I seem to have an odd mix of traits and abilities. My little demon appearance can’t be washed away by any manor of magic because it’s still real. When I take after my father, I become the angel. But my mother was the drow.”

“It doesn’t trigger my detect magic ability either.” Gale added, “Because of her half succubus nature, every week or so she needs to be…reset, or she gets sickly and weak.”

“That’s why she’s gotten so much stronger since the began traveling together.”

Liv blushed and shuffled her feet, “Look, I’m really not as smooth as I pretend to be-its an act.”

The vampire was quiet for a long while, “So when you say you cant sleep alone-“

The half elf gasped, “Not every night! God’s Astarion I’m not an animal! Gale told you…once a week. I try to hold out for as long as I can though…” she looked down, “I know it’s a big ask. More often than not I just need to cuddle.”

Gale patted her shoulder, a kind smile on his lips. “I assure you it’s no toil for us. I admit it can be difficult when you’re…in rough shape but knowing it’s the best way we can help you-“

“Mmmhm nothing to do with the fact that you get to have sex with her, I’m sure.” The vampire cut him off, winking when he was done.

The wizard’s warm brown eyes widened, cheeks darkening-it was certainly not a chore, but an honor.

Liv quirked an eyebrow at him, stifling a laugh and trying to force the corner of her mouth down.

Astarion relaxed as he watched her reaction to this. His jealousy faded as he realized for Gale, and hopefully Wyll, this was a friends with benefits situation, not a romantic relationship.

“Oh do let me go now. I’m listening.”

After a nod from Liv, Gale released the hold spell.

Astarion straightened himself and pushed his hair back, shaking off the stiffness. “The girls were already aware, I’m assuming?”

Liv nodded. “Unfortunately, my succubus healing only seems to kick in with men. I guess I need a…bridge to transfer.”

“You had sex with Shadowheart?”

Gale raised an eyebrow, “You tried to.”

“Well yes, but for a different reason. It’s not the same.”

“If anything, my reason is better than yours.” Liv glared.

He tilted his head, “Is it? Who’s to say? Besides, it only makes sense to gather as many…potential healers as possible and keep one on hand at all times. It was smart of you to try, since the two of you normally pair up when we split.”

Silence for a beat.

"Though I must tell you, I thought we were closer than this, little angel.” He turned to her. “Why was I the only one left unaware of your…condition? Did you not want my…” he gestured to his body, “help.”

Gale turned to her, too, curious.

The bard blushed, keeping her eyes on the ground. “We've always been great friends and I didn’t want to risk making it weird.”

“So you didn’t think it weird to proposition your companions weekly to steal their energy when they orgasm?”

Silence.

“It's really not bad. One sip of a health potion and you're back to rights.” Gale defended her.

“Alright, well,” he approached Liv, who shyly looked up. “This doesn’t change anything between us, darling, not if you don’t want it to.” He tilted her chin with one finger. “But if you decide you do, I assure you I’m more than capable of not treating you any differently if we slept together; dearest friend of mine.”

Her cheeks blazed, lips parting in shock. Gale rolled his eyes and looked away while the two had a moment.

He knew his friendship with Liv was clearly different than whatever it was she had with Astarion, so hearing her admit that hadn’t stung like one might expect. It was no secret the two had more in common, more laughs and a knack for getting in and out of trouble.

Gale, as well as Wyll, knew what this was.

Giving the half elf a wink, Astarion turned around and headed back toward camp.

She didn't ask for his help yet, but he hoped she would.

And when she did he would be whatever she wanted him to be; a simple friend with benefits due to a caring heart and sense of obligation or...maybe...

Well he wasn't sure but he was looking forward to her helping him find that out.

[witch-and-her-witcher]

Intermediate

Feysand | T | Corporate Mod AU

1.5k, part 1 (two will be shameless smut), tysm @popjunkie42 for reading this over and joking about excel with me 😘💖

lucien's coffee mug

~☆~

Feyre may have elaborated on her past work history on her application.

“You can't be homeless, you can’t be homeless,” Feyre chants, feeling her breath catching in her throat as her mind works on overdrive to follow anything on the secondary screen with a Youtube video ‘Vlookups For Dummies.’

Alright, she flat out lied.

“‘Intermediate Excel experience’? Great advice, Lucien, fucking inspired — Wait.” Of course, how could she forget? Feyre’s lifeline.

“Prick,” Feyre grumbles. Technically, he did her a favor helping her get this job that she desperately needs to support her true passion, painting, but he’s still way too aware of how good-looking he is and acts too cocky for his own good.

The mahogany door opens and the most beautiful man she has ever seen pokes his head out, silky black locks having no right to fall so seductively over one side of his face.

“How much longer, darling?”

“Oh, not very! Almost done!”

“You’re a lifesaver.”

The door clicks shut and Feyre is as red as the bottom of her knock-off shoes. If it wasn’t mortifying enough she is completely incompetent and slid through the interview by memorizing corporate jargon with Lucien and wearing her best push-up bra, now she has to add looking like a bimbo in front of a man like that.

Rhysand Night, playboy entrepreneur who took his family’s old money and completely flipped the tech world on its head — all to benefit the end user, and not to line his own pockets or that of his shareholders.

Of course, not that he isn’t loaded.

Rhys is the most eligible playboy in Velaris and he tosses his black card around as much as his gleaming, heavily insured smile and perfectly sculpted, heavily tattooed muscles.

The things she would do to get in a room alone with him with as few clothes on as possible.

For her art's sake.

A perfect male specimen to model for her painting didn’t come around every day. Sure, there were plenty of attractive men who came to the studio to pose, but all of them paled in comparison to Rhys Night’s Instagram pics, sailing shirtless on a catamaran on the Adriatian Coast.

What else she’d do with the mental images of his nude body would be between her and her twenty dollar special, jersey cotton sheets.

Damn it, focus!

Feyre squeezes her thighs together to suppress the horny mess she is and begins typing in a flurry.

Heartbeat somewhere in her throat and sweat starting to collect along her hairline, Feyre clumsily clicks around the screen until she’s started a call with Lucien with the mic off and —after first flipping her camera on and nearly screeching at the level of incompetent she is feeling — she gets the two spreadsheets on the screen for Lucien to view.

Another thirty seconds wasted searching for that button, and Lucien is highlighting a cell and beginning the formula when the office door in front of her desk is sliding open again.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

This time, Rhys doesn’t just poke his head out. Oh, no, ohnonono, the walking sex god is fully out of his office. Sauntering over to her with his hands in his immaculate suit pockets. She can see out of the corner of her eye that Lucien is typing something or other, a question about an array? Jesus Christ, Lucien, as if I know what that word means if I need your help!

No, she’s Feyre Archeron. When her back gets pushed against the wall, she does her best work.

“Sorry to rush you, darling, but I really need that document for this meeting,” Rhys drawls and she can hear late nights with glasses of brandy, lacey red numbers and a thigh tossed casually over his lap in his voice. “Mistakes to call out, asses to chew, and all.”

His steady, clipped footfalls haven’t stopped.

Rhys is coming to her desk.

Fumbling like the ditzy blond men normally take her dishwater hair for —it's really more brown, but the fantasy is what they want— Feyre manages to close out of the Teams call.

The formula is only just started.

Feyre tucks a stray wave behind her ear and smiles cheekily up at the man stealing every bit of oxygen out of the air as he comes around her desk. “You must have slowed up the whole company’s computers with all your work, even mine is lagging.”

The full force of that smile right over her shoulder is too much as Rhys leans back against the wall and looks down at her like the dark fantasy he is. Those blue eyes flash nearly violet as he looks her over, letting his gaze linger on her low neckline.

Shit, she should have worn the push-up bra today.

“In my experience, if the boss shows up, it’ll make the system start working again. Just to make you sweat, you know?”

Can he see how sweaty I am? Oh god.

Feyre forces a laugh, prays it sounds natural and not like she’s losing her absolute mind.

His hands shift in his pocket and it draws her attention.

Being tall, dark and handsome means the first part lines his crotch nearly right up to her eyesight while she’s sitting at her desk. There’s the slightest bulge … Feyre swallows thickly and quickly looks back up, sure she’s blushing enough to hide even her freckles.

Rhys doesn’t catch her gawking. He’s looking at his office and then back to her screen.

God, right, he really needs this sheet.

“Want me to move aside and —”

“No, no, don’t let me micromanage you.” He squints ever so slightly. “What’s that? I haven’t seen that formula before.”

Feyre turns back to her screen and sucks in an inhale, nearly chokes on her own spit, but recovers enough to answer, “Oh, yeah, this. I was trying something new. Trying to impress the boss, y’know?” She laughs uncomfortably.

Rhys places one hand on the back of her chair and cages her in by placing his other on the desk beside her keyboard. He’s leaning over, spilling the scent of his citrus and sea salt cologne over her and the overwhelming sense of foreboding that she is definitely, irreversibly, about to get shit-canned from this job and single handedly embarrass herself beyond saving in front of the most beautiful fucking guy ever.

“Just do a vlookup, it’ll be faster. No need to impress anyone here, Feyre.”

He knows her name?

Oh god, he knows her name.

Why does it sound so god damn sinful coming off of his tongue?

He has to know what he’s doing to her.

Feyre presses her thighs even harder together, as if that will do anything to help her now. A cold bucket of ice water is all that will do.

“Let me just get rid of this and start again.” Feyre feels her mouth shape the words, feels her hand on her mouse highlight the cell Lucien started the xlookup in, feels her hand shift to her keyboard.

Tap tap tap goes the ‘backspace.’

But nothing happens.

Feyre wants to sink into the ground. Fall through a hole that sends her straight down the twenty floors to the basement, better yet to a pit preferably full of mud to bury herself under.

Rhys makes a noise in the back of his throat.

“Just, let me —”

“Feyre, darling?”

“Y-yes, Mr. Night?”

“What’s your Excel experience level?”

“It’s um, well, it’s. You see. When I said ‘intermediate,’ I meant in like, the functional role I was in before. Which, was, you know, really different and um. So.”

“So … You’ve never opened an Excel document before?”

Feyre is mortified. She is never, ever going to recover from this never-ending moment and it’s all that fucking red headed prick’s fault and her own selfish desire to sleep under a roof.

Since when is being a starved, homeless artist so bad? Builds character.

Feyre shouldn’t have tried to bypass the character building part.

She lifts her chin up and looks sideways at Rhys who is still leaned over her shoulder, dazzling eyes staring at her screen in amusement. His sharp nose turns towards her and suddenly they’re sharing the same breath.

“My, my, what are we going to do about this, darling?”

[toast-tales]

I Lava You, Chapter 6: Stuck Like Glue

Read Chapter 1 here!

Cover art by @luckyshotwrites!

This short story takes place after P39 of ITWOM and as such, contains minor, minor spoilers for ITWOM - read at your own risk! You do NOT need to have read WIDFALI to enjoy this story!

This story is cowritten with the amazing, fantastic @luckyshotwrites and uses the minor character June from their ongoing vore story What I'd Do For A Livable Income. It's chock full of monsters, magic, goofs, and absolutely fantastic worldbuilding and characters. Give it a shot if you haven't yet!

Contains: references to g/t soft, safe vore. ~1000 words.

Chapter 6: Stuck Like Glue

June specified that they were talking about themselves, not humans in general. That way I'm not lying. Still, June's shoulders slacked with the lies he carried.

“Nope. I don’t feel pain—” AH! Wait, normal humans feel pain. No—Tristan told me some humans don't. “I was born very different from humans…I don’t feel pain, so I won’t get hurt if you throw me.” June was blissfully unaware of his friend’s intentions.

He felt the extra squish from Sam’s anticipation.

These words from June were all it took to remove the inhibitors from Sam’s questionable urges. They stood up, June in hand, and looked around for a suitably clear path from them to the wall. 

They looked down at the human in their hand, and a moment of hesitation hit them. Am I sure they’re not gonna get hurt? 

Unfortunately, Sam’s excitement was beating out the shred of concern they had, aided by the fact that they trusted whatever came out of this human’s mouth. Probably more than they should. Hey, he said it was fine!

Sam eyed the blank spot on the wall ahead of them and gave June one last look, their nerves buzzing with excitement. A wide grin spread across their face. “Alright, little buddy, I gotta see this.” 

That was all the warning the giant gave before winding their arm back and flinging the unsuspecting slime towards the wall as hard as they could.

June swung back with Sam's arm, then with the velocity of a thousand meteors, his body collided with the wall. June's body splatted against the wall and flattened upon impact.

He at least maintained the fleshy color of his "skin". As if a human could do this.

He went as flat as construction paper before popping back into his humanoid shape. His fell from the wall and bounced back onto the ground like a bouncy ball. He chortled softly, completely unharmed.

June laid with his back against the floor, looking at Sam upside-down because of his head’s angle. 

“That was so much fun!” June had endured plenty of high falls on his old world too. “You throw really fast!”

Sam watched the scene unfold before them with amazement, their eyes sparkling with childish glee. This was helped by June’s enthusiasm, who was amazingly unharmed by this whole thing. 

“That was SO FUCKING COOL!” they exclaimed, running over to June and picking them up in a fit of excitement. “I’ve never tried anything like that with a human before.”

Their mind buzzed with possibilities. The first thing that came to mind was kicking June around like a little human hackey-sack, but they put that thought aside. For now.

The second thought was, obviously, showing June off to Christopher and providing him with a demonstration. But…nah, they’d wait until tomorrow.

Sam casually tossed June up in the air like a wadded-up piece of paper before catching them again. “You are by far the coolest human I’ve ever found, little buddy.”

June liked the rush of air when being thrown up and then caught.

The slime’s body bubbled happily. Coolest? Me? He knew the human vernacular meant one of two things. It could mean that he was cool to the touch—but…June was fairly certain his body wasn’t cold. Which meant…

He clung to Sam’s hand, affectionately. “You mean it?!” 

“Hell yeah!” Sam resisted the urge to toss June at the wall again, though their arm itched to do so. “You got any more cool tricks?” They took a seat back at their desk, still holding June securely (a relative term if there ever was one) in their hands, subconsciously squeezing parts of June between their fingers as they did so.

June had plenty of “cool tricks.” But I can’t show Sam any of them! He whined in his head as Sam squeezed again. He didn’t mind it—he let the gentle rolls of Sam’s clutch and release massage him. 

“None that I can think of,” June replied. His big, round, curious eyes looked up at Sam. “What about you? Do you have any really cool tricks you can do?”

Sam thought about it for a while. They didn’t think June would be overly impressed by their amateur lockpicking skills. They turned back to their PC, remembering what they had been distracted from earlier. Suddenly, their eyes glanced over one of the icons on the desktop, and a wide smile broke on their face. They hadn’t had someone to show off to in a long time, and the excitement almost bubbled over in them. 

“OH! I’ve been working at getting this sixth-level map and I think I’ve mastered it,” Sam enthused, getting swept away in their addiction to their favorite rhythm game. They were about to position their fingers over the keys as usual when they realized they’d have to let go of the squishy human to do so. They let go of June, though with the slightest hint of reluctance. 

“Here, here, check this out.”

For the next hour, Sam gave June a front-row view of a very flashy, colorful display with both the game and RGB lighting of their keyboard, mouse, and PC lighting up and swapping colors as they played. It was clear Sam had some level of skill with the game. Sam gave June more information and fun facts about the game than the slime would ever want to know.

June, situated between Sam and their keyboard, watched the screen bustling with joy. He cheered Sam on when they did well, and served their famous special encouragement platter when they messed up, which they freely served to friends 7 days a week. 

June himself wasn’t skilled with games—many times, he would end up staring into space when he played, admiring the beautiful scenes instead.

In this case, the lights of the keyboard pulled him away. He wasn’t bored by any means—he simply felt happy to be there and to observe his new friend succeed.

This opportunity was granted by his glasses—before, the world was pretty dark, nearly black with sprinkles of energy-filled light from individuals. And now, he could see everything in awe-inspiring detail. 

The game would be entertaining enough that Sam would almost forget about the fact that they had a human to eat with them—at least, until their stomach started growling again. 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

<- Chapter 5

Hey, this IS a vore story...right? Remember?

Thanks for your patience on this update - and we might need to ask for that patience again, but thank you for reading!

[curiousquirks]

Hello curious! Could I request a Giran A-Z? I really loved your thoughts on the other characters so far! 💕

~From a starving Giran lover

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Post sex cigarettes are mandatory, even if he was smoking during. He’s the type of person to toss a wet rag to them so they can clean up, and he might even let them take a shower first (he thinks he’s a real gentleman doing that move). He’s not too keen on being overly affectionate at all, maybe some words of affirmation and praise but nothing physically (unless it’s patting them on the head). 

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On himself: The easy answer is his dick, the most obvious one too. Otherwise, he’d offer his forearms. A really beautiful woman had complimented them when he rolled up his sleeves and he took pride in them ever since.

On his partner: Thighs, he loves them. Especially with thigh highs and stockings. Kagero is also a sucker for lips; the little thumb biting and pouts. He eats up the lip pop art paintings too.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

When he’s finished he’ll paint their body like he’s writing his signature. He’ll mark his cum anywhere: stomach, ass, chest, legs, face. It doesn’t matter, but he does have a preference for their face. 

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has an SD card filled with filmed porn (some he is in and some he’s not). It also has a shit ton of lost/banned porn and doujinshi collections. He has a great supplier. No he won’t ever share it.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Kagero is very experienced when it comes to pleasing a partner, definitely running with a body count in the double digits. He’s not afraid of commitment at all, it’s just easier in his line of work to do things casually. He’s a lot to handle when it comes to first impressions but if his potential partner gives him a chance, then he’ll be sure to give them a good time.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying.)

Any position where he can look at his partner (especially if they have decent tits). He prefers them bouncing on his lap, doing most of the work while giving him a great view. 

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He might give a good laugh every once in a while, he doesn’t mind it. His mood can swing whichever way his partner’s mood does. He’s pretty flexible like that. 

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Thick gray happy trail that can easily be seen if he leans back too far when he stretches. He might give himself a little trim if he thinks it’s been awhile, but only if he anticipates sex later than day.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

If they’re classy (or if he is feeling nice) he might smooth things over with a nice dinner first. His expectations and opinion of them are going to dictate how much money he’s willing to spend, so for their sake they better hope he thinks highly of them. Everything is transactional afterall. As for in the moment, he’s not going to be lighting any candles but he does have a playlist specifically to fuck someone to. No, they're not allowed to criticize his tastes.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He’ll do it around five to eight times a week. He has accounts on porn sites, with specific favorites depending on his mood. He prefers videos over pictures, he’s a simple man after all.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Pouty Bratty Subs

Cosplay/Dress Up

Leashes

Anal Sex

Fisting

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Kagero is pretty open. As long as there is some privacy, he’s willing to do just about anywhere. Anywhere that has a chair, couch, bed, ect. The location is more likely going to fit the costume that his partner is wearing, you know to get the setting right. 

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Any person that comes up to him acting boldly. If they’re blunt and honest about their intentions, he’ll quickly and eagerly indulge them. Kagero is easily put, just a simple man. A lot turns him on. A woman's breasts being visible, someone bending over in just the right way, pouting lips, placing a hand on his leg, whispering in his ear. It doesn’t take much for him to get hard.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Strap-ons/anal (receiving). He loves anal, but he’s not too keen on being the one on the receiving end.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He obviously has a preference in receiving and he’s quite a talker during it too. He has no problem giving, in exchange of the favor returned of course. Average skill, nothing too fancy but he’s not too bad. He prefers doing other things instead.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Fond of fast and sensual. His method of “taking his time” is alternating between the two, since he doesn’t like going slow. 

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

It’s a personal favorite, it allows him to get right back to business. Kagero can squeeze them right into his schedule and still have plenty of energy to do more later. Who doesn’t love a quick mind clearing orgasm on a smoke break?

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Open to trying some new things, if his partner puts up a decent argument and it’s not something he deems outlandish. As for risks? He’s willing to let there be some risks, like getting caught or even catching something. But something like knocking someone up? Oh no, they better be taking birth control because he likes fucking raw. 

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He averages around half an hour (if it’s not a quickie of course), sometimes longer depending on the circumstances. He can usually come twice, rather quickly back to back. 

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He owns a closet dedicated to various costume pieces, kink gear, and toys. He’ll pick up new pieces sometimes with new partners. Also a small trunk with various things like leashes, collars, vibrators, dildos, ect in it. He will exclusively have them used on his partner. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves when his partner is a brat, giving him an attitude and trying to test him. It’s adorable. He’ll have them begging soon enough. 

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s a grunter; that and some heavy dialogue is all you’d get out of him. He will encourage his partner to be loud though. He doesn’t want anyone to see him having sex but everyone is welcome to hear them. 

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Kagero is 100% done to use sex as a way to clear certain fees, get rid of some debt, or give a discount on a price he’s given. He loves money and prefers it but he’s willing to at least compensate them something in exchange.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Around five inches, and he’s very insistent on his partner knowing that he’s a grower. It’s pretty thick and girthy though with a prominent vein on the bottom.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Some would say near constant. He’s thinking of sex multiple times a day. It doesn’t take much for him to get going and he’s always ready for a ride. 

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Depends on what he was doing. If it was a good proper session, he might actually pass out mid cigarette.

[thehandwixard]

As a fashoin fan, a splatoon fan, and a splatoon fashion fan, i gotta ask. What do you think pearl and marina would wear for their wedding

hmm, im definitely getting bonuses from the fact basically every other piece of off the hook's splatfest art has different outfits for them so its pretty easy to get a feel for what they'd go for. i think both pearl and marina are equally likely to either pick a dress or suit, but lets assume a dress for both of them.

marina is fairly easy, she has these absolutely adorable ways of putting her hair up in certain pictures, and her ears are pierced

so giving her a big, delicate gold earring and a cute updo around this style would be perfectly fitting for her. shes actually worn off the hook logo earrings before too! she is exactly the kind of person who would wear them to her actual wedding. fitting with an updo, she would probably wear a dress, and marina is.. pretty universally associated with tight-fitting dresses, at least on the torso.

however, with the wavyness of her hair and the general... vibe she would have for a wedding im really picturing a princess dress skirt for her, against all odds. something still elegant, but very very fluffy. sleeveless, probably. i could also see her with a tasteful, but obviously kind of.. industrial hair accessory, like a twist of thick wire. shed just go for the fairytale perfect wedding i know she would. shoes are basically an afterthought with that kind of dress, though i think these kind of strappy, cute sandals would be fun in a fancy style. she doesnt want to be even taller than pearl on their wedding..

she seems like the type to enjoy light patterns, so maybe some tasteful seaweed/comb jelly bioluninescence patterns on the skirt. id feel weird leaving her arms bare even though i dont think this look would need jewelry, so maybe she has dual corsages or something. ill sketch this later.

now. pearl is difficult. marina has the bonus of generally being well-put together and feminine in even casual photos, especially when compared to the squid sisters. meanwhile, pearl has a generally punk princess vibe, which doesnt translate well to a formal wedding. good thing this isnt one.

i do think she would make an effort to be classy, obviously, but most of her more dressed up looks are either still business casual or costumes

but we can work with this. an immediate idea i had was a crown with a veil on it, and she would go for that. one of my favorite more formal pearl looks is this one, for salty vs sweet popcorn

and i think it mirrors her current design for damp socks in a cute way, forgoing the more pop high collar for a more mature and gentle v-neckline with straps. in contrast to marina, i think she would have the more gentle silhouette in general, more flowing outward than a sudden ball gown puff, though it would be shorter (and much easier to dance in). of course, i think she would also have sheer ruffles all over to match with marina.

shoes are.. a toss-up? i'm going to throw a dart and say just... really nice white boots like these. maybe some tasteful but still very bold decals

or one of these simple clunky heel type things. but that would have to be iridescent in some way. give and take.

Color palettes are... tough. i think in splatoon white weddings wouldnt mean much, but maybe the palette of the shoes they designed in 2 could work very well as contrasts. pearl's pastel pinks, vermillion, and light teal with marina's turquoise, gold, and purple.

i think the palette would generally be tied together with light aqua though. they both look good in it

[professor-abeloved]

great walls tumbling down - a jocelyn x mc (reg custodio) fanmix | listen here

a playlist to listen to when you're playing gay chicken with a beautiful girl with bloody knuckles and heart of gold.

art by @hsaijou <3

tracklist (not in any particular order because these queers are messy)

kiss me more - doja cat (feat sza)

Can you kiss me more? We're so young, boy girl We ain't got nothin' to lose, oh, oh It's just principle Baby, hold me 'Cause I like the way you groove, oh, oh

everything is embarrassing - sky ferreira

Maybe if you let me be your lover Maybe if you tried then I would not bother Hurts so bad I don't know what you want from me You know I'm trying You know I'm trying

34+35 - ariana grande

Can you stay up all night? Fuck me 'til the daylight (yeah-yeah) 34, 35 (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, 34, 35) Can you stay up all night? (Do you know what that mean?) Fuck me 'til the daylight (you know what that mean) 34, 35 (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah) Yeah, yeah, yeah Means I wanna 69 wit' ya', no shit Math class, never was good

china - tori amos

China all the way to New York I can feel the distance getting close You're right next to me But I need an airplane I can feel the distance as you breathe Sometimes I think you want me to touch you How can I when you build a great wall around you In your eyes I saw a future together You just look away in the distance

cherry - rina sawayama

Even though I'm satisfied I lead my life within a lie Holding onto feelings I'm not used to feeling 'Cause, oh, they make me feel alive When they tell you that you've got to stay the same Even though you're not yourself And you've got somebody else When they tell you that you've got yourself to blame Even though it's not your fault But your heart just wants to know, know

gimme love - carly rae jepsen

Eyes so bright You got a hold of me the whole damn night I toss and turn but still I can't sleep right I should've asked you to stay, begged you to stay But when I get right next to you I hear this heart beat break in two I feel the earthquake in the room and so I pray Fall into me and then Gimmie love

brave - twice

In deeper wounds The rain that fell on my heart which never healed You make it stop before you know it, you are my only believer The dreamer who made me run a little farther I can hear you calling (Only you)

i like u - niki

I like you, I like you, I like you Sorry, I never meant to But who're we kidding, it wasn't like I had a say One look at you and I won't have it any other way I want you, I want you, I want you I want you to want me, too I know that I signed up for this casually But I fell for your tricks, I'm the casualty

closer - tegan and sara

Here comes the heat before we meet, a little bit closer Here comes the spark before the dark, come a little closer The lights are off and the sun is finally setting The night sky is changing overhead It's not just all physical I'm the type who won't get oh so critical So let's make things physical I won't treat you like you're oh so typical I want you close, I want you

california king bed - rihanna

Eye to eye (Eye to eye) Cheek to cheek (Cheek to cheek) Side by side You were sleeping next to me (Oh, next to me) Arm in arm Dusk to dawn With the curtains drawn And a little last night on these sheets So how come when I reach out my fingers It seems like more than distance between us?

seven - jung kook feat. latto

Weight of the world on your shoulders I'll kiss your waist and ease your mind I must be favored to know ya I'll take my hands and trace your lines It's the way that we can ride It's the way that we can ride (oh-oh, oh-oh) Think I met you in another life So break me off another time (oh-oh, oh-oh) You wrap around me and you give me life And that's why night after night I'll be lovin' you right

tokyo love hotel - rina sawayama

I don't wanna check into the Tokyo Love Hotel I just want your love all to myself

stray italian greyhound - vienna teng

This stray Italian greyhound These inconvenient fireworks This ice-cream-covered screaming hyperactive thought God, I just want to lay down These colors make my eyes hurt This feeling calls for everything that I am not I'm not that kind I'm so good at shooting down any notion This tired world could change It's all been bought Well at least that was my line No use in spending all that emotion when there's someone else to blame But you had to come along didn't you? Rev up the crowd Rewrite the rule book Where do I go when every no turns into maybe So what do I do with this?

[jazzmckay]

OC tag game: Intended for Inquisitors but wording it so you can use for other OCs as well! Alternatively you can RB this to make posts for all the OCs you want, in case you don't want to tag others. and feel free to tag me (elvhenprince) or reply to this post so I can see your ocs!

tagged by @elvhenprince :D tagging @streganicha and @broodwolf221 :3

haven't done katari adaar for any of these memes yet so i think it's her turn. also she's so wack that the game's dialogue options dull her down. this gives me the opportunity to talk about the full breadth of her unhingedness <3

katari adaar, she/her, dagger rogue and tempest

i don't put much thought into exact ages so im just gonna toss out 28 and if ive said a different age somewhere else and forgotten, whatever. katari is feral. aggressive, impatient, irreverent, does whatever strikes her fancy at any given moment. she's making josephine's life absolute hell. katari hates it here. she just wants to fight and fuck, doesn't want to be a leader or a hero. doesn't want the chantry's title. she especially doesn't want magic embedded in her hand. when in a more charitable mood or with someone she actually likes (such as sera) she can at least tip over onto the harmless side of feral to have a wild, wacky time.

Associated colours/symbols/animals:

gold / red, dragons

What are their hobbies/skills?

WELL. sex. does that count? it's her recreational activity of choice. she'll do sparring and brawling. just fucking around. tending to her daggers.

Is there any art they are good/bad at, or interested in trying?

closest katari gets to art is blood play

What do they do to relax?

if the mood strikes, she can enjoy a scalding hot bath

What is their comfort food? Do they cook it themselves?

anything sweet and syrupy, which she cannot make on her own. she can do your standard "travelling mercenary" foods, but anything fancy or just too impractical for the road is out of her reach

An activity they like to do with their partner(s)/bestie(s):

sex. rooftop time with sera. sex on the rooftop time with sera. shenanigans. the calmest katari gets is when sera tells her stories about past red jenny exploits. she can actually relax and just listen for once.

drinks and sparring with bull!

Would they be able to lie their way through a card game?

probably by accident. katari has trouble focusing on card games. the strategy just isn't her forte and she gets bored. her bored face makes for a decent poker face though.

With no regards as to whether it exists or is realistic, what would they want as a pet/companion?

dragon. or a quillback!

Do they have a night-time ritual? Does this differ if they are at their own residence vs somewhere else (e.g. camping)?

she doesn't like her hair getting all splayed out and tangled while she's asleep so she might just tie it back at her nape where it won't bother her much, or braid it. she keeps her daggers close, one under the pillow, and one out in the open but in a good spot to reach for it. that's basically it! she's the type to not go to bed until she's already drooping and then she's out as soon as her head hits the pillow.

What is in their inventory?

daggers and knives. some basic medical things for when she needs to patch up because she hates being healed by magic. a letter from her dads, all folded up into a tiny square and fit into a pouch of her armour. she almost never takes it out anymore, but its always there.

Their preferred dress in these settings: Daily, formal, casual/bedding down

katari likes to be at least somewhat armoured always, so wears something protective even day to day when not out on missions. she likes to be prepared and doesn't feel safe when dressed down. if she had her way, she would NEVER dress formally. she hates formal wear so so much and probably destroyed her winter palace outfit afterwards lol for bedding down, just plain shirt and breeches, maybe partially nude when it's hot enough and she's in a place she feels safe enough to be physically vulnerable

After the events of the Main Plot, did your OC go back home, or reunite with their people from before? Why / why not? If they did, then did they bring any new friends/partners with them?

the inquisition doesnt mean a lot to katari tbh so she's eager to return to mercenary life. the thing is though, the inquisition does have good jobs for mercenaries and they don't pay too badly, either, so the valo-kas stay on, and thus katari also stays. she would return to her home village to visit her dads though. while she's not very sentimental, they are important to her and the things they taught her have stuck with her

How did your OC deal with permanent injuries/changes/trauma gained from their story, if any?

not sure actually! haven't even finished the base game with katari so i haven't started thinking about how she'll react to Stuff(tm) in trespasser. she might actually be just happy to not have the mark anymore though because she fucking hates it. and sera's there to help her with it! we'll see. as for trauma, i wouldnt say she "deals" with that lmfao her fear manifests as aggression and she fights until she feels better for the time being. katari is not interested in self-reflection. she will continue to charge forth and hope the trauma can't keep up with her

[thebestofoneshots]

☆ star

hi!! i’m not sure if this description will be helpful in the slightest but i hope so 🤞🤞

physical/ public appearance: british, mid size, chubby-ish face, 5’6, curly brown hair, freckled and usually rosy cheeked,

personality: extroverted introverted and awkward 100% UNLESS i’m with someone i know and am comfortable with, soft girl at heart and love a good fluffy fic, people pleaser so my feelings are shared with me and me only, shy in social situations, sarcastic, odd humour but funny when i know you, my social battery is controversial so i’ll deffo need time to myself but am super energetic for periods of time and like to have fun, aquarius, INTJ personality, i easily hold grudges and fend for myself if someone wrongs me

hobbies/ things about me: i love art, reading (wattpad hehe), i spend all day everyday crocheting or knitting, i get hyper fixated on piano for a few weeks then won’t go near it for the next 3 months, music is my life (i’m a harrie but also love taylor, pheobe bridgers, 1D, lana, inhaler, wallows, queen, jeff buckley etc), love love love coming of age movies (and harry potter ofc), my style is a mixture between downtown streetwear grandpa and hippie (depends on my mood), marauders gal for sure (remus or poly = favs)

i’m not sure what else there is to say so THANK YOU 🌷💌

If you want to participate in "TBOS' 400 Followers Celebration" too, you can look at this post for all the options of prompts you can choose from <3

☆ Star: send a short description of yourself and I’ll tell you who I ship you with!

Ufff, I definitely, definitely ship you with Remus, but also, somehow Sirius as well? But it was 100% Remus who developed a crush on you first. It started when you stole one of his sweaters. It wasn’t intentional; you were cold, and Sirius was carrying it around in his backpack so he gave it to you. You wore it all day, and Remus only realized you were wearing his sweater in the evening when you walked into the common room with it on.

“That’s mine,” he said with a little frown, still, finding it cute how big it was on you.

“Oh, is it? Sirius borrowed it to me earlier, sorry,” you said and took it off quickly before tossing it his way.

“I didn’t… You can still wear it if you’re cold," he told you, a little more politely now.

“It’s fine,” you told him as you approached the fireplace to sit beside it. “I’m warmer now, thanks, Rem.” You then pulled out some yarn and a work in progress from your bag and continued knitting. Remus observed you quietly from behind, wondering if he could ever do such artistic work with his own hands. He had seen you knit before, yeah, but he wasn't sure if he had actually seen you the same way he had that day.

Next time he put on the sweater, it smelled like you, and it drove him crazy because he liked the smell a little too much. He was honestly debating whether to take it off so the scent wouldn't wear off. Sirius noticed his hesitance and smiled.

“Looks like my boyfriend has developed a little crush.”

“What?” Remus turned to the boy alarmed. “What are you…? That’s ridiculous!”

Sirius only shrugged. “I also think she’s pretty,” he said, nodding to the sweater. “I wouldn’t mind sharing you. As long as it was with her.”

Next thing you knew, Sirius was casually flirting with you, not so much that it would intimidate you, but enough to make your heart flutter in despair, since you were very aware of his relationship with Remus. But then Remus started to grow closer to you too. He asked you to teach him how to knit, and even if his pieces had these huge holes at the start, he pulled through. And that’s not to mention how much he loved your classes, how you would sometimes place your small hands over his to tell him what to do, and how you’d laugh when you helped him fix a big hole. Remus was absolutely smitten.

Eventually, the boys invited you to Hogsmeade. You assumed it would be a friendly reunion with everyone. But when you walked to the meeting point just outside the castle, you realized only the two of them were waiting for you. On the way to Hogsmeade, you discovered you and Sirius also had a lot in common, especially when you started to talk about music. You told him your favorite song was 'Too Much Love Will Kill You,' and he laughed, because too much love would definitely not kill you.

At the Three Broomsticks, they talked to you about their crush and how they wanted you to join their relationship, if you were okay with it, of course. You were a little shy at first but decided to give it a try. After all, you found both boys stunning in their own ways, your crush on them growing exponentially the more time you spend with the two. Even if you weren't sure how dating two boys at the same time would work, you decided you'd figure it out along the way.

A/N: I hope you liked this, I know I've been taking so long on finishing the stuff from my 400 Follower celebration, but they'll all come out soon. If I haven't done yours, is not because I don't want to or I won't, I've just been a little too busy with work.

Much love, Lilly xx

MASTERLIST

[adamwatchesmovies]

Chocolate (2008)

Chocolate would be a better film if it was more comedic, if its prelude was shorter, and if Taphon Phopwandee played a bigger role during the conclusion. Will that matter to you so much as you watch Yanin Vismitananda demolishing opponents with her hands and feet? Not if you came to this martial arts film for the action.

A forbidden romance between Thai gangster Zin (Ammara Siripong) and Yakuza boss Masashi (Hiroshi Abe) puts both their lives at risk. He leaves for Japan while she gives birth to their daughter, Zen (Vismitananda). Raised by her single mother, Zen proves herself a gifted martial artist - easily replicating the moves she sees performed at the Muay Thai Kickboxing school next door or in Bruce Lee and Tony Jaa’s films despite her autism. When Zin develops cancer and cannot afford the chemotherapy, Zen’s friend Moom (Taphon Phopwandee) discovers an old book of unsettled debts owed to the former gangster. If that money were collected, Zin could afford the treatment she needs, which prompts her daughter to start checking the names on the pages.

There’s a lot about this film that’s goofy. Zen’s autism essentially gives her a superpower and she manages to learn moves that easily best opponents twice her size. Whether that’s more or less believable than the Romeo and Juliet romance between two gangsters who we see casually shooting people, I’ll leave it up to you. The thing is, it kind of works as a story happening in its own universe with its own rules. You buy it because you believe Yanin Vismitananda. As a martial artist, she’s incredible. So is the stunt choreography by Panna Rittikrai. There’s great escalation as the debtors Zen collects from become increasingly determined not to give her the money that’s owed. Think it doesn’t get any scarier than a meat manufacturing plant where everyone has cleavers and knives? That’s the third fight (second if you don’t count the scene where she beats up a bunch of teenage punks). You wonder how director Prachy Pinkaew could top themselves when we just saw a battle that had katanas and guns but you haven’t seen anything yet. Even without the end-credit bloopers showing the on-set injuries, you can tell life in Thailand must be really cheap for the stunt men and women to get themselves tossed around like this and fall from that high up. Over and over you’ll threaten to wake up the neighbors as you yell “DAMN!” and “That HAD to hurt!”.

Action-wise, Chocolate is a delight. If at first you’re looking at Vismitananda and wondering “Would she really be able to take down that guy with a single kick to the face?”, you’ll believe it completely by the end. The choreography is excellent but this movie gives you a little something more. Zen’s fighting style has a different flavour, a different personality than other people’s. You often see her feigning blows and then striking in a different way than expected to take down her opponents. It smoothly blends into several comedic take-downs that would make Jackie Chan proud. That said, the film gets awfully grim at points. It is towards the end when the tension is due to ramp up but it feels a bit like the movie didn’t quite know if it wanted to be serious or not. The bad guys leave a trail of slime. The parents are very serious in their roles. Zen is portraying a movie version of a mental disorder. Moom - as the one person who doesn’t know anything about fighting - makes you laugh, which makes you appreciate him that much more than you normally would. His friendship with Zen is sweet, particularly when he comes to her rescue in a way only he could. Stunt-wise, Vismistananda is the stand-out. Seeing her convincingly plays a teen despite being 24 at the time and performing all those stunts you'd think she'd be the one giving the best performance, but I say that award belongs to Phopwandee.

You have to forgive some story-related flaws to appreciate Chocolate but it shouldn’t be too hard, not when the movie delivers the “whacks!” and “pows!” the way it does. You’ll want to see it again so you can test whether watching a martial arts film like this one can make you learn the on-screen moves through osmosis. (International version with English subtitles, July 30, 2021)

[zorkaya-moved]

" tie me up and take me over. " from kaveh : ' )

@avaere

It's not rare for their roles to switch around when one feels more dominant or submissive or whatever role they wish to adapt. Their trust and comfort with each other dictates their casual approach to who can take the lead, it's always a fun time no matter who gets to play around first. They love each other too much to be selfish in bed, selfish as in being the only ones who gets to experience pleasure. No matter who it is that leads, they always want each other to feel good mutually. After all, if the other party does not find delight in their love making, then what is the point?

Zarina cannot deny the shine in her eyes upon hearing those words from Kaveh. Especially when he's already covered in her lipstick, his lips and his neck blooming in that delectable shade of red. She can never stop adoring him, loving him, and spoiling him whenever she can. Who would not be so tempted by the loving look, by the curl of his lips, by the respiness in his voice from their makeout. Zarina knows she's been eager, it's hardly unusual, but those light bites on his bottom lip and those hickeys already making their appearance speak of her desire to take that role upon herself today.

Sokolova hums in approval of his request, kissing his cheek and nuzzling into his neck before pushing him to fall back on the bed and onto the soft pillows (just how many does she need? many). If he wishes to be tied up and be under her indulgent care, she'll obey his request and will deliver the debauched delight onto him. Not many know the depravity lurking beneath such prestige, shamelessness is as sweet as Kaveh's lips taste to her after the desert he enjoyed fully, made by her.

"Take off the rest, love," she kisses him on the nose, smiling at him with adoration and love. He's safe, he's always safe with her and she'll never cause him harm. No matter how passionate sex and play would get, Sokolova will always remind him of how much she loves him. But as she needs him to take off the rest of his clothes, she slides off the bed to open a drawer where she keeps her hidden (not to Kaveh, really) stash of different toys and ropes. Eyes look for what she needs and when she finds the softer silky rope to bind her architect's wrists in, she hums in approval, choosing the color of his eyes for the evening.

As she looks back, Zarina has to remind herself not to salivate. Kaveh is a piece of art, no matter what he does in her eyes. The softer glow of his skin with the dimmer light surrounding them, with the way his eyes were so pretty and with how her own lipstick marked looked beautiful on him. He never ceases to make her feel like she's at a loss for words. It'd be such a tale to tell him that the first time she saw him, she was tongue tied. Once again, she recovers in record times by approaching the bed, climbing on top and having to swallow because of how delectable Kaveh looked when he would be tied up, all ready for her to to trace her prettily manicured finger across his chest, abdomen...

"Let me know if it's too tight," she then proceeds to kiss him on the forehead, ensuring that his wrists are tied to the bed frame nicely without being too painful. As she watches him tug on those restraints and giving her an approval, she works on her own clothes. Well, what was left of it, really. It was much, just her shirt and her underwear. But, despite how little there was, the silverette enjoyed too much giving out a show to her dearest architect.

As she sheds the last piece of cloth, she tosses it into the laundry, knowing that with how wet she already is below, it's better that way. As she hovers over his body, one hand using the bed frame as a support and the other caressing Kaveh's face, her tone of voice changes, dripping with saccharine delight and adoration. "I love how watching me gets you hard, Kaveh. Am I that pretty and desirable in your eyes?"

Naturally, she knows the answer, but she wants to hear it from him. It's a play now, starting now. The way her thumb traces across his lower lip, her smile is both amused and sly in how she encourages him to speak up. After all, she loves his voice and how vocal he can be. Her special, her soulmate, her dearest, her everything. The one and only who can ask for anything and she'll deliver it to him, be it her own ambition or be it the world at large, but she knows... Oh, she knows how his kind heart will just ask for her. And she'll always give herself to him because she, too, wants to be his for all eternity.

She knows she catches herself on adoring him for a second too long with how captures his lips in a deep kiss, a bit more commanding and a bit more assertive to show off who's in charge, but still loving. His tongue pressed against hers, and she is a tease enough to lower her hips to let him feel how wet she is against his cock, swallowing the sounds in that same kiss. The flex of his muscles, the heat radiating from his body, the familiar combined scent of heat and his cologne. He's driving her insane without even doing anything. It's so obvious that her body is just a bit colder than his, but it's not enough to shiver, simply to notice the difference. "I love you."

When she whispers that, she's already moving down to kiss kiss neck and to leave more traces of her marking. Subtle bites, hickeys, kisses. She worships him like it's her last day in Teyvat every single time, paying attention to his nipples, noticing the twitch, ignoring his dick because she can and she would until she's satisfied with her worship or he asks her to take him in. She drags out any and all noise she can, encouraging him through praises and the coos of his name. She knows how hard it is when she presses their bodies together, feeling his hot and hard cock against her abdomen trapped between their bodies, moving just enough because she's shameless and doesn't mind his precum to be on him and on her. She'll clean him up if he asks, she'll do anything if he just begs sweetly enough.

But when she sits up, Zarina is amazed at how her teasing and her ordeals paint an even prettier picture. Her mind is wired and her body yearns for more, but her dominant side asks for more encouragements and for more raspy, breathless words. Look at me, love me, want me so badly you'll be drowning in pleasure when I finally give in because I want your obsession and I want your love. Sokolova hums in delight, looking down at his pretty dick, licking her lips fromhow she knows she'd love to take him in her mouth but decides against it. Not when she's on top like this and wants to drive Kaveh just a bit more insane from her words, her voice that is saturated with lust, amusement, and intense love.

"You'd be so deep in me, Kaveh," she whispers, adoringly yet there is such heavy tone of lust and want. Her own deep breathes come from her arousal, her want, her neediness. She lets the tips of her fingers to travel from his base to his tip, watching his face and any changes in his expression. Her exhale is hot and heavy as she hopes he looks exactly where she wants him to, to see just how deep he always gets inside her and just much she can can always take it. "See? "

She chuckles, adoration is gleaming and she wants nothing more than to finally ride him. She's teased him enough, ignored his aching want enough, but Zarina wants to hear it from him. Just one sentence as a response to her question.

"Be a good boy and tell me, Kaveh, what do you want?" More like, should she finally fuck him and ride him until he sees stars or should she continue her teasings because, sadly to the architect, Zarina is able to push her own neediness away if it means peaking the pleasure of her beloved... that is him. Even if it requires just a bit of edging. "Tell me in that pretty voice of yours, love."