#inclined to trust her tastes

[crossthread]

Hot take? Unpopular take?? Imma try to get somewhere with this point but like. I really think reading fanfiction inherently increased my standards for literature.

Cause for a while now I've only solely read fics in the past few years, like probably finished like two published books a year maybe (even though if I count my fic reads I'd easily be in the 100s from word count alone) and like. Recently got into the YA side of booktok, tried reading several of the most popular ones cause i kinda miss published books, and I just. side eye that shit?? Best example is ACOTAR. Read like 4 books in that series. Kinda get why it's popular cause the overall the main plot points (hot romance and kinda Mary sue protag) are good enough to get you into it but like. I genuinely had to force myself to finish it?? I have no idea why this is so popular.

Cause literally when I hold the ACOTAR up to my top 20 fics. Nothing. Not even my top 50 fics. Cause first off the plot is good enough but it's not something I've never seen before either. Same with characters. The writing style?? Straight up nope. Like. Is this really the standards for a good story?? There's so many good authors that write excellent smut and plot and characterization and just FANTASTIC writing style and overall quality of work and just. I don't get it.

I'm assuming this is a me thing, because I tried going through several YA novels and just. The quality of writing reeeally leaves a lot to be desired. The best thing I can come up with for the reason behind me feeling like this about YA is that the last time I was reading insanely, I was a teen, and now I'm in my early 20s so there's a good possibility that the same things don't intrest me anymore. But I keep circling back to the level of writing cause like. Idk. Just. I feel like while the plot and characters for a lot of these novels are good, what falls short is how it's written??? Like wtf.

[ellecdc]

request for a fic where reader is absolutely spoiled by her boys? (can be absolutely any pairing you like poly!marauders x reader, wolfstar, poly!moonwater x reader, Bartylus x reader…..literally anything)

the boys love to spoil her with gifts, breakfast in bed, shopping trips, outings etc, (not necessarily expensive, just doting), even if one of the boys is less inclined they're along for the ride, and perhaps somewhat exasperated by all the antics

…can you tell my love language is gift giving and receiving?

feel free to add more plot because the prompt is quite broad? but do whatever you want my love!

I trust you with my life <3

*tip-toes in* hiii there *side steps through the door* hellooo.... *awkwardly places this fic in front of you from your request back in March* thanks so much for your request (and patienceeee) - no but in all reality, I knew from the second I got this request that it had to be these two - I hope I did it justice!! xx

poly!rosekiller x fem!reader who they love to spoil [743 words]

CW: extravagant & expensive gift giving as a love language, reader tries to be mad at them about it (she fails, though)

“Not so fast!” You said instead of hello, fighting the snicker that threatened to undermine your severity as you watched Barty and Evan stop in their tracks like they’d been frozen on the spot. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The two boys shared a sideways glance before Evan slowly relaxed his stance. “Well-”

“You’re going to have to be more specific, Treasure.” Barty interrupted swiftly, giving off an air of faux nonchalance as he placed the shopping bags he had in his hands on the side of the bed and pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “What are we doing for dinner tonight? What are we doing about climate change? What are we doing with our lives? It’s too broad a question.” 

“Barty.” You scolded him. 

“Y/N.” He replied.

“Evan.” You tried instead.

“Yes, sugar?” He responded salaciously.

You closed your eyes and heaved a breath; they made it so difficult to be mad at them. “What did you two buy?”

Evan’s face spread into a cheshire cat smile. “Funny you should ask, darling.” And with a flourish, he and Barty unceremoniously dumped the bags out onto the bed leaving it covered in a menagerie of clothes, bags, perfumes, and what appeared to be boxes of jewellery. 

“But why?” You beseeched anxiously instead of saying thank you; feeling your face flush at the very loud and very expensive expression of appreciation now littering your bed. 

“Uhm, because we love you?” Barty answered as if that was somehow a trick question and he couldn’t believe it was actually that easy to answer.

“This is too much.” You responded.

“Says who?” Evan queried.

“Me.”

Barty snorted. “How’s it feel to be wrong, then?”

“Barty.”

“I don’t understand what the problem is!” He continued, raising his hands helplessly. “We have a lot of money, we have great taste, and we have you; ergo…” He said, finishing his statement by gesturing vaguely at the pile of gifts they’d purchased. 

“Great taste indeed.” Evan agreed as he held a dress up against you. “This colour looks great on you.”

“Ev, there is hardly any fabric on this dress.” You argued, causing his face to pinch in thought.

“Hm, you’re right. Okay, we can return that one if you don’t like it.” He said before shoving the dress back into one of the various bags. 

You let your eyes trace the rest of the garments littering your bed wondering if you might be able to convince them to return the rest of it too.

“No, we cannot return it all. Don’t be rude, babydoll.” Evan reprimanded, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head and chidingly patting you on the arse.

“Do you like this one, Tres? I picked it because I thought it’d bring out your eyes.” Barty asked then, holding up an outfit with no shortage of excitement in his eyes that finally forced a smile from you. 

“It’s very nice, Bee; thank you.” You relented, running your fingers along the fabric up to the price tag, only to have it yanked from your grasp before you could see how much it cost.

“Perfect.” He said quickly, pulling the tag from the garment and shoving it into his pocket. “You can wear this one tonight; we have reservations at the new restaurant downtown at 8:30!”

Silence returned to the room once they both left and you let out a slow breath, shaking your head in fondness as you looked at the many gifts they’d splurged on for you. 

There wasn’t even any reason, which always somehow made it feel that much more special; they didn’t go out shopping because it was your birthday or a holiday; they simply went shopping because they were thinking of you, saw things you might like, and bought it just because they could. 

You were a lucky girl, and you’d go so far as to call yourself spoiled, which you were sure was exactly what Evan and Barty wanted you to be even if you made it quite difficult to do so. 

“Oh, and if you do wear that outfit Barty picked out tonight,” Evan added, sticking his head in the doorway, “there’s a matching Hermés bag to go with it, too.”

He didn’t even have a chance to see your mouth open in shock or hear your horrified “Evan!” before he was shutting the door behind him and taking off down the hall.

Spoiled indeed.

[vorestarr]

ascended astarion and vampire spouses

so I've been reading the dnd 2e manual "Van Richten's Guide to Vampires" for fic/game inspiration, and there's this really interesting chapter on vampire brides and grooms. after reading it, it's very clear to me that Astarion didn't turn Tav into a typical spawn, but into a vampire spouse, which are two very different rituals with very different outcomes.

the typical vampire spawn creation process is exactly what Astarion describes happening to him: a painful death, a painful rebirth into undeath, fighting his way out of his own coffin, and Cazador's complete control over him. this is described pretty clearly in the guide to vampires:

According to most related tales, a vampire can create another simply by killing a mortal either with its life-energy draining power (draining all the character's experience leveIs) or by exhausting the mortal of his or her blood supply. If the victim's body is not properly destroyed, it arises as a vampire, under the control of the creature who killed it, on the second night following the burial. [...] Most vampires remember the instant of their death and the nature of their killer, and understand immediately their new nature. Certainly their new hunger gives them a good idea of what they have become. They must immediately free themselves from their grave. either by breaking it open from within or by assuming gaseous form and diffusing out.

so that's definitely what happened to Astarion, but that's not what happens to Tav. after ascended Astarion turns Tav into a vampire, they can ask him what happened, and he describes the following:

Astarion: You are so beautiful... And you will be beautiful forever. Thank you for trusting me. Player: What exactly happened? Astarion: You were drained dry, and at the height of your delirium, I granted you one drop of my own blood. Things will be a touch different for you than they were for me when I was a spawn. I'm imbibed with unfathomable new talents. I am fairly certain I can extend Mephistopheles' blessings unto you. Player: Does that mean I need not fear the sun? Astarion: You need not fear anything. You will be stronger, swifter, sharper, but you won't be different. You were already perfect before. It's hard to improve.

for reference, this is how the guide to vampires describes the ritual for vampire spouses:

To actually create the bride, the vampire bestows what is known as the "Dark Kiss". lt samples the blood of its mortal paramour—once, twice, thrice—draining her almost to the point of death. This process causes the subject no pain; in fact, it has been described as the most euphoric, ecstatic experience, in comparison to which all ether pleasures fade into insignificance. Just as the subject is about to slip into the terminal coma from which there is no awakening, the vampire opens a gash in its own flesh—often in its throat—and holds the subject's mouth to the wound, As the burning draught that is the vampire’s blood gushes into the subject's mouth, the primitive feeding instinct is triggered, and she sucks hungrily at the wound, enraptured. With the first taste of the blood, the subject is possessed of great and frenzied strength (Str 18, if the character’s Str isn't already higher), and will use it to prevent the vampire from separating her from the fountain of wonder that is its bleeding wound. lt is at this point that the creator-vampire's strength is most sorely tested. He is weakened by his own blood loss, and also by his own rapture as the "victim" of a dark kiss. Overcoming the sudden loss of strength and the inclinations of lust, the vampire must pull her away from its own throat, hopefully without harming her, before she has overfed. Should the subject be allowed to feed for too long (more than 2 rounds), she is driven totally and incurably insane, and will die in agony within 24 hours. Once the subject has stopped feeding, she falls into a coma that lasts minutes or hours (2dl2 turns), at the end of which time she dies. Several (1 d3) hours later, she arises as a Fledgling vampire—and her creator's bride.

this to me sounds like what Astarion describes. he drains Tav almost dry, and at the very last moment, gives them a single drop of his blood. (also interesting reading this guide, the single drop avoids the problem of the vampire spouse being driven ravenous with hunger for the vampire creator's blood and attacking them. did Astarion know this and give them one drop on purpose to avoid that and Tav potentially being driven mad by it? or was he being selfish and this is just a nice but unanticipated outcome?)

i kept reading and there's a lot more interesting information about vampire spouses, but the most interesting thing I found related to the game was this:

Although there are some folk tales that describe the bride of a vampire as its slave, in much the same way that offspring are slaves, a bride is free-willed from the moment of her creation. The creator vampire does have great influence over the bride. however although this control is totally nonmagical. When a vampire is created in the traditional manner—that is, when a victim's life energy is completely drained away—the new fledgling instinctively understands much about the vampiric way of unlife, and about its own strengths, weaknesses* and needs. Not so the bride.

so basically, the vampire spouse is not tied to the vampire creator in the same way as a spawn (i.e., not able to be fully controlled) but is still extremely reliant on the vampire creator to teach them how to live as a vampire. the guide goes on to describe that some vampire creators may lie to their vampire spouse about the control or powers they have, in order to exert more control over them.

interestingly, if you ask Astarion if he can compel you the way Cazador compelled him, he doesn't give a straight answer, he just says this:

Player: Cazador could compel you - can you compel me? Astarion: Why would I need to? You're going to be wonderfully obedient.

to me, all of this says that Astarion was telling the truth when he told Tav that they would be different from him as a spawn, and also in emphasizing that they are not a spawn but a consort. he didn't create a spawn, he created a vampire spouse. he married Tav, and because of this Tav also retains their free will.

of course, Astarion doesn't say this. if he knows, he withholds this information in much the way that this guide describes, as a way for the creator to maintain more control over their spouse. but still, extremely interesting implications for the ascended Astarion romance, imo.

other interesting facts about vampire spouses from the guide to vampires:

the married couple has telepathic communication that can span miles -- so Tav and Astarion can potentially have a telepathic bond even after the tadpoles are gone. (another note, this communication has to be consensual both ways for it to work, so you can't just dig around someone's mind if they don't want it.)

the vampire creator is extremely jealous and possessive. (yeah lol)

their life forces are linked, so one suffering a great deal is felt by the other.

the bond can be broken, but the ritual to do so has to be initiated by the creator. to break it, they both spill their blood on the ground and allow it to mix. this dissolves all aspects of the bond (i.e., telepathy and linked life forces), but the spouse stays a vampire.

[bitethedevil]

I know the contents of Raph’s diary have been discussed but have you touched on how it takes literally no skill to pickpocket his journals off of him? I mean it’s maybe the only 0 skill check I’ve seen in the game. He wants us to know everything I swear it. Also if you pickpocket him he doesn’t turn around and call it out like other vendors do.

The Devil You Know

I didn’t know that but that is super interesting and it’s going to prompt me to yap about something I’ve been thinking about a lot. This man is so damn upfront about everything. His line “What’s better than a devil you don’t know? A devil you do” is literally his whole character. He doesn’t make a fuss about us pickpocketing him and that doesn’t surprise me. The scrying orb in at the Devil’s Fee where the narrator comments if Raphael can see us? He can. He literally lets us see him by intentionally failing a wisdom check.

I’m convinced that Raphael knows exactly what he is up against from the very beginning: The Emperor. Raphael plans ahead. He plans so far ahead that I’ll argue he already knows that his competition will be the Emperor and what he offers. Raph knows about it before we even do and there are a couple of clues to it. One is in Last Light Inn where he says:

“And yet, I have this picture in my head of you tossing and turning in the middle of the night…thinking strange things, dreaming strange dreams…and there’s this little voice inside of you asking ‘Is this my will? Or is it the worm’s?’. But you have no answer and no way of knowing. The good thing is though, there’s only one little voice you really should be listening to: mine.”

He’s not talking about the Urge because I am 90% sure that Tav’s get this dialogue too. He is talking about the Emperor (which we are still unaware of at this point). He is also already grooming us to not trust that ‘little voice’, especially with the way he mentions if this is ‘your will or the worm’s’ and the way he says: ‘you have no answer and no way of knowing’. He’s basically saying that the voice is keeping us in the dark on purpose and alluding that it might be making us do things against our will.

Again, with the line: ‘What’s better than a devil you don’t know? A devil you do.’. Raphael knows he’s up against the Emperor, and he knows that since the Emperor is a mindflayer, there is no way in the Nine Hells that he will be upfront with us from the beginning. Raphael plays his cards completely opposite in response to this.

Raph does not fuck around in the least. It’s ‘Hi, welcome to my house in Avernus, oh yeah btw I’m a devil *poof*’. He is upfront from the very beginning. Does Raphael also manipulate us? Oh for sure, but it’s nothing that you can’t technically figure out if you are a bit perceptive and he’s even upfront about that.

I’ve talked about the lanceboard scene before. If you let Mol win, he says to us: ‘She won. She has a taste for it now. She’ll be the one who comes to me.’.  If she loses, he’ll point out that she is lost, and her desperation will lead her back to him anyway. He literally explains how his deals work. Raphael then does the exact same thing to us by giving us an easy deal (that he overhypes a lot) with killing Yurgir. By dealing with him successfully once, we’ve ‘won’ and we’ll be more inclined to go to him again. If we don’t fulfill his deal, he knows that desperation might make us return to him anyway.

That man does not fuck around. The cards are on the table. I know that some of these things, like the pick-pocketing thing might also be due to storytelling, but even from a narrative point of view, he's very much presented as 'the devil you know' and I find that super interesting.

(Thank you for the ask <3)

[wordstome]

Last night I did what I always do when I can’t fall asleep: think about fictional men. Here’s a list of wonderful stories written by incredibly talented people who have helped me think about fictional men by providing the most delicious playgrounds.

In the interest of keeping my recommendations brief, I'm going to talk about what I liked about the fic instead of summarizing what it's about. To know what it's actually about you're just gonna have to click through and read the fic <3

(and just in case anybody's gotten lost, this is all COD, mostly modern MW)

✦ complete ║ ➠ ongoing

König

✦Just Friends by @kneelingshadowsalome Salome is so good at capturing a very unique interplay between König’s social awkwardness and his deep, dark, nasty inclinations. He’s so feral and enjoyable to read, and the sheer force of his desire for Engel is downright intoxicating. I find it difficult to describe how much of an impact Just Friends has had on me and my portrayal of König, to be honest. There's a reason why three of Salome's fics are on this rec list.

✦Fatum Nos Iungebit by kneelingshadowsalome Five words. König with his cock out. That's it. Okay, but in all seriousness, I love his character applied to this setting. All the raw visceral violence a König could ever want, a pretty little lady in his bed—he's so boyish and happy in this au it brings me such joy. The way their relationship between him and Fee develops is so natural and so sweet. Please for the love of God read this.

➠Cat/Mouse/Den by @papaver-decervicatus The chase. The pursuit. The adrenaline when Mouse dances out of König's reach once more. I'm a little biased because I adore Julius and Jenny (I could call her Lucretia but the double J names make me giggle) as ocs already, but CMD is so, so well written. The tension, the flirting, the scene where he catches her falling out of the tree?! As I said in a reblog, I shrieked. You know when you're reading something that's so good you want to bite down on it and shake like a dog with a toy? (No? Just me?) That's how I feel about CMD.

➠Anything by @darklordofthesimp Anything, in only 7 chapters (they are hefty, don’t get me wrong), has turned König and Birdy’s dynamic from “THIS MOTHERFUCKER HAS IRREVERSIBLY SCARRED MY BODY AND MY BRAIN, AND I CANNOT TRUST HIM” to “these two are going to get married someday”. (author if you’re reading this, I say that not as an expectation or prediction, but as a vibe reading.) This one is for the hurt/comfort girlies. Also, shoutout to all the other stories set in the Anything-verse. Sunshine and Ghost are just soooo *grips my hand in a fist so hard it shakes*

➠If you need to be mean by @gremlingottoosilly This mostly serves as a blanket recommendation for all of Gremlin’s fics. I found If you need to be mean, and then visiting Gremlin’s author page was like opening a treasure chest. Want to be König’s pampered, (unwilling) little housewife? That’s If you need to be mean. Want a harem fic with almost all of the COD MW men? Gremlin has two, both with their own little spin to keep it fun. Do you want König to keep you in his basement or hunt you down as a serial killer? Gremlin's got it. Monsterfucker? Gremlin has that too. Special shoutout goes to 1295 kilometers. I think about fucking König on a train a lot now.

➠Break my mind by @kaiasdevotion (kaiasown on ao3) There’s no way around this. This fic has the most unhinged, kinky, downright dangerous smut I’ve read in the cod fandom so far (positive). Just Friends König is the metric by which I judge all other Königs’ nastiness, and Break my mind König is tipping so hard on the “unhinged horny violent freak (affectionate)” end of the scale he’s about to fall off. I don't know if you guys have noticed, but I've developed a taste for writing/reading from König's perspective, and he's so chillingly deranged in the most controlled way possible during the chapters from his pov. Incredible writing. Chefs kiss.

✦Experimental by @uhohdad (surgeoninspace on ao3) Alright, enough of just König being nasty. He is still nasty in this one, but he’s not the only one who gets to have a little fun and be a total creep. Our little scientist here is a grade A pervert, and I was delighted the whole way through. The most important thing I need in a fic is suspension of disbelief, and Experimental takes an unrealistic, maybe a little bit silly situation and makes it so believable. Everybody reacts the way you would expect them to, even if the scenario they're in is A Lot.

➠Little Mouse and Rotes Madchen by @sprout-fics I'm combining the recommendation for these two because while they are both very much distinct, unique fics, I love them the same way. Sprout is such an engaging writer, and the internal dialogue of her characters is so well done. It reveals their personality, motivations, and internal conflicts without being overly expository. Do you guys remember that post I put on the König bible about instant obsession? It's this inexorable attraction borne from obsession that sticks me to Little Mouse like a glue trap. (Is that too morbid?)

✦Hot in Sarajevo by @50cal-fullauto Rags' König characterization post is on my Königcore bible, for very good reason. They get it. König is a feral dog forced to live as a man and loves like a total maniac, emotionally and sexually. I marked Hot in Sarajevo as complete but I don't know how many parts there are going to be, and frankly, I do want more. However, if you're going to only read one part (which. why would you do that??? read both.) I recommend the second part. I want to write love like that. Goddamn.

Ghost

Yeah, this list is a little bare bones right now. I'm gonna get back to it, I promise.

✦Anhedonia by kneelingshadowsalome The way. Salome takes the "I would take a bullet for him but he's so cold to me" premise and then flips it entirely on its head for the second part is so important to me. The way Simon craves the reader is like human catnip. I reread this fic all the time.

Keegan

✦For the Weak and Weary by @halcyone-of-the-sea Read this if you want to believe in true love. That's all. Go on now.

Multiple

✦Easy by @danibee33 When people say "I wish this were a book!" about fanfiction, they usually mean it in a "this is good enough to be published by the traditional publishing industry" way. When I say I want Easy (and Diablesa) to be a book, I mean it in a "I want to get this story bound in a beautiful ass cover and keep it on a shelf so I can take it down and reread it whenever I want" way. I don't want the traditional publishing industry to get their claws in this, because it's perfect as it is. This fic is so wild and fun, and the character moments are so special and well done. Do yourself a favor and savor this one.

➠@ghouljams's entire blog [masterlist] "What do you mean someone's entire blog" YOU HEARD ME. Those aus are some good shit. Good characterization, delicious premises, love the group effort of it all. To absolutely nobody's surprise, my favorite couple is König and Bee from the cowboy au (ditzy but well-meaning and competent in her own way woman x big strong man who is obsessed with her and maybe also creeping on her, my beloved), but I also have a fondness for Ghost and Die from demon darlings au. Trust me on this one. Dig into those masterlists babey.

[eggyrocks]

𖦹track seventeen: all this love𖦹

m.list

kuroo doesn't know how he got here.

first it was the lunch. it was supposed to be coffee, but by the time they were both showered and functional, lunch fit the timeframe better. he got there first. she was late like she usually is, not that kuroo was expecting anything different. they exchanged tales and recountings of the night before and were so caught up with each other they kept forgetting to look at the menu. kuroo got water. she got another beer. she twisted her mouth into a pout whenever she didn't want to get caught smiling at something he said. he openly threw his head back and laughed.

then it was the ice cream. she was craving it, and kuroo was inclined to oblige her and her whims. she ordered for both of them and then bumped her hip into kuroo to knock him out of the way and keep him from paying. they kept getting uneasy looks from others in the shop. maybe it was kuroo's tall and imposing stature or maybe it was her intimidating aura and the way she looked so in line with her subculture. either way, she didn't notice. or if she did, she didn't let on. just dipped her spoon into kuroo's ice cream and told him he had bad taste, and hers was much better.

then, it was her place. she bragged about her collection of old video games she shares with her roommates and kuroo told her that, since she kept going on about it, he just had to see it now. she couldn't just leave him hanging like that. and he ended up on her couch, his thigh pressed against hers as she destroyed him in some vintage game he'd never even heard of before.

and now, it's this.

all of his focus is on keeping his breathing even and not choking on his spit. he's sitting cross-legged on the floor of her bathroom as she sits on the edge of her bathtub, elbows on her knees, leaning in towards him. far too close for him to think of anything but the warmth of her fingers as she holds his earlobe in place and uses a black sharpie to mark him. seemingly random items are laid out beside her. alcohol wipes, saline water, an apple slice, a cup of ice cubes, silver studs, and an intimidatingly thick sewing needle.

did she bring up piercings or did he? he can't really remember exactly how the conversation went, and he's unsure if he asked for this or if she suggested it. all he knows is that she told him he'd look good with pierced ears, and now he is patiently awaiting the needle.

nishinoya is leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. "do not let her do this to you man," he says, half disapproving and half amused. "it's gonna get infected."

"shut the fuck up noya," she mumbles, fire of the words buried by her concentration. she leans back and rips open an alcohol wipe that was resting beside her, only to lean back in and use it to clean the soft skin of kuroo's ear. "you got your nipples pierced on a dare."

"yeah, and it was a mistake," her friend counters. "i'm trying to save him from my same fate. kuroo, look within yourself and ask yourself if you really trust her to pierce your ears."

he does. and he does. "she knows what she's doing," he replies easily, watching as she reaches for an ice cube and presses it back against his ear.

there's a scoff from the doorway, and kuroo doesn't twist around to see but he can hear nishinoya's footsteps as he retreats from the doorway. "this is gonna numb your ear a little bit, but you'll still probably feel it," she says, voice thick with focus. she then replaces the ice cube with the apple slice, and places it on the backside of his ear. "you ready?"

"ready," he confirms, and her hand grabs the sewing needle.

the sharp tip of the needle is pressed against his skin, right where she drew the mark. but kuroo can't feel it. not really. she looks him in the eye and grins broadly, "on three," she says.

kuroo does not believe her.

"one," she starts her countdown, and keeps grinning in a way that's hardly reassuring, "two," she counts, slower now, "three."

he flinches, squeezing his eyes shut and expecting the pain to come. but instead, she leans in closer to him, and leaves a warm, soft kiss on the center of his forehead. kuroo's eyes shoot open in surprise, and that's when she plunges the needle through his skin.

kuroo doesn't feel it at all. he doesn't feel anything but heat where she kissed him. kissed him with the same lips that she bites down on now, working the silver jewelry through the new and bleeding hole that exists in his right ear.

once it's secure. she leans back and examines her handiwork. "it looks good on you, if you ignore the blood," she compliments. "wanna do the other one?"

kuroo would've agreed to anything she said, just then. he nods, and she smiles.

an: sorry this was a wittle shorter but i rlly like it so

taglist: @nnnyxie @cr4yolaas @httpakkeiji @localgaytrainwreck @macchiatomegumi @hikikaimar @noodleswastaken @garden-of-bri @rinaheartss @infinitelytimebound @scxrcherr @ahseyy @eyes-ofhell @sleepy-time @polish-cereal @literally-a-ferret @crownj1min @sereniteav @kozuskitten @02shuuu @rasisarchive @marzzn @barricadesenthusiast @yvjitadori @yeehawslap @phoenix-eclipses @wyrcan @rieieieieieiei @thechaosoflonging @publicbathroompanic @bedeater @rottingt1tz @rintarawr @deluluforcarlos55 @cherrypieyourface

[suuuupernovaaa]

Clean, Part 2

Hobie Brown x f! Reader. Jealousy. Misunderstanding. Making up.

Based on this request. Y/N goes backstage at Hobie's show, and sees something she shouldn't. Hobie shows up to her apartment, and misunderstands what he sees at first. Everyone is angry.

Mature, 18+

You fiddle with the drink in your hands, made much too strong, staring at the rings on your fingers and trying to blink the tears out of your eyes.

"Are you sure something was, uh, going on?" your brother asks, sitting across from you at your small kitchen table. You called him crying 30 minutes ago, and he rushed over to you.

A protective brother never really grows out of the protective thing, really, and your brother takes it to the next level - but he means well. Up until this point, he even seemed to approve of your new boyfriend, Hobie Brown. They hadn't met, but you spoke so highly of him, Grant was inclined to say the guy was half decent.

That might all be ruined now, though.

"Well," you say, wiping a stray tear from your red cheek, "she was like, pressed up on him. And, listen, women should wear whatever they want, but she was really not wearing a whole lot of anything, and it was just, uh, a real picture."

"Okay - what was he doing, though?" Grant asks, and you blink rapidly, trying to remember.

You rounded the corner and saw him, and your eyes lit up the way they always do when you see Hobie, your heart started pounding in your chest with excitement, and before he noticed you, she approached.

She squealed and threw her arms around him, and the way she moved... it was not just a hug. At least, it wasn't the way you'd hugged anyone. Not in public. It was something else, two people pressed so tightly together, absolutely no room for Jesus, and the way she moved her body. Ugh. It was like she was trying to get a fire started right there in the hallway.

But what had Hobie done? You'd turned and dashed out of there before you could really see. You remembered he wasn't hugging her back but, he wasn't shoving her away either. But had he, after you left?

You put your face in his hands. "I don't know. Even if he threw her off, how often are women throwing themselves at him like that? I don't know if I can stand that, Grant."

Grant reaches out, grabbing your forearm, and you look up at him. He shrugs at you. "You don't have to, Y/N. You can choose to break up with him if it's too much. But honestly, I think that'd be kind of stupid."

"You do?" You sit back in your chair, crossing your arms.

Grant stands up, crossing the kitchen to open the cupboard where you keep your snacks. He sighs when he finds it bare minus a bag of blue tortilla chips and some old vanilla wafers. "Yeah. You've never been this happy. Like, it's obvious. Maybe don't throw it away because someone hugged your boyfriend. That's, uh, pretty insecure."

You widen your eyes and gasp. "Grant!"

He turns around, shrugging again, and you resist the urge to throw your gin and tonic at him. "Well, it's true! Do you trust the guy?"

Instead of throwing the drink, you take a sip, and gag a little. Grant loves gin so you keep it around for him, but you truly detest it. It tastes like pine needles.

"Yeah. I do."

"Okay, then get over it and talk to him about-" Your older brother is cut off from what you're sure would be another hurtful rant by a pounding on the door.

"Y/N!" Hobie's voice calls from the other side of the door. "Are you in there? You're ignoring my calls! Where did you go after the show?"

You're stuck, frozen in your chair, your cheeks and nose still red and wet with tears. You and your brother stare at each other for a long moment, and then Hobie pounds on the door again.

"Y/N!"

Grant walks to the door, and pulls it open. You sit across the kitchen, out of view from anyone standing in the doorway.

"Who the fuck are you?" Hobie asks as soon as Grant opens the door. You've talked about your brother, even shown pictures, but Grant looks different in person. He's just a hair shorter than Hobie, making them both very tall men, and while Hobie is extremely strong, he's lean and lanky. Grant is sturdy, built, with wide shoulders and an intimidating brow. "Where's Y/N?"

Grant steps aside without saying a word, and Hobie brushes past him. He scans the apartment for just a second, before spotting you at the kitchen table.

"Y/N!" He rushes over, and you stand up. "What's - hey!" He reaches up to your cheeks. "You've been crying? Who the hell is this guy?" He looks equally angry and concerned.

"It's Grant. My brother."

Hobie's face relaxes, and he gives an exaggerated nod, leaning backwards as he does it. "Grant!" He turns, arm extended for a hand shake. "Sorry about that, mate. Didn't expect to see a strange man in my girl's flat. Not that she can't have friends over, just, you know. Went missing, been crying, strange man here. Not my favorite combination of events."

Grant shakes his hand. "No worries. I better uh, get going. I'll see you around."

He steps around Hobie, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you to him. "Love you. Call me tomorrow," he whispers, and you nod.

You stand with Hobie, quietly and awkwardly, as Grant puts on his coat and shoes, and finally makes an exit.

Hobie turns to you, arms outstretched. "Okay, what the hell, Y/N?"

You sigh and sit down, and take another drink of the disgusting gin and tonic. Making a face, you push the drink away. Hobie sits across from you and picks it up.

"I'm sorry I disappeared. I... had a, like, meltdown."

Hobie furrows his brow and leans forward. "What happened?"

You feel embarrassed now, and you know your already red cheeks are growing even hotter, probably your chest to match. It was childish and immature to assume the worst and run away, and Grant was right - you let your insecurities get the best of you. You let that become bigger than the trust you had in Hobie.

"It's stupid, but, I came backstage and saw some very beautiful girl kind of, rubbing all over you and I, I just freaked out and ran away. I called Grant. I'm really sorry. It was so dumb. Shit. I'm really sorry."

You're crying again now, and that only serves to add to the embarrassment. Surely Hobie is going to realize that you're more trouble than you're worth, that he could find someone who wouldn't put him through so much over the smallest things, and he'll leave. You wouldn't blame him.

Hobie shakes his head, letting out a little 'tsk, tsk, tsk' with each turn of his chin. "Y/N, that is pretty stupid. You've kicked ass for me before, and you couldn't do it tonight? I don't exactly like when people I don't know press themselves all over my front!"

His words sound harsh, but there's a teasing smile creeping across his lips, and you cal feel the tension slipping from your neck and shoulders.

"I can't just fight every woman who throws herself at you, Hobie."

His smirk turns into a full on grin, and he leans forward, grabbing your hand. "Sure you can. What's the point of having a girlfriend then?"

You throw your head back, laughing, feeling less silly with every joke he makes. When you look at him again, he pulls you up out of your chair, and leads you to your living room, kicking off his shoes and jacket as you go.

"Come on then, let me hold you for a moment," he whispers. He lays down on the couch, and pulls you down on top of him. Your head rests perfectly on his chest, his arms around your back, and your legs between his. Through his shirt, you can feel the steady, melodious sound of his strong heart beating. You rise and fall with his even breaths. You close your eyes, and allow yourself to feel safe and calm as he holds you.

"I really am sorry," you whisper, finally looking up at Hobie. He stares down at you with his soft, beautiful brown eyes.

"Maybe you need a reminder of how much I care about you."

You raise your eyebrow. "Maybe."

He puts two fingers under your chin, beckoning you to crawl up to him. "Kiss me, Y/N," he says in a quiet, demanding voice, and you don't hesitate. Your lips find his immediately and the kiss is explosive. You're both letting out all the tension, confusion, anger and sadness of the ruined evening. His hands find his way into your hair, crushing you to him, pulling just a little, and you moan into his mouth.

Hobie's lips move slowly down to your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses. "You need to know how I feel about you," he whispers between kisses. "How you're all I think about. I'm obsessed with you."

He pulls down on the collar of your shirt, and you thank the gods it's stretchy when his lips make their way to your chest, sucking, biting and kissing.

"You're perfect. You're mine."

With surprising agility and speed, Hobie flips the two of you over, leaving you gasping underneath him. He reaches down, grabbing you behind your knee, pulling your leg up along his side, and stares down at you.

"Too many clothes," you say, and he nods in response. He pulls his t-shirt over his head, and then reaches underneath you to undo your bra. He pulls that and your t-shirt swiftly off of you, and then undoes the buttons on your jean shorts.

Suddenly, he stands up. Bending over, he lifts you up bridal style. "Bedroom, I think," he says, holding you to his bare chest. It's a small apartment, and only a few steps before Hobie is tossing you onto your bed, leaving you in a fit of giggles.

As he undoes his belt and pulls his jeans off, you remove your shorts, as well, both of you left in just your underwear.

You lay back, propped up on your elbows, watching as he crawls up to you. You feel his breath on your thighs, your waist, and he's kissing your stomach.

His hand grazes over your ass, over your thigh, and as his mouth finds your breast, his fingers brush over your panties, just between your thighs, and you have to lay back on the bed and close your eyes.

"Hobie," you whisper, your voice just a breath. He pulls your panties to the side, and finds the immense wetness already gathered there.

"Fuck, you're wet," he moans with your nipple in his mouth, and begins toying with your clit. He rubs it in circles, up and down, and then his fingers dip down to your entrance, just teasing, before he's back at your clit.

You throw your arm over your face and let out a long, low moan. "Oh, god," you say, chest heaving.

His fingers leave your clit again, and he pushes them slowly into you, the metal of his rings creating a shocking, cold sensation.

"So fucking tight and wet," he moans, and brings his mouth to yours for another intense kiss as his fingers pump slowly in and out. He curves them upwards, finding that perfect spot, and you spread your legs as wide apart as you can underneath him, thrusting back up to meet him for every perfect stroke. "I want you to cum for me. I want you to be loud. Scream my name," he demands.

His fingers leave you, returning to your clit, using the perfect amount of pressure, swirling around, and you feel the coil forming.

"Oh, god, oh, fuck, Hobie, please," you pant into his mouth. His other hand is on your nipple, twisting and pulling gently, and it's an overwhelming combination of sensations.

He plunges his fingers into you again unexpectedly, and it sends you over the edge. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, over and over, and he moans almost as loudly as you into your mouth at the sensation of it.

"Yes, fucking cum on my hand," he whispers, not letting up until you reach down and move his hand away.

He collapses next to you, staring at you while you gasp for breath, a light sheen of sweat over both of you.

He never even took your panties off.

Finally, you look over at him, and he smiles softly at you. "That doesn't even begin to fucking cover how I feel about you, love."

You reach out, placing your hand gently on his cheek. "Can I show you how I feel now?"

He raises his eyebrows. "Oh, if you must, my love," he says, and winks.

[dootznbootz]

I don't know about you, but I'm a bit mixed about Calypso in EPC. I mean, her songs are good, her singer's quite talented, so I don't have a problem... musically, at least.

But, story-wise, Calypso seems a bit too victim-like in my taste. "I'm not sorry for loving you" seems like it wants to make us sympathize with her and to consider her as Odysseus' friend.

While making her nuanced is interesting, the Epic fandom could be inclined to forget what she did to him in the Odyssey. And how miserable he was alongside her.

On the plus side, "Love in paradise" affirms she's the powerful one and Odysseus later confirms he doesn't love her romantically (plus Athena's 'he never cheated on his wife' line in "God games")

So it won't be detrimental for OdyPen 🥰.

What do you think ?

Oh, I'm definitely mixed about Calypso in Epic. As just like you said:

"While making her nuanced is interesting, the Epic fandom could be inclined to forget what she did to him in the Odyssey. And how miserable he was alongside her."

The Epic Fandom already DOES forget what happens in the Odyssey or think that they are the same thing. :/ I see stuff talking about Scylla in how Odysseus lights the torches and yet, it's tagged as "Odyssey". I love "light up six torches" as it's very dark but also very painful for Epic!Odysseus and that's really fun!

But I get saddened when people think that happened in the Odyssey ;~; as it's one of my favorite parts where Odysseus, knowing that Circe warned him, still goes to put on his armor to try and fight Scylla himself. He tried so fucking hard to save them. And they all grieved later on together. Eurylochus does mutiny in both but in the Odyssey, it isn't because of Scylla or anything. They were all just...Hungry ;~;

That's not even talking about how the Epic Fandom was when we only got the snippet of "There are other ways" ;~;

I still remember when there were jokes about how Odysseus is just like Hamilton and "Couldn't say No to this." Also Circe never did that to "protect her nymphs" in the Odyssey. She did it for funsies as she's a goddess and can do what she wants. That doesn't mean he was happy though.

I DO trust Jay to do well with Calypso's island. While I really am nervous about "I'm not Sorry for Loving you." like very nervous. I think HE'LL also make it clear that Odysseus isn't well or happy. As he has that cut song with the lyrics of:

"Is this some kind of trick? Pretending I can go Because if so, you're sick My heart's already broken"

So even though he cut that song because the beat and the music did NOT fit the situation, I'm very sure he'll have another like it showing Odysseus' despair and suffering.

I just... sighs I'm in a funky situation where I love Epic. I love it a lot. I think it's a genuinely good and fun retelling. I think while some spots are inaccurate, some are still really neat. I just get sad about this almost...disdain towards the actual Odyssey?

"Oh, Odysseus doesn't mention Penelope and Telemachus as much as he does in Epic-" Yes, he does. It's in so many of the metaphors and there's so many moments where he's clearly thinking about them. I love singing Penelope's name longingly too but an ancient epic poem is gonna be a lil different xD

"Oh Polites isn't really in it-" ...And?? That's okay. You enjoy Jay's character he created who really isn't in the Odyssey as much.

"Odysseus is such a manwhore in the Odyssey-" I am beating you over the head with a fucking rock.

Jay is clearly so fucking passionate and cares about this story so so much (he had a MENELAUS SONG (I grieve it's loss every day ;~; THEY CAN BOTH SIMP FOR THEIR HOT AF WIVES)) He had other characters planned!

But yeah ;~; I get so fucking sad every time someone talks about Epic being better than the Odyssey. Like even JAY wanted to clear that up that "hey, the Odyssey is really cool! I mean I wrote this because I love it so much." and yet... people don't wanna know or even TRY to understand what happens in the actual Epics.

I have hope. I just hope the FANDOM follows through.

[anna-hawk]

L'étranger

Frank Castle x f!Reader

Summary: You decide to hit a bar after one hell of a day at work and meet a man who's willing to listen to you rant away. As the chemistry seems to build between you, you choose to be bold and ask him to come home with you. He doesn't give you what you want, but ends up giving you what you need.

Rating: Explicit 🔞 // WC: 5,9k

CW: PWP, sex as stress relief, bj, finger fucking, soft and emotional sex, first meetings

A/N: this is based on my current work life. I just wish I could meet Frank that way too 😅. Also, the title means "The Stranger" in French.

Read it on AO3

Stumbling through the doors of the first decent bar you found after leaving your job, you made a beeline for the counter, desperately needing a glass of wine or beer. Or whatever. You weren’t picky tonight. You threw yourself onto a free bar stool, slapped your purse onto the counter with a resounding smack, and uttered a large and miserable half sigh, half groan. 

“Sounds like someone had a day, huh?”

You tiredly glanced to the side and caught the sight of the man the voice belonged to. Absently, you thought to yourself that you’d at least managed to sit down next to a good-looking guy. The sharp jaw, broad nose and wide shoulders definitely did it for you. Unfortunately, you were too exhausted, mentally and physically, to really take more note of him right now. Instead, you stared at him with half open eyes and a flat expression. At his lopsided smile and expression of genuine concern, however, you huffed out a bitter laugh that transformed into another one of your long sighs. 

“More like month.”

The man cringed in commiseration and lifted his hand for the bartender to get his attention.  

“Hey, man, serve the lady whatever she wants and put it on my tab, yeah?” 

Your eyes widened in surprise at his words.

“That's really kind of you, but you don't have to,” you said softly, waving a hand around. 

“I know,” he replied simply, but shrugged in a way that clearly stated that he was still doing it. 

You stared at him for a second while he took a gulp of his beer, observing his profile. And what a profile it was. You weren’t in the mood for dealing with a man trying to hit on you, but this guy wasn’t showing you more than genuine kindness. 

“Thanks,” you finally said, giving your order to the waiting bartender. 

“Don’ mention it,” the man smiled, inclining his bottle of beer towards you. 

Silence fell, but you could see him watching you out of the corner of your eyes, contemplating you as you pulled out your phone and put it on do not disturb. You refused to be bothered by anything from work or anything else for that matter. You muttered darkly under your breath as you saw the text in the most recent notification for your job’s group chat, but chose to ignore it. They could deal without you for the next two days. 

“Wanna talk about it?” The man asked tentatively right when your drink arrived. 

You gave him an amused side eye and took a long sip of your drink, groaning in satisfaction at the taste.

“I don't wanna bore you with my shit, but thanks for asking.”

You weren’t blowing him off, but really didn’t think that he’d be interested in listening to everything that was bothering you. 

Apparently he figured that he wasn’t the issue, since he shrugged. “I don't mind. Not a lot I can do, I guess, but if you just wanna rant at someone, go ahead.” 

You laughed at the suggestion and sighed deeply, turning towards him with your head tilted to the side. 

“Oh, you're not ready for this.”

He smirked and faced you as well. “Try me anyway?”

You stared at him for a while, considering him, but he only looked back calmly. Before you knew what was happening, you were talking.

“It’s my job… My manager is retiring in the next few weeks, and the guy replacing her is the worst choice the higher ups could have ever made. He comes from a different field, knows jack about what we do, and trust me, it’s not the past month he spent with my manager while she trained him, well, tried to at least, that will teach him everything he needs to know. It’s just impossible. She always has so much to take care of, and I don’t think that he realizes it yet. And if at least he was putting in the effort and showing us that he wants to do well, that would already be great, but he doesn’t. He keeps putting the blame on other people or the system or whatever whenever something isn’t working, or he messes up. He’s all fake smiles and laughs, but he complains about everything. It’s a nightmare. The thing is, he isn’t the only one at fault. The general manager handpicked him because she knows that she can control him, something she couldn’t do with my old manager. Our office is kinda far away from the headquarters, and we always did great work without anyone’s help. I’ve been working for that company for fifteen years, and my coworkers and I felt that everything was flowing pretty well, even if we knew that the company has more flaws than good sides. Although the salary isn’t what I’d love it to be, I love my coworkers, and the job itself is fine too. But now, with the manager gone, we all suddenly realize just how much shit is going on behind the scenes and what might happen to us. They tried to bribe us by giving out bonuses, but only to certain people. It was all supposed to be hush-hush, y’know. The people getting the bonus weren’t supposed to talk about it, but that’s not how we work. So instead of making us happy, it made us more angry. Not at each other but at the higher ups. Why would some of us get a bonus and others wouldn’t, when we’re doing the exact same job? That, and don’t get me started on how they’re basically kicking my old manager to the curb. She gave thirty years of her life to that company, worked her ass off, spent hours upon hours working so the job wouldn't transform into a giant shitshow. Her work ethic is incredible, and the higher-ups don’t seem to realize just how much she brought to the company. My guess is that they’ll have a rude awakening once she’s officially gone and everything is going to come crumbling down around us.” 

You paused, sighed explosively, and drank down the rest of your drink. 

“Well, shit,” the man said with raised eyebrows. “I’m sorry you have to go through this. These people really don’t sound like they deserve to have you or your coworkers puttin’ all that effort into the company.”

You scoffed as you stared into your empty glass. 

“You bet your ass they don’t,” you muttered sourly. 

The man chuckled at your vindictive tone, which had your lips pulling up on one side. 

“Hey, man, can we get a refill?”

You lifted your eyes to find your stranger addressing the barkeep and waving a hand over his beer bottle and your glass. While the barkeeper nodded and started on the drinks, you smiled ruefully as your seat neighbor turned his attention back on you, your heart squeezing at the soft smile he sent your way. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, ducking your head. 

“No problem,” he replied in a low tone. 

After a few seconds of silence, you realized that he was still watching you expectantly when you looked at him again. He chuckled at your expression. 

“Somethin’ tells me there’s more.” 

You laughed, loudly and with a wave of relief washing over you. Talking to him was lifting a giant weight off of you, as if getting the words off your chest had been more necessary than you could have ever imagined. His grin was wide as he watched you laugh, which had your stomach warming at the attention. 

“I wanna quit,” you started before pausing briefly and watching the barkeeper bring your drinks. You thanked him and took a fortifying sip. The drink you chose wasn’t too strong, since you just wanted to take the edge off, so you weren’t even really tipsy now. You definitely felt more loose, though. “I’ve thought about changing careers for ages. I don’t mind my current job as it is, it has good and bad points, like any job, I guess. So I’ve put my actual dream career to the side for years, focusing on staying financially stable instead. But now, I realize that I don’t wanna stay in that fucking company. I just can’t, you know? I can’t work ridiculous hours for a barely decent salary anymore. The thing is, I can’t just up and quit like that. I’d lose all the benefits I got over the years, and getting the degree that I need to be able to do what I really want costs money. So right now, I’m still checking out my options, but if the CEO doesn’t agree to let me go with my benefits, I don’t know what I’ll do.” You shook your head miserably and swirled your drink around in the glass. “Going into work and being stressed has been part of the job since day one. But mostly, it was never in a bad way. Especially lately, because I know my job, and I’m good at it. Now, though… When I’m going in, I feel pure disgust and contempt for the people employing me. I’m just so… done.”

You finished with a long breath, your anger simmering down after getting it all out, leaving you with mostly frustration. Your face suddenly grew hot as you realized that you’d basically word-vomited in front of a complete stranger, showing him all the ugly feelings and resentment you’d been carrying around for the past couple of months. 

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, closing your eyes and rubbing over them with your thumb and index. “I know you said you were okay with this, but I still feel like I basically just dumped everything on you like a whiny kid.” 

You heard him chuckling, the sound low and warm. 

“Yeah, I told you to go for it, but you didn’t sound whiny to me at all. Just like someone who really needed to get it all off their chest.” 

Leaning your head over your folded arms that were already lying on the counter, you turned your face towards him with a small smile. 

“Guess I did.”

“Do you feel any better?” He watched you intently, his eyes moving over your whole face. 

You looked to the side, taking stock of your emotions, before you met his gaze again with a smile. 

“Yeah… I do.”

“See. Worth listening, then.”

After the past weeks of absolute nightmare, you couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have happened upon someone as kind as this man. 

“You’re something else, you know that?” you said with a tone of wonder, taking more of him in. You'd noticed his prominent nose earlier, but his mouth was just as worth looking at, as were his brown eyes. 

He scoffed, the sound self-deprecating, but he didn’t say anything, and instead, took a swig from his beer, which brought his large hands into your line of sight. 

“Thank you,” you continued, keeping your eyes on him from your slouched position over your arms. 

“No problem.” This time, he was the one to look away, as if suddenly shy, which only intrigued you more. 

Straightening again, you propped your elbow on the counter and put your head on your fist, leaning slightly in his direction as you observed him with interest. He automatically looked at you again, beer bottle halfway to his mouth. Your heart started to beat faster as his eyes dropped to your mouth. You bit at the side of your bottom lip, as if in reply to his staring, and felt a zap of want when he met your eyes again with a different kind of intensity. Emboldened by your drink and his reaction to you, you leaned in enough for him to be the only one able to hear you. 

“Come home with me?”

The man blinked at you once before simply staring at you quietly, which was the only sign that he was at least slightly surprised by you being this straightforward. You held his gaze, no matter how much you wanted to look away, as embarrassment started to run through you despite your boldness. As his eyes drifted to your mouth again, your anxiousness began to evaporate. 

“Hey, Will,” he said, while keeping his attention solely on you as he addressed the bartender who was walking past you. “I’ll close my tab next time, yeah?”

“Sure thing,” Will answered easily, grabbing the beer bottle and glass from in front of you to put them away. 

Biting your lower lip on a giddy grin at the realization that this was actually happening, you got up and grabbed your purse. The man rose as well, a tiny smile at the corner of his mouth at your reaction. As you walked out of the bar and onto the sidewalk, you hailed a taxi that was just turning the corner of the street. The both of you got into the car, and once you’d given the driver your address, you spent the ten minutes it took to get to your building in silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but your heart was beating like crazy as you tried not to overthink your decision. You refrained from looking at him directly as well, opting to keep your gaze on the street. However, you were aware that he was watching you through the semi darkness of the cab. After arriving in front of your building and stepping out of the taxi after paying for it, you made your way towards your apartment, with the man following one step behind you. He stayed beside you as you fished for your keys, staying just as quiet as before. 

“Right, um, I’ll quickly hit the shower, okay? Been in these work clothes for much longer than I like,” you laughed awkwardly, as you stepped through your apartment door. 

You internally rolled your eyes at yourself at your babbling, but the man just sent you a small smile and hummed in understanding. You nodded and began walking off, but after only one step, you quickly turned back to him. 

“Make yourself at home, yeah? Um… I don’t have anything interesting to drink but if-”

A warm palm cupped one of your cheeks and tilted your face into the man’s direction as he stepped close to you, effectively shutting you up. 

“I’m fine, ‘kay? You go take that shower, and I’ll just wait here, alright?” he said soothingly, his voice low and gentle. 

Staring into his soft brown eyes, you blinked at him before you nodded with a small smile. He let go of you, and you immediately headed into your bathroom, shutting the door and taking a deep breath. You rushed through removing your clothes and finally stepped into the shower. The hot water helped relax your nerves, and by the time you were done, you were still nervous but in an excited way this time. Once you were done drying off and brushing your teeth, you put on a thin bathrobe. As you looked at your underwear selection, you bit your lower lip as you chose to forgo putting on panties. If things went as planned, you wouldn’t be wearing them long anyway. As you stepped out again, you found him standing in front of your bookshelf, his head inclined to the side as he read the titles. He lifted his head towards you, his eyes drifting over your whole body as he watched you approach. 

“Hey,” you said quietly, giving him a small smile. 

“You got a nice book selection,” he commented casually, while standing close to you. 

You threw your bookshelf a small glance and smiled. “You can borrow whatever you like.” 

He hummed, the sound contemplative, but he leaned in until his nose was almost touching yours. 

“Maybe not tonight.” 

You nodded, going nearly cross-eyed as you stared into his warm eyes. A second later, you were closing them anyway, as he tilted his head and pressed his mouth against yours. It was only a gentle press of his lips at first, which he repeated as he leaned his head to the other side this time. His hands came up to cup the sides of your neck, using his thumbs under your jaw to direct your face how he wanted it. Your hands lifted to his biceps, squeezing them as you tentatively sucked at his bottom lip. He seemed to enjoy it, since he grunted and moved in further, causing you to take a step back and against the bookshelf. You moaned softly and opened your mouth as his tongue gently slid over your top lip. As the kiss deepened, you slid your arms around his waist, grabbing at the shirt, while he cupped the back of your neck and placed his other hand on your lower back, bringing you fully against him. You tried pushing for more, but the man simply stroked his tongue lazily against yours while keeping you flush against him. Despite the slowness of the kiss, your knees were beginning to shake anyway with how thoroughly he was delving between your lips. 

“Be — bedroom,” you gasped in between two presses of his lips against yours. 

Your stranger leaned his head away to quietly stare into your eyes, his expression intense, before he took a step away from you, indicating for you to lead the way. Biting your bottom lip, you briefly hesitated before you took hold of his hand to pull him towards the bedroom. As you reached the foot end of the bed, you turned back to him, meeting his gaze. He stepped back into your space without waiting for you to pull him towards you, his hands drifting over your hips and to your back as he sought out your mouth again. You sighed into the new kiss and ran your fingers through his lush hair. A thrill rippled through you as his hands moved down to your ass, squeezing it sporadically while the kiss turned hungrier. Wanting to get to your skin, his hands slowly parted the sides of the bathrobe until his fingers could touch your bare thighs. He ran them up slowly, making you shiver as he progressively reached your hips. They stilled for a brief moment as he realized that you weren’t wearing anything underneath the robe. His answer to that fact was to exhale harshly through his nose and make you take a step back towards the bed as he gently bit down on your bottom lip. You gasped at the sharpness of his teeth, and moaned into his mouth. His hands kept exploring your back, ass, and thighs, until you couldn’t stand it anymore and swiftly moved away from him to untie the robe and remove it at last. You were about to return between his arms, but the way he watched you attentively had you stopping and, instead, moving back, taking the last step needed to get on your bed. You did so slowly, moving backwards as you knelt down at the end of the bed. His eyes roved over your body, observing you with such obvious desire that it almost left you breathless. You hadn’t realized just how much you needed this kind of undivided and honest attention. The man licked his lips quickly, before he walked up to you and bent down to cup your face and bring his mouth back to yours. Your eyes fell shut as you let him explore your mouth again, tipping your head to the side when he drifted his lips to your jaw before he tilted your head up to kiss down your neck and throat. Needing more of him, you reached for the buckle of his belt and tugged at it meaningfully. He leaned back a fraction to stare at you with a small smile, which you returned before you attacked the belt with needy fingers. Your heart beats were stumbling over each other at the sight of the sizable bulge in his jeans, making you almost clumsy in your haste to get to see all of him. Your stranger let you work in silence, but you knew that he was watching you. His shirt got in the way of your fingers a couple of times, making you huff and tug it up. 

“Off. Now,” you ordered almost snappishly, which only had the man chuckling in amusement. 

As you finally popped open the top button on the jeans, the man complied with your request and began to undo his shirt. With most of the buttons undone, he lifted his hands to the collar of his shirt to pull it over his head. While he did so, you fully opened his fly and tugged the jeans and underwear down enough to free his length. You took in a shaky breath as saliva pooled in your mouth at the gorgeous cock standing proudly in front of you. Right as your stranger was having his face covered by the shirt while he pulled it off, you dropped to your front on the bed and leaned in without a second thought, sliding your lips around the tip. His hips jerked as he uttered a short curse of surprise, finally ridding himself off the shirt, which he threw to the side. 

“Shit,” he rasped, as you slowly licked around the head, lapping at the nerves surrounding the crown and using your hands to guide him this or that way. 

Using your elbows for support, you took more of him into your mouth, raising your eyes to his as you did so. His fingers landed in your hair, stroking over it in a gentle caress as he watched you with hooded eyes. You bobbed your head, filling your mouth with as much of him as you could. He felt incredible, big and hot, coating your tongue with his taste and making you moan. Tilting his head to one side, he slowly pulled all the way out, keeping himself a few centimeters away from your mouth. You lowered your eyes to his cock, before you met his hungry gaze again, and opened your mouth. Licking his lips again, his nostrils flared as he slid back between your lips, groaning as you sucked him in eagerly. You let him fuck in and out for a few slow thrusts, delighting in the way he was watching you and how he filled your mouth. Which only made your core ache with the need to have him inside you. 

Pulling off with one last lick, you rose to your knees and grasped the back of his head with both hands. There was no need for words as you met in the middle for a heated kiss. He quickly stepped out of his boots and the rest of his clothes before following you onto the bed, the both of you moving back on your knees until you got to the center. With one arm around your back, he lowered you to the mattress and slipped between your thighs. He draped his body over yours but held himself up with one elbow, using his other hand to stroke the fingers over your jaw. The way he stared at you had a warm shiver going through you, which only got stronger as his hand traveled down your body. His eyes didn’t waver from yours as his hand arrived at your mound before it went further. Your lips parted in a small breath as his fingers drew around your slick folds in a gentle caress, only for your mouth to open wider when he gently began pushing two fingers inside you. You moaned softly and bit your lip as he removed them before he slid them back inside. He watched you intently, drinking in each of your expressions of pleasure as you gripped his shoulders while he slowly fucked you with his fingers. 

“Please,” you begged, clawing at his skin when he didn’t move faster. 

Instead of picking up the pace, you felt a third finger pressing in alongside the two others, forcing a sharp gasp out of you. Throwing your head back against the pillow, you squeezed around his fingers, which earned you a low groan from him. He didn’t go faster, though, content to watch you squirm and moan as your hips undulated on their own to get more friction. Finally, he stopped moving, however kept the fingers inside you, and used his thumb to lightly rub it against your clit. Your hips jerked and thrust up into the contact, while you cried out at the sudden shift in erogenous zone. On any other day, and had you been in a different mood, you would have actually loved having his fingers inside you like this, teasing you, but tonight, you needed him to fuck you. Extending an arm towards the bedside table, you blindly grabbed for the drawer. 

“Please,” you repeated, meeting his attentive gaze with your half lidded eyes. “Fuck me.” 

His eyes followed the length of your arm towards the bedside table. He glanced back at you briefly, before he withdrew his fingers from you, which had you sighing in loss but also excitement at what was to come. Quickly rolling to your side, you opened the drawer to get a condom out of it before laying back under him. He held himself up with his hands level with your shoulders now, watching you as you tore the wrapper open and pulled the condom out. He leaned down and placed a long kiss on your lips before moving up again. 

“Go on,” he rasped, the tone telling you that he was at least as affected by the situation as you. 

With your heart slamming in your throat, you peered between your bodies and rolled the condom down his length, licking your lips as it twitched between your fingers when you made sure it was secure at the base. Usually, doing this was something perfunctory, just a step to get to the good part, but with this man’s low grunt as he watched you, you felt yourself burning up even more. Slowly, you shifted your gaze back to his, meeting molten eyes as he lowered himself to one forearm again. He curled his hand under your neck to slip his fingers into the hair at the base of your head, while his other hand vanished between your bodies like earlier, only to line himself up with your entrance this time. You threw your legs over his hips as he did so, and let your fingers run through his hair before closing them in the soft strands on top. His gaze found yours as he pushed inside you slowly, so incredibly slowly. Your mouth fell open on a silent cry as you felt every inch of him inexorably burying inside you. He grunted and hissed when your fingers tightened in his hair, but his eyes remained focused on your face. When he was finally completely inside you, you brought his head down to kiss him deeply and squeezed around his cock to get a better feel of it. He groaned into your mouth and pushed his hips further into you, only resulting in making your head press into the headboard since he was already so deep inside you. While keeping his lips locked with yours, he began to pull out, using the same pace as while moving inside. You moaned and tightly wrapped your legs around his hips, while your walls tried to keep him inside you. He stayed there, with only the tip still inside you. Sucking on his lower lip harshly, you pressed your heels into his ass to get him to move, which he finally did, albeit as unhurriedly as before. He did it again and again, going slow but deep every time, tilting his hips in just the right way and driving you absolutely mad with need. 

“More,” you moaned brokenly, tugging at his hair and shoulders. 

His hand slid down your hair until it was curving over your neck, with the thumb lying at the hollow of your throat. He did move faster then, but it was still too slow for your liking. Drawing your nails down his arms, you keened, halfway between intense pleasure and intense frustration. 

“Fuck me,” you begged, as your fingers squeezed and gripped at his arms and shoulders. “Please, just-”

But the man kissed you quiet. Your eyes closed at the thorough kiss, except that it didn’t last long, since he knelt up and thrust in deep. You cried out, but as good as it felt, he still wasn’t fucking you harder. As you were about to grab his arms again, he caught your wrists and crossed them over each other. You gasped in surprise when he used one of his large palms to press your crossed hands between your breasts, keeping them there with strong fingers. Staring at him with wide and desperate eyes, you whined feebly as his hips gently rocked into yours, making a sharp bout of pleasure run through you. 

“Please,” you repeated for the nth time. “Just… please,” you whispered the last word, feeling your throat constrict. 

His expression was tender as he watched you while he leaned over you. 

“I got you,” he promised in a low tone, kissing you once. “I got you, Sweetheart.” 

The endearment and affection in his words had your heart missing a beat. 

Straightening again, he began moving once more, one hand at your throat, the other still holding your hands secure against your chest. His hips moved firmly; not quick and hard, but firm and intense, letting you feel all of him, while your legs, the only point of you able to do anything, kept pressing the heels into the back of his thighs. You whimpered at the pleasure he was giving you, so utterly different from what you had expected. As your stranger slowly but unrelentingly had your body climbing to its climax, you realized that he wasn’t giving into your pleas because he didn’t want to, but because he knew what you really needed. He’d listened to your story, observed you keenly, let you take the lead. He’d silently taken all of you in to reach this moment and give you what you needed and didn't realize you wanted: letting him take care of you and making you let go of all the negative things that were part of your life. It was with that knowledge that you were suddenly coming, the intensity of your orgasm so strong and so abrupt that your head flew back, your eyes closing tightly, as a cut-off sob spilled over your lips from the overload of feelings. 

“Sh, sh.” 

You felt his body leaning over yours again as his voice drifted closer to your face. His lips moved between your mouth and jaw, placing gentle kisses here and there as he let go of your hands. You instantly wrapped them around his shoulders, holding him tightly as he slid his nose against your neck while his hips picked up speed. Your thighs were trembling against his sides, but you didn’t let go of him, clinging to him as he rode towards his own release. His fingers combed through your hair as another sob ripped through you, which he followed by lifting his face to kiss you fiercely. You welcomed his mouth with gratitude, letting your tongues stroke against each other sensually until he came with a deep groan, his cock pushing as far inside you as possible. 

As you both panted softly, you met his gaze when he slightly leaned up, his eyes moving between yours searchingly. The hand that had been at your throat rose to your face, his thumb stroking away the wetness under your eye. 

“You good?” he asked in a quiet voice. 

You stared at him silently, letting your eyes slide over his face with its warm gaze and worried pull of his mouth. Uncurling your arms from around his neck, you cupped his face and let your thumbs brush over his cheeks. 

“Yeah,” you answered softly, and smiled as his lips pulled up before meeting him for an unhurried kiss. 

After a minute, he pressed a final kiss to your cheek and gently pulled out before rolling to the side and off the bed. You watched him pick up his clothes and leave the room in silence. Biting your lip as you gathered your thoughts while climbing out of bed as well, you grabbed the loose T-shirt you wore to bed from the hook behind the door and slipped it on. With a small glance at the empty doorway, you returned to the bed and pulled down the covers to settle into a sitting position against the pillows, feeling unsure of what to do now. The man came back with only his jeans on, which had you taking a couple of seconds to admire his gorgeous form before you met his eyes. He remained in the doorway, looking as unsure as you. His fingers fiddled with the shirt absently as his eyes dropped to the floor and then to the side. When you had asked him to come home with you, it had been a spur of the moment decision, only done to get all the frustration out of your system. A one-time thing, purposely choosing to keep the encounter anonymous. But you didn’t want him to leave. Not yet, anyway. If he wanted to leave, that was okay, but-

“You could stay if you want,” you found yourself saying, as he still hadn’t moved away from the doorway. 

His eyes snapped to yours, then to the spot next to you, considering it for a second before he nodded a few times. He moved towards the bed and joined you under the covers after taking off his clothes again. Lying down next to him, you faced each other. His eyes traveled over your face again, stopping at your mouth a few times, which had you smiling lightly. At that, his gaze found yours, but you both stayed quiet as you observed each other. 

“Thanks for tonight,” you finally said softly, with a faint smile. 

The man frowned and shook his head as he looked down. “You don’t gotta thank me for nothin’.”

You smiled fondly at his display of shyness. “Maybe, but I haven’t felt this… peaceful in weeks, and this means a lot to me.”

He nodded in acknowledgement and lifted his eyes to yours with a tiny, one-sided smile. You bit your bottom lip as you observed him.

“You really are something else,” you murmured, before chuckling at his unconvinced huff. “No, you really are…” you trailed off meaningfully. 

“Frank,” came the answer after a beat of silence.

Your smile widened at finding out his name.

“Nice to meet you, Frank,” you grinned before sharing your name as well. 

Frank snorted at your antics. “Yeah,” he said in a low and pleasant tone. “Likewise.” 

A second later, a giant yawn split your face, which had Frank chuckling in amusement, while you tried to muffle the yawn with a hand and push at his chest with the other. 

“Maybe we should get some rest, huh?” he suggested with a small laugh. 

You only hummed in agreement and turned briefly to your other side to reach the light switch, sinking the room into darkness with only the city lights coming through the blinds. 

“Good night, Frank,” you said softly, the name sounding private in the small space between your bodies. 

“Night, sweetheart,” he repeated in an almost whisper, shifting closer to press a tender kiss to your forehead while he pulled you into his side. 

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Baker!Johnny x gn!reader Part 1 Part of the AU with Butcher!Simon and Bartender!Kyle Reader is taller than Johnny in this. Watch Johnny be down bad for you. Still haven't gotten better at spelling. And used a translator for Johnny’s accent. Regular english isn't even my first language so sorry if his accent is horrible. Thank you for reading! COD Masterlist | Part 2

Johnny hands the bag with the cake over to the blushing girl and winks at her. She’s giggling, fluttering her lashes at him, when the soft chime over the door announces a new customer. He looks up and stops dead in his tracks. It’s you. Thank god that the guys don’t know about his traitorous heart stumbling over the next few beats.

Suddenly the bashfulg girl is mostly forgotten and he barely gets out an “until next time, pretty.” because you’re stepping up to the counter grinning at him. You discreetly point your thumb over your shoulder at the girl that’s giggling with her friends while they leave.

“Charmed another one, MacTavish?”, you ask, obnoxiously wriggling your eyebrows at him and Johnny snorts, bracing his arms on the counter because he knows it puts his beefy arms on display.

“What can ah say, bonnie? Customer service is ma top priority.”, he looks up at you through his lashes, dramatically fluttering them and it makes you laugh. Wow, now he’s the one fluttering his lashes. What the hell are you doing to him?

You shake your head in amusement and look at the bread and sweets he has on display, giving him time to study you in peace. As always you look fantastic and Johnny wonders how he can make his move on you today. It’s not like you don’t flirt back. Honestly you always match his energy but you’re clearly joking. He never gets you shy and flustered like the other customers and it eats at him. It’s not fair that you get to him while he has next to no effect on you.

“I’ve come up wi’ a freish cake recipe. Would ye be up tae trying it for me? As mah most trusted customer?”, he asks and immediately your eyes find his. Sweets are your weakness, something he’s incredibly thankful for because it means he gets to see you almost every day. And oh, how you sweeten his day with your beautiful face and delectable body in turn.

“As if I could ever say no to that.”, you say excitedly while he puts a piece on a little plate, rounding the counter to give it to you directly. The smile on your lips is giddy when you take a bite and you close your eyes, moaning in delight at the taste. He can feel his ears getting hot from the sound.

“Whoa! That’s really good. And incredibly sweet.”, you manage to get out after a few bites and Johnny leans his hip against the counter. He’d never thought he’d ever want to be a cake, yet here he was. It’s pure luck that no one but you is at the shop currently and Johnny will be damned if he doesn’t make the most of it.

 “Took inspiration from ma fave customer. Tried tae make something that’s as sweet as ye.”, he says lowly and a little giggle escapes you at that.

“It that right, MacTavish? Trying to lure me in with sweet food and equally as sweet words?”, you ask, putting the plate down and giving him your undivided attention. Johnny nearly licks his lips at that.

He cocks his head to the side, one corner of his mouth lifting in a flirty grin. “A’ is fair in love n’ war, bonnie. If it’s for ye, then ah don’t mind playing dirty.” He pauses for a second. “Ah wouldn’t mind getting dirty.”, he adds on.

He knows his gaze is heavy on you but instead of blushing and ducking your head you step towards him, putting your arm on the counter and leaning on it, so close to him that he can practically feel your body heat. Closer, he wants you closer. It’s not close enough, it won’t ever be close enough with you.

You look down at him and bring a hand up to his cheek, brushing over it almost tenderly and bring it up for him to see the flour you wiped from his cheek with your thumb.

“I believe you already got dirty for me, MacTavish.”, you murmur, inclining your head.

Johnny looks up at you, with you this close the height advantage you have is even more apparent, and catches himself swallowing heavily. Did it get stuffy suddenly? He’s not sure he can breathe right anymore. How do lungs even work?

“Maybe ye shuid check if there’s ony other spots that git dirty.”, he breathlessly answers. Is that how his voice always sounds around you? Shit you’re right up in his space and having you so close makes it hard to think straight, yet you seem totally unfazed.

Suddenly you bring your other arm to the counter as well, on the other side of him, caging him in. Your forearms brushing his sides and he can feel himself suck a deep breath in at the unexpected contact. His own grip tightening on the counter, helping him to stay upright because suddenly his knees feel weak.

“Maybe you should take me back to the kitchen for a thorough inspection.”, you whisper, eyes intense on his, making it hard to keep looking at you. He’s one second from squeaking out a “Yes, please.” when you step back and laugh.

The tension building up between you two is gone so suddenly, it feels like a balloon audibly popped and Johnny swears his ears ring from the whiplash, when you shove one hand in your pocket and casually eye the display again.

“Can I have some of the new cake? It’s really great. I think it’s gonna be a hit.”, you say and smile at him, the flirtiness from a second replaced by your usual friendly but distanced behavior.

Johnny’s hands are still grabbing the counter in a death grip and he’s pretty sure he hears his joints creak when he lets go and flees behind the counter again. He really hopes it looks normal, because it feels like he’s running from you. Your way of flirting should be illegal. Are you even allowed to act like that in public?

“Sweet cake for a sweet body, comin’ right up.”, Johnny finds his voice again and you grin, rocking back on your feet evidently excited for the cake. Never has Johnny been happier over his choice to become a baker than when he gets to watch you be so giddy over the things he creates. How can you go from sultry to adorable so quickly?

“Your stuff is addicting, MacTavish.”, you say all smiles. He’s pretty sure the only thing addictive here is you. You and your way of going toe to toe with him just to leave him high and dry.

“See ya, pretty boy.”, you take your bag and turn, looking over your shoulder and throwing him a wink.

The door closes behind you before he gets a chance to croak out: “See ye tomorrow, bonnie.”

It’s probably good that you’re gone already and can’t hear the hoarseness of his voice. Fuckin’ hell. One of these days you’ll send him into cardiac arrest.

[ineed-to-sleep]

Tagged by @seldaryne <3

I'm tagging @alongtidesoflight , @peachshroom , @boghermit to share some BG3 oc info if you'd like! ^^

And anyone who wants to do this, pls consider yourself tagged and feel free to tag me so I can see your oc!

Name: Nawen Farlong

Nickname(s): No specific nicknames, though she does get "darling" from Astarion and "soldier" from Karlach. She's generally more often the one that gives people nicknames instead of receiving them skdhakd Astarion gets "angel" and "kitten" a lot, Shadowheart gets "my heart" and "my love" and Karlach usually gets "general"(a lot of the nicknames she gives were initially meant with sarcasm, but after a while became actual terms of endearment).

Pronouns: She/her

Star sign: Whatever the in-universe equivalent of a scorpio is

Height: 5'3" with the attitude of 6'4"

Orientation: Everyone is game. If she were a romance option, rest assured you could probably romance her, as long as you're being a cunt ♡

Race: Half-drow

Romancing: Astarion, but it's kinda hard to tell unless you spend a long time with them. Astarion isn't 100% comfortable with touching and she's not fond of PDA(she gets all light headed and giggly with physical affection and she hates being seen like that by most people. it breaks the bad bitch fantasy). You could see them occasionally flirting or teasing each other but they're also just Like That with most people, so it's hard to tell if they're really an item. They mostly look like coworkers. Partners in crime if you will.

Favorite fruit: She doesn't really have a particular favorite. She likes melon pies and cranberry wine, so by association she might feel more inclined to like those fruits, but nothing she's too crazy about.

Favorite season: She generally likes fall and spring, when it's not too hot out but not too cold either. Wearing too many layers of clothing makes her feel trapped and constrained, and as much as she likes showing skin, warmer temperatures make wearing armor extra uncomfortable, so middle of the road is her favorite.

Favorite flower: It's a tie between lavender and jasmine- lavender providing one of her favorite scents and jasmine one of her favorite teas. She's also fond of water lilies, graceful reminders of the wetlands she grew up in.

Favorite scent: She's never been one for dedicated worship but loves the smell of incense you usually find in temples. She rarely gets inside temples, but when she does she usually comes out with at least a couple "borrowed" incense sticks. Her favorite varieties are lavender and rosemary scents. Other than that, she likes very subtle perfumes that you can only really smell if you get your nose right up on her neck.

Coffee, tea or hot chocolate: Tea. Coffee tends to make her shaky and more anxious, and hot chocolate tends to be a bit too sweet for her tastes. Tea usually helps calm her nerves, so she feels encouraged to drink it quite often.

Average sleep hours: This woman is paranoid and right after popping out of the nautiloid she gets maybe a total of 2-4 hrs of sleep a night. She knows she needs to sleep to function like a human being the next day, but because of a constant fear of attack and distrust for her companions, her sleep time is sectioned and she wakes up several times during the night because there was a weird noise or her internal clock said "ok you've had enough, get up and do the rounds for the 100th time". She always gets up earlier than everyone else. She gets a bit more comfortable as she starts to trust the people around her, but bad habits die hard and it'll be years before she can get an actual full night of rest.

Dogs or cats: She likes animals in general, and her favorites are little mice(quick, can get in and out of places really easily, make for great messengers and easy-to-hide-in-your-pocket pets), but if she had to choose between cats and dogs, cats would probably win, just because they're usually quieter companions and she feels she has more in common with them than with dogs.

Dream trip: She's been to most major cities along the sword coast and is honestly a little bit sick of the place by now. She also has a bit of an aversion to the underdark due to having her differences with some of the locals. Overall, she would love to visit other places in Faerun, maybe farther up north. She's also always been curious about Candlekeep, not because of the endless book collection, but because of rumors of hidden magic and strange creatures living beneath its halls.

Amount of blankets: None at all, if she can help it. Blankets can get in the way if you need to get up quickly in the middle of the night or struggle with an attacker- not that it's happened to her before, noo, nothing embarrassing like that. But she'd rather prevent any mishaps.

Random fact(s):

She gets new piercings on her ears by the beginning of act 3, courtesy of Shadowheart, and helps her change her hair in return.

She and Karlach have the most unexpected friendship and she would probably die for Karlach while Karlach really believes she could fix her.

She's a magic nerd and can often keep up with Gale when discussing the arcane(usually alienating everyone else in the party from the conversation).

She fights with double rapiers instead of double daggers or swords because she understood, from a very early age, how to serve cunt.

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Spread Her Wings - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

The prospects of Jinx's dating life loom like a future graveyard...

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

"They'll be working together?"

"Separate spheres. Same goal."

"Nothing stays separate in close quarters. Especially with a teenager’s hormones in the mix.”

Silco's stare locks on hers.

"You said it yourself," Sevika says, "She singled Viktor out. Might be a coincidence. Or..."

"What?"

"Maybe the girl's got a crush."

Silco makes a soft sound expressive of disgust. "Don't be ridiculous."

"It's a theory."

"She does not have a crush. She was testing him."

"Testing him?"

"Assessing his value. As an ally." The thought occurs to him. "I suppose she's growing bored with Magnus. The dog has his uses, but he can't engage the mind."

"And Viktor can?"

"His intelligence is a match for hers. Shocking, considering their age difference." 

"That's my point." Sevika's features, upside down, hold a smileless amusement. "Viktor's not a child. He's not a dog. He's a grown man. And Jinx..."

Silco preempts the rest. "She is only seventeen."

"Only? How many seventeen-year-olds are capable of blowing up an entire city, or taking down an Enforcer cavalcade singlehandedly? Let's not forget the time she hijacked a fucking airship. Or the time she took out a roomful of Slickjaws armed with nothing but six color pencils. You've set her loose on the world. She's got the experience of a war veteran." Her jaw sets. "The baggage, too."

"Your point?"

"My point is, her tastes are different from the average girl's." The corner of her lip curls. "Older men get to be a nasty habit. They're all about control. And when you're used to being a little monster, you enjoy getting put in your place. It's a headfuck. Like playing chicken with a loaded gun. And we both know how much Jinx likes guns."

"You're saying Viktor would take advantage of her." The words are clipped; the tone, icy. "That he'd play into her trust."

"If not Viktor, then someone else. She's not a kid anymore. She'll be a woman soon. And she'll catch the eyes of every fucker out there, sooner or later." Her hand never ceases its small caresses. But her stare holds his: challenging. "She's gonna catch the eyes of a certain type in particular." 

"What type is that?" 

"You know. The hellraisers. The risk-takers. The ones living for a thrill to top all thrills." Quieter: "Like you at that age."

A vein pulses in Silco's left temple. "You are implying she'll find a lover soon."

"More than one."

"Hardly."

It comes out sharp enough to take a head off the shoulders. Yet the creeping tide of possessiveness is very real. All that dilutes it is the knowledge that Jinx has—so far—seldom expressed an interest in either boys or girls.

It isn't that she is oblivious to her own charms or their effect on others. Silco has taught her to weaponize her appearance with the same deft precision as a blade. Yet she's never shown an inclination to go prowling, either. Certainly not the way Silco used to at her age. A casualty of premature initiation, or his own base nature; his mind was always acutely attuned to the sensual.

Typically, his own child's budding sexuality is a subject best avoided. The few times it's come up has been pithy summations from his network: She gets off on booms, not bodies.

Unspoken but blatant: Freak.

Most are convinced Jinx is a rare species of deviant. Someone more gratified by mind-fuckery than the primal simplicity of teenaged hormones. If she were, Silco wouldn't be shocked. Hell, he'd encourage it. There are few more intoxicating modes of control than insinuating yourself into peoples' thoughts, playing hell with their emotions, seeping into their psyches in an act of irreversible infusion. In face of that, sex pales in comparison.

But outsiders have always tenaciously clung to the notion of Jinx as a monster.

So, Silco concedes, has he.

Jinx is still a growing girl. A girl exposed to every stripe of brutality—and yet spared the worst by virtue of his own aegis. She's never before declared it smothering; never rebelled against his rules. The issue has always been unwanted people wanting her.

Now Sevika is telling him she might want people back. Not just want them. Crave them. The same way Silco had craved Vander, or Nandi.

Until it'd all soured in a bath of blood.

"Viktor is not Jinx's type," he says. "Nor is she his."

"Yeah?"

"The boy's never touched a woman. Let alone bedded one."

"You're saying—?" Sevika's brows wing sky-high. "Huh. Explains why there's never been rumors."

"My sources are reliable. The boy lives like a monk. The closest he's come to a relationship is Talis, who is so obtuse he missed a mile-wide opportunity." He lapses into musing. Her nails lightly raking his scalp have a strangely meditative effect. "I'd wager that's part of the reason Viktor and Jinx found each other. They're both outliers. The odd ones out." He thinks of Viktor's expression at the gala, when he and Jinx bid each other goodnight: courtesy that hid a strange kinship. "He won't touch her. Not that way."

"And the next one who does?" Sevika looms in. Her dark hair sluices over her shoulders, like a pair of wings. She's letting it grow, finally, past the nape of her neck. It suits her. "The next one who sees her and wants her and goes for it?" 

"Jinx can take care of herself."

"What if she wants 'em to touch her back?"

Silco's good eye narrows. "Are you under the impression I'd forbid her?"

"I know you would." Her tone brooks no argument. It's a blunt statement. "But that's not the point. You can't treat her like a little girl forever. She's got too much curiosity. Soon, she's gonna start exploring. And it won’t stop at sex. It'll be the world, next. Once she's had a taste, she'll want it all. She's a firecracker, Silco. Always has been. The question is: are you ready?"

"Ready?"

"For her to spread her wings?"

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Always an Angel, Never the God Pt 2

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Runaway!Reader

Words: 3119

After a few months alone in the sky, you find yourself with an unlikely roommate.

Tags: Gender neutral/intended Female, Runaway Reader, Angst, Unrequited love, Requited love, Heartbreak, grief

<Previous - Full - Next>

You grind your teeth, eyes watering as a heavy booted foot pushes you down further into the wooden ship floor. The ship rocks angrily as does your dragon, struggling against the barbed netting.

“Who are you? A new vigilante?” The leading trapper, Erik son of Erik or something, asked, bending down above you. He had, coincidentally, been the one to shoot you down.

 “Where is your… hideout?” He leaned down into your ear at your silence, speaking in a raspy whisper. You got the vague impression he was trying to be intimidating, though the end results were more in favor of making you blush.

You were thankful for the hard wood covering your face and, therefore, your embarrassment. Of your belongings, you were only able to manage a mask and had taken to running around ensconced in furs with nothing but a dagger to your name. 

You’d recon you looked much like a wild animal, straddling your nadder bare of a saddle. You had not done too well on your own. It was hard. You had always been a team player if by team player you meant a leech on society. At least, you had been told so.

So of course you had, unwittingly, stumbled onto dragon trapping territory. Extreme sport dragon trapping territory. It didn’t help that you and your nadder hadn’t been on the same page, you two being unable to sync in the way you’d seen the other riders with their dragons, which left a bitter taste in your mouth.

He’d go left when you were trying for right, and when you finally decided to just go with it, he would change his mind and throw you for a complete loop. It was safe to say that even if you got out of this mess you never wanted to step foot on his back again.

You breathed a silent sigh of relief just as the trapper let out an annoyed one, stepping off of you in favor of yelling at his men for damaging their goods. Meaning, your nadder. Was he really yours, though? He did try and make a break for it without you.

 While debating whether or not you should try at the ropes shackling your arms together, you grunt frustratedly, noticing a new tear in your garb.

After running away and getting captured, you had not expected to be kidnapped again by some insane-looking madman in a mask. Though you did look like two of a kind, so it was fitting. 

Your nadder had its wings torn irreparably, so, unfortunately, you had to retire him early.

You found small comfort in that it hadn’t abandoned you on the ship that one final time, though the irony that it had led you here was not lost on you.

He visited sometimes. He took to life in the sanctuary very well. 

You didn’t, a borderline prisoner before you’d been able to win over the trust of the resident feral gorgon. Sort of. She was a woman who let you see her face, more on accident than anything else. You hadn’t let her see you or hear yours. However you weren’t inclined to speak of her nicely, least of all in your head, after the number of weeks you spent trapped in a cave at her behest.

Finally, you’d been let out. Let out enough to walk more than just the short stretch of stone and greenish ice that made up your prison. The endless turquoise was beginning to make you sick.

Recently, you found a real friend in the sanctuary, and this dragon, it was truly yours. Affectionately named, fed and groomed, you two were almost inseparable. It was the kind of friendship with a dragon you’d completely missed out on on Berk.

It was hard to maintain given your captive status, but that was alright. 

There probably wasn’t any social profit involved in being a vigilante, which is why you assumed the crazy dragon lady had taken to speaking at you in her spare time. About the dragons, what they ate, what she had to do. Pointedly she gave away nothing of their true secrets, not that you wanted them, nor anything of her vigilant-ing. Not verbally, though the influx of injuries both on her and the dragons spoke volumes.

She did give away her name.

You groan, rubbing your eyes under your mask as you cradle the thing to your face with the other.

“You’re quite attached to your mask,” Valka said amusedly, shifting the logs roasting in the fire with a stick, pushing them back and forth as you sat in silence. You hardly ever spoke a word, nowadays.

Her dragon, the stormcutter, stared at you with large eyes through the licking flames.

Neither of you mentioned that the only real reason you’d been able to keep your mask so long was that she’d been kind enough to let you. An allowance you’d been given on a whim. One you clung to with all the nervous energy of Fishlegs to his dragon cards.

“... I’d rather not be,” You grumble, voice raspy from disuse, “It’s stuffy.”

“Oh,” Valka looked at you, amused and maybe a little surprised to hear you speak at last, before going back to tend to her fires, “I was starting to think you couldn’t speak.”

“Funny.” You said, lifting a sharpened stick off the ground, spearing it through a slimy, gutted fish from the basket beside you. Your nose wrinkled as you heard the sharp point break skin. No amount of faux stoicism could make it seem pleasant to you.

“I have a few questions,” You grimace under your mask as she asserts herself. She can ask them all she wants, but there’s no guarantee you’ll answer. 

You might, probably, as keeping secrets hasn’t always been your strong suit. She’s certainly been trying to open you up for a while. You’ve not given her any leeway before though, no reason to give her any now. 

“How did you tame your dragon?” She asked, pushing a particularly thick dragon searching for morsels. Valka guides its head gently away with her spare hand before any of the other dragons crowding around them get any ideas.

You wait for a moment, still wondering whether you should follow along. Eventually, you decide to answer.

“Wasn’t me. Someone else back home did it,” You huff, “I just followed along.”

“...But not very well,” Valka hums. It’s obvious she doesn’t believe you. Unfortunately for her, that is not your problem. 

 She pulls a small trout off her own stick, tossing it to a crowd of young dragons, who you knew had acquired a taste for the cooked, through no fault of your own.

You should feel offended, but you know she’s right. You lean away from a wandering dragon snout as it searches you for morsels. The stormcutter, after a look from Valka, shoos it away with a large wing.

 “Where are you from?” 

You feel the embers from the fire as they rise, the furs of your coat becoming nearly unbearable, your skin heated up rapidly. You wrinkle your brow with annoyance as you feel a drop of sweat slide down the side of your face.

“Where are you from?” You retort pointedly.

She studies you cautiously, as if she could glean your intentions from your body language. And she very well could. Or the heat was getting to you, the wells you’d spent in solitude had finally done some real damage to your psyche, and you were hallucinating.

“Berk,” She says. You sit back, surprised, “And you?”

“...None of your business.” You wonder how long it had been since she had left. You pray she would not know you.

Valka raised her eyebrow. 

“I’m serious.” You ground your heel into the dirt. It was a touchy subject, still.

“Berk, too. …Stop looking at me like that.”

Valka leaned back against the ice wall where you rested, looking out over the empty ocean as dragons flooded to and fro the sanctuary. You squinted far into the distance, as if you thought you might be able to see through it if you tried hard enough.

Your hair tugged wildly by the winds out from behind your mask as you sat, one leg extended and the other bent as you leaned back against one arm. 

You probably looked as you felt, weary and unkempt after a long flight over the seas with your dragon, who clambered among the icy spike-lined wall with clawed hands. You felt refreshed yet somehow at odds with yourself still.

You cared little for your bedraggled demeanor the same way you hadn’t cared for much at all in a while. It might have made a cool picture had you not slipped and fallen onto your face on the ice just a few minutes prior. Whether you had broken your nose or not on your mask had yet to be uncovered. All that mattered was that Valka hadn’t seen.

Dragons crowed. Through the cracks in the walls of the sanctuary, the wind would whistle through if it hit the right angle. Louder than anything else were the sounds of the waves crashing against rock. 

But between you and Valka, it was silent. A contemplative silence, the kind of silence you shared with others after a long thought or a hard day’s work. That’s how you knew she was going to break it.

“Why did you leave?”

You are annoyed at the prospect but are no less expectant. After the moment passes, you are not surprised. However, it feels as if you are the one who should be asking.

“Why did I leave?” You ask, “Does it matter?”

A loose chunk of ice falls off the side of the sanctuary as a large titan scrambles violently down the side, chasing after a bright yellow baby. You spot a shape through the fog, distant and blurry enough to resemble a bird though there are no birds here. You pointedly do not think of your small hut, even less of green eyes, and tiny, fading freckles.

Valka tilted her head in your direction, reaching a hand out to scratch Cloudjumper under his chin as he lowered himself towards her, “It mattered to you.”

You open your mouth, but you are only able to choke on your breath. No one has ever said something like that to you, not in a long while. You don’t understand why it’s hitting you so hard. Maybe it’s the isolation.

You blame the burning of your eyes on the biting wind.

 “Why did you leave?” You ask in return, once you’ve taken time for yourself, though you have an idea. You can’t keep your voice from sounding a little bit scratchy.

You unhook your dagger from your belt, trying not to seem so attentive. Instead, you take to carving random shapes into the ice. A gronkle. A nadder.

“I was taken.” She sighs, quieter now. Lost off in memory as you both often are.

The nadder’s spikes are much too long. The gronkle looks more like a sandwich than a dragon.

“Taken?” You prompt and you begin on the outline of a fury. The result is shallow and scratchy. 

It’s one of your own designs, not the same as the one Berk uses. Astrid liked the other one better, not yours, so that was the one Hiccup went with.

“I didn’t leave,” She insisted, almost as if she was trying to convince herself of the fact,  “I had a son, and a husband.”

You’ve seen her by the fires, while trying to sneak out of this hellish ice maze. She talks to herself then. On particularly paranoid days, she’s slept by you, in the same caverns, so you’ve heard it. She talks in her sleep and says things she would never say awake, or had you been around. It’s all so very unsettling. 

“Really?” You remarked with false astonishment. The facade is flimsy, but you figured you’d give her the benefit of the doubt. The grace to assume that you’d no idea what she was on about.

With prompting, you might have seen it earlier. In her slim form, the one she kept hidden under thick furs and thicker armor. You squint. They have the same eye color. The same hair. They both have higher cheekbones, though her son more resembles his father in that aspect. That is all.

Valka shoots you a reprimanding look. Cloudjumper, now creeping down the wall behind you, taps you on the back of your head with its tail at her behest.

Valka was of the air. Though he had the same flighty tendencies, he was very grounded, like his father, though he might either be proud or loath to admit it. He loved flying, yes, but he loved inventing and processing and routine just as much, if not more.

He did when you were close. Of course he did, he spent his whole life on it. You couldn’t really say you knew him anymore.

You didn’t pin Valka as the type to enjoy the same in any sort of manner. But that suited you just as well. You found that as time went by and as you were granted more freedoms, you appreciated it. It made it easier for you to forget. To ignore.

In the end they, you and she, she and you, were one and the same.

“But what does it matter, if you never went back?” You grumble, pushing your dragon’s head away as it nudges you towards the cliff, crooning for more flying time.

You guessed that was why she clung so viciously to the safety of her sanctuary. Why she hated other people so much, why she’d had no faith in the humanity of other people, why she’d held you here so strictly. If things could have been different, then what did she give it all up for?

Though you’d never had something else. Not even the option. You’d never been given it. Valka hadn’t been given it either, but there was a sure difference between something being there and not. 

The atmosphere is silent again, tainted with some darker undertones. If you’d had to put a name to it, you might have called it grief. 

“I want to leave.”

Valka doesn’t look surprised at your request. And indeed, it’s been no secret that you wanted to leave. Maybe she was glad for it, or maybe she was sad at the news. 

After all, you settled into each other's presence long ago. You had a good sort of companionship.

And from that companionship, you learned a lot without even trying, just by watching. Eventually she took notice and she took an active part in teaching you the truths she learned during all her years in self-imposed isolation. 

You two weren’t incredibly close but you could tell Valka was grateful for the company, grateful to have someone maybe even a little bit like her, even if most of it was spent in silence. 

You still left the Drago fighting for her. It wasn’t your fight, it was hers, and you made that clear.

Neither of you brought up Berk. Ever. 

You were content to just come and go as you pleased, for a while. Nonetheless, despite your freedom, you felt restricted to the small world of the Sanctuary and the empty skies around it. There was no place for you on the ground or by the seas, where hunters and trappers swarmed by the thousands and Drago’s armies grew by the day. 

You spent so much time learning from her and yet it felt like no time at all. Which was why you were shocked when you’d truly learned how much had come and gone in full. 

You were out slinking in the shadows, seeking shelter from a storm on the same small rocky outcropping of island that had a shipful of trappers stranded, in a rage and a panic as they attempted to recover their assets. The winds had been too rough to fly, so you had no choice but to wait and listen.

You didn’t believe it at first. It had been…

Months.

You wondered if he’d been married, yet.

Years. 

The idea hurt, not as much as you’d thought it would, still not as little as you’d hoped.

Under clear skies, you found an inn, untouched by everything except grass and trees.

You asked, “What day is it?”

The large man, a burly viking scrubbing down a wooden cup with a torn old rag, had looked down at you skeptically from behind a beaten pine and stone counter.

Two years. It had been nearly two years since you left Berk. Just as Valka’s attachments kept her at the Sanctuary, you needed to go. To run.

Since you had heard it, spoken it, the urge to run, to fly hadn’t abated at all, going from a wispy thought at the back of your mind to a full blown need. Your dragon too had become antsy, maybe feeding off of your nervous energy. Eager to take off, to fly new skies.

“Are you sure?” Valka asked searchingly. You two were stationed over a heavily planted cliff over a large main pool which consisted of the main cavern within the Sanctuary, once again in front of a fire, eating your own meals as the dragons below ate and exchanged fish. 

You were already packed, your mask secured as it had been for all two years you had been in this place stuck between confinement and dwelling. You almost regretted it, not telling her your name, but you couldn’t bear yourself to her knowing who she was, not truly. Not until you’d washed yourself of that particular weight. 

“Yes,” One day you would, if you ever saw her again. Once you were released from the heartache and pain of your own making, “I am. Thank you.”

You started out into the pale foggy sky,  mounted your beast as smooth as you’d ever done, which is to say, not smooth at all. You’d only ever managed it right when Valka was watching, anyhow. It was odd how that worked, maybe the peer pressure was finally starting to kick in.

As you took off and the sanctuary became smaller and smaller both to your eyes and your mind, as the tight bundle of chains in your chest dropped and the world opened up to you once more, you felt light, and free. 

Once again, there was no one to watch you and no one to hurt for besides your and your dragon. Endless opportunity. Thousands of ways to keep going.

You wondered what your face looked like.

You couldn’t wait to see it again.

[xxarryonxx]

THE BOTTLE IN THE SAND

Shanks x Reader

Being trapped for thousands of years can be quite lonesome, but being a genie that is your job serving different kinds of people over the years and coming across different personalities, a certain red hair captain is not quite like all the others.

Y/N’s existence was a lonely one, but she had grown accustomed to it. The solitude was her only companion, and the silence her only comfort. Yet, even after all these years, a small part of her still longed for freedom, for the taste of fresh air, for the warmth of the sun on her skin. She knew better than to hope, but still, she dreamed.

And then, one day, something changed. The ground above her began to tremble, and a faint glimmer of light pierced through the darkness. Y/N stirred, her heart quickening in anticipation. Could it be? After all this time, had someone finally found her?

The sand shifted, and Y/N felt the bottle being unearthed, lifted from its ancient resting place. She braced herself for the inevitable release, the surge of magic that would accompany her return to the world. And then, with a rush of energy, she was free.

Y/N blinked as she stepped out of the bottle, the bright light of the sun blinding her momentarily. She took a deep breath, savoring the fresh air, the scent of the sea mixing with the warmth of the desert. For a moment, she simply stood there, relishing her newfound freedom.

Then, she turned to face the one who had released her.

He was a man of striking appearance, with a mane of vibrant red hair and a confident, almost reckless smile. He wore a long black coat that billowed in the wind, and a sword hung at his side. There was an air of authority about him, a presence that commanded respect.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed as she took him in. There was something familiar about him, something that tugged at the edges of her memory. But before she could place it, the man spoke.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, his voice smooth and confident. “What do we have here? A genie, eh? Haven’t seen one of those in a long time.”

Y/N straightened, trying to maintain her composure. She had been through this before, countless times, with countless masters. She knew how this worked.

“You have freed me from my prison,” she said, her voice steady. “In return, I am bound to grant you three wishes. Choose wisely.”

The man’s smile widened, and he let out a low chuckle. “Three wishes, huh? Sounds like a good deal.”

He stepped closer, his eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and something else—something darker. Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine, but she held her ground.

“I suppose introductions are in order,” the man said, his tone almost playful. “The name’s Shanks. Captain of the Red-Haired Pirates.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. Shanks. The name triggered something in her memory, a vague recollection of stories she had heard in passing during her long imprisonment. Shanks was a pirate, a man known for his power, his influence, and his unpredictable nature.

She had encountered many like him before—men who sought to use her power for their own gain, who saw her not as a person but as a tool. But there was something about Shanks that set him apart, something that made Y/N wary.

Shanks seemed to sense her hesitation, and his smile softened. “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice low and reassuring. “I’m not like those other bastards who’ve had you before. I keep my promises, and I’m loyal to those who are loyal to me.”

Y/N wanted to believe him, but she had learned long ago not to trust so easily. Still, she had no choice but to fulfill her duty. She was bound to him now, for better or for worse.

“Very well,” she said, inclining her head slightly. “What is your first wish, Master Shanks?”

Shanks grinned, clearly pleased with her obedience. He didn’t hesitate, as if he had already known what he wanted long before he found her.

“I wish for the best and most invincible ship in the entire sea,” he declared, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

Y/N nodded, already feeling the magic surge within her. It was a simple wish, one that she had granted many times before. But there was a peculiar thrill in granting it for this man—this Shanks. Perhaps it was because she could sense the depth of his desire, the intensity of his ambition.

She closed her eyes, focusing her energy on the wish. The air around them began to shimmer, and a faint glow enveloped Shanks. In a flash of light, the wish was granted.

When Y/N opened her eyes, she saw the results of her magic. The ship that now stood before them was a magnificent vessel, far grander than any she had ever seen. It was sleek and powerful, with a hull that gleamed in the sunlight. Its sails were vast and strong, and the flag of the Red-Haired Pirates flew proudly from its mast.

Shanks let out a whistle of admiration, clearly impressed by what he saw. “Now that’s what I call a ship,” he said, his voice filled with awe. “You’ve outdone yourself, genie.”

Y/N remained silent, watching him carefully. She could sense the greed in his eyes, the hunger for power that drove him. But there was also something else—a sense of loyalty, of honor. It was a strange combination, one that left her feeling conflicted.

Shanks turned to her, his expression one of genuine gratitude. “Thank you, Y/N,” he said, his tone sincere. “This is everything I could have hoped for.”

Y/N inclined her head again, acknowledging his thanks. “I am glad you are pleased, Master Shanks,” she replied, keeping her voice neutral.

But as she spoke, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. Shanks had two more wishes, and she had no doubt that he would use them. What those wishes would be, she couldn’t say, but she had a sinking feeling that they would lead to trouble.

And trouble, as Y/N knew all too well, was something she was all too familiar with.

The days passed in a blur of activity as Shanks and his crew made preparations to set sail on their new ship. Y/N watched from the sidelines, keeping to herself as much as possible. She knew better than to get too close to her master or his crew. Attachment only led to pain, and she had experienced more than her fair share of that.

But Shanks was different from her previous masters in more ways than one. He was not just powerful; he was also charming, charismatic, and surprisingly kind. He treated his crew with respect, and they in turn were fiercely loyal to him. It was clear that they admired and trusted him, and Y/N found herself reluctantly drawn to him as well.

Despite her best efforts, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a growing connection to Shanks. He was not like the others who had come before him—those who had used her and discarded her without a second thought. Shanks was different. He seemed to genuinely care about those around him, even if his greed and ambition sometimes got the better of him.

One night, after the crew had retired to their quarters, Shanks found Y/N standing alone on the deck, staring out at the sea. The moonlight cast a soft glow on the water, and the gentle sound of the waves filled the air.

Shanks approached her quietly, his footsteps barely audible. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice low and gentle.

Y/N didn’t turn to face him. “I don’t need to sleep,” she replied, her tone distant.

Shanks chuckled softly, leaning against the railing beside her. “Must be nice, not having to worry about things like that.”

Y/N said nothing, her eyes fixed on the horizon. She could sense Shanks watching her, could feel the weight of his gaze on her. It was a strange feeling—being the object of someone’s attention after so long in isolation.

After a moment, Shanks spoke again. “You know, Y/N, you don’t have to be so distant. We’re not enemies.”

Y/N finally turned to look at him, her expression unreadable. “Aren’t we?” she asked quietly.

Shanks frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Y/N hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “You have two more wishes,” she said slowly. “And I have seen what men like you do with power. It changes them. It consumes them.”

Shanks was silent for a moment, his eyes searching hers. Then he let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I get it,” he said softly. “You don’t trust me. And I don’t blame you, not after what you’ve been through.”

Y/N looked away, her heart heavy with the weight of her memories. She had been used and betrayed so many times before,

by so many different masters. It was hard to believe that this time would be any different.

But Shanks wasn’t finished. “I can’t change what’s happened to you in the past,” he said, his voice earnest. “But I can promise you this—I won’t let power consume me. I won’t let it change who I am.”

Y/N wanted to believe him, wanted to trust in his words. But she had been burned too many times before, and the scars ran deep. Still, there was something in Shanks’s eyes that made her want to give him a chance—a spark of sincerity that was hard to ignore.

She nodded slowly, not trusting herself to speak. Shanks seemed to understand, and he didn’t press the issue further. Instead, he simply stood beside her, staring out at the sea in companionable silence.

It was a small moment, but it was enough to plant a seed of doubt in Y/N’s mind. Maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.

As the days turned into weeks, Y/N found herself becoming more and more comfortable in Shanks’s presence. He was not like any of her previous masters, and she couldn’t help but be drawn to his easygoing nature and infectious laughter. The crew treated her with respect as well, and for the first time in centuries, Y/N felt like she was part of something—like she belonged.

But she never forgot that Shanks still had two more wishes, and the thought of what he might wish for weighed heavily on her mind. She knew that wishes were dangerous things, that they had the power to change the course of lives, for better or for worse. And she knew that Shanks was a man who was not afraid to take risks.

One evening, after a particularly raucous night of drinking, Shanks stumbled into Y/N’s quarters, clearly inebriated. Y/N had grown accustomed to his drunken visits, though she always made sure to keep her guard up. Drunk or not, Shanks was still her master, and she was still bound to him.

“Y/N!” Shanks slurred, a wide grin on his face as he swayed slightly. “There you are!”

Y/N looked up from where she was seated, her expression calm. “You should go to bed, Shanks. You’ve had too much to drink.”

Shanks waved her off, staggering closer. “Nah, I’m fine! Just... just needed to see you.”

Y/N sighed, rising to her feet. “What do you want, Shanks?”

Shanks’s grin widened, and he leaned in closer, his breath heavy with the scent of alcohol. “I wanna make my second wish,” he whispered conspiratorially.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, her pulse quickening. She had been dreading this moment, knowing that Shanks’s second wish could change everything. But she forced herself to remain calm, to stay in control.

“What is your wish, Master Shanks?” she asked, her voice steady.

Shanks’s eyes sparkled with mischief, and he leaned even closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke. “I wish... I wish you’d tell me where the One Piece is.”

Y/N froze, her blood running cold. The One Piece—the legendary treasure said to be hidden at the end of the Grand Line. It was the ultimate goal of every pirate, the prize that could make a man the King of the Pirates.

But Y/N couldn’t grant that wish, no matter how much Shanks wanted it. The One Piece was not something that could be found through magic; it was something that had to be earned through hard work, determination, and sheer willpower. It was not a shortcut, and it was not something that could be given away so easily.

“I can’t grant that wish,” Y/N said firmly, pulling away from Shanks.

Shanks’s expression darkened, his drunken grin fading as anger began to take hold. “What do you mean you can’t?” he demanded, his voice rising. “You’re a genie! You’re supposed to grant my wishes!”

Y/N took a step back, her heart pounding in her chest. She had seen this before—the shift from friendly to furious, the way power could corrupt even the kindest of souls. She had seen it too many times, and it always ended the same way.

“Some wishes can’t be granted, Shanks,” she said softly, hoping to calm him down. “The One Piece is not something that can be given. It’s something you have to find on your own.”

But Shanks was beyond reasoning. His anger flared, and he let out a roar of frustration, his fists clenched at his sides. “I don’t need you to tell me what I can and can’t do!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the ship.

Y/N flinched, instinctively taking another step back. She knew she had to tread carefully, to avoid provoking him further. But before she could speak, Shanks suddenly lunged forward, grabbing her by the arm and yanking her toward him.

“If you won’t grant my wish,” he snarled, his face inches from hers, “then you’re no use to me.”

Y/N’s heart raced with fear as she struggled to break free from his grip, but Shanks was stronger than he looked. He dragged her across the room, his grip tightening painfully around her arm. Y/N’s eyes widened as she realized what he was doing—he was heading for the bottle, the very thing that had been her prison for so long.

“No!” she cried, her voice filled with panic. “Shanks, please! Don’t do this!”

But Shanks was deaf to her pleas. In his drunken rage, he was beyond reason, beyond compassion. He grabbed the bottle, holding it up in front of her, a cruel smile twisting his lips.

“If you won’t grant my wish, then you can go back to where you came from,” he hissed, his voice filled with venom.

Y/N’s blood ran cold as she watched in horror as Shanks raised the bottle above his head, preparing to hurl it into the sea. The thought of being trapped in that bottle again, of losing the freedom she had only just regained, filled her with a terror she had not felt in centuries.

“Shanks, please!” she begged, tears streaming down her face. “Don’t do this! Please!”

But Shanks was beyond hearing her. With a furious cry, he threw the bottle with all his strength, sending it flying through the air. Y/N watched in despair as it arced through the night sky, the moonlight glinting off its polished surface, before it disappeared into the dark waters below.

For a moment, there was silence—an eerie, crushing silence that seemed to stretch on forever. And then, as if in slow motion, Y/N saw the bottle hit the water, the splash barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat.

“No!” she screamed, her voice breaking with despair. Without thinking, she ran to the edge of the deck, her eyes locked on the spot where the bottle had disappeared. She knew she had to get it back, had to retrieve it before it was lost forever.

But there was one problem—Y/N didn’t know how to swim.

The realization hit her like a physical blow, but it did nothing to quell the rising panic inside her. She couldn’t let the bottle be lost. It was the only home she had ever known, the only place she could truly call her own. Without it, she was nothing.

“Lady overboard!” someone shouted from the deck as Y/N scrambled over the railing, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

“Y/N, stop!” Shanks’s voice rang out behind her, but she ignored him. She had to get the bottle back, had to find it before it was too late.

With a final, desperate leap, Y/N flung herself over the edge of the ship, her body plunging into the cold, unforgiving sea. The water closed over her head, and she felt herself sinking, her limbs thrashing uselessly in the dark depths.

Panic seized her as she struggled to stay afloat, her mind racing with fear. She had to find the bottle, had to get it back. But the sea was vast, and she was so small, so helpless.

Her vision began to blur as she sank deeper and deeper into the water, the light of the moon fading above her. She could feel her strength leaving her, her body growing weaker with every passing second. She was drowning, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

As her consciousness began to slip away, Y/N’s last thoughts were of Shanks—of his anger, his betrayal, and the strange, inexplicable connection she had felt with him. She had thought he was different, thought he was someone she could trust.

But in the end, he was just like all the others.

Darkness claimed her, and Y/N felt herself sinking into oblivion. The last thing she heard was the distant sound of someone shouting her name, the words lost to the depths of the sea.

When Y/N awoke, she was lying in a soft bed, the gentle sway of the ship beneath her. Her body ached, and her throat burned with the taste of salt water. For a moment, she was disoriented, unsure of where she was or how she had gotten there.

And then she remembered—Shanks, the bottle, the sea. Panic surged within her, and she tried to sit up, only to be gently pushed back down by a firm hand.

“Easy,” a familiar voice said, and Y/N looked up to see Shanks sitting beside her, his expression filled with concern.

For a moment, Y/N couldn’t speak, her mind struggling to process what had happened. She had

been drowning, sinking into the depths of the sea. And then... what? She had blacked out, her consciousness slipping away.

“Shanks,” she croaked, her voice barely more than a whisper. “What happened?”

Shanks sighed, his shoulders slumping. “You fell overboard,” he said quietly. “I... I tried to stop you, but you wouldn’t listen. I had to jump in after you.”

Y/N stared at him in shock, her mind reeling. Shanks had saved her—had risked his own life to pull her from the sea. It was something she hadn’t expected, something she hadn’t thought him capable of.

“Why?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Shanks hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Because I care about you,” he said softly. “You’re not just a genie to me, Y/N. You’re my friend. And I don’t want to lose you.”

Y/N’s heart ached at his words, and she felt tears welling up in her eyes. She had been so afraid, so certain that Shanks was just like all the others. But he wasn’t—he was different. He had saved her, had shown her that there was still hope, still a chance for something more.

“Shanks,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

Shanks reached out, gently brushing a tear from her cheek. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “You’re safe now. And I promise you, I’ll never make you do something you don’t want to do. I’ll never use my wishes against you.”

Y/N looked up at him, her heart full of gratitude and something else—something warm and unfamiliar that she couldn’t quite name. For the first time in centuries, she felt a glimmer of hope, a spark of something more than just duty and obligation.

Maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.

And as Shanks sat beside her, his presence a comforting warmth in the cool night, Y/N allowed herself to believe that it could be true.

[universitypenguin]

Hey Alice! I’m curious as to what transpired in the hospital after princess’s attack. Was Lloyd being a doting bf or was he giving her the silent treatment even then 🙊 as always thank you for writing this series whenever I see an update my heart soars!! You’re so talented in bringing these characters to life ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for the lovely message! Unfortunately, Lloyd was anything but a doting boyfriend at the hospital… actually, his temper was running a bit hot during that scene… 😬😢🙈

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

Word Count: 762

Warnings: Lloyd being pissed off, discussion to stalking, references to a knife fight and main character being hospitalized

After Jake’s revelation that Aiden couldn’t be your stalker, Lloyd didn’t stick around.

He didn’t trust himself to be there when you woke up. Instead, he told Jake to go sit with you so that someone would be there when you woke up, and went home to study the crime scene. He met Detective Diskant and walked him through the scene, giving the investigator his statement about what happened. When that was taken care of, he went to the spot where the suspect had been captured by the surveillance camera and verified Jake’s measurements to confirm the height of the attacker. He stopped by and spoke with Mrs. Lange about the video footage, then asked her to keep an eye on his place for a while.

Lloyd went home and packed his things, collected your stuff, and loaded everything into his Mercedes. Then, he drove to your apartment, packed you some fresh clothes and threw the entire contents of your medicine cabinet into a bag. Before he left he went by to check on Mrs. Thompson, and she was the one who told him about the video camera that had been monitoring your front door.

Thanks to that disturbing revelation, his temper was boiling when he returned to the hospital. Zach met him in the parking garage and told him you’d woken up and that Aiden was out on bail. Lloyd informed him that he was taking you to the cabin, where you’d be more secure. When questioned about whether that was what you wanted, he told Zach to fuck off.

When he came to collect you from the ER holding area, the reception you got from him was anything but warm. He barely said a word to you and remained focused on getting you discharged, collecting the paperwork for your follow up visit, and signing the rest of the discharge forms. It wasn’t until you were in the car that you managed to get a chance to speak.

“Lloyd?”

The atmosphere in the vehicle was buzzing with tension as the late afternoon sun cast shadows across his face. He didn’t take his eyes off the road or so much as incline his head to acknowledge he’d heard you. The dark scowl was etched into his features and his posture was rigid.

“Lloyd, please. We need to talk.”

His jaw clenched. “Why? Why now? There was plenty of time to talk before, but you didn’t say a word. Not to me, at least.”

“I know. I didn’t tell you what was happening, and I shouldn’t have done that. But there were so many other things going on, from Singapore to Qatar and then… your father. I didn’t want to add to your problems, and I thought I had everything under control.”

His lips twisted as if he’d tasted something bitter.

“You kept this from me, Princess. I thought we were honest with each other, but clearly, that was just my own view of how our relationship worked.”

“Lloyd, I didn’t-”

He cut you off. “You lied. It was a lie of omission, so maybe you think that makes it better, but guess what? It’s worse. Lies of omission are the most effective kind of deception. Trust me, I’ve lied and bent the truth enough times in my life to know exactly what makes a good lie.”

“I’m sorry. I was scared of what you might do and I wanted to protect you.”

His breath hissed, the sound a low whistle of suppressed rage. “When I told you Tao was tailing us in Singapore, do you think that was easy for me?”

Your stomach flipped. “No.”

“It wasn’t, but I was honest with you anyways. When I cut off his ear in the bathroom? Do you think that was something I wanted to tell you about? Do you?!”

Dully, you shook your head, mumbling a quiet, “No.”

“It wasn’t! I wanted to lie to you and tell you everything was fine and that you had nothing to worry about! But you know what, Princess? I told you the truth anyways. Even when it was something that wasn’t pleasant, I still respected you enough to be honest.”

After that explosion of temper, you curled into the passenger seat and stared out the window at the landscape. You wanted to ask where he was taking you, but held back, unwilling to risk another argument over what you’d done. The rest of the trip passed in silence. Lloyd didn’t turn on the radio to break the tension and he didn’t offer any opening for you to apologize further.

So you did the only thing you could and waited for him to cool down, while planning your apology for some future moment, when he’d be ready to hear you out.

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

Masterlist

[xxnashiraxx]

With Stars to Fill My Dream (7) - From Now Our Merge is Eternal

I'm releasing chapter 7 early!!!! ❤

Please have my girl in her new hard af fit, about to be traumatized next chapter. Lets goooooooo.

I'm setting up Ofelia's and Astarion's relationship, just the bones, it's so hard to write these two idiots sometimes. Forgive any grammatical errors I really tried to proofread this a billion times first. :")

Thank you guys!

Summary: A street-smart, musically inclined human girl with a tragic past gets abducted by a nautiloid after her painfully average shift at a retro singing diner. What's worse- putting your all into Olivia Newton-John and Travolta for lousy tips, or getting your guts ripped out by a gnoll? Or worse- getting turned into a hideous humanoid squid? Ofelia Montez will have to see if she can survive long enough to find out.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 8,238

Opening below the cut!

Sparks of red and gold flash behind his eyes as Astarion sits against a tree, the breath that fills his lungs and pushes outward again makes him feel almost alive. Every scent feels more powerful- even his sight is sharper. He can see the individual feathers of a hawk circling above, looking for its next meal.

He’s chosen a view of the sunrise today, and whether it's his freshly sated appetite or something else, it looks more beautiful this morning than ever before. Granted he hadn't had the chance to see it before these last few days in as long as he can remember, but still… Ofelia’s blood has made him feel like himself again. Maybe more than he has since he’s been dead.

No flush colors his cheeks when he thinks of their union- he does regret the intimate nature of the bite, but even knowing its troublesome side effects, he’d have done it all again just the same, perhaps aside from not properly asking her first.

She’d been so willing, and that fact wasn’t lost on him. Why? He can’t fathom it. No matter how hard he pours over her every word and subtle expression, he doesn’t know why she’d said yes. Stupidity? Curiosity? Some strange notion of compassion? Pity?

He grits his teeth, though he can’t find it in himself to stay irritated. He can’t stop thinking about the taste, the warmth in his skin now, all of it. How can he secure this strange partnership between them? She isn’t like his usual marks. She’s intelligent but stupid. Kind, but petty. Soft, yet tough. She doesn’t seem to be receptive to his more flirtatious remarks, but perhaps he isn’t trying the right kind. All he’d had to do before was bat his lashes and flatter his prey, but with her it’s different. Her keen eyes search for something deeper- a connection.

The kind she looks for isn’t something he has. Mutual trust? Banish the thought. He’d sooner flee their odd little group of misfits than confess to Ofelia a genuine emotion of his. Or thought. She’d find some use for it, no doubt- keep it stowed away for her benefit someday. She’s just enough of a wildcard that if he yields a sliver of control to her, she may see the opening and go for his throat. He’s smarter than that.

Perhaps he’ll manufacture lies for her? Pretty ones? She’s young and impressionable- perhaps she’ll be swayed by them. He can feed her some truth, just enough to gain her trust, and perhaps secure future feedings and a warm bedroll. Astarion’s nothing if not a master of deception- the scores of victims trailing behind him speak for themselves. He’ll resort to the one thing he knows best- luring with his looks to keep her hooked so he can stay fed and safe while he figures out how to remove his old master from the equation.

After that’s through, he’ll be rid of her and the parasite.

He ignores the odd little twinge in the back of his mind- likely the worm. When he stands, his limbs stretch, and his muscles flex, the breeze coming off the river balmy and carrying the promise of another hot day. He’ll go find her and thank her, see if he can begin this dance he’s set out before himself.

And hide her marks from the rest of their companions…