#okay i was not going to say stuff in the tags and let the art speak for itself but i NEED to point out details in the wine Painting..

[theoldkyokodied]

Uploading all my Tomgreg art at once from the past few week before season 4 hits, who knows in what kind of mental state i'm gonna be once it does :')

[geminison]

Awake, awake

This is a dream state

[spdrwdw]

Art by marmar0u on instagram

Pairing: GhostFace!Miguel x f!reader

warnings: 18+, Smut, Roleplay, oral (m/f receiving) , unprotected intercourse, hair-pulling, choking, no use of y/n, slight hair pulling

Summary: It's Halloween and you in for a trick and treat of your life.

A/N: Thank you to the anon who requested GhostFace! Miguel! Sorry if this on kinda sucks. I'm not good with writing scary, suspenseful stuff lol. I did use some of the dialogue from the first movie and tweaked it a bit. If you want to be tagged in my future fics, just let me know! Or, you can also turn on notifications for my page and get notified whenever I post. I hope everyone enjoys and have a safe and fun Halloween!

Word Count: 2.8k ( I promise I'll make my fics longer one day)

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It was Halloween night, and you were home alone. The tv was on, playing some random scary movie. You had music also playing in the background. 

Trick-or-treaters would be constantly ringing the doorbell. At first, you thought about simply leaving the bowl of candy by the doorstep, but you loved seeing all the costumes the kids and teenagers were wearing. 

You were wearing a costume, yourself. A simple angel. Nothing too flashy since you were simply handing out candy. Just a halo and wings in a white t-shirt and white shorts. You wore your more “suggestive” costume at last weekend’s Halloween party a friend threw. 

While making your way to the kitchen to make yourself some popcorn, you heard your cell phone ring. It was a number you’ve never seen before, but it had your area code, so you decided to pick it up. 

“Hello?”

“Hello?” A voice on the other end responded. 

“Yes?” You replied back. 

“Who is this?”

“Who are you trying to reach?” You asked, slightly confused.

“What number is this?”

“What number are you trying to reach?” Honestly. Dude dialed the number, right?

“I don’t know.” Ugh.

“Well, I think you have the wrong number. It happens. Take it easy,” and with that, you ended the call and began to head back to the microwave to check on the popcorn before your phone rang again. 

Reaching back over for it, you checked the caller ID. It was the same number. Should you pick it up? At first, you thought about letting it ring but, eh, whatever. You answered it. 

“Hello?”

“I’m sorry. I guess I dialed the wrong number,” the same guy on the other end responded.

“So why did you dial it again?” You asked. 

“To apologize,” he replied.

“Well, you’re forgiven. Bye, now.”

“Wait! wait. Don’t hang up. I want to talk to you for a sec.” 

“Why?” Okay, this was getting a little weird. You really should just hang up. 

“Just want to know a little more about you. How about telling me your name?” He asked. “I’ll tell you my name if you tell me yours.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” you rolled your eyes, shaking your head. 

“Well, do you have a boyfriend?” He changed the subject. 

“Why? Do you want to ask me out on a date?”

“Maybe? Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No,” as if you were going to give this guy a truthful response. Plus, you did have a boyfriend, so you wouldn’t have accepted either way. 

“You never told me your name.” There he goes again, asking for your name. 

You were now walking around your house, organizing some things as you entertained this weirdo.

“Why do you want to know my name?” No really. Why?

“Because I want to know who I’m looking at.”

What?

You suddenly stopped, feeling your heart drop.

“What did you say?” Your voice now grew quiet. 

“I want to know who I’m talking to.”

“That’s not what you said,” you pointed out as you began making your way around the house, turning more lights on, as well as the lights from your back porch. You really should hang up and call the police if this guy was stalking you from somewhere. 

“Then what did you think I said?” He asked. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest. 

“What do you want?” You knew if you hung up now, he would just call back. So, you made another round around the house to make sure everything was closed and locked. 

“I just want to know your name.” 

“You don’t need to know my name. Now what do you want from me?” You questioned.

“I just wanted to talk. Maybe go out together on a date.”

Now you were peaking through the curtains, making sure no one was actually outside. Which was futile since there were still a lot of people out trick-or-treating. Maybe he was just messing around. But, you wanted to be sure.

“Can you see me?” He suddenly asked. 

How did he know you were looking for him? “Listen, I am two seconds away from calling the police.” Your voice was now shaky, as well as your body. 

“They’d never make it in time. It’s Halloween. Probably think you’re prank calling them or something.”

“What do you want?” You asked, your voice cracking and tears welling over your eyes. 

The line was quiet for a second, then you heard him chuckle. 

“To see what your insides feel like.”

The line disconnected, and there was a sudden flicker of the lights. He was here. He had to be. 

You were checking every single closet and door, your heart beating fast, panicking. Where was he? He had to be somewhere in your house. 

Your cell phone rang again. You didn’t bother to check the number. You knew it was him.

“What do you want?” You asked, your voice shaking as you struggled to hold the phone in your hand. 

No response. 

“This isn’t funny! I’m going to call the police!” You threatened as you pressed your back against the wall, trying to keep your eyes everywhere. 

You heard the man chuckling again at the other end, causing goosebumps to raise the thin hairs on your arms. 

“Aww! Don’t be like that, baby. I’m just having some fun.” You could practically hear him smirking.

“Well, I’m not!” You spat before the lights began to flicker again. 

“Stop it!”

“Alright, alright. You’re being such a party-pooper. Here, I’ll tell you what. I’ll stop messing with you, if you let me fuck you.” 

“Excuse me?!” You gasped, eyes widened. 

“Come on. It’ll be fun. I’ll even keep my mask on,” he cooed. 

“No way!”

“Why not? It’s Halloween. I’m a trick-or-treater. I already did my tricks, now I’m ready for my treat.”

“I-I have a boyfriend!” You then blurted out. 

“You just told me you didn’t.”

“I know that.”

“So that ‘no’’ was a yes? I don’t like that you lied to me like that. Hmm..well, he doesn’t have to know, baby. It’ll be our little secret.”

“No,” you replied. 

“Alright. Fine. We can do this the hard way,” he responded just before the lights went completely dark. The line cut off on the other end, and you were left with silence. 

You covered your mouth and tried to calm down. You had to find something to defend yourself with. Maybe a baseball bat or something. Or you could go back to the kitchen and grab a pan or knife. 

Without removing yourself from the wall, you began to make your way to the kitchen. 

In the dark, you quickly made your way to the drawers and found a knife before proceeding to turn on the flashlight on your phone just as you heard something coming from upstairs. 

“Shit shit shit!” You breathed, gripping onto the knife with one hand and your phone with the other before you slowly began to make your way up the stairs , looking all around you.

You jumped when you heard a door slam behind you, and you slowly turned around to see a dark figure at the end of the hall. 

“Who are you?!” You called out, taking a couple steps back, still gripping the knife tightly. Your legs began to tremble a bit. 

The figure then turned around. A white ghost-like mask covered their face. You could hear a low chuckle coming from them as they began to take a step closer, holding their own, bloody knife in his hand. 

“Get away from me! I’m serious!” You threatened, but he continued to make his way closer to you, so, you dashed into your bedroom, not noticing something on the floor that caused you to trip and fall onto your bed, the knife slipped out of your hand, along with your phone, both landing on the floor with a thump.

Once you managed to push your body up, you glanced over your shoulder and saw the figure standing right behind you, causing you to scream. You tried to scramble back, but he grabbed one of your legs, lifting the knife towards you to strike. 

You quickly reached for a pillow and started hitting him with it. It worked for a second, and he stumbled back. But, it gave you enough time to get out of bed. 

However, your efforts were not sufficient,and he grabbed you, tossing you back onto the bed with a thump before he crawled over you, pinning your hands behind your head and straddling your waist. 

A low chuckle could be heard coming from him before he leaned over and whispered against your ear, “You’re so cute when you’re scared.”

Your heart pounded against your chest, struggling to break free as tears pricked over your eyes. 

“Please, let me go..” you whimpered. 

“Not until I get my treat, sweetheart,” he reminded her as he sat up and began to pull down his pants underneath the black cloak. 

“Aye, mierda, this thing..”he huffed under his breath as he hiked the cloak up above his waist. 

Wait a second. That voice..it sounded familiar. Too familiar. And there was only one person you knew who would curse like that. 

“M-Miguel?”

“Yeah?” He paused, looking down at you through his mask, his persona now forgotten. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?! It was you doing this the whole time?!” You shrieked as you started smacking him, hitting him with all your might. 

“You asshole!”

Miguel simply laughed as he grabbed hold of your hands. 

“Come on, nena! I was just messing with you!” He continued to laugh. “You should’ve seen the look on your face. It was adorable.”

“G-get off of me!” You were pissed at the stunt your boyfriend pulled. 

“But I want my treat,” you just knew that he was pouting under his mask. 

“I’m not giving you anything you big jerk! Now get off and turn my lights back on!” You demanded, shoving him off of you. 

“Fine,” he muttered before fixing himself and got off the bed and headed out of your room. 

You laid in your bed for a moment, trying to relax. You never thought Miguel would do such a thing. He really had you scared shitless. 

Shaking your head and gathering your thoughts, you got up from bed, grabbing the knife you dropped on the floor and began to make your way downstairs just as the lights came back on. 

Miguel was already in the kitchen, mask removed and munching on the popcorn you had made. 

You placed the knife back where it belonged before turning to face Miguel, crossing your arms over your chest. 

Miguel looked over at you after popping some more popcorn into his mouth, giving you a cheeky grin. 

“Heeey..” he reached over to you, pulling you over by the arm. “Don’t be mad. Please. Forgive me?”

He gave you big puppy dog eyes. And for someone as big as him, it was actually adorable. But you were still mad at him. He actually had you fearing for your life. 

“No,” you respond curtly, glaring up at him. Why did he think you would just forgive him so easily?

“How did you even get in here?” You asked as he pulled you into a tight hug.

“You showed me where you keep your spare key, remember?”

“Oh, yeah..” 

“Soo..”he smirked then. “Can I get my treat now?”

“You’re insufferable. Fine! Fine,” you finally agreed with a nod. “But, I swear if you do something like that again, I’m breaking up with you."

Miguel gave you a toothy grin before pulling his mask back down before pulling out his knife from under his cloak. With closer inspection, you realize it was just a fake prop knife with red paint over it. 

“Wait, how did you change your voice?” You suddenly asked. 

Miguel pulled out a little box-like device and held it to his face before speaking to it, his voice sounding completely different. 

“Oh.”

“Now, let’s have some fun, shall we?” Miguel stated before he started chasing you around the kitchen, with you now playing along. 

After you had given the last of the candy out to trick-or-treaters and finished up the popcorn, you and Miguel were upstairs in your room, with you on your knees, sucking him off. 

He was still clad in his costume, having his cloak bunched up around his waist. 

“Oh, fuck, that’s it. Just like that,” he groaned, tilting his head back as you bobbed your head and pumped him in your hand. You couldn’t help but to slip your hand into your panties and finger yourself, letting out moans around his cock.

He began to thrust into your mouth, holding your head still with his hand. You continued to finger yourself. 

“Such a naughty little angel you are, nena. Taking my cock in so well,” he praised before letting out another groan, feeling himself close to his orgasm. However, he pulled himself out of your mouth, stunting his release. He wanted to be inside you for that. He pulled up on onto your feet before he knelt down before you, removing his mask before shooting you a playful wink and removed your white shorts and panties before half of his face disappeared between your legs. 

You let out a moan when you felt it. His tongue, running along your folds, picking up your wetness with greed. He lifted you up by the thighs, placing a hand on your back before lifting you up on the floor and blindly made his way to the closet wall, pinning you there. 

“Oh, Miguel!” You whined, tilting your head back against the wall, squeezing his head between your thighs as he slurped and nipped at your aching pussy.

Muffled moans could be heard coming from his mouth, sending vibrations through your body. You started bucking your hips against her mouth, needing more of his tongue. 

You let out another whine, needing more. You needed more of him. You needed him inside you.

“Migueeeel!” You pouted as you continued to grind your hips against him. All he needed was his mouth to send you over the edge, and he knew how to use it well. He had you seeing stars and reaching for the moon with how his tongue danced along your bundle of nerves and slipped into your soaking pussy.

However, he pulled away before you were able to reach your peak. 

“No!” You cried out, causing him to chuckle. He gently removed you from his shoulders and carried you to your bed, dropping you. 

“Don’t fret, nena. We got all night. It’s still Halloween. And I am going to enjoy my treat for as long as I can. I did tell you and wanted to feel your insides, after all,” he said as he slipped his mask back down and took off everything else, leaving himself naked. 

He proceeded to remove most of your clothes, leaving just your halo and wings on before flipping you over so you were on your stomach. 

“On your hands and knees, angelita,” he ordered, giving you ass a playful smack, causing you to let out a yelp. You did as he said and positioned yourself before him, ass in the air and face down onto the mattress. 

You could hear him stroking himself in his hand, and the sound made your mouth water. 

“I know you want me in that tight little pussy, nena. Don’t worry, I got you,” Miguel smirked before plunging himself into your warm, wet cunt, causing you to arch your back and cry out his name. 

Miguel didn’t wait to set at a brutal pace, pivoting himself against you, balls slapping against your clit. You let out a lewd moan, your eyes rolling back just as Miguel grabbed a fistful of your hair and leaned over, his phone in hand. He took a quick photo of the two of you. 

“You better not show that to anyone,” you whimpered. 

“Of course not. This is all for me. No one gets to see you like this, angelita,” Miguel cooed, and you felt him resting his masked face against your hair, as if trying to give you a kiss. 

“Now, you gonna cum for me?”

You could feel him hitting that sweet spot that made you see stars, and you cried out a ‘yes’ in response, nodding your head. 

“Yes! Yes yes! I will! Please..just like that!”

“That’s my girl,” he praised, giving your ass a hard smack that had you cumming instantly. 

You gripped onto the bed sheets as Miguel continued to thrust into you past your orgasm. He loved filling you up and mixing your juices with his. And that’s just what he did. A couple more thrusts and he came inside you. 

“Oh, fuck..that felt good,” Miguel sighed as he slowly pulled out of you, marveling at how your cunt dripped with his seed. 

Taking off his mask completely, he pulled you into his arms and kissed you passionately. 

“I’m still mad at you,” you reminded him, poking him hard on the chest.

He simply laughed and pecked your lips a couple of times. “Sorry, nena. I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” he cooed, nuzzling his face against your neck.

“Happy Halloween.” 

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@xaaaaaaax, @randomwriteralan, @migueloharastruelove, @camzzn

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | damned if i do ya (damned if i don't)

a/n: oooohhhh i love them bad. the slow burn is slow burning a little bit. btw the song is daylight by 5sos!

series masterlist | previous | next

v. damned if i do ya (damned if i don't) by all time low

all the progress luke thought he was making with you was thrown out the window after the concert. at first, he was glad to have some distance between you guys. he was dealing with sorting out what he felt for you. it was stupid, really, how he realized that you reminded him a lot of his childhood nickelodeon crush, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it was more than that. 

sure, you were a fucking headache sometimes, but he liked it. he liked you. he liked how you always tore him a new one, made him feel normal, like he wasn’t luke castellan – lead singer of poisoned mercury, he was just luke when he was with you. you asked him about his music, his life, but knew when to stop right before the conversation got too heavy because you understood him. you knew how he felt even when he didn’t say it. 

maybe he’d just been around his bandmates too much, teenage boys with emotional iqs of a thumbtack, but you took one look at him and he knew that you understood what he was feeling. as great of a writer he was when it came to music, he was never good with expressing how he felt. 

but now, it’s been weeks since you last talked to him, like really talked to him. whenever he’d see you in your smoke spot, he’d try to start a conversation, but you’d stuff your vape in your pocket and walk away before he could even say hi. you stopped going to the gym in the morning, often coming into the cabin after your workout during random times of the day, no longer following a set schedule. you rarely hung out with the boys, opting to retire into your room earlier than usual. you still joined clarisse during her counselor duties, but she stopped letting the boys tag along when luke was available as much as she used to. she’d offer an apologetic smile to luke and slip out an excuse why he couldn’t join for music lessons. 

luke was tired of it. he didn’t know what went wrong, what he did wrong, to make you act so cold towards him. even when you didn’t know him yet, you were never like this. you always had a snide remark ready for him, but now, he was met with silence. 

on the bright side, he at least had inspiration to write new songs. 

he wandered into the cabin, thinking that it would be empty. clarisse was being held hostage at arts and crafts again. (she complained the whole morning about it until chris offered to join her so she wouldn’t be the only one covered in glitter this time.) the stolls were in the studio recording the instrumentals for the song luke showed them a few days ago. they’d asked him who the song was about, though he had a feeling they already knew. he wasn’t really trying to be secretive with the words. and you, luke could only wonder where you were. 

he stopped in his tracks at the sound of mr. d’s voice in your room. your bedroom door was wide open and luke feared that you’d see him so he hid around the corner, back pressed against the wall. 

“this is serious, kid,” mr. d yelled. “your teammate is pressing charges so i need the full story! i don’t care if you don’t want to talk about it. this can go on your record permanently.” 

“so let it!” you screamed back. luke heard you pacing around your room, heavy steps against the cabin floors. “i don’t care.” 

“i care! i’ve been pretty goddamn lenient when it comes to you, y/n, but this?” mr. d countered, veins on his neck bulging out as he raised his voice. luke had never seen him like this, “this is fucking serious. you need to tell me exactly what happened.” 

“she was talking about you, okay?” you sobbed. you sat on your bed, hands buried in your open palms. “she said something about your addiction. i don’t fucking know how she found out, but she said something and i just lost it, dad. she was talking out her ass and i just needed her to shut up because she didn’t know what the fuck she was talking about.” 

mr. d’s tongue poked the inside of his cheek. he gulped, not saying a word. your dad looked at the decorated wall of your bedroom, polaroids of you and your friends, your framed high school field hockey jersey, and the concert ticket from the first show he ever took you to. he looked down at the pink rug on your floor, unable to say anything. 

you looked up at him, eyes brimmed with tears, “there, i told you. happy now?” 

it wasn’t long before mr. d stormed out of the cabin. luke flinched as the door slammed shut behind him. he heard you sobbing in your bedroom and he contemplated approaching you. you were already mad at him, for a reason that he still didn’t know, so what the hell? 

with a deep breath, luke emerged from the corner and walked towards your door. his knuckles softly knocked on the open door. you looked up at the noise, rubbing your eyes with your forearm. you chewed on your bottom lip, “not in the mood to argue, castellan.” 

“not here to argue,” he stood under your door frame, leaning against the side. “i’m here to see if you’re okay.” 

you had this habit of running away from things when you knew it had the power to hurt you. it wasn’t the healthiest coping mechanism, but your fight or flight response was triggered every time you started catching feelings for someone. it didn’t happen often, you developing actual feelings for people. you developed crushes, sure, but not feelings. 

you didn’t get googly-eyed and love-dumb with guys. you knew better– growing up with a dad who could quite literally transform people’s lives with a snap of his finger made you hyperaware of people’s intentions with you. but sometimes, you get blinded by the guy who sweeps you off your feet and you forget about it all. 

after the concert, you couldn’t stop thinking about luke. you already knew what kind of person he actually was, kind, caring, talented, all of the above, but there was still a nagging voice in your head telling you: “what if this is all an act?” “what if this is his move? pretending to be a different guy from the tabloids just to get you to fall for him then break your heart like everyone else did?” so you fled. you ran away from luke. 

clarisse caught onto you avoiding luke fairly quickly. she no longer saw you two walking into the cabin together in the early mornings when she was getting ready for the day. you started declining invitations to hang out at the activities center, stopped having time to help her with music lessons when the band was tagging along, and started hanging out with her in your room instead of the common space. 

she asked you about it after a week of the same thing. you told her you just weren’t in the mood, lacked energy. you said a million excuses but she could see right through you. you and the lead singer weren’t really subtle with your longing glances. 

you crossed your legs under you, pulling the blanket up to cover your legs. you moved over on your bed, tilting your head to let him inside. luke took his shoes off and closed the door behind him, sock-clad feet tapping against the wooden floors. he sat on the edge of your bed, playing with the stray thread on your blanket. 

“you ever feel like your parents wish they had a different kid?” you whispered, “maybe a kid that wasn’t so difficult?” 

“all the time,” luke replied, “every time my name is in the tabloids, i swear it takes years off my mom’s life.” 

you laughed, sniffling, “you need to take it easy on your mom. she’s too good for this world.” 

“that she is,” he leaned back on his elbows, resting his head on his shoulder. he tapped your leg under the blanket, “you know your dad loves you, right?”

“yeah,” you sighed, looking at luke. your makeup was smudged under your eyes and it took all his power not to lean over to wipe it away. you hunched your shoulders over when you spoke again, “just feels like sometimes i’m too much for him and i don’t know how to stop doing that.” 

“i don’t think you should.” 

it was the truth. you dealt in extremes. you were intense but it was only because you were passionate about things. he’d seen you practicing for hours, staying up late to help the younger kids with their projects even if it wasn’t your job, bossing people around to make sure that the camp activities were perfect. when you put your mind to something, luke knew there was no stopping you. 

“so i’m guessing you heard that whole thing with my dad?” 

“yeah,” luke rubbed the back of his neck. he looked at you, feeling caught that he’d been listening in on your private conversation. “i didn’t know anyone was in here when i walked in.” 

“it’s fine,” you shrugged, “pretty sure the whole camp heard my dad yelling anyways.” 

he laughed, “probably. i’d never seen him like that before. he’s usually so chill. it kinda caught me off guard.” 

“me too.” 

“it’s not as bad as when my mom yells at me though,” luke offered, trying to lighten the mood. he grinned when he saw your eyes brighten. you never did pass up the opportunity to have luke embarrass himself. if he could stop you from crying, he would lay out all his embarrassing stories in front of you for your listening pleasure. “the time she found out that me and trav got banned from wichita, like the whole city, she got so mad that the hotel we were staying at kicked us out because there were so many noise complaints. had to sleep on the bus. my back was killing me the entire time we were playing a show the next day.” 

“what the fuck did you guys do that warranted a ban from the whole city?” 

luke’s cheeks turned pink, “we mooned a cop car.” 

you bursted into uncontrollable laughter, falling back on your pillows. luke watched you, laughing along at your reaction. you were crying again, but it was a good cry this time. luke thought you looked pretty like this; cheeks red, eyes shut as you tried to regain your composure, and smiling, all teeth and lips. he hadn’t seen it in a while and he wanted to take a picture of you right now just so he could always remember how you looked at this moment. he wasn’t sure if he could survive another few weeks without seeing it again.

luke nudged you as your laughter died down, “if shit goes down with your teammate, there will be three of us with a permanent record in this cabin.”

you smiled at him, sadly, voice returning to the hushed tone you used earlier, “you think my dad could forgive me for this?” 

“don’t think anyone could hold a grudge against you even if they tried, five star,” luke placed a hand on your thigh covered by the blanket. he relished in the feeling of the hand you placed over his own. it felt intimate. “what does your mom think about all of this?” 

“i dunno,” you played with the rings on his hand, twisting the silver metals on his fingers, “i haven’t talked to her about it yet. been avoiding her calls.” 

“well, happy to know that i wasn’t the only one getting the silent treatment,” he teased, no bite to his voice. “shit, five star, even with your punishments, you still manage to not make me feel special.” 

you squeezed his hand, a giggle escaping your lips, “shut up.” 

luke looked at you, “you should probably talk to her soon.” 

“i will,” you nodded, meeting his gaze, “soon.” 

the two of you stayed there in silence, you playing with his rings and the bracelets on his arm. you were so enamored by the silver jewelry on his hand, twirling his rings to read each engraving, looking at each design, humming in appreciation. you looked at the camp half blood bracelet on his wrist, recognizing the beads on the string. 

“i can’t believe you got a camp bracelet before i did this summer,” you huffed, admiring the beads. “i’ve been here longer than you and nobody made me one yet.” 

“a little girl made it for me,” luke said, smiling at the memory. “i helped her with her with the production of the song for her summer project and she made it for me.” 

“i didn’t know you also produced music.” luke castellan continued to surprise you. 

“not well,” he replied. “just the basics, but i like to think i helped her out. annabeth— you know her? the kid with perfect pitch. fucking brilliant. smarter than i was at her age.”

“i love beth. i’m pretty sure she’s the smartest 12-year-old to ever exist,” your eyes twinkled, moving your index finger to his own, “what’s the story with this one?”

luke looked down at the ring you were touching. it was the silver ring he bought for himself using his first paycheck from their album sales. it cost him a pretty penny, but it was worth it. the font was tiny, but he memorized the words. 

“aγάπη χωρίς πείσματα δεν έχει νοστιμάδα,” luke said, no doubt butchering the pronunciation. “it’s greek. my mom used to read greek proverbs to me as a child. i think she hoped i’d become the next great philosopher, but instead i became a musician. this phrase stuck with me.”

“what does it mean?”

“love without a bit of stubbornness isn’t tasteful,” he whispered, “it’s a little reminder to myself that even though i can be difficult as shit sometimes, i’m worth it.”

luke cleared his throat, “had a tough time when we first got big. i’m sure you’ve heard of some stories. there was a time when me and my mom didn’t talk much. i thought i knew what was best and i pushed her away. i was so stubborn, five star.” 

“my dad left when i was a kid and for second, i thought i would lose my mom too,” he shook his head, the bitter taste of regret in his mouth as he recalled those memories. “im glad i didn’t. this ring reminds me that no matter how stubborn i am, i still deserve love, y’know? maybe it’s stupid, but sometimes i doubt it. mom always told me that love isn’t supposed to be easy, but it’s supposed to always be worth it– worth all the trouble, the stubbornness, the hurt, so this little phrase keeps me grounded in a weird way.”

“worth it to an extent,” you said. there was something hidden in your words like you were somehow asking him if you fell within the extent of it being worth it. it was in the look in your eye, doubt and worry that maybe you pushed it too far this time and you were no longer worth the fight. 

“extent is subjective. i know my mom thinks i’m worth it. i know that no matter how much me and the stolls get into fights, our friendship is worth it. i know that even though me and chris grew up to be different people, our bond is worth it,” luke leaned in closer as if he was going to tell you a secret, something that stays between you and him, only allowed to be spoken within the walls of your room. “and you, five star–” 

he couldn’t finish his sentence. his words got caught in his throat. he was afraid that if he kept talking, he wouldn’t be able to stop. he didn’t know if there was a universe out there where fighting for you wouldn’t be worth it. had you been thinking about him all this time you’d been apart? have your thoughts been plagued by the idea of him? all he could think of was you. all his songs were about you. it seemed like everything had been about you since he met you. 

is it too much too soon to even say things like that? luke didn’t know where you stood, if you even felt the same way about him as he did about you. how evil must the world be to have you exist in his orbit but not allow him to fight for you? 

the corner of your lips lifted a tiny bit and luke knew he didn’t need to say anything else. you understood. 

luke wanted to stop you when you removed your hand from his, but he didn’t want to test his luck. you dug through the drawer by your bed, pulling out the familiar vape, “i could really go for a smoke right now but this stupid thing died.” 

an idea popped into luke’s mind. he got up, motioning for you to do the same. you stayed seated on your bed, eyebrow raised in concern. 

“come on,” luke sighed, playfully rolling his eyes when you still refused to get up. he held out his hand, looking down at you. “you trust me?” 

you glanced at him then at his hand, deciding. it felt like a loaded question, like he was asking about something more than if you’d go with him to whatever adventure he had planned for the both of you. his heart hammered in his chest as he waited for your answer. you didn’t say anything to his question, unsure if you could rationalize your decision, but when you laced your fingers with his, luke didn’t let go of your hand until you were both out of the campgrounds.

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Treasures of the Fraud

♡ featuring: pantalone x f!reader

♡ summary: it's been forever since you've seen your friend, and as the hero of liyue, a new interruption has arisen. you pursue it, only to find memories awaiting you. wc: 9.1k+ (D:)

♡ cw/tw: long lonnggg fic, obsession, mentions of murder, mention of suicide, mentions of blood, manipulation, toxic pantalone, mean pantalone, possessive, spanking, degradation, mild praise, fingering, thigh riding, missionary, overstim, begging, edging, comeshot, pet names (darling, slut)

notes: helloooo!! ive been slow to get stuff out college is kicking my ass rn so sorry. not proofread so i apologize for any mistakes. I can't wait to have more time :) art by yion_yi on ig! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

12 years ago 

“Come get me!” 

The boy with inky curls spiraling down his back dips through trees, ducking under low hanging branches embellished with vibrant autumn foliage. Messy blends of pink and purple melt across the slowly bleeding sun carried into the night. His silhouette resembles that of a malevolent spirit peeking behind the boughs, leaping over tangled twigs and shallow ditches. His excited screeches signal you to chase after the leading direction. You’re both screaming and laughing down the undoubtedly dangerous shortcuts. If your mother knew about the adventurous risks you were taking at 13, you’d never leave the house again. Tag is a troubling game—despite the thousands of times you’ve played with him, you regularly end up being “it”. You don’t care about losing, though; having someone to call a friend is enough.  

You turn into a clearing with columns of trees overseeing your small presence, hundreds of them. The colder night is rising, not a celestial body to shield.  In this deep blue void, the leaves seem to be aggrieved at your interruption of some secret meeting, angry and smiling faces crumpling in the whispering wind. You spin around frantically, looking for signs or laughter, but neither reveal themself. It’s quiet besides the downy linger of grass. Your shoulders are snatched back and shaken to a rattling shock. You scream, and he laughs. 

“Rahhh! Did I get you?” he jests. Your eyebrows narrow, and you push him lightly to a stumble. 

“You scared me!” 

“Hah, that’s the point. C’mon, it’s late. Let’s go.” He's scared too, swiftly grabbing your hand as you both brave the darkness back to the village. 

“We should’ve been home a while ago” you say quietly. You feel the chill in your bones and press yourself closer to him. 

“Yea.” He holds your hand tighter at the sound of a small rock bouncing down a steep hill. 

“I had fun today. Let’s do this again tomorrow.” 

“I have something to tell you.” 

“Okay.” 

“I’m moving in the morning” he states. It was nonchalant, but your stomach turns a churning sickness. One you can’t understand yet, it makes you uneasy. 

“Oh. Okay, then.” It isn't okay, not in the slightest. But it had to be. Your best friend of 8 years looks at you, aiming to register the gravity of the situation. You both say nothing, but tears start to brim in your eyes in the silence. You wipe them with your arm. 

“Will you miss me?” he asks. 

“A lot.” 

“I’ll miss you too. Lots and lots.” He sways your interlocking hands. You pass by vacant homes tattered and aged by abandonment, overgrown with invading ivy. Homeless reside, caring each other to warmth from the freezing draft. You were lucky to have a home in this little forgotten sector of Liyue. It's a small, unfortunate room, with holes in the roof that drips when it rains and bags over the windows to keep the heat in. The stove never works, and you share a bed with your mother, but every birthday she makes sure to save just enough for a slice of cake with one candle. There isn’t more you could ask for. Everyone in the village suffered from poverty but they made it work, sharing crops and dairy to persevere until the next year. That’s how you met him, sitting on a rock as your mother collected rations. You perform two pebbles in your hands, mumbling sea shanties while imagining voyage on a grueling journey—he sat next to you. 

“Those aren’t dolls. They’re rocks.” 

“You’re a rock” you retorted.  

“No, I’m not.” 

“Do you want to be a rock?” 

“...That’d be kinda cool.” You gave him a pile of pebbles, and he joined the trip. 

You’re getting closer to the village, still processing who you’ll play with once he’s gone. You glance at him, he’s spaced out in a faraway stare. You crave the power to read minds. 

“Can we talk about something? I’m getting sad” you sniffle. 

“What should be talk about?” 

“What are you going to do after you move?” 

“I’m gonna be super rich” he assures, looking up at the starless sky as if a meteor would shoot across and grant his wish. “What about you?” 

“I’m going to save the world” you proclaim.  

“Cool. I hope you do.” 

“Me too.” 

You arrive at your makeshift door drawn together with scraps of wood and twisted rope for hinges. A dim candle glimmers inside, most likely your vexed mother waiting for your tardily return. He makes space for your entry, and you undo your hands for the last time. Before you go, he snatches your wrist. His eyes are foggy, cheeks an anxious tinge of pink. He isn’t sure what he’s feeling, but the strings in his heart are tense. His mouth shapes to say something, but nothing returns. 

“Yeah?” 

“...I... I’ll really miss you a lot” he whispers with a lump in his throat.  

“Then don’t forget me, okay?” 

“I won’t.” 

“You promise?” you say and raise your pinky towards him. He curls around it. “I promise.” 

“Good. By the way, you’re it now.” 

“I’ll get you back when I see you again!” he chuckles. You bid your goodbyes, unaware that it would mark the unforeseen conclusion. 

Leaves crunch under your feet as you make your leisurely traverse to Liyue Harbor. It’s just before sunrise and you finished helping the elderly in Qingce Village carry copious amounts of heavy produce to their homes. The thankful candies from seniors' jingle in your pocket as you stretch your weary arms. Your mom offered to cook, but you're determined to locate the best commissions Katheryne had before afternoon. “Maybe I’ll pick up some rice buns” you think out loud at the rumble of your growing appetite. You still had a long way to go before you got to the harbor. 

This was your new normal. After your thundering battle with Ningguang and Keqing against Osial, you became an example of Liyue’s triumph. You also became more aware of Fatui tactics, wiping out their swarms with the raging fury of your pneuma and swinging vision. Days of grueling bloodshed resulted in your victory, cementing you as the lionheart of Liyue. Beat up and bruised, the only request you made after your fight was a hot meal and a place for your mom to retire. They delivered both, and you used your recent hero status to provide help to the villagers where needed, be it casual favors or ruthless assault on Fatui agents. You were neither rich nor poor, and lived off the land and kindness of the Liyue Qixing. They often suggested you focus on less mundane tasks, but to you, the most vulnerable age groups warranted priority. There was something about the lighthearted innocent squeals of children and mellow grandparents rocking in their wooden chairs that made you protective to an almost volatile extent. 

Bustling interactions of trade and commerce carry through the wind as you enter the harbor—a sound that’s brought you peace for years. The smell of food vendors has you drooling instantly. As you devour the complimentary rice bun, you feel the yank of a little hand on your skirt. You look down and a boy with brown hair searches for familiarity in your face. You recognize him, babysitting him numerous times. You kneel and pat his head, but he doesn’t react or move.  

“Hey, what’s up? Where are your parents?” you question, briefly scanning your immediate area for his family. He’s hesitant to speak, as if he can’t find the panicked words, and rushes into your arms. You hug him instinctively and let him sniffle into your shoulder. You pick him up in your grasp and raise his head with your other hand so that he’ll hopefully be open to your compassion.  

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” The boy wipes his chubby tomato-red face. “Grandma is on the floor, what do I do?” You quell your rising nerves to suppress his alarm and speak calmly.  

“Where is she?” 

Speed walking towards the destination, the commotion of a small crowd surrounds a kneeling woman in the distance. She’s on her sun-spotted hands and knees, wailing for some bygone Archon. “Grandma!” he yells and jumps out of your arms. You run after him, relieved that the worst case scenario hadn’t occurred. You push through the group and get eye level with her, forehead pressed to the ground spouting religious scripture. 

“Are you okay? Do you need medical assistance?” Wise sunken eyes wrinkled with age and torn by tragedy stick to your heart. Her feeble hands encapsulate yours, and tears stream down her cheeks. “They took my baby!” she rasps, rocking back and forth. “Who did?” you ask, and she weeps harder. “They took her memory...my baby, my daughter!” You support her weight and lift her hunched figure off the pavement. “What did they look like, ma’am?” 

“A black hood...red mask” she recalls shakily. Instantly miscellaneous chatter ensues. They whisper nervously in each other's ears, he who shall not be named steals their voices. “Fatui probably got ‘er” you hear the mumble of one. Fatui. Your blood boils at the word, and you direct your view to the shrinking man with hands in his pockets. “‘He’ got all of us” he scoffs. “Did they hurt you guys, too?” you ask, and they stare. They’re pained but accepting.  

“500,000 mora.”  

“194,000 for me.” 

They list off their debt one by one, and you’re horrified at the accumulating number. They seem to endure, however; no longer phased by the incurable tally haunting their lives. “H-how are you paying any of this?” 

“We can’t. It adds up. Interest, late payments, it always does. So, we give everything, and ‘he’ takes everything, until we have nothing left. We die poor without a possession to our name” a woman sighs. As a child, you heard of the loan sharks that purposely fed false promises to the poor, and once they were reeled in, charged insurmountable payments to blackmail—it was the origin story of most people in your birthplace. Your soul aches for them, but is there anything you can do? 

“...I’ll help you, all of you. I’m sure I can-” 

Ningguang arrives. She's a nurturing figure to you, the kind that asks if you’ve been eating well and politely scolds you.  “What happened?” You lead the tired elder to the Jade Chamber, and she tells her story through choked sobs. You didn’t expect Keqing to already be there, arms folded and turned away from the situation. Ningguang can barely glance at the woman. 

“They stormed my home and took my jewelry and belongings. They took the pendant my daughter gave me; it had her face in it. Archons give me strength, my baby! I can’t afford it; I have nothing!” she quakes. You rub her back and Ningguang nods, listening—you can’t help but notice the anxiety blooming on her abstracted face. They take her through the process and once she leaves, Ningguang and Keqing look at each other with a silent understanding. The room is eerily quiet, and Ningguang paces back and forth in front of the intel wall contemplating an uncertain danger. You fumble with your thumbs. 

“What are we going to do about this?” you wonder. Keqing clears her throat loudly, attracting the attention of Ningguang. She looks at you, and sighs deeply. “We already know about this issue.” 

Your ears perk up. “Great, so how can I help?” 

“By doing nothing, (Y/N)” Keqing says. 

“...What?” 

“I have eyes everywhere; I’ve known for a long time. The Fatui are not people to be taken lightly, especially the harbingers. A few of their skirmishers were caught trading exotic goods and taxing medicine at high prices, on top of extorting the impoverished regions.” Ningguang points to one of the many Fatui exclusive headquarters on the wall. “Pantalone is the richest man in Teyvat, he has more political influence than anyone can imagine, and they answer to him. We can’t risk getting involved with this. They’ve brought this upon themselves, and unfortunately, they must deal with the consequences.” 

You can’t accept this response. How can they just desert them? It doesn’t comprehend in your naïvity—you scold yourself for not spotting the signs sooner, furrowing your brows and looking at them with distaste. “I expected this. You shouldn’t have said anything” Keqing chides. “...Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped before-” 

“You’re the last person I wanted to know about this” Ningguang interrupts. Your anger feels misplaced, and you bite your lip in restraint. She sits next to you and offers fleeting comfort with a graceful hand on yours. “You’re quite the reactionary type. In due time, this will be sorted. But right now, I need you to calm down, and trust me.” It sounds desperate, you know you shouldn’t go looking for answers, but a snagging thread pulls at the back of your consciousness, all too convincing. You bounce your leg. “You should want revenge just as much as me. Where we came from, where they end up, it isn’t fair.”  

“You know I do, more than anything. But we must handle this with care, before too many people get hurt. I’m doing this for the betterment of Liyue as a whole. It’s not easy to make these decisions.” 

“We can’t just go around serving justice, there’s laws we have to act with” Keqing adds. You don’t reply and stand up abruptly to leave. The worried Tianquan grabs your wrist one last time. “Promise me you won’t make a mistake, (Y/N). I’m trying to protect you” she pleads. 

“I promise. Thank you.” You flash a half genuine smile, already planning to rebel against her wishes. 

Who exactly is ‘he’—Pantalone. You don’t even know where to start looking. Too many headquarters, infinite possibilities. The best way you have to find him is through Fatui agents.  

You start taking up odd jobs late in the evening, scouring for the possibility that a fatui agent might fall into your hands. Though you considered playing the part of an impoverished villager taking out a loan at Northland Bank, it didn’t guarantee that you’d meet Pantalone in the flesh—it’s more likely that would raise unnecessary suspicion in the process. It’s awkward at first, seeing the hero of Liyue fish on the dock for petty change throughout the night. As you do, the malicious fire in your eyes burns bright at the occasional voice in chill silence. Your vision glows as you toss the hunting knife between your nimble digits. Listening closely to conversations, hoping that one might be unguarded enough to slip up, but nothing of the sort appears—not even the boldness of Fatui skirmishers enables them to divulge secrets under the baleful existence of Celestia.  

The moon illuminates sweetly on the tranquil waters lulling you to drowse. You hadn’t heard much since the start of your escapade. A fishing pole is weak in your resistless hold, and you’ve evidently given up on the idea of portraying the hardworking fisherman tonight. You vowed to help the people of Liyue, but justice was seemingly unfeasible. Maybe a direct approach? Should I ambush their headquarters? More so a suicide mission, you’d have no luck achieving that. Just as you’re about to leave, the crunch of withering grass straightens your posture. You make yourself hidden with a burst of energy and slouch behind the bushes as a Fatui pyro agent charges along the route. Through the glutted leaves obstructing your vision, you can just make out the heavy bag on his shoulder and jagged blade waiting restlessly on the other. His stride points towards Qingce Village. You hold your breath disguising yourself with the scenery and allow him to take a few feet between you before you begin following him. He’s rather shifty, those veiled eyes darting back and forth at the lightest noise. You’re careful to glide behind trees, moving with the heartbeat of the wind and taking advantage of the various melody's nature offers. You suck in a breath and duck behind a boulder a few inches too close, and his head snaps in your direction. The feeling of being watched besets him, but with no way to prove it and time running out, he secures his knife for the hypothetical ambush, and makes haste towards the target. Turning a tree, you watch as the pyro wielder knocks on the house of a small worn cottage. A short stocky man appears, shading half his body behind the door. 

“H-hello...” you hear faintly. The Fatui keeps his hand firm on the door, one boot propped under the hinge. He presents the flaming knife loosely as he towers over the man. “We’ve given you time.” You were sure now that he's working for Pantalone.  

“I don’t have it. P-please, if you could just give me some more-” He slams his fist against the wood, a resounding thump shakes the home. The man cowers. “Give me everything you have. The Regrator won’t wait any long-” 

A small rock flies past his mask, skidding on the ground until it comes to a stop. He glares in the direction of the tree you’re hiding behind. You have no plan, nothing but the distracting impulse to stop the assailant from attacking. “Stay here” he commands, and stalks towards you. His slow footsteps get increasingly louder, playful stomps toying with your obvious whereabouts. He twirls the razor-sharp knife, and as he sharply peeks around the corner, you’re nowhere to be found. “Here, kitty kitty” he taunts, spinning towards the lake, then the village grounds for footprints. He severs the air aimlessly in mirth, believing some amateur fighter came to challenge him. As he monitors the tracks under you, you drop down from the wiry branches. Legs wrap tight around his neck, and you catch hold of his hood trying to pull his mask off. He gags but he’s too quick, throwing off your steadiness as he slams your spine on the grass. He whips around to take a stab at your chest, but you roll away guarding the vital arteries. You kick him in the crotch, and he recoils giving you ample time to stand.  

You can’t feel the wet laceration dripping down your abdomen as you take a slash at his throat with your weapon, infused with elemental energy. He leans back and meets your strike. You trade blows, the strength of your smite bursting sparks of light above the scratches and bruises. Your wrist burns with the unmoving knives stumbling you. He begins to manifest blazing knives circling his figure, and you jump back from the singing cut melting the cloth. You wipe the dried blood from your mouth, and in the blink of an eye, he disappears. Suddenly, red auras similar to the pyro agent surround you. One by one, the clones charge at you, and you parry their overhead onslaught. Something is different about the last clone, your vision revealing a brighter outline than the others. When the next clone attacks, as you counter you pretend to fall for his trick. With your eyes on the other, he immediately passes through the black fog to deal the killing blow. You’re quicker this time and heave a heavy tear into his chest. Crimson splatters the grass, it shatters his element and rips open the robe. You tackle him on the dirt and wrestle until you kick his weapon away. Your knee digs into his back, and he can barely breathe with his arm locked behind him and knife rigid against his neck. He ttempts to swing at you, but you wrench his arm tighter and slice into his skin just enough to draw blood. 

“Fuck. Okay!” he wheezes. “Where is Pantalone?”  

“I don’t know what you’re- shit!” You’ve lost patience long ago and twist his arm to dislocate the shoulder. He lets out a blood curdling scream thrashing in pain—you tug hard and focus him. “Shut up and answer my question. Where is Pantalone?” you demand. He hisses in pain and coughs up phlegm mixing with reddening soil. “Kill me.” 

“Just tell me and I’ll let you go.” 

“I’m a dead man, either way.” he rasps and hangs his head waiting for the execution. You grit your teeth; a drop of guilt leaves a bad taste as you thwack the pressure point on his neck that forces him unconscious. You glance at the bag he left and limp over to rummage through the contents. Useless papers crumple under stolen items, but one note catches your eye. Presumably a to-do list, you read to the bottom. A list of homes, goods on standby exchanges—at the bottom of those, a rendezvous point: 

Report back- Yilong Bank, Liyue 

You rest in a plot of prickly bushes and leave in the morning after patching yourself up. You couldn’t stop now, not when you were this close to facing him. You soothe your body from the twigs prodding you all night, and check the wound suppressed by gauze. It’s a light scar now, apparent after bathing in the warm water on the outskirts of Qingce. You contemplated telling Ningguang about what occurred, but imagining the look on her face once she knew kept you moving. 

Tucking your vision where it can’t be viewed, you take a waverider to Yilong Port into the afternoon. You concoct a half-baked scheme, one that relies on every scenario being perfect to a tee. Unreliable, but probably your only chance. The plan amounts to scaling the building and breaking in through the office window, snatching everything owned by the villagers and breaking out before anyone notices. Easy in your capabilities, but you have no idea what the building looks like, nor do you know where the office is. The man driving wears all black, an outfit that stands out from the rest of the region. He stares at you blankly, and once you’re aware, you meet eyes. His smile is uncanny, stretching across his face with an abnormal friendliness. 

“Is this your first time at the port?” he asks, finger tapping the wheel. Be it sleep deprivation or ignorance; you don’t recognize red flags in his behavior.  You smile at the courteous face. “Yeah, the weather’s beautiful out here.” 

“Mhm, hot weather up here. On vacation?” 

“Nah, I have business here.” The minuscule edge of your vision catches in the light. He homes in on the passing twinkle. You wonder why his eyes widen momentarily, and his finger starts to tap methodically, as if memorizing a coded pattern. 

“Business...what kind?” 

“Oh...I have some items to trade.” You close off your answers feeling that you’ve said too much. He subsides with a stale expression. “If you’re looking to trade, you might find luck at Yilong Bank” he utters monotonously.  

“And where is that?” You feign disinterest, but victory is too loud on your tongue. 

“Up the mountain.” The waverider halts at the harbor, and he turns his head away from you unusually cold, akin to a mechanical bot shutting down. “Welcome to Yilong Port.” 

You make yourself invisible in the crowd and wait for nightfall. People still roam the port along with Fatui monitoring the front of the bank, which gives you leeway to blend in as you find passage around the back of the mountain. It’s a steep, dark incline jutted with irregular jagged stones. The imposing size of the climb tangles knots in your stomach, and you wipe the persistent sweat on your top. In one huge leap, you latch onto a craggy indent, and begin your ascension. 

Your legs feel like jelly with each contact of the unforgiving breeze. You sway alongside the spirit of anemo and swallow your anxiety before leaping to the next rock. Shoes plant into rock and nails excavate fresh cobble on the next jump. By the time you’ve realized, you’re already up most of the mountain. You tug yourself even with the land as a barreling gust of wind goads your glance to the ground, kilometers beneath you. Your breath stills, and for a second dizziness overtakes your nerves at the thought of slipping. I could die, one mistake and I’m dead. You focus, and spring to the next piece. Without warning, rock gives way into pebbles at the weight of your foot. You nearly plunge, but anchor onto the small bump out with one hand. You’re dangling off the edge, playing with death while you fortify your body. Hyperventilation makes your heartbeat thrum incessantly and stress palpitates tired muscles; If you didn't have your vision, you would’ve fainted to your demise. You bite the bullet, push your heels in and persevere through the hurdles. The next thing you clutch is malleable in your palm. You vault over the cliff, the smell of dew is overwhelming. The back of the bank—the end goal—is visible.  

One Fatui member remains in the front. You scale up the building effortlessly, nothing compared to the hell you just went through. Shifting window to window, your eyes land on the pitch-black darkness of the room at the top of the building. An ideal glow casts on the fraction of precious gold resting on a coffee table. This has to be it. You slink through the window soundlessly, and land on the balls of your feet. Analyzing the dish, you don’t discern the pendant. You can faintly identify some bookshelves near the dish, and tiptoe further inside. You creep around luxury sofas, and squint at the embellished glass case next to the door, containing all manner of jewelry and valuable possessions. You won; this was it. You scurry to it, moving with abrupt carelessness. One more step. 

Click 

The fireplace you didn’t heed is set aflame. It flickers sneering shadows on the opposite wall and brightens the case. You pause and hope. There’s a confining silence stirring in the room, like someone is with you. The case is visible now, and so is the key to opening it. 

You fell into a trap. 

“Looks like I have a little thief on my hands.”  

A bittersweet voice in the sable, reminiscent of rich dark chocolate, rolls off the room. He steps out obscurity behind his desk and your eyes adjust, revealing the tight black turtleneck compressing his willowy torso and gloves adorned with silver rings. You can’t see the upper part of his face, but the chains of his glasses hang in front of that duping smile. You expected the Fatui harbinger to be on the stronger side, physically intimidating. It’s not physical, but you feel a certain fear boiling in your body. He’s not terrifying, but you tremble. His presence makes your hair stand and sends waves of goosebumps up your arms. You can’t find the will to move your wobbly legs. His charmed laugh rings in your ears and causes you to hold your breath. He has no vision; you shouldn’t be afraid. You could take him on easily, why can’t you fight? 

“Hello, honored hero of Liyue” the headless man taunts. It makes it worse that he knows who you are. How long had he known you were coming? Was your plan doomed from the beginning? Your feet are stuck in molasses as your fight or flight shuts down at the man before you.  

“Now, tell me. What is the little thief doing, barging into my office to take the possessions I worked so hard for? Not very heroic of you, If I may say.” There’s power in his stature—you forget how to speak. He holds his palm out to you. Tangled between his fingers, is the ornate golden pendant you’d been searching for, a woman’s face in the frame. Your eyes widen, and the sweet familiar curve of his lips stretches in amusement. 

“Is this what you’re looking for?” The plod of low-heeled boots accompanies unveiled darkness, and you can observe his entirety. Amethyst eyes drunk with an orchid hue pool into your being. Lazy curls brush against his glasses and kiss his porcelain skin. He’s beautiful, a calm enticing rip current that sweeps you with immeasurable pressure before you can pull yourself out. He leans on the desk, observing the chain halfheartedly. If you weren’t careful, you’d mistake the look on his face for genuine kindness; you’d drown, just like he craved. Nonetheless, you can’t shake the emotion his smile grants. 

“Yes. That’s all I need, and I won’t bother you again” you whisper meekly, hoping that he’d let you go with the pendant in a spur of forgiveness. The jest in his eyes says something different. 

“Come get it.”  

Come get it. Your mind begins to piece the man into a stage of your life you’d forgotten. It can’t be him. Memory tells intrusive truth in short flashes. Inky curls spiraling in front of you as you chase. He was consistently miles ahead of you. It was irrelevant how far apart you were; he’d always find you. That big, curving smile for every match he won. Purple eyes glancing back at yours; the same ones that withheld tears when you said goodbye. 

“Come get me!” 

Tears stream down your eyes for the friend you thought you’d never see again. Childhood laughter bleeds into his current cat-like conniving snicker, and you gaze at his face. 

“I... remember you” you choke. He looks up without a smile, perceiving an unexpected thought, and meets your eyes. There’s a hint of affection in the warm smile beaming on his face. “My my, (Y/N). You have quite the memory.” 

You’re motionless, full of something that catches in your lungs. This isn’t the triumph you wanted, and now that you’re face to face you feel powerless. He must’ve known the entire time. Watching you fight and work alone, sending Fatui to roam in Liyue, all done to toy with you. Your lip quivers, swelling in your already deafening heartbeat.  

“How long...” you utter. He inquires with the tilt of his head. 

“How long have you been messing with me?” Your eyes adhere to the floor, pride that won’t permit you to shed misery for Pantalone. He drinks in your resistant frame, the kind he desires to break; perhaps this game of cat and mouse isn’t done, after all. 

“This hurts me too, (Y/N). I wouldn’t be doing this if you weren’t so…persistent.” Your confusion spills over in shaky, weak huffs. You can’t maintain your composure, and make yourself first to oppose the authoritative man on his own territory. 

“How could you do this to anyone? We grew up poor!” You shout with balling fists. 

“It’s inefficient to dwell on the past” he replies with gentle cadence and languid grace unrepresentative of his cruel tactics. You nearly regret raising your voice. 

“These people are at their wits end and you’re taking advantage of them” you chide. He slowly paces towards you. Pantalone looks down on you from height disparity, but the royal glower pities you, judges worth you can’t see. 

“Driven by emotions, are you that simple? You presumed that if you stormed in here, and professed a touching story, that I would suddenly see the error in my methods?” You’re not sure what you’re here for anymore or why you haven’t left yet. Subconscious urges can't determine if they should slap or hug the man inching towards you. “I simply enforce contracts and exchanges. No one can be swindled by a debt accreted on their own.” 

“No one asks to be poor either” you interject. Pantalone’s a foot away from you now, analyzing your reactions to his personal entertainment. He recalls the blurry past—the pranks you pulled together that ultimately failed from your loud hurried sneakiness tripping to alert the farmers, helping out for loose change so that you’d split a snack between each other that wasn’t big enough to share, gazing at the twinkling night imagining a distant future—you changed and stayed the same, but he keeps wanting more.  

“Weigh the odds. They either die impoverished or live by passage of loans. I merely provide a service. Does that make me so cruel?” You can’t find an answer. 

“You’ll always be my friend, but I need it back. It can’t be much to forgive someone’s debt” you plead.  

“You still consider me a friend?” 

“I think…you’re hurt. And you’re trying to heal. We all are. I know I’ve dealt with a lot as I’ve gotten older and I think you have, too. Power corrupts even the best people in this world, so maybe you’re not a bad person. But you’re doing bad things, and this isn’t the right way to get better.” 

Pantalone is quiet for a few long moments. His hands web his face, but you can clearly see the pearly fangs in his open-mouthed smirk. Then he laughs—dulcet and mocking, it lingers for too long as he throws his head back and relishes the obtuse notion. He gazes with insulting compassion and stalks towards you. 

“Incredibly…. gullible. Mora is the pathway to all endeavors. Devoid of gnosis or divine knowledge, wealth has rendered me impervious to control. Suffering and destitution only manifest if I will it. I am the guise of a false god, an emblem of achievement.” It’s borderline delusional the way he regards himself, arms moving in theatric grandeur, the star of his own opera. 

“Does that make you feel good? Stepping on the backs of the community that raised you, and abandoning them because they chose not to be influenced by greed?” Pantalone towers over you. His fingers brush light against your sensitive ears, trail to your clenched jaw, and finally cup your frustrated cheeks with the cradle of a long-lost lover. 

“It does, in fact. I’m not easily swayed by ridiculous optimism, that’s why I’m at the top. You’ve devoted your blood and tears to a region that will succumb to adversity in your absence. Is that not a pointless feat?” 

“So what? That doesn’t mean we just don’t help people. You have nothing without the Fatui, you’re a pawn just like the others” you retort. He brings his lips close to the shell of your ear, and his breath hot on the untouched skin drags a tingle up your spine. 

“And what do you know about the Fatui?” he whispers. 

“I know enough. You’re all disgusting.” He huffs out his nose. 

“Disgusting isn’t the right word. I’d say...opportunists.” Pantalone backs up, sliding his hand up your chin and tilting your attention to the intense glint. “But you’re clever, I’ll give you that. If only you were clever enough to know your place.” You'd forgotten you were acting out of line. You refocus your mindset to negotiation. 

“I’ll do anything you ask for the debt. Please, just give it back.” The word “anything” evokes a malicious yearning—so forthcoming without understanding the implications of “anything”, of eternity. He caresses your cheek. 

“Anything, hm? Even if I said to give up being a hero for good? Would you still call yourself a heroic traveler if you weren’t allowed to travel or adventure as you please?” he teases. Your mouth opens to refute, but you bite your bottom lip instead. Pantalone walks back to his desk and leans while dangling the golden chain. Now that he’s far, the invading space between you two shows how insignificant you are in this luxury palace. 

“Your resolve moves me. Consider this; make an exchange with me, and I’ll guarantee not only her debt, but the debt of all residents in Liyue forgiven” Your face instantly lights up, ready to accept it without thinking. 

“What is it?” you ask. 

“In exchange for regional loan forgiveness, I want you.” 

“...What?” 

“I want everything you have. It’s the fairest exchange I can make. Your obedience, your loyalty, and your body.”  

The choice turns in your frontal lobe. You can’t fathom giving yourself to a man, let alone a Fatui harbinger. It’s unbecoming of a hero to lie with the enemy. 

“Absolutely not” you assure. 

“Alright. Then allow their village to be reduced to nothing.” No, wait. “You may leave. However, if you do, you’ll cause great misfortune to that woman and her struggling family” You play into his covet so smoothly as you stand in the center of the room, reluctant to leave.  

“I’m not a complete monster, so I’ll give you 5 seconds to make a choice.” He sways the pendant in his hand like the transient time of an hourglass. 5 seconds, all you have to sign your life away. 

“4.”  

What if no one ever sees you again? What’s the point of sacrificing your happiness and freedom, are the people of Liyue truly worth it? 

“3.” 

You could threaten him, take him hostage so that a harbinger might bow to your demands. That, or they kill you, and the village suffers anyway. 

“2.” 

You think of your graying mom, the sweet boy with his chubby red face who cries over the smallest things, the grateful elders that give you candy after every good deed, Ningguang and Keqing stressing over the next financial impact. 

“1.” 

“I’ll do it.”  

Pantalone swings the chain into his palm, an undefeated smug overbearing as he sets it on the desk. There was never a point in resisting; he always got what he wanted, no matter how long it took to achieve it. He waited months—no, years—to get you in this exact moment. There’s a daunting beguiling charm in the way he closes the gap between you two. You glare at him; a temper common people would dread shooting. He assesses the pending punishment and lowers himself eye-level. He grins, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“I can see the defiance in your eyes. Do you want to talk back? Go ahead, challenge me.” You don’t test this scenario and turn your head. “Don’t patronize me. Get it over with, ‘Pantalone’.” 

He quirks an eyebrow, and pliable flesh strains your teeth as your face is gripped rough by satiny leather. You’re twisted sharply to the calm expression—it humbles you. 

“That’s not how you address your superior. What should you call me?” You don’t answer promptly to his liking, and he tightens his grip. “Answer me properly, darling.” 

“...Sir.” Pantalone plants a sickly sugary kiss on your forehead, the kind that makes you forget how petrifying he can be, and lets you go.  

“Good.” He walks back to the desk and sits in the onyx chair embellished with silver jewels fit for a king. His chin rests on bridging hands. “Strip.” 

You don’t move, your heart hammers in your chest at the request and you stir uncomfortably. You have no experience with sexual gratification, let alone exposing yourself to an old friend.  

“(Y/N). Don’t make me say it again.” Keen agitation in his voice serves as a final warning. He eats you with his eyes, homed in on your hands clumsily snaking the top over your head. A glimpse of the scar you received during your fight with the Fatui captures him. He takes a mental entry, for an explanation that might justify why the agent suddenly goes missing. You were generally too busy to look in the mirror or analyze your assets, and pleasure was a removed afterthought—so the hungry fervor warming your skin and permeating the room clamped your thighs shut. You’re visibly flustered and nervous fumbling with the clasps on your bra while stabilizing your anxiety, and he delights in every second of the accidental strip tease. It feels like fresh meat introduced to a savage animal, and the instant your bra omes off, a new vulnerability coils in your gut. You move to your bottoms; the sheen of sweat polishes your plush thighs to wiggle out of them. You’re left in nothing but tantalizing panties hugging you in the right places. His eyes undress and redress you, tracing up and down the perk of your nipples, tempting fullness of your thighs, each unseen curve and perfect imperfect mark on your glistening body. He lets out a deep breath to stop himself from jumping over the table and taking you right there. 

“The underwear. Take it off” he says, an undertone of lust. You shimmy the fabric off and fully expose yourself. You impulsively cover your intimate parts and avert your eyes, but you can still feel Pantalone on you, ravaging you. He doesn’t bother telling you to put your arms at your sides, your bashfulness combined with an attempt at stoicism is comical. 

“Ah, the little thief is trying to act tough. That's cute” Pantalone teases and leans back in the chair. Manspreading, he pats his thigh. “Crawl.”  

He’s hellbent on shaming the defiance out of you. It’s a vile command, but you begrudgingly drop to your hands and knees. You drag your chaffed knees on wood, balancing like a newborn fawn adjusting to its legs. It’s humiliating and downright degrading; the cold floor fails at cooling your burning fever. You’re on the verge of tears, but Pantalone can’t help but smile. You get around the desk and look up at him, waiting for the next horrible thing he’ll have you do. “Unfortunately, the stunt you pulled impeded my paperwork. Be a good thing and sit on my lap until I’m done.” A “thing”—that’s all you were now, a shiny trophy meant to be ogled at but never taken seriously, used and thrown away. You stand off your scraped raw knees and straddle his thigh, hands balancing the leg so you don’t fall. 

And Pantalone starts to work. Working as if you’re not there, filling in the spaces on his documents. For some reason, it’s more demeaning this way, you truly are just a prize. One hand dances beautiful penmanship in masterful motions on embossed paper, the other fondles and explores your being. The gloves brush down your delicate spine, nonsensical shapes drawn on your lower back that make you shiver and pool heat in places you’ve never thought of. You’ve never been touched like this, it’s needles light on your skin. They move to your stomach, pleasant circles above the pelvis that threaten to go lower. He’s careful to trail his hand up your cleavage and behind your neck, neglect your hardening nipples and repeat the process over and over. He’s painstakingly slow, savoring the dazed arch of your back, massaging your inner thighs and dragging the sleek material over your rear.

Middle and index sweep across your lips, pulling your bottom lip to reveal teeth, and prods your mouth. Pantalone’s fingers are invasive, they exploit your gums and twirl around the squishy tongue molding to his appetite. He plays with the pink mass, and it fills you like a kiss. He’s everywhere and he hasn’t looked at you once. You hate it, the kind elegance and refinement of his technique that makes every calculated word and action reek of opulence. Yet, arousal pools on the surface, sticking to your labia and clouding your drowsy mind. It’s an extreme ache that doesn’t go away from cold showers or shrugging off like you usually would. You can’t remember what you did today, yesterday, or the day before that. The sensation of him consumes you and persists in spots he left. He smells of expensive cologne, hints of heady wood and sage. You’re lucky his fingers are in your mouth, or piteous moans would spill out of you. Flat on his thigh, the subtle jolts of his leg rub against your hypersensitive clit and set your nerves on fire. Throbbing swells in your core, and you struggle to stay stiff as your hips stutter.  

Pantalone knows exactly what he’s doing. Your labored pants sound like saintly melody while you writhe on his lap. The fabric goads your pulsing pussy, and you hang your head in embarrassment of the juices soaking your thighs and his. He’s surprised you have strength left to withstand the itch. You do your best to hover above it, trailing thick strings of slick. “There’s no need to pretend you don’t like this. Just give yourself to me” he whispers. And it’s so enticing, an invitation that might let you come if you ask. However, remnants of pride cling to your melting resolve, you can’t give in yet. He takes the fingers out and presses on your nipple, flicking the bud. You can’t hold the mewl, and he snickers.  

“So indignant for the hero of Liyue, to be on a harbingers lap, reduced to a pretty pet.” Your ears tune out the insults. The damp gloves pull and pinch your puffy nipples, then knead to soothe the pain. He does the same to the other, switching between both as he feels you squirm.  

He works on the last few pages. Piles upon piles of reports and records—they detail the deaths, or “suicides”, of clients who’d disappeared mysteriously after extended absence of payments for millions of mora, people who dared go against the Regrator. Unruly, uncooperative clients that take advantage of fair exchange, and pay the price for it. 

Your arms get tired, and you settle on him again. Pantalone starts to softly bounce his leg, enough for you to notice the friction on your clit. It’s too much, you can’t take it anymore, and start to rut your hips on his thigh. You look messy, smearing your essence on those overpriced slacks and biting back your moans. Pleasure flows in your veins, and you give up. His cock throbs nonstop, print stealing space in his pants. “Did you believe I wouldn’t catch you? You’re not sneaky enough. You’re not good enough," he taunts from the corner of his eye. You hump his leg like a desperate bunny, chasing the addictive high.  

“Nasty slut, fucking your hips on a man you barely remember.” He moves his hands to your clit and replaces the slacks with slippery leather. You grind on it harder and hold your moans. More, more, more. He coats it in the mess and finally diverts his attention to you. He teases your entrance gliding vertically on your vulva before pushing one finger in. It hurts at first, but your walls hug him eagerly, pulling it deeper. He coaxes it to take another and starts scissoring your gushy walls.  

“I’ll devour you. I’ll inscribe my name upon every surface of your physique until it adorns your lips, and I’m the only thing that remains.” Pantalone starts pumping rhythmically, tormenting, poking everywhere but your g-spot. Gloss drips down his knuckles and glazes his rings. 

“S-sir please, s’too much” you whimper, mustering up an ineffective stable voice. “Hmm? Can you hear the lewd sounds you’re making?” Loud squelches sing from him fucking your insides. Each time you try to speak, he elicits another moan. 

“M-my sto-mach hurtss” you whine. He holds your waist in place with the other hand and continues the assault. “I know, it hurts? Would you like me to alleviate the pain?” he coos. You nod fast. 

“Hold it in. You ask for permission every time you’re close, do you understand?” You don’t reply and try to angle your body to get more contact. You make the mistake of guiding yourself to your clit and earn a harsh stinging slap on your hand. “Don’t touch what’s mine” he orders. You’re frustrated and he’s doing it on purpose, it’s entirely too hot where pleasure and pain blur. “N-not yours” you stammer, and he stops. He pulls out your warmth and you whine from loss of pressure. Looking at him, there's no smile, and the irritation on his face makes your heart drop. You're really in for it. 

Without delay, your stomach flies over one of the chair arms, and you hold onto it for dear life. It presses firm on your ribs, and he slants your ass to the air. “You have courage, speaking back to me” he says. He pulls his gloves off and hurls them. They’re lovely, the silken soft hands of a man who hadn't lifted a finger through combat a day in his life. They sink into your sex, and you moan out for him. The other winds back, and you feel the palm hit brutally on your unsuspecting backside. Crack. It echoes in the room, and you almost fly forward. 

“Disrespectful.” Crack. He keeps pumping through it, and tears collect in your lashes. 

“Disobedient.” Crack. There’s blood rushing to your head, and violent smacks make your pussy flutter and ass ripple; his control won’t give you adequate touch.  

“Little.” Crack. Every time he feels you getting there, he pauses. A masochistic pleasure whirls innermost. 

“Brat.” Crack. Both cheeks are a sore fiery color and beginning to welt, but he resumes. You’re drenching his palm, sobbing from prolonged edging and Pantalone laughs. “Pfft, you’re crying? Too embarrassed to beg? Perhaps I’ll give you what you want, if you grovel hard enough, darling.” An incoherent orchestra of please’s mesh with broken moans. “Sir m’sorry. Wan’ it so bad, p-please!” you mumble. There’s no dignity on your lips, no residue of the hero you once were. Drunken ardor floods your short-circuiting brain. 

“Oh, what do you say? You want it? Is that it? I'll let you have it... but only if you say it loud and clear for me” he croons. He winds his fingers in a come-hither gesture that licks your core. 

“Please...I won’t misbehave again!” He spreads your ass apart and watches your hole pucker from lining the brink. 

“I’m not sure I want to give it to you now. It's a lot more enjoyable watching you squirm and beg.” 

“’M yours, sir. Please give it to me. I’ll be s’good, promise!” you mewl. You’re so pathetic, it’s endearing. He simpers and maneuvers impossibly fast while gyrating your clit. “How humiliating. You’ve satisfied me.” Your eyes roll back, and you dissolve in pure euphoria. There’s black dots in your vision, and it doesn’t stop as he starts torturing your overstimulated clit with the pad of his thumb. Your tears only encourage him. You jerk and spasm, but he moves where you move with insistent skill. “T-too m-” 

“Aww, what’s wrong? Isn’t this what you wanted, where are your manners?” Pantalone pulls out and delivers staggering mean swats to your pussy, and you recoil. “Say thank you” he demands. 

“Thank you, sir.” He hums and picks you up in his arms. Before color can return to your numb cells, he lays you on the desk. You watch him pull his shirt up to his pecs with haste and uncover the lean skinny midsection. Unzipping his pants, he unsheathes his leaking thumping erection. Even his dick is pretty, it curves upwards and shades a starving dusty pink past the thin strip of tissue on the underside of his bulbous tip. Composure thinning, a bead of pre come runs down his tip at the sight of provocation sluicing your ass and thighs. His glasses plunge down his neck, body blushed wildly, but he doesn’t care. Pantalone slides between your labia and groans at the sound. Engulfing the tip in awaiting velvet warmth, “You’re so good for me, hm?” he sighs. You embrace him, delicious searing stretch of your walls forming to his cock. Your orgasm builds just from your body accommodating the size. He places your hands on your calves and holds them at your sides. He slips out, and in one swoop, drives into you. His heavy balls smack against your ass as he thrusts frenetically in the gooey grip he’d been waiting for, stalking and spying for. He digs crescent shapes in your waist and uses you to his abundance. The desk base creaks and grinds on abrading wood and obituaries float to the floor with overturned calligraphy ink from the unrelenting momentum. You throw your head back and indulge the carnal lust washing over you both. 

“You’ll never see anyone ever again. Fuck- you’re mine, and mine alone. You’re nothing but a come dump, your purpose is to please me, hah, until I say it’s over” his voice is unexpectedly deprived and weighty with vulgar whimpers. Pantalone eyes your neck and encapsulates it in his slender hand. He clenches tight and releases in sporadic bursts that have you seizing around him. For a split second there’s the image of you—exorbitant pearled collar wrapped around your throat, with “Pantalone” inscribed in bedazzled letters—and he loses it. He swipes your clit rapidly and feeds you deep strokes; you’ll definitely die. You speak, but it’s unintelligible rambling. 

“Use your words” he lilts, squeezing your airflow taut. “C-can I, sir, please?” 

“You’ll do it on my command.” Pantalone thrusts frenetically, you can feel him bucking, twitching and quickly approaching his climax. His hips sputter, chanting some mixture of your name and curses under his breath. “You’re so obedient for me, aren’t you? F-fuck, darling, go ahead. Come on my cock.” You permit yourself to surrender, white noise streams in and time slows as you come down his shaft. A creamy ring forms at the hilt of his slaps. You recite “thank you” through wails with the semblance of a follower at the altar of their savior. Then he grabs your face and goes in for a kiss.  

It’s sloppy and misses half your lip, but its doughy attachment mellows your blissed out head. His lips taste like the bitter excess of green tea, and you crane for a better sample. His tongue does things his fingers couldn’t, and swirls around yours in a passionate bruising waltz. Pantalone breaks away, a string of saliva when he frees himself. “Mm, coming. Gonna claim you everywhere” he whimpers. Sweat on his lustered abdomen, he pumps his tender cock before spurting thick hot ropes across your tits and stomach. He paints your vulva with the rest and plunges the tip in your entry so as to not waste the endless globs of white. He tremors inside you until soft, and when some dribbles out he fingers it back inside.  

Afterwards, Pantalone opens one of the drawers on the desk and takes out an embossed loan dismissal form. You can’t read the finer details through hazy eyesight. “It’s already signed, so don’t worry. I won’t deceive you.” He caresses your face in his normal sing-song attitude. “We depart in the morning.” You don’t have a clue where you’re going or how you’ll get there as you drift unconscious. Once you’re asleep, Pantalone shuffles in a different locked drawer. He twiddles the stunning purple geode in his hand, a crystal lined mineral you gave to him years prior. He looks at you, then the druse, and cackles. 

“Mine. Always.” 

[aleenuhs]

Helping Arthur release some tension after his right arm got injured in a gunfight. He’s been grumpy and stuck at camp; he could use a helping hand. 🤭

ᯓ★ A Helping Hand

I love this little idea, thanks anon!

warnings & tags: smut (p in v), fluff, nudity, afab!reader/fem!reader, Arthur is a lil angry, mentions of injury, established relationship, pet names, gendered language (she/her, reference to reader)

word count: 1,157

Arthur was starting to get hysterical due to his current situation. He got injured on his right arm, which he used in everyday life, especially when it came to using his guns and crafting.

The more hours he stayed in camp, he wished to be out and doing what he does best. Not that he avoided camp, or maybe he did, but he was there because that's where you were.

"I said I'm fine," he demanded, looking up at you from where he lay on the cot, your eyes wandered to the wrap on his arm, just staring.

"Let me at least get you some coffee, please?" You spoke, and Arthur didn't protest, so you assumed that it was what he wanted. "Good." You grabbed the little mug from his side table. Soon you came back with the mug and some coffee in it. Arthur sat up and took the small mug from you.

"Thank you," he said in almost a murmur. "I ain't want ta ask you for much, sweetie. I know you have stuff that you have to do 'round here."

You frowned a bit, "I finished all my chores, and Ms. Grimshaw said it was fine, don't act like it's a burden, Arthur, when it's not. I love you okay?" You smiled again, sitting beside him, resting your head on his left shoulder, he used his injured arm to swipe a few hairs away from your face.

"A'right then, I love you too," He said to you.

"How does your arm feel?"

"Fine, I want to get back out there." He said with slight desperation in his voice, his eyes bored to the house's walls. You grin.

"Arthur, you need rest." You say placing a kiss on his cheek.

"Remember how I said I was fine? Yea' I meant it." He said, with a little sass in his tone, making you giggle.

"Go tell mister Dutch that," You replied in a murmur but an even sassier tone than his one previously.

"What'd you say?" He said, not catching whatever you just said.

"Nothing." His eyes snap to your expression, and the shrug that crept onto your shoulders. He placed the mug down on the side table.

"Don't do that now..." He looked at you, "what did you say?" You can only giggle at how he yearns to know what you said, suddenly you're right under him, he manhandled you under him and you're still laughing at him. "Guess I'm gonna have to get it outta you one way or the other." He began to tickle you, knowing exactly where to get you, your tummy.

"Hey!" You said suddenly, "No not this right now!"

"Tell me!" He persisted in tickling you, and you were trying to fight back without hurting his arm even more, but you weren't going to win this at all so you sighed heavily.

"I told you to go tell Mister Dutch what you'd said!" You uttered fast and Arthur let go of you, both of you breathing hard, the little tears in your eyes from how much you felt vulnerable while being tickled went away.

"Did'ya now?" He had a smug look on his face, "I just might." You nodded when he said that.

A minute of silence fell into the air between you two, his body on top of yours, careful not to squish you, he stares longingly into your eyes and smiles. "But I wanna stay here with my sweet girl." He kissed you before you could even respond, both of your guys' lips smashing together, he lays himself down next to you bringing you closer. The little squeaks of the bed as you two moved on it filled the air. Your body shifted on top of his, you smiled down at him and he chuckled.

"Whatcha gonna do?" he playfully chided, you looked a bit lost. A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, and you brought your head down to kiss his neck. His warm hands slithered up your legs and stayed on your hips as he kissed you back, your skirt was riding up your thighs and Arthur smiled.

You got up and slid off your underwear and then got back onto the cot, unzipping his pants and taking his cock out. You balanced yourself above his hips, he stared up at you and smiled, your clit dragged against his tip, he groaned a bit, Arthur reached down to his cock, rubbing it against your wetness, making your hips falter a bit. He pushes his cock right into your entrance. A moan escaped your lips, hands finding his chest and applying a bit of pressure as you rode him. His cock stretched you out, and boy did it feel good. "Mhm, such a good girl fa' me..." He put his hands on your hips, slightly guiding them to move even faster.

The room was filled with the sounds of his grunts and your moans, the sounds of skin slapping together. "Fuck.." you moan when his cock hits your g-spot. Your knees already weak, he feels you starting to give up, he assists your efforts by bucking himself up into you. The only other time you've felt the burning sensation in your thighs is when you're riding your horse, but this felt good.

You lean down and kiss him some more, they were sloppy kisses but he took them gladly, you still rolled your hips.

"Takin me so well." He used his left hand to rub your clit, taking you completely over the edge, making you moan even louder. He needed you so bad, he was full of tension and pent up energy from everything. He'd been wanting to fuck you for a long time, a while, he watched you walk around camp talking to everyone as he was supposed to be resting and taking it easy, he would sit near the fire drinking, smoking or cleaning his guns.

He always thought of you, he needed you, what a man you'd made him.

Now, he started to rut faster into you, not taking it easy at all.

"Arthur--" You groaned out in pure pleasure, his rough hands caressed your soft skin, the hands that killed and strangled people, they were so soft to you, they pleasured you.

"Alright there, princess?" He checked on you and you nodded as you hid your face in the crook of his neck. Your cheeks were red and you could feel your cunt clench around him, you were both close, his hands brung you down even harder on him. "Y'gonna cum, girl?" He used his finger to tilt your chin up to look at him as you came. "Look at me." He demanded.

When your orgasm hit, you shook and moaned out his name. He came shortly after you.

"God-" You cried out in pleasure, "oh my..."

Arthur whimpered a bit, before he held onto you. grasping at your shoulders to keep himself grounded.

"Damn, you did so good for me..." he praised you.

"I did?" You smiled up at him as you laid there on top of his chest. \

"Sure did." He hugged you.

a/n if u liked this pls req more!

[yourlocalstranger123]

Hello may I request a yandere Imbibitor Lunae (From HSR) with a reader who is a writer and very lazy doesn't mind getting kidnapped as long as the reader (You could pick the gender if u could a male) can write and very flirty and openly affectionate

Take care ❤

I'm not actually sure what you meant, but I'm just guessing that you'd prefer me doing a male so ima do it <3 of course, there isn't much details/words saying out-loud the reader is male so it can still be seen as any gender!

《 I am so sorry if you just wanted full fluff and ur a minor. If you do not feel comfortable with the pictures at the end, I don't mind taking it down!! Again, IM SO SORRY IF U DO FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE (つд；*) 》

Warning!: Kidnapping?, ofc yandere theme, broken stuff, stalking, containment, blood, murder, also slight sexual themes under the 2nd set of pictures(aka the mostly sussy one)

MINORS DNI Unless you are okay seeing some slight sexual themes. It's not fully smut, so it's okay rn.

A/N: I will still put gn, female, male reader tags but if you think that the reader is too manly or smt, I'll change it. And sorry if I used wrong tags ALSO ARTIST CREDIT IS AT THE END (except for the official art bc it's og from hsr so)

Info for reader's figure: SORRY IF U DIDN'T WANT THE MALE(or any gender since it doesn't clarify that the reader is a male) READER TO BE TALLER AND IG SLIGHTLY LARGER? IM SORRY. (´д｀|||)

–◇{Imbibitor Lunae}◇–

You simply went out for groceries. Buying some decent ingredients to make food. As you were walking back to your house, you felt someone was watching you. Looking around to see no one's eyes looked at you, you simply shrugged off the feeling and walked home tiredly. (If you had a sharp eye, you would've seen horns and a tail sticking out behind a tree....suprised that no one saw him)

You put the ingredients in the fridge, not feeling like eating dinner today. Yawning as you simply flopped down onto the bed, not even bothering to change clothes. As your eyes finally close as you drift off to sleep, you feel a figure hovering over you. But of course, you didn't get up since it was soooo comfy. Who wants to get off of bed when they FINALLY get a comfortable position to sleep.

So the figure took its advantage and....held your hand-? You feel the figure holding both of their hands to hold yours. You started to feel a bit uneasy. Maybe this is just a dream! Surely it is... you felt the other side of the bed droop as the weight of the person was on it. You can feel them trying to snuggle into your embrace, hearing them hesitantly sigh in delight as they get closer in contact.

This must be a very strange but nice dream..... The next morning, you sat up and stretched out your arms, then remembering that strange "dream" you experienced. Quickly turned your head to the other side of the bed, and you found nothing. Perhaps it was just a realistic dream! Surely no one broke into your house without any traces or not even do anything bad!(yet)

You heard something crashing, quickly running out of your room. You see a bunch of shattered plates, glasses, a broken chair, and....He even dropped the books you hard-workingly wrote on! Is he serious?! You went up to the figure, seeing his eyes widen, but you didn't care. You started lightly scolding him for breaking your books! Now you have to write the whole thing again!(the book wasn't totally a fan fiction, lmao)

His face clearly showed confusion as you continued lightly scolding him. Seeing his tail slightly droop, you stopped and sighed. Forgiving him, you were about to wave him off until you felt his tail wrapping around your leg before he crossed his arms. Frowning(pouting) at you and refused to let you go. You were about to try to get out of his grasp to re-organize the books that fell, but you soon felt dizzy, passing out before you felt him hugging you.

You found yourself in a locked room(his room?) with chains that were tied onto the bed to restrict you going too far. You heard footsteps as you saw a head with horns peeking out of the doorway, then the figure finally showed himself. (why dies he have blood on him?)

You could see him hesitating but soon let himself lay his head on your lap. Tilting his head up to look at you, quietly asking what you want for breakfast. (he's quite cute even though he had blood on him, and the blood is slightly smearing on your shirt and pants) You simply ask for an apple.

He tilted his head in confusion, asking you again, what PROPER breakfast meal do you want. (Yeah, you should get a proper meal. You know who you are) You said again, an apple. He sighed and regrettably had to leave your warmth to give you an apple. (Why weren't you mad at him? Aren't you scared that he kidnapped you?)

Before he left the door, you asked him to give you a pen or pencil and a paper if he could. Which he complied and did, only sitting beside you and watching you write a story down. But as he tried to read it, you covered his face and put away the paper. He tried to move your hands, but when he did, he felt you kiss his forehead. He quickly scooted away, trying to process what had just happened. You kissed him???.....That means you love him, right? It has to be!

You could see the blush forming around his face and neck. Hearing you chuckle made him even blush more. "Oh my, you're red as a tomato!!" You said, slightly laughing. He becomes more embarrassed but so delighted because you love him! Surely, you even kissed him on his forehead! You won't go, you won't leave him or hate him.....right..? He held your hand, hoping for more affection from you. Seeking it, desiring it, needing it

Timeskip:

"Mine..." he mumbles as he snuggles against your palm. He shudders and lets out a soft sigh when you touch his horns. Rubbing the base of his horns, he watches you enjoy touching his horns as you smile. You were about to retract your hand, but he grabbed your wrist and begged for more of your affection and warmth.

Not wanting to let go of you, he wrapped his tail around your body and tightly hugged you in place. He looked so adorable when he frowns(pouts) as he looked up at you. You couldn't resist teasing him,

You held his chin and went closer to his lips. Which in return, his face becomes red as his thoughts explode and are scattered everywhere. He shuts his eyes, waiting for you to kiss him.....but you didn't. He opened his eyes after hearing you chuckle. How mean! You didn't give him a kiss :(

His face was full of shock and disappointment. He desperately tried to get a kiss from you, tugging your sleeve he politely asks for one. He was still satisfied when you smothered his face with kisses(except for the lips, sadly) he flinched when he felt your hands petting his tail. Covering his own mouth from letting out pleasurable sighs.

"You have such beautiful scales." You said, softly picking up the tail closer to your face and kissing it, making him feel flustered. You stared at the fluff on the end of his tail, so you softly pet it too. "It's quite fluffy and soft, I feel like I'm in some sort of paradise," you slightly laughed at the statement you made.

He retracts his tail, and he suddenly rips out a scale from it. He hissed at the pain but soon held both of your hands and put the scale onto it. It was a token of his love. "I would do anything for you to prove my love, even if I have to get my hands dirty, even if I have to injure myself too. So please love me back," He begs. His sanity and life are in your hands. You were still shocked and concerned as he said this. Hearing you sigh, he panicked. Did he do something wrong? He's sorry! Please forgive him, he'll try his best to fix it! :(

He becomes putty in your hands, letting you bandage his tail (although it was a bit hard since his tail was thrashing around as he was very happy for some reason.) You kissed the injury on his tail, making him tilt his head in wonder and blush....

Soon, he lets you out of the room and even outside! Of course not without him. He glares daggers into people. If his stare could kill people, the whole world wouldn't even exist. He was about to kill the merchant that touched your hand! How dare they touch you?! (Poor merchant was trying to give you a sample of food)

And he kills the people who try to flirt with you and dispose of their corpse. He comes home all bloody as you scold him. You had to take HOURS to wash the blood off of him. And it's even worse when it got on the fur of his tail! (One time, he whimpered and moaned by accident when you scrubbed his horns and tail....didn't appear for a whole week unless u were going outside)

But he becomes sooooo flustered when you flirt with him and especially in public. (He thought you were showing people that he was yours....I mean, I can't say it's not true)

He always whines and begs if you don't give him your attention and affection. And of course, all of your love within 2 minutes. And if you don't, you'll have to comfort him that you do love him because he starts over-thinking that you don't anymore or he has done something wrong.

He was getting some empty books for you to write on until he found a book with the exact same writing.....(he may or may have bought it) he definitely bought it. He read the whole context, and whenever you were near him lately, his face turned redder than red itself! (The book was about you and him love life)

Oh, how he loves you.....he wonders how you'll react when he gives you the heart of the person you hate..well, he won't do it now until marriage.

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[satoruhour]

gggOoooOOOOD MORNING ‼️‼️ ive been eating up your masterlist esp your racer au UGHHHH that was the last thought in my head before sleep and the first when i woke racer!geto was just. so. fking. h o t. u dont understand like that has a G R I P on me rn UGHHHH I LOVE IT SM do u have any spare hc for geto in this racer!au? if u dont thats okay! just know i ate that fic up 🫶🏻🫶🏻🥺🥺

a/n: thank u anon 4 the support im glad u liked the racer!au hehe. the original au here, how did you meet and geto’s own elaboration post for context. tagging @na-t0 @crysugu @omgeto @slttygeto / 2.4k

warnings: (in second half of post) mentions + discussions of semi-public sex, filming, fingering while driving, oral (f and m receiving), protected and unprotected sex, f and m masturbation, phone / webcam sex, sharing with gojo & nanami

AAHHH i might have !!! racer!geto has a special place in my heart huhu i would love to develop more

to start off i would say that he’s just… such a good bf. like i know it’s obvious but also the next day after your late night drifting he texted you to ask if you wanted to go back to the cafe :D

he paid for everything again and he was so happy seeing u get another cinnamoroll trinket !!

so when the cafe has another sanrio event you BET hes bringing you there again. it just so happened that it was a berry and cherry event too ahhhh geto’s so cute getting all excited and stuff

he got you two matching coffees with berry and cherry foam art

that cafe has become a monument in your relationship — your first date, the place where geto officially asks you to be his partner with a big bouquet of flowers that you’re hiding ur face wherever you go for the rest of the day cause it’s huge 😭 he brings you there with his racer friends as well (gojo cheers and nanami scoffs that these things weren’t for him but he loved their pastries wheeee)

attentive, attentive! always leaves his jacket in the car for you if you get cold in his Mazda. resorts to a jacket he doesnt like to wear much but bc he always puts you first, he doesn’t mind :(

geto doesnt like to race with outerwear on him so he always loves seeing you greet him after a successful race with a big grin on your face, jacket swallowing ur physique as u keep urself protected against the tokyo chill !!!

said this before but he looooves seeing you in his car. it just ignites something in him, seeing you propped up on the leather seats and looking out the window when you’re driving. it just gets him sort of feral

ALSO also bc his Mazda was his first proper and real racing car he’s very selective of who he lets touch it / sit in it etc

so when gojo does it he swats him away like a fly and asks him not to dirty his finishing as also geto is the only one to be seen in his car until you come along and gojo sees you sitting on the hood

hes reaching forward to tell you to get off bc he knows suguru doesnt like it but your bf only walks up between your legs to greet you with a big smile. the betrayal gojo felt 💀

overall the relationship with geto is quiet and calming. no need for talking if you dont feel like !!! all racer geto needs is his hand on your thigh that’s always stroking the skin there and you

but loves it when you do talk! he tries so hard not to turn to you cause if he does he’d crash the car 😭😭 he just loves ur beauty and the way you ramble so much !!

one time he swerved and almost hit a car because he was watching you talk about the recent research you did on cars and also running back the terminology he’s been patiently teaching you

to hear his partner talk about cars >>> he’s so excited that you’re finally entering his world that he gets so engrossed and almost collides 😭

NO MORE pls omg he was more scared than you were

but also running off on that, geto is understanding when he teaches you about terminology about racing, abt the parts in a car. he took apart an old car in his garage just to teach you and he loved that you were trying your best to memorise everything 🥹

getting into an rs with geto also has given you more confidence, so he loves how you strut your stuff. he wasnt complicit in anything truly !!! didnt force you to wear anything or do anything you didnt want to, so he was very proud of you when you came out of your shell

geto would love you either way :3 hes just a sweet boy like that

i also relate him to han very closely from f&f… always eating his snacks in tokyo drift LMFAO - geto is chill, letting you feed him his snacks as you cuddle up on him on his hood and watch the new race

ok so, he LOVES racing and geeking out about them but he finds sometimes he watches you way more than the races and before then the race is already over 😭

“suguru! did you see how i crushed the other guy?” gojo emerges and shouts across the parking lot and geto is just like “huh? sorry i wasnt looking was too busy looking at my lover” LMAOOO

when you can’t attend his races you always make it a point to send a selfie with your cherry keychain and he sends one with his berry one back and its just soooo cute youre giving him so much wallpaper material!!

also likes to bring you on drives at night - if you need to rush something or study you bet he’ll be there. he’ll try not to interrupt you, looking at your knees tucked in your arms and memorising your notes

he plays those subliminal audios as a joke and annoys you in the process 💀 

and then just pecks your forehead in apology as he watches or helps you with assignments while occasionally looking out the window and smoking

geto always has a hand on you. it shows his possessive streak and just a general love for physical touch

like i said doesnt pressure u into anything but you’ve expressed interests in his tattoos before

you get a tramp stamp with him for your first one! the pain wasnt that bad, more from lying on your stomach for like 2.5h because of the shading lol. it’s a simple one, but a popular one because of the culture

geto offered to pay for you and you rejected, and he said “alright. half at least” and you didnt exactly oppose that because you were running low on jpn yen for your overseas exchange stay

the tattoo looked so good omfg geto was like . going INSANE it was lowkey funny

gojo and nanami wouldnt hear the end of it for like 3 weeks 😭😭😭

had the photo of you and your tramp stamp as his lockscreen for the longest time

as always tattoos are very addictive! you got a few more in the short span of 6 months (maybe 2-3 small ones) but what really made geto go like. clinically insane was this super big on on your thigh (peep the very first post of this au!!)

it’s a spider with chinese traditional ropes and it was by far your biggest one, taking a dent in your account that you had to lie and ask ur parents for more money after and promise to pay back by working part time

ok i need to preface this part first that geto adores your thighs - you didnt show much of it at first but when you start to be more comfortable with the racing scene he almost came in his pants when you first wore a miniskirt

so to see such beautiful ink on YOUR thighs oh my days felt like you were a goddess walking down the steps to his garage

has a little matching tattoo with you :( it’s not too obvious, but has features of berry and cherry on the both of you <3 down the line he would get other vague and subtle couple tats with you but if you want to mark up your body however you wanna he’d like that too :3

so i actually left the latest fic on a cliffhanger… bro was so heartbroken after you left :( couldnt race properly, couldnt focus in uni, poor boy

even gojo or nanami couldnt get thru to him, but over time he got used to the distance and timezones. moves his whole set-up to the garage just so he’d get better wifi there and also show the latest upgrades to his car !!! the webcam quality is pretty shitty on both ends though so you get disappointed more than once trying to talk to him bc the call isnt connecting well :/ 

continues to send those berry / cherry pics where you’re miles away, and more than once suguru has gone to bed crying :(( but i will keep these sad ones short bc i hate angst and also i might wanna write a next part uh… we’ll see

geto also mails things to you which take ages to ship and you only get the presents one month before you finish uni for good and 💀 it’s so funny seeing his shock at you having just received his gifts

a sweet, sweet bf who takes care of you immensely <3

n*sfw hc’s under divider

now >:) i also dont want to go into too much detail because. i might. MIGHT. continue. do not ask for the next part explicitly tho that shit annoys me. but geto loves to see your body on his car and the risks that come with it

you guys fuck more in his car compared to his or your room looool.

fingers you when he drives sometimes. when you’re feeling needy all you need to do is drag his fingers to your throbbing core and let him feel how wet you are. 

he tries so hard not to look at you bc you know what happened the last time, so he relies purely on his touch and your hands, fingers slipping inside your panties and he grabs onto the steering wheel with the hardest grip

geto has the patience of a monk, however, letting you use him for your high and grinding down on his fingers. it’s usually not after the race or errand that he properly fucks you bc he knows if he starts he will. not. stop. not even lying

has adrenaline high after racing and will fuck you always unless he’s roughed up, but unlike gojo he probably will drive to a more secluded area. the car is there, the risk is there, it gets geto all riled up

one time he was pissed his opponent scratched his Mazda while racing and while he still won, he pushed you into his leather seats to slam into you. he was going so hard the car was shaking, and he teasingly shows you the brief video gojo sends you later, caressing your very sore legs (you were fine with the recording)

“guess i went too hard, huh?”

you shove him and tell him jokingly, “tell your pervert friend to stop filming us!”

“you like it. me showing everyone who you belong to.” geto is so possessive i swear

loves fucking you in the mountains bro is freaky asf. brings you on late night drives and lays on the hood with you to watch the stars - sometimes it ends cleanly but most times you’re feeling up each other until you’re bent over his Mazda letting him fuck you raw

has fucked you while in the driver’s seat, riding him. has given u oral as u lay on the hood of his car, done a full nelson in his backseat whew you name it he’s so gross and filthy. 

when u contrast it properly with how loving and generous he is and to him when it comes to you and your body the difference is insane. but it also sometimes seeps through when he can’t handle your cute outfits and just has to land a smack and squeeze to your ass

ok this isnt n*sfw but it’s so hot of him - he HAS done this before. made you sit in gojo’s car as he drifted around you in a quiet tokyo crossing late one night and oh my god you made sure he knew how attractive you thought he was. gojo left right away when you two started flirting 💀

likes to both give and receive, so the first time you go down on him was possibly just right after he’s done the drifting around you and you couldn’t resist palming him from the passenger’s seat. you asked him to pull over immediately went to the driver’s side and started pulling at his pants.

you didnt even think that your knees were going to be on gravel so before you could kneel down to suck him off he took his jacket from the back seat to put on the ground …. and then proceeded to get the best blowjob of his life LMFAOOOO

getos a little crazy it’s ok i can take him ! but yea hes filthy thru and thru and dude he missed you sm when you left back to your country.

of course, of COURSE has jerked off at the thought of you, to photos you’d send of a new outfit. also has proposed having phone sex. webcam sex is reserved for special occasions because the sight of you playing with yourself is enough for him to book a flight 😭 he possibly couldnt handle it so he settles for your voice only

he doesnt like to share you, but when you do ask if youve ever thought of getting gojo and nanami in on the fun …. ooh. good luck

again his possessiveness shows so he doesn’t let them fuck you raw lol but rather ask them to get their own condoms 💀💀

his friends r freaks too you realise but it’s time to time where the three of them will organise dates to have some fun with you, but only when youre comfortable. geto putting ur comfort first always 🙏

so sometimes you reject them bc you have an exam comin up etc and geto just treats you in his car or your bedroom alone and even with just him, hes already enough to make you go crazy and moan <3

peep that op has that same exact spider tattoo on her thigh~ teehee

[xervn]

like a french girl 🎨

part 2 - like a | art major ellie x dance major reader

first chapter | next chapter

ao3

summary: ellie had been struggling with finding the perfect model for her art final. that was until she saw you

18+ MDNI | 3.7k words | tags; college au, pining, still sfw for now, texting, no use of y/n, not proofread

a/n: if you're not imagining the prof as nick offerman you're not doing it right.

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The song finally ends and all the other dancers in the studio scatter, just as breathless and exhausted as you are, leaving the room reeking with sweat and the remnants of unbridled passion.

You try to steady your breathing, leaning forward with a hand bracing your thigh, fanning yourself off by pulling at the collar of your tee. Today’s practice was more exerting than usual, especially since you were the one leading it. 

You might’ve showed off a little because you overheard some of your classmates undermining your talent; claiming they could do your own choreo better than you can. It wasn’t like what they said bothered you, however, you needed to set the record straight.  

You’ve always been an amazing dancer, you have the awards, the scholarships to prove it. You’ve scraped your knees bloody to get to this point in your life. You weren’t gonna let a few shit talkers ruin a great thing. So, yeah, you’re absolutely winded because you wanted to prove a point, but you don’t regret a second of it. The looks on their faces was enough to clear any doubts for the rest of the year, for sure.

You drag your feet over to your stuff huddled in a corner, dodging past everyone else in a rush to leave. You pick up your water flask, taking a much needed chug. Mid-drink, you hear the doors of the now empty studio swing open and you swivel around only to see Dina in her black leotard, clutching her bag on her shoulder as she jogs towards you with a suspiciously wide smile.

“Hey, D. You don’t look like you want anything at all.” You say sarcastically, scoffing as you set your bottle down. 

“Oh, come on! I can’t see my best friend?” Dina asks, resting her hands on her hips. All you can do is stare at her with an unmoving expression of doubt, folding your arms with a perked brow. 

“My best-est friend in the whole world. Ever.” Dina adds on. 

You don’t think Dina could make it any more obvious so you decided to wrap it up yourself. “Dina, what is it? I swear to god if you say Jesse…” 

The expression on Dina’s face pointed in every direction that it’d be about him. You groan, amazed that you’re having this conversation again. She’s been pestering you for weeks now about meeting this “amazing” guy she’s been recently dating. She insisted that he’d be like another gal pal, but obviously you doubted that. You’re sure he’s as great as Dina says, but you find it awkward to meet him like that anyways. 

“Just hear me out!” Dina practically begs, clasping her hands together and everything.

“Dina— I love you, but I don’t wanna be a third wheel for an hour.”

Her wide grin returns, looking oddly ecstatic to hear you bring that up. “Okay, well, what if I told you that you won’t?”

You already told yourself you made up your mind the minute this conversation started, but you gesture for her to continue anyway.

Dina’s face lights up as she goes on, “Jesse’s going to bring his friend too, then it’ll be the four of us!” 

You’re not sure how to feel, it does cancel out the one annoyance you had, but now it sounds like a straight double date. The thought alone makes you cringe a bit. 

Dina can tell, rolling her eyes before speaking, “His friend’s a girl, and she’s cool.” 

You just silently make out an ‘oh’ and Dina snorts at your expression. Well, now there’s nothing keeping you from going, but you don’t feel like letting Dina have this one that easily, so you intensely rub your chin as if there’s something else to be considered.

“I’ll buy you food! Cinnamon rolls!” Dina exclaims with a hint of desperation. You giggle and stop the act, finally giving Dina a smile and a nod. She’s already pulling you in for a sappy hug and you return it with an eye roll, making sure she doesn’t go too crazy now that she’s finally convinced you.

“So, when are we doing that?” You ask.

“Today. You're so sweaty, gross.”

“Rude— Today?!”

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After a nice shower and a trip to a small on-campus bakery, it was time to go meet Jesse and his friend with Dina. Just to make conversation, you tell Dina about your embarrassing encounter last night as you two walk around campus. 

“You mooned a stranger?! Listen, when I said you should hook up with someone while I was gone, I meant through a party or an app. Not the window!” Dina exclaims, not even attempting to hide the amusement in her voice. 

Honestly, you were amused by the situation too, it was hard not to be. “Shhh… I didn’t moon her, she just happened to be there. Plus, my ass was mostly covered.” You reply with a playful grin before biting into your promised cinnamon roll. You didn’t really have anything to be embarrassed about, either way it’s an emotion you deal with often. First of all, you’re a dancer; you’ve tripped during a routine before, danced a few humiliating moves. It’s a part of the process. Second of all, your ass is fucking great and we’re ending on that note. 

Dina tsks and shakes her head at you in pretend disappointment. Unable to take her seriously, you dissolve into laughter. 

You two walk across the courtyard and into the school commons; a tall and open building, with the walls of it being large windows. For the time of day, it wasn’t that busy. You decide to scope out the small crowd, and play a little game with yourself to see if you can find out who Dina’s man is before she tells you. 

Not him. Definitely not him. Maybe him? Nah. Who is that?

“Over there!” Dina taps your shoulder excitedly and points in the distance, but you were already looking that way. 

There was a girl, maybe an inch taller than you in a black, patch-covered varsity jacket that definitely didn’t fit her, facing a taller guy that looked exactly like Dina’s type. You weren’t positive why you were drawn that direction, all you knew was that there was something vaguely familiar about that girl. You tried to put the pieces together, but you gave up not even two thoughts later; shrugging it off. 

The guy looks towards you and Dina, smiling brightly as he beckons you two over. Dina links arms with you and drags you along before you can even acknowledge it. As you two start approaching, the mystery girl finally turns around and offers a small smile to Dina, only for it to drop the second she lays eyes on you. 

Your eyes lock on hers and you’re absolutely mortified. It was definitely that girl. Y’know, the one you saw through your window? That girl. Even if you didn’t see her all that well last night, the struck look on her face gave her away. This funny situation was getting less and less fucking funny as you and Dina stride closer. The panic starts to override your sensory abilities, the unusual feeling etching into your thoughts. Maybe you should just own it? Pretend you don’t remember? Should you run away? You think you should—

“— meet Jesse!” Dina says, looking at you expectantly. You were so lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t notice you stopped walking. Now the girl is way closer than she was last night. You could keel over and die now, really. 

It’s not like you’ll see her again. You wish you could turn back time and slap yourself for jinxing you like that. You glimpse up at her, and, fuck, she was looking back at you. You guys needed to stop doing that. Even worse, she’s just as hot as you were hoping she wasn’t. The hair, the outfit, the decorated carabiner hanging off the loop of her jeans? She’s a fucking lesbian wet dream. 

You whip your head away, and unbeknownst to you, she’s still staring; gawking, even.

For Ellie, ever since you walked up, all that’s been going through her head was, ’I wanna draw her’ over and over again. Seeing you up close was even better than she could’ve ever imagined. Your… everything was better than she imagined. She initially locked eyes on you when you were still passing the courtyard and she was in awe of that smile of yours. She was obsessed with how you laughed, how you threw your head back as you did. For a moment, she wondered what was funny. For a moment, she thought about what she’d give to hear it. She had to look away and face Jesse so her whole body didn’t turn red from just watching you. 

She only understood the gravity of the situation when you finally approached. What were the chances you were Dina’s friend? You were really in front of her now, an arm distance away. She has literally never been happier to go out before. She was genuinely glad Jesse dragged her out here for once. 

For as long as she could, she admired you; already color-matching the shade of your skin, your eyes. Appreciating the plumpness of your lips, how expertly your gloss spread across them. She wants to appreciate more of you, but from the way you looked away from her, she worries you might think she’s a pervert and honestly, you’d be well within your rights to think so.

Ellie catches her stare, dipping her attention onto her feet instead. You catch the sheepish action in the corner of your eye and it automatically tells you everything you need to know. If she hadn’t seen anything, she wouldn’t be acting like that, right? Let alone remember you. You wish you weren’t agonizing over this, catching these little traits was only making things worse. 

It’s painful; the situation. The whole thing didn’t even cross your mind until recently. You can’t make eye contact with anyone in front of you anymore, so you nervously say hello along with your name while looking out of one of the several windows. 

Dina forces a smile, since she already introduced you herself, giving you a quick ‘what the fuck’ look on her face before turning back to Jesse who still hasn’t caught a whiff of the tension. Your behavior was incomprehensible. You’ve never acted this way around new people. The whole reason Dina begged you to come was because you were so personable, so you can only imagine her confusion now.

Jesse and Dina exchange looks before Dina attempts to continue the convo. “So, Ellie, what’s your major again?” Ellie. Now the (extremely good-looking) face has a name, great.

“Uh, drawing. Art.” Ellie says, awkwardly tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as her eyes darted everywhere but you. You were making it awkward, she was making it awkward, and all for different reasons. 

Dina nods along to Ellie before saying, “Oh, really? Didn’t think you guys left your rooms.” Dina teases, slow-turning to Jesse who already has a fist bump waiting for her. 

Ellie shakes her head with half a smile. “Ha, ha. Very funny. Yeah, I guess I needed some sunlight.” 

“Yeah, right. I had to bribe you out with a DC comic.” Jesse chirps in, his tone taking a dramatically repulsed turn. 

Ellie immediately punches him in the arm, “You haven’t even read the comics, asshole.” 

Jesse’s hand shoots up to soothe the spot as he laughs.

“Well… I think DC is better than Marvel if you ignore the movies.” You spit out and Jesse and Dina are immediately groaning at your comment. The only reason you said anything was because you felt inclined to take Ellie’s side since they were ganging up on her. Not to mention you might’ve traumatized her, so you might as well attempt to make buddy-buddy. You weren’t lying though, you read enough comics in middle school to know; even if your appearance and style might’ve indicated otherwise.

Ellie teeters at the side, not expecting you to speak at all, let alone take her side. She didn’t think she deserved to hear you speak more than she has already, but here you were, making her blush over a silly shared interest.

Ellie stuffs her hands into her jacket’s pockets, twisting her lips before gaining the courage to speak to you. “That’s because it is. They haven’t read Sandman yet.” 

“Oh, shit. Sandman was really good! Death was definitely my gay awakening now that I’m thinking about it.” You respond, glancing off as you dwell back on it.

Ellie definitely blacked out for a moment after hearing “gay” and “awakening” leave your mouth in the same sentence. Now there’s a part of her wondering if she has a chance with you.

She doesn’t say anything, she can’t say anything since she doesn’t trust her voice. You can’t tell if she’s super awkward or homophobic, but she doesn’t look like the latter. She just gulps loudly and you take note of… this whole interaction and store it in your brain for a later date, like a sleepless night.

With the sudden silence befalling, you both look over to see that Dina and Jesse are still passionately ranting and raving about how trash DC is, so passionately they look like they might kiss about it. Like, their faces are inches away from each other. You and Ellie are absolutely baffled at how this is even possible. They’re talking about superheroes. Superheroes! The sight makes you wanna hurl. You scowl and look elsewhere, catching Ellie grimacing in the process. 

Her brows are furrowed, lip upturned, and her nose is slightly scrunched up to the point where she kinda resembles a squirrel. You snort to yourself at the comparison. Okay, she’s adorable, so it took everything in you to contain your laughter. Obviously, you did a poor job since Jesse and Dina turn to your stifled giggling, following your eyes to see a plainly disgusted Ellie judging them. 

They get flustered, shyly laughing it off while Ellie pretends to scold them. “Welcome back. Now cut it out.”

Ellie turns to you with a surprisingly bewitching smile that catches you way off guard, and mouths out ‘gross’ while stealing a glance at the couple. 

“Pfft, I think it might be time to change topics.” You say, biting back the smile forming on your lips. Ellie is unintentionally endearing, you can tell because, well, she’s growing on you. Maybe you’ve been overthinking the whole thing? From the looks of it, she might’ve just needed to warm up to you. You like that conclusion much more than anything else. Anything else being a possibly unflattering angle of your ass cheeks.

Dina chuckles before nodding, “Okay, well,” Dina puts a hand on your shoulder and looks between Jesse and Ellie, “She’s a dance major too. The trendy kind.” 

“Trendy kind?” Ellie asks, focusing on you as she waits for an answer.

You roll your eyes at Dina for the silly description and fixate back on Ellie, finding yourself unusually nervous under her stare. “I’m focusing on commercial dance choreography. For singers, concerts, things like that.”

“She also did ballet for ages.” Dina chimes in. You nod reluctantly, since it was a long time ago, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t still use those skills. 

“Oh, that explains it.” Ellie says, looking directly at you, clearly without a thought. She doesn’t mean anything bad by it, it just explains why she was weirdly infatuated with your back; your posture. Either way, that was supposed to stay in her head and not for you to hear.

You raise a brow, barely tilting your head to the side as you ask, “Explains what?”  

You hold your eye contact with Ellie this time, silently waiting for an answer. 

“Oh— err—“ Ellie stammers. She has no idea how to save herself. Even if she did, she doesn’t think she’d be able to say it when you’re looking at her like that. Looking up at her quizzically, slightly pouting out your full bottom lip. You’re a bit intimidating, you’ve always been a bit intimidating to everyone. However, Ellie finds herself oddly attracted at the same time and it’s really fucking with her brain. You aren’t even trying to be threatening though, you only want to know what she thinks of you. For no particular reason. 

Ellie, flustered beyond comprehension, can only shrug and manage out, “Uh, nothing? I guess, um, that’s how you two met?” 

You calm your expression, afraid Ellie might melt if you put any more heat on her and for the record, she would’ve, but not for what you think. You couldn’t read her at all and it made you wanna rip your hair out. 

You end up giving her a small nod while a trace of curiosity lingers on your face. 

Coincidentally, Ellie can’t read you either. Do you know she was the one “creeping” on you last night? If you don’t, then maybe all hope isn’t lost for her. But, of course, she can’t fucking tell. One second you’re looking at her like she’s a ghost, the next you’re giggling at all her jokes. But she’s not an idiot, she knows that as long as she doesn’t completely scare you off; she can complete her final. The only question from here is if she’ll ever gain the courage to ask you. 

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The answer to that is no. No, no, no. You’ve been integrated into Ellie’s life for weeks now. Although it hasn’t been daily you always show up at least twice a week, over three when she’s lucky. It’s been weeks and she still can’t ask you. 

In her defense, you guys are never alone. You haven’t even walked by Ellie since the dance wing and art wing are nowhere near each other. You’re always with Dina, she’s always with Jesse. All four of you occasionally meet up for lunch, or spot each other at student events and parties. Never just you and her. Ellie has tried to rehearse just asking you casually with Dina and Jesse around, but that sounds like a fuckin’ humiliation ritual. Imagining you saying “ew, no” or bringing up how she was ogling you through your window in front of them. 

It’s not like you’ve been giving her the impression that you would. It’s actually far from that. You’re a walking ray of sunshine. You always, and I mean, always say hi to her first. Ellie might be a little nuts, considering it’s only between her and Jesse, but she swears you do. Sometimes, you even avoid him to get to her first and she thinks it’s the cutest damn thing ever, but as far as she knows, that’s just her imagination playing a sick prank on her delusion.

Good news is that her work has improved since she still gets to see you often. She steals glances at you, taking mental pictures of you whenever she can. If someone told her to draw you eating a damn french fry, she’d be able to do it perfectly. 

Her professor leaves less marks on her work than usual, and with finals rapidly approaching, Ellie thinks this is the best she’ll ever be able to do. It’s way better than before and the chances of you modeling for her are slim to none, so she’s trying to convince herself she’s perfectly fine with wrapping it up here. Acting like it doesn’t eat away at her to not be able to draw your full body, all its perfections and imperfections. 

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You’re chatting with some friends as you gather your stuff up to leave, when your professor calls out your name. Your head shoots up in that direction and you quickly excuse yourself as you walk over to a scruffy looking older man shuffling around paperwork.

“Yes?” You stand neutrally at his desk, completely unaware of what he has to say to you. 

“You’re failing. Failing horrendously,” He shifts in his seat to look at you better, “You know you are human right? You labeled the rectus femoris the tibialis anterior for fuck’s sake.” 

The… what? You had absolutely no idea you were failing and no idea what he was saying. Yeah, you spent zero time studying, but it’s human anatomy. It’s just a stupid mandatory course. The classes with actual dancing are what you put your time and effort into. What type of asshole teaches a science course at an arts school, then fails the students? Whatever.

You bite your tongue before speaking, forcing a faint smile. “Oh, well, can I make up the grade…?”

The man pinches the bridge of his nose before pulling out your paper from the stack and in front of you. “You’re not understanding, out of 640 muscles in the human body you got one correct. The pectoralis major.”

Honestly, you have no words. Seeing the paper in front of you was pretty humbling. 

He laces his fingers as he continues to gruffly speak, “I don’t know if it’s because you’re gay or something and the only thing you can identify are boobs, but this is an easy grade. You had to get at least 200 correct to pass.”

Did he just? Your jaw dropped ages ago, and you start to say something but he immediately cuts you off. “I don’t wanna hear it, take your paper. Study, and I’ll let you retake it. Do not make me have to fail you.” 

You purse your lips, conflicted with how he called you out and how he’s giving you a redo. You just snatch the paper and storm out of the classroom. 

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dina: LMFAOOO

you: its not fucking funny

dina: is it becus ur gay or something

you: STFU!!!!

you: what do i do ffs

you: finals week is coming up soon and im stupid

dina: you shouldve taken the course with me last semester

you: help me study

dina: foh i barely passed 

you: 😭😭😭im so screwed 

dina: no ur not

dina: don’t worry

dina: ask ellie 

Ask Ellie? Your thumbs shake over your screen. How could you ask Ellie? The amount of strength it takes to talk to her in real life without turning into putty is insane. You guys don’t even cross paths enough for you to comfortably ask for a favor, but you really need to pass this class. It definitely wouldn’t be the worst to finally talk to her one on one... hang out with her more… see her more… Fuck it.

you: what’s her number?

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what's this? click!

tag list: @bready101 @pascals-doll @macaroni676 @khai-le @pedropascalsbbg @seraphicsentences @starlight-savegery @snowy-vee

a/n: marvel solos but i think ellie would love dc

[stevetown]

A Tumblr Quick Start Guide

A year ago, I realized that every time I logged onto Twitter, I felt my blood pressure rise. It's a platform that runs on anger and outrage, and I wanted someplace better to spend my screen time. In my almost-year on Tumblr, I now realize I log on here and get one or two good laughs every time I check my dashboard.

Tumblr has given me a lot lately, but it is a bit different than other platforms. I'd like to give back a little and provide a quick-start guide on how being new to Tumblr worked for me.

Finding Things to Follow

The biggest thing I had to get used to was realizing that on Tumblr, you don't necessarily follow people or celebrities or politicians. You follow your interests. In fact, it's pretty common to follow only strangers that post things you like. That can make your empty dash daunting to fill! Let's fill it with things you love and make you happy.

Make a list, mental or otherwise, of things you're interested in. Be both broad and specific! Board Games. Magic The Gathering. Supernatural. Marvel. Video Games. 8-Bit. Urban planning. Any and all things that you like!

Pick one of your interests and search for that tag. Flip between "Latest" and "Top" and browse around to see what kind of content is in that tag. You'll notice images, art, gif sets, TikToks, videos, essays - all sorts of things!

If you see a lot of things you like, cool! Click the button to Follow that tag if you want to keep up to date on it and find things later (we'll come back to this).

If you see a post you love, check out who posted or reblogged it. Scroll around on their blog. Do they post similar stuff? Are there other things you like here? Are they posting often? If you like what they post, follow the blog! Congrats, you've followed your first blog!

Take some time and check out some other tags and follow the same process - follow tags you like and blogs you might be interested in. It's not possible to over-follow! You can always curate your list later. This isn't Twitter - no one cares if you unfollow someone. Find what makes you happy.

Go back to your main dashboard - how are things looking? Filled with things you're interested in? Excellent. If things don't work for you, don't be afraid to unfollow blogs.

Want to follow more blogs? New episode of Andor drop? Go to the "Your Tags" header and scroll around to find some more juicy content. Check out blogs you like, follow 'em if you like em, rinse and repeat! That's curating your dash!

Your Blog is Your House

Okay, so you have a dashboard of content that you like - but what do you do with it all? Someone once described a Tumblr blog to me like your little house that you can fill with all the things you like. There is no rhyme or reason, and you don't need an excuse to reblog something other than the fact that you liked it!

If you see something you like, reblog it! To me, I reblog things when I say "I like this and I want it to live in my house so other people can see it when they come visit"

Reblogging is like passing a message along to other people. You can just reblog it on its own to amplify it, or you can add your own tags, or if you have a funny reaction gif/thought/video/thousand-word-essay, add to it when you reblog!

Use tags. People actually find posts through tags here. Use them to help people discover that really cool reblog you found! You can also search for tags on specific blogs. This makes them great for categorizing posts on your own blog. For example, I use #2022 Game Journal when I blog about whatever game I'm playing so I can do a year-end review later and find all the posts later.

Like things too. Likes don't amplify posts, but they're nice to let a poster know you appreciated it! I also use likes a bookmark. Sometimes I don't have time to watch that TikTok, so I'll like it as a reminder to come back to it later.

Be Weird. You can have sideblogs to hold more specific content, but don't be afraid to just scoop up anything you like and put it in your house! Reblogging is how content gets passed around.

Random Blog Tips

Wow nice job, your blog's looking great! Before you know it, someone will find it, check out your posts, and maybe give you a follow if they like what you've made or what your reblog! The last thing I'll touch on here are some nitty-gritty tips that can help you think about all the meta stuff about Tumblr:

Tumblr is the most anonymous social media platform. No one has to know who you are. Take advantage of all the privacy options.

You can also hide likes and who you follow from public view - that's no one else's business! Turn off asks too if you want.

Play around with your settings in general - there are lots of customization options and other dash tabs that you can use to find new content. You can also turn on timestamps so you know if a post you see is a "heritage post," as they say. Content is evergreen here and I personally like to see that in action.

You can filter and hide tags that you don't want to see.

Just block people liberally, it's cool.

You can pay to remove ads (nice), but you can also leave the option to see Blazed posts on. Blazed posts are ones that people pay for impressions for - and any post can be Blazed. The kicker is, there's no ad targeting. It can be quite funny or quite annoying depending on what you want.

When viewing the notes on a post, you'll see comments, reblogs, and likes. For the reblogs section, I like to filter by "Comments only" to find what people have added to the post.

Like all social media sites, there are dark corners here. I think Tumblr more than most puts you in control to curate your Dashboard to only see what you want. Block a user, hide a post, and move on.

That should be quite enough to get started! Tumblr can take a little more time to "get" compared to other social media platforms (and get in on the long-running jokes!), but trust me, after a week, you'll notice the difference between checking your Tumblr dashboard and checking your Twitter timeline.

Your blood pressure will thank you.

[antimony-medusa]

I just have vauge thoughts about Fandom, and Creator Notices, and Boundaries, and I'm just gonna ramble for a second here.

Okay, so you end up really liking a show or event to the point that you want to make something for it, generally you want to show it off. You want to share it with other people who like the show or event, and have them go !!!!!!!. That's fun, that's normal. We all want to be enthusiastic about [show/event] together. That's our starting point.

Enter social media and official actor/streamer/writer accounts.

Now fan artists, a good portion of the time, can make their art and then thanks to the wonders of social media, they can go straight up to the actual people who made the show and show their art, and have them go !!!!, and get the actual creators to like it. Maybe not if they're drawing hard gore or NSFW, but if you're drawing a soft canon family moment, or a cyberpunk au, or behind the scenes look illuminated, or kick-ass character design, you can get a creator notice.

Fan writers, by and large, do not get creator notices. This is because looking at art takes two seconds, and reading a fic takes between ten minutes to ten hours. Creators can be out there scrolling art in a way that most of them, frankly, do not have the time to devote to Ao3 searches sorted by kudos. And I think among writers there's a little bit of a sense that that's unfair, and writing is just as much as art as visual art is, so we should be getting creator notices, and we should all act as though we might get a creator notice at any time. On all platforms. Cause what we're doing is real art, right? And we all saw the art get retweeted?

And this sense that creator notices— cause we've all seen them happen with art— spreads until we all think that they could happen at any time. Thanks to the wonders of social media. And very rapidly, the "you can get a creator notice" turns into "the highest honour is a creator notice", and we're all gunning for that, and you SHOULD be gunning for that. You should be looking for the creator to weigh in on your art. You should make sure that there's nothing in your work that the creator doesn't like. If you're an artist, you shouldn't be playing with gender in your art, or draw them being tortured, or anythign NSFW, and if you're a writer, you need to make sure that you don't have anything "weird" in your writing. In practice, let's be honest, this just turns into demonizing NSFW work and saying that anything we don't like is NSFW. Looking at you the "you can't draw the streamers with boobs" discourse.

Anyways, I think going after creator notices is a bad idea for many reasons— a, let them rest, b, bad atmosphere for the fandom, c, let's be honest, an awful lot of fandom stuff is weird from the outside. Let it stay in the fandom.

First thing is like, there are only so many hours in a day. Fan artists can tag their people but it's SO much of a huge and rude demand on someone's time to ask them to read your fic and tell you if it's good. That's the request you make cautiously to your beta reader, and then everybody else on this planet earth gets to opt in to your work. Do not TTS stories to people, do not hand them copies at cons, like— if they want to find it they can find it.

Second thing, creator notices hovering over the fandom like a sword is not a good attitude for creativity. Fan work is supposed to be transformative, it's about taking the original work and going "oh but what if they didn't die" and "what if they lived in space" and "what if they were a family" and "what if they kissed". Gunning towards a creator notice at all times takes you from an independent person following your creativity to a contractor working under someone else's vision. All the time.

Trying to adhere to the source material isn't bad in essence, there's a spectrum of "how do you feel about canon" in fan work that ranges from "trying to hit all the same beats just with a twist" to straight up adversarial attacks, and all of that is fine and part of what fan works are. But if the only stuff that gets written is the stuff that we think the creator would approve of, a) that's stifling to both creativity and people who have an adversarial relationship with canon, you shouldn't start to be branded as "weird within the fandom" cause you're mad at a plot arc b) you very rapidly run into the issue where you're adhering to someone else's morals, and sometimes you don't agree with random person's morals. Anne McCaffrey famously said that fan works were okay as long as you didn't make any of the dragon riders gay. I guesture at you about that. Sometimes a creator is way more comfortable with NSFW stuff than you are, that doesn't mean you should feel forced to make NSFW stuff for their approval! You shouldn't have to 100% agree with someone's vision for an art piece to be able to roll up and go "yes but I think there should be like 50% more evicerations in here" and acting like the creators are the ultimate authority in fan spaces is a bad atmosphere for making fan works.

Sure, absolutely, showrunners get to decide canon. But the whole point of fandom is that sometimes I have a better vision for my story, and maybe I don't want to think about what the creator says at all. If I'm not gunning for the creator's approval, let me stay in my little circle with the creator blocked and adding more pregnancy to the QSMP, or whatever. Follow your bliss.

Third thing, like, okay. There has been a move in fan circles, and especially in mcyt circles, to say that if we just cut the NSFW stuff out, everything we're doing isn't weird, and the creators can look at it. I honestly think this is a failure of both imagination and perspective.

If you have written someone being vivisected, it's gonna be a trifle weird for the actor of that someone to come into contact with that. It is doubly weird if you're depicting a character who shares the same name as the actor. Is it bad to write the vivisection? No, this is fandom, we get to do terrible things to characters here, and that's not for the actors, that's for the audience of two hundred people who saw the words "Schlackity vivisection cannibalism necromancy" and said "clear my schedule, I know what I'm doing tonight". Awesome, continue with the gore.

And like, again, this isn't just NSFW. You can have something that is the fluffiest most platonic story in the world, and I'm saying look at me, look at me honestly, consider this; isn't it going to be just a little bit weird for a grown-ass man to open up a story where they've been aged down to four years old and they're lost and sad and their friends are their family and rescue them and there's cuddling and petting and snackies and pet names and they get their blanket and suck their thumb and take a nap. Look me in the eye and tell me that's not gonna be weird for an adult to read that about their character who shares their name. Okay? We're all on the same page here? Awesome. Is it bad to write kidfic? No. Kidfic rocks. I am your target audience, I am clicking through. I am leaving a keysmash comment. It is also, like, look at me here, focus— it's weird if you're outside the fandom. Platonic? Yes. for the actors/streamers? No. And that's because it's not FOR outsiders to the fandom, it's for the fandom. It's for people who rotate the characters so much that they go 'wouldn't it be sooooo cute if they were babies wouldn't it be adorable', it's not for the actual guys who had a meeting with an accountant today.

MCYT in particular has a horrible practice of saying that because everything has to be for the streamers, nothing can be NSFW unless they've approved it specifically, but somehow everything else is cool? I cannot express to you how much stuff I've read and enjoyed that even the smallest amount of thinking about should let you know that we keep that stuff away from the guys driving the block men around. Fine to write it, I say again, go for it. Please completely divorce yourself of the idea of a creator notice for it at the same time.

Should we show the streamers porn? No. We also should not show the streamers the thing where they're physically abusive parents of their friends. We should not show them the stuff where they're babies. We should not show them things where they're bigots. We should not show them things where they have hybrid instincts that tell them to kidnap someone. Really not sure about showing them a story where they're a cop who takes bribes. Like come on now. Really, as soon as you diverge from canon you're getting into stuff that's probably going to be weird for the crdeators. And that's why again, we don't show it to them, because it shouldn't be for them, it should be for the other people who are like "oh you're doing something fun with the character there, awesome" and click through. Weird for the creators, because it's for us.

Fandom should not be for for the creators. We can make stuff for the creators ocassionally, but I really think it's healthier for the fandom, and probably a lot less weird for the actors/streamers/writers, if we stop acting like what we make is all for them and should be shown to them. Some of it is just for us! That's fine! Make it for the people who have an rss feed for "autistic technoblade" on Ao3! Make it for the people who show up in your inbox asking about your "Philza gets arranged married to a different QSMP guy every week" au! ! Make it for the people who have three spellings of "charlie slimecicle" followed on Tumblr! Make it for the people making helsmit fancams! Make it for the fifteen people who suscribed to you after you posted that fic about the various wilbur bursonas kissing each other! Make it for the people who have Puffychu art saved to their phones! Make it for the fandom!

Leave the creators alone, make the fandom for the fans.

[poppyswriting]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑.

One shot! Neptune x reader.

summary: Life was tough, and with the spawn of your new job you encountered a really interesting fortune teller machine.

Tag list: @head-in-the-icloud and the anon who’s name I don’t have :c

Warnings: not any tbh, just a fluff and lots of love to Neptune!

Notes: This character is not mine!! It belongs to @head-in-the-icloud, you can check her work for more of Neptune!! And mostly because I wanted to write for her characters, they’re so cool and their art style?? Chef’s kiss tbh. This story may not be too good, just late night thoughts and silly writing. Anyways, enjoy!!

Life was tough, really tough. Prices were skyrocketing and the money you had was little. So it was little to anyone’s surprise that when you got the job at the Pizzaplex you were relieved to the core.

Who could’ve blamed you? The job payed thirty bucks the hour, for other people it wasn’t much but for you it was plenty. So when the day came you dressed up, cleaned your hair and was ready to go.

When you arrived to the Pizzaplex you were met with lots and lots of families, some kids running around and a group of teenagers. You stood there not knowing what to do, until a bot came over and started talking to you. “Welcome to the Pizzaplex! A place of Joy and entertainment. Would you please follow me?” You weren’t surprised since this place was known for its immense success and incredibly advanced technology. But it amused you seeing it finally in person.

The bot started to walk rather fast for your liking, making you jog sometimes because of the slight speed it took. While he was moving he started to blurt out the terms and policies of the building and what the staff was ordered to do. When he finished he gave you a map of the building, while indicating which parts were the employees only. Including the employees changing room and uniforms, so giving it a smile and walking away you decided to go over there and change.

You already had a list of tasks that the bot gave you once you entered the building. So at least you weren’t lost in most of the things to do, “let’s see, uh cleaning the bathrooms, taking gums and stuff out of the tables, cleaning some stuff at the arcade etc etc..” you thought to yourself while walking down the hallways to fulfill other tasks.

You did a pretty good job you could say, the bathrooms were really cleaned and the tables were set too. Although It surprised you the the amount of gum and some stickers stuck below the tables at the place. Guess some kids don’t want to stand up and look for the trash can. Now, you checked again your tasks list and saw the “cleaning the arcade” with a little list below of the things you had to clean.

In the arcade, you looked around to see all the colorful lights and the various games that were installed. No wonder why this place was so popular, it was big as hell! Surely kids could see this like heaven. “Okay now..” you said to yourself before going in and reading some of the machines you were supposed to be cleaning. Some of them were really neat and some of them had some dust on them, probably because they were on the corner.

Walking around the place, you stopped over your shoes and looked besides you. It was a somewhat big machine that had Neptune written in the top of it. Looking at it, you saw the big animatronic sitting in the middle and the arms in the sides. It amused you, and you couldn’t hold yourself into seeing what it was about. After all you were very curious yourself, so you took out a coin out of your pocket and insert it into the machine. Watching with intense curiosity when the head of the animatronic lit up and a “hi :>” popped in it.

You cracked a smile and said hi in a low tone, the animatronic seemed to scan you for a moment or at least that’s what you thought since it stood there watching you for a few seconds before a card popped in a small compartment of the machine. You took it and read it “A lot of fortune is coming to my way huh?” You quoted taking a look back to the animatronic who now it seemed to look at you.

You smiled at it, while putting the paper on your pocket. “I’m going to come back for you in a sec.” You could’ve sworn you saw its head move before waking away with a smile to clean other machines, it amused you and you really liked fortune tellers since you were a child. You didn’t really know why you just enjoyed them.

You walked around the arcade finishing your tasks from the other machines and going out of the arcade to finish up the others too. But while you were doing one you got the opportunity to talk with Freddy a little, I guess to introduce yourself better and he welcomed you to the Pizzaplex. You were of course first taken really off guard since The Freddy Fazbear the face of the whole Pizzaplex chain was talking to you. But he was really a nice guy, definitely someone you saw that you could talk at least. You didn’t met the other animatronics of the band, but you thought they might as well be nice too.

Of course the little chit chat didn’t last long thanks to a couple of families that wanted to take pictures with him along some of the children fighting to get his attention which you thought it was pretty cute and funny. You said your goodbyes before going back to your tasks and finally finishing them up by the time the store announced its closing, you smiled and went to the arcade before going to check out.

You came back to the fortune teller machine, you put a coin inside before he lit up and a card was deposited in the compartment. You took it and read it “Try to not worry about the money, the best things in life come free.” It said, you giggled at this

“Not trying to be rude, but with this economy I think I do have to worry about the money.” You looked up and you were suddenly taken aback when the animatronic moved his head to the side in sign of confusion. Mimicking your expression almost right away in his face-ball, your sight changed to one with curiosity at this. Okay so he can mimic expressions, noted. You could’ve stayed longer but your thoughts were distracted at the sound of the speaker saying “The store is now closed.” Meaning that it was definitely time to clock out, made sure you had your things on you before moving to the exit but not before waving a goodbye to the machine as you went to check out.

After this encounter, you decided to make this a regular thing. You clocked in, you did your tasks and you went to the fortune teller machine. But you started to notice that slowly, the papers started to get a little bit more personal than just random fortune telling. You started to get papers like “remember to eat” mostly when you skipped your lunches without knowing it, but how could he know when you did it? And “Are you okay?” Questions when you were feeling a little down, you didn’t know if it was because he could sense it or if you were obvious. But you shrugged it off telling him that you were okay and that there was nothing to worry about.

But strangely, that day was the day that you got sick. You got sick when you woke up in the morning and you had to call in to tell the staff management that you couldn’t come. That was for three days before you could recover, and when you did you received a little pep talk by Freddy when you arrived to the Pizzaplex on how you should keep an eye on yourself and how you should stay more cautious. Since you were still trying to beat what was little left from the cold you had you forgot to visit the fortune teller animatronic that day.

But it felt strange to you that all the time you were working you felt a pair of eyes on you if that was even possible. But when you turned around to see if anybody needed help or if there was even someone there, you were met with.. nothing. Nothing on sight. Maybe you did really needed to take a look on your lunch and stop skipping them.

That day felt strange, but when you arrived home was when you realized that you didn’t visit your fortune teller that day. You felt guilty, but also you felt a little curious about the feeling of being watched. Maybe it was just some random staff bot who was wondering around and it looked at you doing your job. Yeah, that had to be it.

So when the next day came, you made sure to try and do your tasks a little bit faster so that you could go to the machines and talk a little with the animatronic. Now that you thought of it, you didn’t really knew his name, so you decided on now refer to him as Neptune since that was the big name written all over the top of the machine. Figures too thanks to his planet-like appearance, you took a look at your clock before realizing that it was already lunch time. So this time you wouldn’t skip it, leaving one of the brooms aside and taking the lunch that you actually had time to pack that day. It consisted of a sandwich and a chocolate milk box that you bought from the cafeteria at the Pizzaplex.

Looking for a quiet place to eat, you felt the pair of eyes looking at you again. You tried to shrug it off by thinking of some random staff bot looking at you, so looking forward you were able to find a spot. It was a room that had employees only written on the door, the room looked pretty old and worn out you took a wild guess it was because there hasn’t been a lot of human staff since the great technology that this place had they really didn’t need them.

So you sat on the chair besides the table and decided to eat there. Checking your phone and scrolling through social media for a while now. But the feeling of being watched only intensified when your eyes were on the screen, so you looked up and you were suddenly shocked to see the planet-like animatronic looking right at you. “Jesus christ-!” You said before catching your phone from almost falling since it slipped from your hand.

“You can’t be scaring people like that!” You scolded, it really took the soul out of you seeing him so suddenly in front of you. “I thought you couldn’t get out of that machine since, well you’re always there.” You watched as the animatronic took a card out of his pocket and hand it over to you “I can get out, and move around with it too.” You read

“Well that explains it.” with a sigh, you left the card on the table trying to clear up your thoughts about what just happened before feeling two cold hands make their way to your cheeks. Holding them while the animatronic looked deeply at you, with worry you could’ve sworn. One of the other pair of arms handed over another card meanwhile the upper couple of hands were kept on your cheeks.

“Are you alright? I haven’t seen you around the last few days.” it read. You smiled at this but also felt a bit guilty by not coming to visit him. “Yeah, I just got sick. I’m sorry if I worried you.” You tried to smile it off, but you felt the pair of hands leave your cheeks as the animatronic sat next to you. “You aren’t much of a talker, can you even talk?” The animatronic moved its head to the sides, so he couldn’t talk? Well that explained the cards. You didn’t mind, as long as he could communicate someway it was okay for you.

Then, the animatronic pointed at the sandwich which was now long forgotten in the table. You chuckled at this taking it and taking a bite out of it for Neptunes satisfaction. You watched by the corner of your eye how his fingers were trying to really slowly get with yours. You smiled and drew your hand closer to his, and slowly intertwined your fingers with his and holding hands after. It was very peaceful, just how you liked it. When you finished your sandwich you stood up, noticing how Neptune shot you a concerned look for both of your hands.

“It’s okay, we can stay like this. I really don’t mind.” You reassured, watching how he nodded and stood up too. Since lots of the families were already leaving and the places you had tasks left to do were completely alone, you managed to do your tasks with Neptune by your side. It was funny how he watched with curiosity how you did some of them. It seemed like it was going to be a long night.

But even if it was, you didn’t mind any of it as long as you had your fortune teller besides you.

[babycharmander]

TW ANTISEMITISM. THERE WILL BE DEPICTIONS OF ANTISEMITIC ARTWORK AND TEXT IN THIS POST.

Okay so, this is not the kind of post I normally make, ever, nor a sort of post I ever wanted to make. But this is an incredibly important issue that goes beyond fandom stuff, and I've talked with a few other people about it to confirm that it is something concerning.

I want to start by saying that I am not Jewish, but I know that you should never let antisemitism get its foot in the door. (If anyone who reads this is Jewish and needs to correct me on anything, please do so immediately.)

This was posted to the tags yesterday:

[ID: A screenshot of a post from @/liu4ka. The caption at the top reads "well he looks at me / and i look at him / and then he smiles" in very small, stylized text. The image below is artwork of Otto, facing right, with his eyes squinted and his mouth in a skewed, toothy grin, with his hands held up in a strange way. /end ID]

This picture looks perfectly fine at first glance... but the thing is, that caption you see there was not the original caption. I managed to get a screenshot of it before it was changed, and the original caption was this:

[ID: A screenshot of the original caption of the above post, which reads "well he looks at me / and i look at him / and then he smiles like sly jew" /end ID]

That's... a weird way to describe a smile. I'd wondered if this was referencing something, and apparently the first two lines are lyrics from a Weird Al song, but the third line is definitely not. That was making alarm bells ring in my mind, along with the pose Otto was in (which I'll explain in a moment).

Still, I wanted to give this user the benefit of a doubt, because it's entirely possible to unknowingly say something that sounds Bad. So I looked at their other account on VK (which is a Russian website that is, as I understand it, similar to Facebook--they have the same name there and post some of the same art). It didn't take me long before I found... this (photo taken with the google translate app). (I hate sharing this, but I need to show proof here):

[ID: A photo of a computer screen taken from the Google Translate app. It features a character facing right, with their eyes narrowed and with a toothy grin on their face and their hands clasped in a specific way in reference to the "happy merchant" Nazi meme. The caption reads "SCARY JEWISH MUSIC PLAYS." /end ID]

It's not in the screenshot here, but the post this was in also had a song linked with it whose title directly referenced the "happy merchant" meme.

If you're not familiar with that meme, please look it up, as I'm NOT comfortable putting that image on my blog. But it's an image people should be familiar with because it is VERY FREQUENTLY referenced by white supremacists and nazis, and that's what's being referenced here.

Obviously not every single piece of art with a character giving a sly look is going to be a reference to that meme, but CONTEXT is important. The Otto image isn't posed exactly like the meme--the hands are not the same--but alongside the original caption AND given the other art this same artist has drawn, I don't think there's any room for doubt here.

What also doesn't help the case is that there was misinformation going around that Otto was canonically Jewish, so I don't think any of this is coincidental.

I feel awful writing this stuff up. I never wanted to make a post like this, but this was a case where I felt like I should not remain quiet. Once again, this is something that goes beyond fandom. Antisemitism is not something you ever, EVER want let through the door, ANYWHERE. I do not want it in this community, and you shouldn't either.

If any member of the Jewish community wants to correct me on anything or add to this, please do so.

Thank you.

[zephyrstargame]

well here's something I can do!

this is a little spin on an idea i've been seeing around that i think is wonderful... I personally, am not in the best financial place to be donating, but i can use my platform as a game developer to help out and do something cool at the same time :3

In exchange for donating esims to gaza, I'm gonna populate the world of Zephyr Star with your characters as NPCs! currently: OPEN!!

Here's the deal-- scurry on over to gazaesims.com to figure out how to buy and donate an esim to the people who need em-- any plan works for me, as long as you're gettin something out there!

then slip into my DMs (or anywhere else you can contact me directly) and show me a screenshot of the email, preferably with timestamps for proof that it's from after this post was posted... or really, any proof that you did do the thing-- also show me:

a reference image for what character you want me put in the game

what this character should say as an NPC (just a few lines at most) (optional; if you'd like i can just write some general dialogue instead)

how you would like to be credited in the in-game credits (ie what name i should put)

below the cut are some submission guidelines and extra notes, please also read that if you're interested :>

here are some general submission guidelines:

nothing too lewd, please!

or racist

or otherwise offensive

fandom ocs MIGHT be fine if they're Legally Distinct enough from the source material, but try not to get me sued here

In general, this game's world has No Humans, but that's not a strict requirement-- just a general suggestion

and keep in mind that characters with super intricate details might have to be simplified in order to work as pixel art

otherwise, anything works! furries, robots, sentient objects, your cat, whatever

and here's some notes, so you know what to expect:

i'll take anywhere between a few hours to a few days to finish, depends on how i'm feeling... either way, i'll tag you in a new post when i'm done!

the character will be done in small pixel art, with maybe some additional effects if i feel it works for the design

i will adjust the sprite size depending on the character-- an average sized character is drawn on a 32x32 canvas but if it's like a giant or really tall or something, i'd make it bigger so that the scale is accurate

everyone also gets a zoomed in headshot for the dialogue portrait

no secret bosses, shopkeepers, or other special story purpose for now, sorry! these are just some guys that stand around and say 1 or 2 lines as you go about your adventure

im putting the characters in various places at random, but if you want your guy to be in a certain type of location in-game let me know

this game is STILL in relatively early development-- but i do promise that each and every submission will be in there by the end! it might take yeaaaars for the full game to finally be out, but i'll be posting screenshots as I put em in the game so you know im not slacking around :>

and alongside the screenshot, i'll also post the sprites on their own if you'd like to save them for yourself

legal stuff uhhhhh im not good at legal stuff-- by participating, you are giving me permission to use your submitted character in the final game-- credit will be given in-game where you would expect to see it (the credits) and i will not claim ownership of any of your guys

(cartoon mafia boss voice) if at any point you want your character scrubbed out of the game, or you want anything changed, let me know in my DMs or anywhere else you can contact me and *click* *sinister laugh* we'll make it happen

no money goes to me ever, im not even gonna be the middlesnake between you and the esims-- i just think its less of a hassle to work this way -w-

did i get everything? i think that's everything... if i forgot something important sorry i'm a scatterbrain failgirl who has never done anything like this before im trying my best okay

may the rift be filled with your cool little guys! but more importantly, let's keep gaza connected! free palestine! 🍉

[zerokaram]

I just wanna take a moment to make a few points regarding zionists, tlou, and palestine.

No one should stay silent about this, especially not tlou creators, considering that neil druckman has unfortunately managed to incorporate and slip in very controversial and quite frankly--just straight up wrong representations of palestinian people and zionist ideologies in tlou. Heres an explanation to that:link

If you're either fucking ignorant or just living under a rock, (but considering the publicity of the situation at hand, is very unlikely) there is a genocide going on in palestine. If you didn't know, (which is very, VERY unlikely, like i said) you do now. Furthermore; now that we have this in mind, I have seen many people in the tlou fandom continue to post and interact with tlou content during strikes and most the most important of all--not posting or spreading awareness about palestine at ALL. If you are aware of the genocide, speak about it. Theres no fucking excuse to not be doing so. If you are not speaking out, you are a part of the problem.

2. I'm not saying you only have to post about palestine. That's not it at all. What i'm saying is---there can be a balance between posting your own personal content as well as posting and spreading awareness about palestine at the same time. Absolutely everyone can find the time to post about palestine.

3. If you are in the tlou fandom, please educate yourself. It is still okay to like tlou, it is still okay to post about it, to post content, fics, etc. but with that comes the responsibility of knowing the creators wrong doings, and how israeli themes are incorporated into the game. it is always important to clarify that you do not support that part of tlou, which is what I am doing now. Bottom line, separate the art from the artist, seperate the wrong ideologies from the art.

4. Acknowledgement. There might be questions like, "why keep posting about or liking, interacting, or overall just giving publicity to tlou content?" which to that I will explain. It has to be first and foremost that everyone as well as myself continues to acknowledge the fact that tlou was made by a zionist. That is absolutely a fact. And no amount of fics, smut, or shit like that is gonna change that. But people don't LIKE tlou for that. people dont POST tlou content because they want to spread zionist ideology. They simply just post scenarios, fics, or drabbles about their favorite characters from said video game. So posting about tlou and its characters will not benefit zionists or spread their ideology individually (unless they ARE in fact saying that they support it) , nor neil druckman. But what WILL benefit him is buying any more of the games, which please---you should not do. The money goes to a horrible person like him, and that fact should be acknowledged. So continuing to post about characters from tlou like abby, ellie, dina, joel--stuff like that, theres nothing wrong with that. But failing to acknowledge or want to acknowledge that the TLOU creator is problematic, and that neil druckman has included zionist ideology in TLOU, as well as not spreading awareness about palestine when you, yourself, are aware, is what is wrong.

And I really did hope this would go without saying but unfortunately some people cant seem to fucking understand; people are dying. let that sink in. and you're over here worrying about fictional pussy? be so fucking for real. if you're mad about people flooding tlou tags to spread awareness, go cry about it.

If I have said absolutely anything out of line in this, PLEASE let me know. I am always wanting to further educate myself about serious matters like this, so my comments are always open.

[allyriadayne]

will someone explain to me what the deal is with asoiaf lore? i'll see someone talking about something and it will come from martin responding to a fan letter from the 90s? and this is canon?? like who found and compilates all of the stuff he has said besides released books and interviews i guess. i've never been a fan of a series like this, is this common?

this has me genuinely in tears sorry 😭😭😭

okay serious now. i genuinely don't know if this is normal or expected in fantasy book series, at least i don't think it's that common in modern fantasy where the fashion has gone other ways from the expansive sword & sorcery type from the 20th century. i could not tell you if other fantasy authors are as involved as grrm is because i haven't been involved with any other fandom like this either (maybe lotr fans can say something different), but considering the years between publications (let this one be the last 🤞), the massive fanbase and fame of the source material, i think it's normal that his interviews, comments, and fanmail has been archived in the internet.

strictly speaking, everything outside asoiaf (books 1-5), fire and blood, and the dunk & egg books is not considered canon. BUT if the info comes from people like elio and linda like twoiaf book, or like the calendars, cookbooks, official art etc it's considered semi-canonical, just like anything grrm says /outside/ of the books. famous example, it's like when jk rowling said dumbledore was gay /after/ the books were done. it's semi canonical bc it comes from the author themselves, it doesn't affect the main body of work so it can be taken or discarded.

the thing is, martin has done A LOT of interviews and answered A LOT of fanmail and worked closely in answering doubts from the westeros dot org site for their rpg games set in westeros (girl, the dream) during the more than 30 years since the publication of agot. all this is considered semi canon and this archive is called "so spake martin" (SSM), which i think was started by elio & linda in the 90s and it's still collecting info. if you go to the awoiaf wiki, esp in the main series characters you'll see this citation (from tyrion's page):

most will be things like "martin has said tyrion has similarities to richard iii" (i mean duh) but other will be really neat like saying tyrion has been trained in arms, which while not something new (he does fight more or less ably during the blackwater battle) it's interesting to point out when it's a detail that may be lost in the series. it goes from character trivia to how casterly rock is different from the show. most fans take what he says seriously but i know there are people that only consider what's in the book and that's it, which is fine. in any case, most of these is used to enrich theories or character analysis, it's why you will see trivia from a fanmail from 1996 or whatever. i myself haven't read SSM completely one by one but i do like to peruse the wiki often, even if it's not complete.

i've seen a few blogs on here who also "collect" grrm's words like nobodysuspectsthebutterfly's "so spake martin" tag (mostly analysis but really interesting read if u don't want to go thru the westeros org page) or georgescitadel that has specific info about characters or themes in asoiaf.