#this is my first fic

[slippinninque]

Fontaine likes pretty things

(and yes, that includes you too)

Soo, I don't even know where this came from? Maybe two things.

I just imagined Fontaine seeing something and going 'my baby would look good in that shit'.

And Fontaine would be his lady's #1 fan. Like, no questions asked.

(I also feel like he'll have some unconventional likings, y'know? i don't know lmao it's late)

I'm not sure how long it is, but I sure hope you enjoy it! All feedback appreciated!

warnings: 18+, cursing, use of the n-word, smoking, over all rambling of a sleep deprived writer

Your hair was finally the way you wanted.

Taking a step back, you couldn't resist putting your hands on your hips and muttering to yourself,

"Well, damn it he was right."

You looked good.

Plumb purple and soft, the lace basque was dotted with shimmering golden beading. The sweeping pattern accentuated the softness of your middle, the shapeliness of your thighs.

It wasn't that you didn't like your body, lingerie just made you feel...pressured to look perfect. This was different, though. Way different. You even added a spritz of your favorite perfume

The delicateness of the fabric had you nervous to put it on, but now that you were encased in it--you felt sensual. You felt--

"You gonna come out here and lemme see?"

You jumped and answered reflexively, "Yes!"

Fuck.

Before you could stall any longer, you left the bathroom and followed the low sound of music to the front room.

Fontaine made a noise like he felt something good just by looking at you.

He sat in the armchair puffing on a blunt as he rolled another, little clouds crowning him as he took his fill of you.

Fontaine took charge as soon as you came home from work. He had dinner waiting and a bath, only asking that you wear what was in the box that was placed on the sink's counter.

You came close enough to touch, "Well?"

Fontaine hummed and tilted his head to meet your gaze with open look of smug desire, "Don't 'well' me, girl. You like it, right?"

You bunched up your lips, looking around the living room with a neutral hum. You couldn't make it too easy for him.

He reached out to brush the backs of his knuckles along the lacey designs before him, "You said to me that if I got you something that you fuck with, I can get as much of it for you as I wanted."

Ah, fuck. "I did, I-I did say that."

"So that means...what?"

You felt the smile but aimed it up at the ceiling, "Means I can't say nothing but thank you when you bring it to me."

"Hn. Bet you didn't think your man was gonna know what you like?" Fontaine made a show of shaking his head, as if disappointed.

"Oh stop, it ain't gonna stop you from rubbing it in." You said, waving him away.

"Damn straight."

Fontaine slipped the blunt between your fingers, distracting you long enough for him to reach onto the side table to grab a thin box.

Your eyes widened as you watched him pluck off the top of the box to show glittering, matching stockings.

With that box in his lap, Fontaine looked up at you and wore that his best 'please, baby' face--completed by a kiss to your stomach.

What else could you do? You nod and took pull.

"That's my girl."

Fontaine deftly rolled the first stocking down and when you stepped into it, he gently fitted the fabric up your calf. His wide hand smoothed up from your ankle to your thigh, attaching the small clasp of the basque.

When he leaned in to nip at the fabric stretched over your knee, you realized the gold beading matched his grills. Rubbing his cheek in the same spot, you shivered when you felt his beard tug.

You hit the blunt hard a few more times before leaning over him to flick it into the ashtray. Fontaine inhaled, catching the scent of your perfume and groaning softly.

'This man is out of control.'

"These go fuckin' perfect." His words brought you out of your head, "Pretty, pretty girl."

Fontaine always touched you with absolute focus and this time was no different. Helping your other foot into the stocking and clasp, rubbing and kneading your skin until the praises he muttered melted you down.

"You look so fucking good, baby." his voice was rougher than it had been all night, "Ain't nothing pinching? Anythin' feel loose?"

"It feels good. I really do like it, 'Taine, promise."you said as you went into his lap and looped your arms around his neck, "I want to know what else you want to see me in."

Fontaine ran a hand along your flank, "Maybe...Maybe some heels."

"Mhm. I'd wear them for you." You struck your legs in your best attempt at a pin-up pose and watched Fontaine's eyes trace the line "I want the ones with the little pom-pom. Y'know, classy."

Fontaine bounced you in his lap in protest, " 'Course you would. I wanna see that ass in them-in them pointy shits. What are they called?"

"Pointy shits."

Fontaine smacked his lips and you shrugged a shoulder, reaching for the blunt again. Fontaine grabbed the one he tucked behind his ear in time to share a flame with you.

You watched him watch you, unable to stop the grin from forming as he ran his finger tips over beads and lace.

"So...you're going to stare at me all night?"

That grin slipped and gave way to an open look of hunger. Fontaine's hold turned into a soft grip, pulling you closer to him so he could finally kiss you. Slow, searing, promising--over too soon.

When he pulled back, he pressed his cheek to yours.

"Go in our room and put on the pink one. I'll tear that shit up off you--this one's my favorite."

You jerked back, blinking at him.

Now you knew this man was about to be on, but maybe you could beat him there...

You were up on your feet and hurrying to the bedroom and Fontaine was only a beat behind you.

[michaelsgavey]

Who Needs Cupid? - Billy Washington X Fem!Reader

Summary: Today is the celebration of romance and Billy decides to use this day as an opportunity to ask his neighbor he had been crushing on out on a date. However.. things do not go as planned.

Warnings: Other than the fact it’s using she/her pronouns, it’s nothing really.

Type of story: Fluff

Author’s note: Woohoo! First fic here! I was gonna post this on Valentine’s day but i couldn’t wait any longer. This is my first piece of fanfiction and this is my first time writing for Billy so bare with me please. Plus my writing’s a lil’ rusty so i really hope y’all like it 😭 There is rare use of y/n but it IS a x reader fic with she/her pronouns. But anyways.. let’s see the story! I hope you all like it 🫶

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

And there she was.

Here she was outside tending her plants. She always took real care of her outdoor plants.

Billy had come outside to get his mail and he could not help but to take a glance at his neighbor. As silly as it sounded , he may have developed a liking towards her. But how could anyone not? She was kind , sweet , and she is caring. She even brings pastries she cooked around the neighborhood. She was a kind soul indeed.

Her kindness is what drew Billy to her. The two have interacted from time to time but he hasn’t mustered up the courage to ask her out on a date. He was confident that he could do it but at the same time he was scared. What would happen if he did ask her out? Would she reject him? Did she even have a significant other? Those kinds of questions made him slightly anxious.

Was he even her type? Was he even anyone’s type? She was everything. Billy was.. well he’s just Billy. He didn’t see himself as a perfect man. God he was a wreck. He was about to go inside when she waved at him. Billy’s heart fluttered and he waved back with a smile. She went back inside and he sighed before he did the same.

Later in the evening, Billy was at a restaurant having dinner with his sister. He decided to open up to her about his feelings towards his neighbor.

“I don’t understand these feelings, Lana. I want to ask her out on a date and develop a relationship. But I just..” Billy trailed off and took a deep sigh before he looked at her. “I don’t know how to do it. I don’t think I have the courage to ask her out.” He admitted.

“Well-“ Lana was about to speak before Billy cut her off. “I need to have the courage somehow! I mean.. She’s perfect! She truly is a dream girl. I mean.. she’s kind and wonderful and beautiful.. I could go on and on about her.” He said. Lana just sighed.

“Well.. It does not hurt to try. What is there to be afraid of?” She questioned. Billy looked at her and looked down. “What is to be afraid of? Rejection.” He responded. “Again. It doesn't hurt to try it out.” She responded.

He looked at his sister. Maybe she does have a point. It would not be the end of the world if he had tried… right? “Fine. I’ll try to ask her out. Besides, how am I gonna do that?” He questioned. When he asked that , Lana looked like she was thinking.

Billy looked out the window and saw a booth that was selling Valentine’s Day items. It was full of teddy bears, flowers and many more essential Valentine’s Day items. Then he had an idea.

“I could ask her out on Valentine’s day! That’s perfect isn’t it?” Billy said with a proud smile. Lana nods while sharing a smile. Billy beamed and looked confident. “I’ll give her the best Valentine’s gift. Surely it’ll make her want to go out with me.” He said.

It was a good idea. What could go wrong?

__________

It was now the 13th day of the month. A day before Valentine’s Day. Billy was sitting on his couch thinking of ways on how to impress this woman. So far.. he got nothing. What could he give her? What could he do to get her to be in awe of him?

A piece of jewelry? They have been advertising them constantly. No. Too pricey. What about a walk at the park? Would that work? Maybe not. What about a poem? He’s not good at poetry. He could never do that.

Billy sighed and rubbed his face. Why was this so hard? What could he give her for Valentine’s Day? Maybe he should give up.. Wait No. He can’t. He was confident that he would not give up! He has to go for it. He has to shoot his shot.

Billy had stood up and decided to go out. He would go out and find something that he could not only afford , but something that would wow her. He was confident that it would work.

He grabbed his wallet and put it in his pocket before he stepped out of his home. He decided to walk to the local supermarket to see what they’d have to offer. Surely they’d have something good in mind. Right?

__________

After a slightly long walk , Billy entered the supermarket, looked around and tried to find the area that sold Valentine’s day items. He walked around and looked before he saw it. But to his surprise, it was slightly crowded.

Many people were looking around to see what the area had to offer. From lovers looking for something for their significant others to mothers looking for Valentine’s cards for their kid’s Valentine’s party at school , it looked slightly chaotic. Well.. In his eyes it did.

But was he going to back down? No. Billy entered the area and explored the area. Hm.. what could he get her? It was a lot to choose.

Billy strolled through the area, contemplating the perfect Valentine's Day gift for his her. As he explored the shelves, the possibilities seemed endless. From fragrant bouquets to exquisite chocolates, the choices were overwhelming. Yet, Billy was determined to find something uniquely special for her. As he strolled past the section, an idea sparked in his mind.

Fresh flowers! The floral arrangements caught his eye, and he imagined presenting a beautiful bouquet to his neighbor. Billy carefully selected a mix of her favorite flowers, envisioning the delight on her face when he handed them to her tomorrow. “Perfect.” He said with a proud smile.

With flowers in hand, he ventured further into the store, determined to complement the bouquet with something more personal. As he perused the aisles, the confectionery section beckoned him, and he decided on a box of assorted chocolates to add a sweet touch to the gift.

Billy's thoughtful quest didn't end there. He wanted this gesture to be memorable, so he meandered through the store, searching for a charming card to express his feelings. After scanning numerous options, he found one that captured the sentiment he couldn't put into words.

With the bouquet of flowers, a box of chocolates, and a heartfelt card, Billy approached the checkout counter, excitement and nervousness intertwining within him. The cashier smiled knowingly, recognizing the classic signs of someone gearing up for a special occasion.

As Billy left the supermarket, he couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and optimism. Valentine's Day was just tomorrow, and he was armed with a thoughtful ensemble that he hoped would win over her heart. He was confident with that.

__________

That night, as Billy arranged the flowers, placed the chocolates in a neat package, and signed the heartfelt card, a wave of nervous energy washed over him. He paced around his living room, talking to himself in hushed tones.

“Come on, Billy, you can do this," he whispered, trying to convince himself. He rehearsed what he would say, stumbling over words and then finding the right ones. The weight of uncertainty hung in the air as he debated the pros and cons of confessing his feelings.

“But what if she doesn't feel the same way?" he questioned, glancing at the bouquet as if seeking answers. The possibility of rejection gnawed at him, but a spark of determination flickered in his eyes.

He continued his one-man pep talk, encouraging himself to take the leap. "You've got a great plan, a thoughtful gift. She'll appreciate the effort, right?" Billy mumbled, almost convincing himself that everything would unfold perfectly.

As he prepared for the following day, the internal dialogue persisted. “Is it worth the risk?" Doubts and insecurities clouded his thoughts, but the desire for something more pushed him forward.

With a deep breath, Billy reflected on the moments they shared, the smiles they exchanged, and the connection that had grown between them. The idea of spending Valentine's Day alone, wondering "what if," outweighed the fear of rejection.

With a newfound determination, Billy set the stage for the next day, hopeful that his gesture would be met with warmth.

__________

Valentine's Day arrived, and Billy meticulously groomed himself, selecting an outfit that radiated a charming blend of casual and sophisticated. He spared no effort in ensuring he looked his best, as he hoped to make a lasting impression on his neighbor. He even had a clean shaven face.

As he stood before the mirror, smoothing down his shirt, a surge of confidence filled him. "You've got this," he told himself, determined to approach the day with positivity.

As he made his way to his neighbor's door with the carefully arranged gifts, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursed through him. The bouquet of flowers and box of chocolates were held tightly in his hands, his heart pounding with anticipation.

He really got this. He is about to do it!

However, just as fate often teases with irony, a moment of clumsiness struck. As he approached her door, he tripped over an uneven sidewalk, sending the bouquet of flowers, the box of chocolates, and the heartfelt card soaring through the air. Panic and disappointment washed over him as he watched his carefully arranged gifts scatter in all directions.

“No!” He exclaimed , looking at the gifts he had gotten on the floor. The box of chocolates was open and out , the flowers looked wrinkled , and the card landed on mud.

Billy's heart sank, and for a moment, he contemplated abandoning the mission altogether. He muttered discouraging words to himself, convinced that this mishap had sealed his fate. "I knew I couldn't do this. It was a silly idea," he murmured, berating himself for what seemed like a comedy of errors. “God.. I’m such an fuck up.”

As Billy remained on the sidewalk, contemplating the shattered pieces of his planned surprise, he heard the door behind him creak open. To his surprise, Y/N, with a curious and concerned expression, rushed outside, witnessing the aftermath of the unexpected mishap.

“Billy, are you okay?" she asked, genuine worry etched on her face as she took in the scene. She noticed the scattered flowers, the fallen chocolates, and the way he looked disheartened.

Feeling a mix of embarrassment and disappointment, Billy stammered, "I, uh, I..”

Embarrassment flushed across Billy's face as he stammered, "I... I wanted to give you something for Valentine's Day." He admitted, feeling vulnerable and exposed. The weight of the moment hung in the air as he awaited her reaction.

To his surprise, instead of disappointment, a warm smile spread across her face. "Really? For me?" she exclaimed, genuine delight replacing any concern she initially had. Her eyes twinkled with a mix of surprise and joy.

Billy nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. "Yeah, I wanted it to be perfect, but..." he gestured helplessly toward the scattered gifts, now gathered in his hands. “But, well, it's all ruined now."

To his surprise, she smiled, shaking her head. "Ruined? Not at all, Billy. It's the thought that counts, and this unexpected twist just makes it even more special. I appreciate the effort you put into this."

Perplexed by her response, Billy couldn't help but question, "But, I mean, everything went wrong. I tripped, gifts flew everywhere. How is that not ruined?"

She chuckled warmly, meeting his eyes with understanding. "Billy, it's not about everything going perfectly. It's about the sincerity and effort behind the gesture. The fact that you went through all this trouble to make Valentine's Day special for me means more than anything."

As she spoke, Billy found himself reconsidering his perspective. Perhaps, he realized, the mishap hadn't ruined everything; it had added an element of authenticity to his expression of feelings. His neighbor's reassurance made him appreciate the beauty in the unpredictability of life.

With a smile, she added, "Besides, it's the story we create together that matters. This unexpected twist just makes our Valentine's Day more memorable, don't you think?"

Billy couldn't help but nod in agreement, grateful for the wisdom and understanding his neighbor brought to the situation.

Encouraged by her understanding, Billy took a deep breath, reminding himself of his original intention. The scattered gifts, though imperfect, became a symbol of their shared moment, and he couldn't let this opportunity slip away.

Summoning his courage, he looked into Y/N's eyes and said, "You know, there's something else I wanted to ask you. I was wondering.. if you'd like to go out on a date with me sometime. You don’t have to say yes but..”

His words hung in the air, and a nervous energy surrounded them. The unexpected mishap had paved the way for a more genuine connection, and as he awaited her response, a mix of anticipation and vulnerability played on his face.

Y/N, who had been through the rollercoaster of surprises that evening, grinned warmly. "I would love that, Billy. It sounds like a perfect idea."

Billy's heart swelled with happiness as he processed his neighbor's positive response. A smile graced his face, and he couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement about the prospect of a date.

“I'm looking forward to it. Maybe.. Saturday at six pm?” he replied, a mix of relief and joy in his voice. She nodded and smiled. “Sure. I would love that.” She responded. He can’t believe it. His plan went great! Well.. it wasn’t how he expected but it went great! He was getting the woman of his dreams.

Then with a playful twinkle in her eye, she suggested, "Why don't you come inside for a bit? I've actually made some cake, and I think we could use a sweet ending to this eventful day."

Billy's spirits lifted even more at the invitation. "Sure, I'd love that," he said, appreciating the warmth and comfort she offered.

As they stepped into her cozy home, the scent of freshly baked cake enveloped them. They continued to talk, sharing stories and laughter, turning what could have been a discouraging day into one filled with unexpected connections and delightful surprises.

Feeling a genuine connection blossoming, Billy couldn't help but appreciate the unpredictability of life. In the warmth of her company, he found not only a wonderful Valentine's Day but also the promise of something more meaningful.

Days turned into weeks, and their days together were filled with smiles, shared interests, and the joy of discovering each other. Eventually, what started as a nervous attempt to express his feelings blossomed into a beautiful romance.

In the end, Billy's Valentine's Day plan, despite its bumps and surprises, led him to a happy ending. A love story that unfolded unexpectedly but perfectly, just like the imperfectly perfect bouquet of flowers.

[neocultureslut]

Jealousy:

(18+)

You knew by the silence and the look in Jeno’s eyes that you were in for it when you got home.

You and the dreamies decided to have a movie night and everything was fine, until Jaemin got a little bit too comfortable with you. Laughing a little too hard at you’re jokes? Ok fine. Bonding over your love for a certain movie franchise? Cool, no prob. But him laying his head on your shoulder? Big mistake.

While sandwiched between the two of them, a sudden chill ran down your spine. You felt your boyfriend tense and squeeze your hand a bit too tightly. You didn’t have to turn your head to feel him staring daggers at the two of you.

“I think it’s about time we get going, Y/N doesn’t feel too well? Right babe?” Jeno forces out at calmly as possible. 

You knew that there was no point of delaying the inevitable, so you hesitantly went along with his lie. “Yeah, I’m sorry guys, you can continue without us, don’t let us ruin your fun!”

“Aww but you guys just got here!” Haechan exclaimed. “We’ve been here over 3 hours.” Jeno muttered. “Oh it’s alright… go get some rest Y/N! I hope you feel better. Oh, and Jeno, make sure to put her straight to bed when you get home!” Jaemin said obliviously.

“Oh don’t worry, I will.” Jeno said with a menacing look.

So that’s how you ended up here. Where is here you may ask? Let’s just say Jeno kept his promise of getting you into bed, but resting is the last thing you were doing.

Jeno’s hand was wrapped around your throat, while you gasped and tried to catch your breath from the brutal force of his hips slamming against you.

“Yeah, this is what you wanted right? Needed me to remind you who the fuck you belonged to?Huh?” He growled out.

“Jeno I’m sorry, we were just talking! It wasn’t like tha-“

You gasped as he slightly squeezed your throat.

“Oh it’s okay baby, I know I have nothing to worry about. Like he could ever fuck you like I can. Just look at how wet you are. You’re fucking drenching my cock. Can’t you hear it?” He panted.

He slowed down and started to slowly fuck his cock into you. The wet squelch made you wince and tighten even more around him. You looked down at the way his cock was splitting you open, letting out a gasp at the sight of it all.

He slid his hand away from your neck and gripped your hips and began to pick up speed again. You yelped and held onto him for dear life as the sound of your cries and moans filled the air. With a look of lust and defeat written all over your face, Jeno smirked at the sight of you being a complete wreck.

“That’s right baby. Take it. This is what you needed right? Me to pound that pussy of yours? Remind you that you’re mine? Yeah?” He growled as he continued to fuck into you.

“Yeah you like that I treat you like a princess and fuck you like a whore? I know you do baby, I know you fucking do.” Your eyes rolled back and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

“Jeno p-please-“ You stuttered. “Yeah, you gonna cum? Fucking cum for me Y/N. Cum all over my cock, fucking do it.” He grunted as he slammed into you and rubbed circles onto your clit.

You threw your head back and let out a silent scream and you reached your climax. Your legs turned into jelly as you weakly pushed your hand against his abs and he fucks you through it. “Oh shit, look at the mess you made Y/N.” He laughed.

“Mmh I’m so fucking close, shit.” He grunted as he pushed your legs back and continued to pound into you. “Fuck yeah, I’m about to fill that pussy up, oh shit” The sound of skin slapping and his grunts filled the air as he reached his high.

“Oh fuck, yeah take it. Fucking take it.” He groaned as he came inside of you. “O-Oh fuck” He moans as he continues to fill you up. His head drooping onto your shoulder as your cunt continues to milk him dry.

He lifts his head and kisses your neck softly while slowly pulling out, watching his cum leak out of your pussy.

“Well, I told him I would put you to bed” He smirks.

[brokenbytheircursedlove]

THE DEMON BROS REACTING TO MC GETTING CURSED BY A LOVE POTION Pt.1

SUMMARY: You and Solomon were doing a potion for class, but you messed up. In present, you're unconscious with the demon brothers surrounding you and yelling at Solomon as if it's his fault. Solomon came in use by telling them the effect of the potion: "The first person they see after waking up will be the person who they will cling on to the whole day."

WARNINGS: getting cursed ig...

Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor, Bonus- Pt.2

My vision is getting blurry...

LUCIFER

You opened your eyes as your gaze fell on Lucifer's tall figure standing still in pride position in the middle of the rest. Your pupils dilate as the potion takes effect. You stand up, light-headed, barely managing to walk towards him. Lucifer's chest bloats ever so slightly with pride as you take your steps towards him, stumbling. He reaches out his hand to you as the complains and whines from his brothers only fuel him. You take his hand and pull yourself closer to him, making his cheeks tint the lightest shade of pink when you wrap your hands around his neck. Fortunately for him, his brothers were too busy revolting to capture the rare blush on his face. You bury your head on the crook of his neck mumbling his name in an almost inaudible sound..... for humans. Hearing your mumbles, Lucifer swelled in pride while his brothers swelled in the other cardinal sin of envy. In midst of the quarrel between his brothers, Lucifer pulled you away elegantly. Leading you to his room while pampering you with innumerable kisses. Congratulations! You unlocked soft Lucifer!

"Oh, my love, seeing you like this is better than any dream come true"

Lucifer's a sadist. It's the truth but seeing you in his arms as you snuggle his chest, the way your eyes look at him with love, as you obey every word that escapes his lips makes him feel like he is in the celestial realm again.

Lucifer is also a workaholic but right now, the paper work on his table lay untouched, instead his head lays on you lap as your finger run through his black and white strands.

Being aware of his chaotic brothers and their antics he put a curse on the door that only he can lift. Not even his father himself can separate you two right now.

He didn't realize how much he needed this until now. He can feel his stress vaporize with your touch.

If you decide to pamper him with kisses he will internally die while trying to act all smug. Please don't kill this man he is already too tired

Next day, Lucifer will be the happiest demon alive.

MAMMON

Mammon might not be the smartest, but he definitely saw you open your eyes and see him. He stared at you intently watching as you barely manage to stand up. His eyes widen as you wrap your arms around him. Starts mumbling about how great he is and why would you see him first while letting an obvious blush creep up his face. He picks you up like a twig having your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs around his waist as he takes you to his room. His little brothers' complains die down with every step towards his room. He goes full Tsundere while letting you pamper him.

"I-It's not like I am e-enjoying it or anything.... Oi! who told you to stop"

Doesn't let you stop. It's not like you want to

He takes you out that night, away from his brothers and just with him and boy oh boy does he spoil you!?!

But can you blame him in the first place? You just look so cute when you cling on to his arm like that, when you look at him like that. I mean who wouldn't want to spoil you rotten??

If you plan on staying home that night, he will make sure you have some kind of physical contact with him all night even when you go to sleep.

next day, mammon has a certain someone's lip stains all over his face and you have the intoxicating smell of mammon's cologne.

LEVIATHAN

You of course wouldn't want to look at a yucky otaku like him, first thing after waking up, right? Then why are you making eye contact with him right now? Hell, when did you even open your eyes? He takes a step back slightly hiding behind the fifth-born as you dizzily stand up. You take his hand and slowly cling on to him. He almost faints as his face grows red redder than Kushina's hair. He is in too much shock to take you to his room. But if you insist, he will oblige. His brothers surprisingly do not complain (except for Asmo and mammon trying to steal you away here and there).

"Y-Y-You would l-l-like to s-spend a whole day with a yucky otaku like me? You're an a-angel!"

leviathan.exe has stopped working.

Tells himself that you are just doing this because of the potion.

If you agree to do cosplays with him he will be over the moon.

Malfunctions every time you cling on to him and oh boy, if you decide to kiss him he will die happily then and there.

Please don't let this demon degrade himself.

Gets really awkward the next day, not knowing how to react.

A/N: Thank you for reading take care.

[aranel-ancunin]

Lasting Love

Summary : Astarion x Aranel , romance, fluff & spice. This is my first fic and I hope you enjoy!

I had the idea for a BG3 ending I want with Astarion. In this short story he is now mortal, and gets to adventure and see more of the world with the one he loves.

Aranel awoke at their woodland camp to the sounds of birds singing, the river flowing and the sun rising upon her, she smiles when she sees Astarion is still fast asleep, but as soon as she's about to get up from her bedroll, his eyes flicker open. "Good morning," He says as he looks up at her. She lays a hand on his cheek, caressing it with her fingers. He reaches up and places a soft his on her lips. They stare into each others eyes, for what feels like an eternity. Her heart starts pounding faster and faster as she opens her mouth to say something, anything, and then all the air in the world gets sucked out. He kisses her passionately.

"I love you." Aranel whispers. As if reading her mind, he replies, "I know, I love you too." with a soft smile.

The world has stopped moving around them. The birds have stopped chirping, the breeze no longer blowing. He puts his hands on either side of her face and holds her in place. They look deep into each other's eyes again, so lost in each other that neither one of them can speak. Their hearts are beating as one. He smiles down at her. "We should get going," He finally says. Aranel nods her head, unable to find the words to reply. He gives her a tender kiss and grabs her bag, tossing it over his shoulder. They leave the forest and make their way through the grassy fields toward the town of Forveven. As they walk along the trail, hand in hand, she thinks back to the night before, recalling every moment spent with him, savoring every memory, trying to hold onto it forever. Her heart pounds wildly as she looks at him. He seems more beautiful than ever.

When they finally reach the town, they pass by a group of bandits on their way to raid Forveven. They're laughing and talking among themselves. One of them stops and yells, "We've got us a pretty one here!" The other bandits join in and laugh. Aranel turns to see Astarion glaring at them, a scowl etched across his face. Before he has time to move, the bandits grab him from behind. He spins around quickly, knocking several of them to the ground. He stands there, his daggers drawn, facing off against five heavily armed men. She watches as Astarion slowly circles the bandits. Each man tries to attack him, but he dodges each attack effortlessly. She hears him growl quietly under his breath. Suddenly he jumps forward and stabs a bandit in the chest, blood spurting everywhere. Aranel shoots a lighting bolt at another bandit, leaving him paralyzed on the ground. The bandit scream in pain and surprise. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" She asks, still firing lightning bolts at the other two bandits. She barely manages to miss Astarion. One of the bandits runs towards her, raising his sword high above his head.

"Come on! Come on!" The remaining bandits yell out. They charge toward her, shouting angrily. Aranel unleashes a thunderwave, hurling them toward the ground, then charges towards Astarion, who throws a dagger at the last bandit. It sinks into his throat, spraying blood. The bandit falls to the floor in front of him. Astarion asks "Are you alright?" and then wraps his arms around Aranel and squeezes her tightly. She leans her head on his shoulder. The sun has almost set, casting an orange glow across the horizon. The wind begins to pick up as the moon rises in the sky. After taking a short break to catch their breath, Aranel and Astarion continue walking along the road. The villagers are returning home after their long day at work. They wave hello to them as they pass by.

When they get to the center of town, they spot a sign posted on a wooden pole. She reads it aloud, "Welcome to Forveven: A Great Town on the Western Sea." Astarion laughs, "That was not my intention. I just wanted to show you that we'll have plenty of adventures together."

Aranel shrugs, smiling at him, "Adventure? We've been having adventures since the moment we met. Don't think that's changed any." He walks up to her and gives her a quick kiss on the lips. They enter the tavern and sit down next the window, ordering wine and venison stew. They tuck into their meal. A small fire burns at the end of the room, providing enough heat to keep the room warm. Several people stand up from their seats and go to wash up at the basin at the far end of the room. Aranel and Astarion rent a room for the night.

The room is warm and comfortable. It smells faintly of wood and wool, with a welcoming fire. Aranel prepares a bath, while Astarion takes a seat at the table. He looks at her with such love in his eyes, she can feel it, even though she can't see it. She loves him too, she just wishes she could show it better than she does. When the water begins to boil, she gets into the tub and sits down. Astarion joins her a few minutes later. He takes off his clothes and steps into the hot bath. Aranel sighs deeply. She has always loved baths. There's something so soothing about it, the way the warm water envelopes you, embracing you like a comforting blanket.

Astarion places his arms around her waist. She rests her head on his chest and closes her eyes. This is where she feels most at peace. With her head resting against his chest, she can hear the sound of his heartbeat. Inhaling deeply, she inhales his scent, which she has come to recognize so well. She loves the smell of his leather armor, as much as she loves the smell of his skin. She places her hand on top of his chest, running her fingers across lightly. Aranel turns her head slightly and places a kiss on his neck. She nuzzles closer to him, needing him. Their eyes meet once again, looking deep into each others' eyes. He brushes his hand against her cheek, tilting her head up to kiss her passionately. Aranel pushes herself up onto her elbows and wraps her legs around his waist. She continues kissing him passionately, rubbing her body against his.

The world around them fades away. All she knows is him. Nothing else matters anymore. As he drives himself deeper inside her, Aranel lets out a moan, letting him know how much she loves him. And that she wants him to make love to her. She rolls her hips against him, wanting to take everything he has to offer. Astarion groans deeply, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He presses his body hard against hers, making sure she feels every inch of him. He pumps his hips, driving himself deeper inside her. His thrusts become harder and faster. Her moans get louder. Every time he thrusts inside her, her orgasm builds. Her eyes roll back in her head, as her breathing becomes heavy. She bites her lip as she struggles to control her cries. She grips his shoulders tightly as her whole body tenses up, clenching around him. She feels her insides contract violently around him, squeezing his cock so tight that he's forced to stop thrusting. Just as she thinks she's about to lose it, he continues pushing himself deep inside her. The feeling of pure ecstasy takes over. The waves of pleasure crash over her. She writhes against him as her body contracts and spasms uncontrollably. He continues thrusting until his own climax hits him. A shudder passes through his entire body. His arms collapse against her back. Aranel clings to him, holding him tightly against her. They remain locked in a passionate embrace for what feels like hours. Eventually, they both calm down and return to reality. They help each other out of the tub and dry off. A couple hours later, they retire to bed, drifting off to sleep in each others' arms.

He woke up to the sound of gentle rain hitting the window. He lazily opened his eyes and saw Aranel lying beside him. The sheets had fallen down exposing her body, but she was covered by a thin layer of silk. She smiled at him when she noticed he was awake. He rolled onto his back and pulled her into his arms. They fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms.

Tomorrow will bring many more adventures.

[daydreamswithme]

hi, you said you mby wanted to get into writing? how about a meet cute situation? where harry is like famous and she doesn’t know but he looks familiar or something like that. if you don’t end up doing it that is also okay :) hope you’re having a good day xx

A/N: AAAH OMG!!! THIS ID MY FIRST REQUEST THANK UUUU XXXXX !!!! i didnt really know how to start this BUT I LOOKED UP SOME PROMPTS and chose this one:

THIS IS LIKE MORE THAN 2 YEARS OLD SO IT WAS WAY WAY BEFORE HARRY WON HIS GRAMMIES OR GAINED THE ALL THE FAME HE HAS NOW LOL (i started writing it right about the time lot first started in the usa i think????)

20: getting paired up at a dance class

You were running late.

So fucking late.

And you knew that Glenne was a perfectionist and she would have your head if you were late again-

But it wasn't your fault. Solely at least.

Everything was going wrong today. From getting your period this morning and staining your favourite sheets to the bus breaking down on the way down here, forcing you to walk the last 3 blocks in the pouring rain.

The universe seemed to hate you today.

Finally, though, you sigh as you push open the heavy door to the dance hall.

"I'm so sorry Glenne, I swear I got ready half an hour early and got on the early bus to come on time and oh my fucking god you won't believe what happened today-"

You are interrupted by a cough. And so you turn around slowly, prepared for the embarrassment you are going to have to endure, only to find that Glenne wasn't alone this time.

No, she was accompanied by Jeff and another man, but you just couldn't place a finger on who he was. You'd definitely seen him before because he looked familiar but-

" 'm Harry" is the first thing he says, before sticking his hand out for a handshake.

You take it, telling him your own name before he's cutting you off again.

"Oh my god your hands are freezing! Here I have an extra sweatshirt somewhere"

And he's running off, to the other side of the room where you find three gym bags placed on the floor. You turn quickly to Glenne, eyes wide and questioning before she mouths, 'Jeff's friend'

You nod in understanding and watch him shuffle through his cream crocheted tote bag, a sparkly 'HS' twinkling in the dance studio's light. A moment later, his hands pop out with a black hoodie, embroidered with 'Treat People With Kindness' that he hands to you hastily, urging you behind the room partition to change.

"This is Y/N?" you hear his voice again, and you are sure you've heard that british accent before, you just can't place your finger on it-

"Why? Interested?" you hear Glenne say in a teasing voice and you can just hear that stupid little smirk of hers-

"Alright enough, I can hear you, it's not like I'm actually in a different room" you say, quickly pulling the sweatshirt over your head but not before you hear some low murmurs. "Now let's get this over with" you sigh, while walking to the group. You turn to Harry, "Cute sweatshirt, thanks". He nods with a smile,

"Actually it's from-"

"Ah, you are all here...finally" the dance instructor comes in the room, and you narrow your eyes at her dig.

"I was like ten minutes late" you try to defend.

"Try 25" Glenne remarks while stretching, and you turn to Jeff who usually supports you, only to find him looking away from you, not wanting to get involved.

"Alright, let's start. Now, you two are the maid of honour and best man I presume?" you and Harry nod. "Now traditionally, you share a dance, usually a waltz once the guests are welcomed to the dance floor. We'll start first with leader's steps and see if that fits you" you both nod again. "Jeff and Glenne, feel free to do the same"

Your eyes fleet over at Harry for a moment, only to find him already looking at you. When you catch him he diverts his eyes quickly and you can't help the chuckle that leaves you.

"Something funny, Y/N?" the dance instructor chastises you, and just like you are a schoolgirl again you answer instinctively,

"No miss", making you and the rest of the group erupt in giggles. Harry is trying to hold it back, but you see the huge smile that takes over his face.

"Now, this dance is easy. It's exactly as it sounds, one leads while the other follows. If you are going for tradition, which I believe you are, it's usually the man that leads so, Harry, Jeff, turn to your partners"

Jeff turns to Glenne while Harry turns to you, putting his right hand out. He wiggles his brows and with a curious smile, you place your hand in his. He softly clutches it, before raising it and placing his other hand on your waist. You hear the dance teacher shuffling to put on the music and turn to Harry with a smile.

"Hey, so I've never waltzed before" you say, pursing your lips in a smile while he looks at you with a smile. "So if I accidentally step on both your feet at the same time, know that I'm sincerely sorry."

"I'll keep that in mind" he replies, giggling as he takes a step back. You follow reluctantly, taking a small step so you don't step on him. He nods, seemingly approving of your move and continues on.

You fall into a steady rhythm, one step forward, two steps right, one step left and one backward. It seems easy, you think to yourself and start making your steps bigger, your movement more confident.

That is of course, until you manage to step on both of his feet at the same time-

"Fuck!" you hear, a scream which breaks the beautiful silence that had encompassed the room, with you holding Harry's gaze, dancing like you had been doing it for years.

Harry runs for the small bench on the side of the room and a string of apologies spew out of your mouth. Jeff and Glenne look over, and you know, Glenne is going to kill you right about now-

"Shit! I'm so sorry Harry, oh fuck! Sorry!" you move over to him, who although clearly hurt, tried his smallest of smiles while reassuring you that it was fine, really, and it didn't actually hurt that much.

"I think that this is enough for today" you hear Glenne say through an annoyed huff, and you know, you know, you'll hear it over the phone tonight. You bite your lip anxiously, sliding next to Harry on the small wooden bench and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Really, Harry, I'm so so sorry" you keep repeating and a small giggle floats through your ears. You're confused, until you turn to see Harry with a cute bunny smile, his eyes crinkling as he takes your apologies in. You aren't sure if the pain is making him delirious yet it couldn't have possibly hurt that much, right?

"Actually, you know what?" He speaks up, looking at you. You shrug, confused by the sudden shift in his mood. Your eyebrows knit in worry, and you look at him with glossed over eyes, hoping you didn't fuck this up.

"I don't think I can forgive you". Your eyes wide. His smile is infectious as he looks at you, and you allow yourself to calm down, telling yourself that that he's just joking-

"That is, unless you join me for dinner tonight?"

[lushvbes]

Neighbours - Chris Evans

Pairing : Chris Evans x Fem!Reader

Word count : 1.1k

Warnings : Strangers to lovers, sexual thoughts (mostly on Chris' part), alludes to smut, 18+

PART 2

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

The house next door to Chris' had been empty since he bought his own. Until recently, that is, when an unfamiliar pick-up truck pulled up outside, with 3 dogs in the back.

Walking into his kitchen and shoving his jacket off, Chris observed carefully through the window at the young woman hugging the older woman who he assumed to be the realtor.

Taking a step back, she was expressing her admiration, before the realtor was off on her way.

As she turned around to watch the realtor walk away and drive off, Chris got a good look at her face, butterflies arousing in the depth of his stomach.

"Well aren't you such a pretty little thing?" He muttered to himself, taking a deep breath.

"Dodger!" He called out for his furry companion. "I think it's time for a walk buddy."

Taking Dodger outside, he saw you standing by your car. Bending over, you were trying to kill him by flipping your hair down to gather and tie up.

God, he wanted to tie you up.

Bent over, ass in the air, he could feel himself stiffening the more he looked at you.

Just gotta walk it off, he thought and forced himself to start to walk away.

He didn't want to take his eyes off of you.

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

Chris was walking back down the street, Dodger striding happily beside him. Thoughts had been running through his mind since he left his home.

Heavy breathing. Hands all over your body. He could only imagine what those tits of yours look like.

A sudden loud bark and pull on the lead forced him out of his fantasies.

Dodger was pulling, squirming to get away and run to what seemed to be the other pups in the back of your truck.

"Hey," Chris tried to take control of the dog. "Dodge, come on."

Three more successive loud barks and Chris could barely control him anymore.

The attention was grabbed of the dogs in the car, barking back, seemingly in some sort of language.

"Hi," you called out, and came flitting down the stairs on the front porch. He did a double take. "Sorry, I think they're a bit pent up from a long car ride. I'm Y/N, I just bought this house."

Y/N. God she was even more beautiful up close.

Chris had to take a moment to remember how to talk.

"Chris," he introduced himself. "I live next door."

"It's nice to meet you."

"Yeah, you too." He had known about you for all of an hour and he was already obsessed. And he was desperate to cling onto anything he could to keep you close. "So, where did you move from?"

He swore your smile could light up the whole city.

"Baltimore."

"Wow, long drive."

"Yeah, 7 hours, I think it was?"

He let out a huff of air.

"Why'd you move here?"

He just had to know more about you.

"New job," he raised his eyebrows. "I'm a doctor."

"Wow. A doctor, huh?"

You nodded.

Impressive, more than just a pretty face.

"Exciting."

He didn't know what to say next.

Change the subject, keep the conversation going.

"What are your dog's names?"

"Uh, Major Tom," you pointed to the biggest of the dogs, "Short Rib," the brown and white spotted one, "and Mac and Cheese."

"You named your dog Mac and Cheese?" You nodded. "I like it."

"Who's this little guy's name?" You asked back, squatting down to stroke Dodger's head.

"Dodger."

You went silent for a second, thinking.

"Baseball?" You questioned.

A laugh escaped him.

"Yeah."

"Nice. Hi buddy."

You continued your little conversation with Dodger, scratching behind his ears and smiling widely.

"So how's it going?" Chris asked, his deep blue eyes meeting yours. "I know moving days are always stressful."

A sigh left your lips as your chest heaved. He couldn't help but sneak a peek. God, you were beautiful.

"It's been insane," You started your rant. "My fridge doesn't work, and the moving truck with all of my shit got delayed, so now it's coming- well, it's supposed to come tomorrow, but it got delayed to Sunday, but apparently everyone has to take Sunday off," you rolled your eyes. "So it's really coming Monday. If it even is coming at this point. I only packed for a night so all I've got is a mattress, a couple packets of dog food, and a box of clothes. And the power isn't on yet. So I'm relying on my solar powered portable charger. And then, on top of all of that, the water's off, but not in the whole house, it's just off in the showers, so they don't work."

"My shower works."

He said it without thinking.

Regret filled his mind. Not regret, but, something definitely akin to it.

Embarassment? Maybe.

Nerves? Without a doubt.

The look in your eyes made Chris feel a shriveling feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Would it be totally insane if I used it?"

He let out a breath of relief.

"Not at all."

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

You felt insane.

What were you thinking, showering in the house of a man you just met?

Admittedly a very, very attractive man who made your head go fuzzy, but a stranger nonetheless.

"Towels are just in here, call out if you need any help with the shower."

Chris walked out of the bathroom, softly shutting the door behind him before you could reply.

He simply did something to you that you couldn't explain.

You quickly got a towel out of the cabinet and undressed before you let your thoughts get too far.

Pulling the handle of the shower and turning it a little to the left, it felt stuck. Pulling a little harder, it felt even more jammed and there was no water coming out of the showerhead.

Wrapping the towel around you, you opened the bathroom door and called out for Chris. He showed up inexplicably fast.

"I think there's something wrong with your showerhead." His eyebrows furrowed. "It's not working."

He slid past you and into the bathroom. You couldn't ignore the way your breasts lightly brushed his hard chest.

"Sometimes it sticks, I'm sorry."

With a bit of a jiggle and a little maneuver, water started pouring from the head.

It was only when Chris turned around a little too quickly that you had noticed how close you were standing behind him.

In an instant, his chest was touching yours, your eyes timidly moving up to look at him. You almost felt dwarfed by his sheer size.

He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, tilting his head down to look at you. You hadn't dared to move.

His hands came up and rested on your waist.

"Are you thinking about the same thing that I'm thinking about?"

His voice had gotten deeper, sending a shock down your spine and straight to your core.

"Yes," you breathed.

"Good girl."

[its-ya-boi-kaz]

Memories

(a kaz x inej fanfic/fluff/1201 words)

Summary :

Kaz buys a house for Captain Ghafa of the Seas, Freer of Slaves, treasure of his heart.

She is sitting on the same windowsill she had sat on five years ago. Her thick, black eyelashes are fanned across her cheeks and she has braided her hair into a tight coil, the same way she used to five years ago. A welcome memory comes to Kaz, like a dusty glass pane wiped clean, and he could finally see what was on the other side. He could finally see what he had never allowed himself to think upon, until now. A memory so deep tucked into his heart that he had almost lost it.

But now he remembers, he had sat in this same chair and looked at her sitting on the same windowsill and he had heard her laugh and thought if he could've bottled the sound and got drunk on it every night, he would have. It terrified him. Five years ago.

Now, instead of his spider, there is the Queen of The Seas, Freer of Slaves, the fearsome Captain Ghafa. And Inej. Inej who never left behind her faith even when her saints were cruel. Inej who had seen the world in all its endless ugliness and still smiles like she holds nothing but love in her heart. Knowing her, she probably does. And a fraction of it, Kaz flatters himself, is for him.

"Kaz?" Inej's voice snaps him out of his merry daydream and he fumbles for an believable excuse.

"Hmm?"

"You're staring. I asked you what you were staring at."

"There was a crow behind you," Kaz says, and then mentally winces at his inability to think correctly around her.

She laughs, and even years later, Kaz wants to bottle the sound and get drunk on it every night. Though, it terrifies him no more. And he realizes that, without her, this room was too familiar yet so entirely different.

Something clicks inside his head, and Kaz walks over to her. He looks out to the locked up windows of every building in sight. From the corner of his eye, he sees Inej follow his gaze.

"That's because of you," Kaz says.

"What is?"

"The locks. They knew you were coming." Inej looks back to the windows, new steel glinting gold in the sun's light.

"What about old man Mikhael?" she asks, looking at him as though she wants to know if he still remembers. He does. A clerk who made girls stolen from their homes and didn't know Kerch sign wavers of slavery, who got his fingers cut in half one by one by a certain Suli girl.

"He finally repaired his broken pane that has been leaking buckets every rain for three years," Kaz states smugly. The news of the Wraith returning had spread throughout Ketterdam like a wildfire. The barrel bosses and corrupt businessmen have all heard of ships that depart for slaves and come back piled with bodies to be taken to the morgue. As much as they don't admit it, they're afraid. They take precautions against any movement in the shadows. All but one. The lone leader of the Dregs hears their frightened whispers and has to fight the urge to grin.

He is suddenly aware of a weight against his chest. He sees Inej with her gaze turned towards the sunset, though he knows she isn't quite watching. Something in him recoils, but this time, he won't be the foolish boy who thought he had nothing to lose. This time, he doesn't push her away. Instead, he closes his eyes and feels her small figure againt his chest. Her elbow, punctuating a toned arm, jutting slightly beneath his ribs.

And then, maybe out of desire or simple curiosity, he puts his －ungloved－ hand over hers. The poison rises again to his throat, but this time, he has the antidote. He needs to hear her voice, so he asks,

"Do you see that house over there?"

"Which one?" Inej inquires, after a moment of silence. Kaz closes his hand over hers and points somewhere with her index finger. He then has a foolish thought that he can hear her heartbeat.

Inej turns her head to where Kaz is pointing. A house not quite far from the Slat, of adequate space with a small garden up front lined with －from what she could make out－ bushes of wild geraniums. It wasn't there when she had last been here, but it was a lovely house.

"It is ours," Kaz rasps above her.

"What?" she jerks her head up, narrowly missing his chin.

"I mean that I payed for it, but it's in your name," Kaz affirms, still looking at the house instead of her.

"Why? Kaz, why would you- you know i-" he suddenly feels like he is being interrogated, which is not a good feeling for him.

"For when you come ba- when you come to visit." He knew what this meant, but that didn't stop him from saying, "We can't have all of our memories on windowsills and makeshift desks."

Memories. That is what he was asking for, memories of her, memories with her, memories of her and him together. He senses her gaze burning through him, acknowledging the weight of what he had asked her. As he breathes in the scent of the oils she rubs in her hair, he wonders when exactly did she steal his heart, that he had not even known existed. Or rather, when did he offer it to her on a silver platter.

He wonders when did she give him the knife to carve the beating organ out of his chest and present it to her. Was it when she snuck up to him in the Menagerie catching him by surprise for the first and last time? Or when he found her bleeding on top of a crate, ready to die by her own blade? Was it when he was drowning and fighting for breath and his only thought was her? Or when he first brushed his lips against the pulse in her neck in the lush bathroom of the Ketterdam suite? Because when she looks at him with such tender eyes and sweet smile, he knows his heart is there, right in the palm of her hand.

"You built that for me?" The same tender eyes are now flooded to the waterline.

"Yes," Kaz replies.

"Brick by brick?"

He stares at her, stupefied. Then, out of nowhere, laughter erupts from him. It starts in his chest, a giddy feeling, making its way up his throat until he laughs more genuinely than he has ever. She starts to laugh, too. Her voice thick with tears combining with his hoarse, raspy one.

His laughter dies down and he regards Inej while he allows a small smile to stay on his face. Her grin has softened into something so delicate that it might shatter if he didn't shield it with his own lips.

Their eyes meet in the red glow of the dying sun, and Kaz glimpses something so golden, unrestrained, and bright he thinks he might go blind. He leans forward to press his lips briefly on top of her hair. For a moment, he is just a boy whose girl has come to visit.

[beetleblunt]

All dolled up

Summary: TRIKEY HURT!!!!

TW: drunk driving?

Words: 1,082

ao3 link

Trevor shifted in his seat, glancing down at his phone to check the time.

8:27

He grimaced, looking around the dimly lit bar for any sign of his so called “date”. Not that Michael really knew it was a date. Trevor had called him last night, asking to meet for drinks at a place much fancier than the two would usually spend their time together.

“Drinks? You���re kidding.” Michael sighed.

“Not in the slightest, sweetheart,” Trevor said, a little too chipper, “c’mon, it’s not like you’ve got anything better to do.” he added more aggressively.

“Actually I do,” Michael griped back, “and I’m tired of gettin’ dragged to whatever dinky little shack you’ll call a bar for the night!”

“Like what?” Trevor laughed, “Chain smoke by the pool? Listen to your wife get porked by the pool boy because she doesn’t even like you enough to let you watch? Besides, it’s a nice place, ya ungrateful fuck.”

“A nice place?” This seemed to pique Michaels interest enough for him to forget the prior insult, “I’d like to see your idea of a nice place.”

Trevor growled, “Oh you will!” he shouted quickly “I’ll send you the address, be there at eight.” with that, he hung up before Michael could protest, or before he could piss him off even more.

Trevors leg started to bounce and he twitched as he waited, thinking about their last phone call. Sure Michael hadn’t said yes, but he didn’t say no either, and he did say he wanted to see his idea of a nice place, did he show up and decide it wasn’t nice enough? it wasn’t the fucking Ritz, but it was a nice club on Vinewood, a change from the small, smoke and violence filled bars the two were used to. As hard as he tried to stay calm, it was useless. The minutes passing by felt like hours, and Trevor was not a patient man.

A server timidly approached the table, hoping to not make eye contact with him. Luckily for her, he was spaced out, his feet propped on the table, fidgeting with the hem of the red dress that barely made it to his mid thigh.

“Sir? Could I.. uh could I get you anything to drink?”she managed, her eyes trained on the blood stained work boots resting atop the table, clearly terrified.

Trevor’s head snapped up at the sound of another voice, and he glared up at her for a second, “Sure. Sure, yeah yeah yeah, whatever” he spat quickly, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture “ugh, just fucking whiskey, neat. And keep ‘em comin”

As the server scurried off without another word, Trevor stood up, took another strained look around the bar, and then made his way to the bathroom. When he got in, the two men, and the couple making out in there quickly cleared out, and as soon as they did, Trevor pulled his phone from the small purse he’d resigned himself to carrying tonight, given his lack of pockets, and tried to call Michael.

After several rings, Michaels voice came through “You’ve reached Michael De Santa, leave a message.” it said, confidently

Trevor’s grip on his phone tightened, “Heeeey, you fat fucking snaaaake, it’s me!” he began, dragging out his words in a sickeningly sweet tone, one that was specifically designed to incite fear and make his offenders skin crawl. The sweetness in his voice didn’t last, and he said the rest through gritted teeth, “The best friend you’ve left waiting at the bar, either call me back or get here, prick.” he hung up, and tried to call again. After several more tries, and strongly worded voicemails, he gave up, looking at himself in the mirror and sighing loudly. The plan was meant to be simple, ask Mikey out for drinks, take him somewhere nice, show up all dolled up, maybe a handy or two under the table, and ignite something deeper than the rocky friendship they’d been navigating since reuniting. Something like what they had back in North Yankton.

A neat glass of whiskey was waiting in the center of Trevor’s table when he got back. Not even bothering to look around again, he sat down and took a drink, savoring the slight burning in his throat. Soon, his drink was empty, and just as requested, he was brought another.

A few drinks turned into several, and after a while Trevor was looking far more disheveled than usual, slumped down in his chair, with hot silent tears streaming down his face, which was slightly smeared with the lipstick he’d stolen from the drugstore on his way into town. The thin straps of his dress fell off his shoulders a bit ago, and his dress had rode down, allowing more of his hairy chest to peek out. Normally he’d have been kicked out well before this point, but he’d actually been relatively well behaved even without Michaels presence, the most he’d done in the past few hours was hit on a few other patrons who quickly passed him by, and mumble strings of profanities directed at his traitorous friend.

A loud crash suddenly rang through the still busy club. Trevor’s empty glass was now shattered on the floor, and he was making his was towards the exit with a few worried staff on his tail shouting something about bills and damages. A firm hand landed on his shoulder when he passed the door.

“Hey, fruitca-”

Before the bouncer could even finish his insult, Trevor spun on his heel and connected their foreheads with a loud crack, sending the other man crumpling to the ground.

When Trevor finally found his truck, he at least managed to fumble his keys out of his bag and get them into the ignition before everything around him faded to black.

When semi-proper consciousness and sight finally returned to him, all Trevor could see was the shattered remains of his Bodhi’s windshield, and the large, dented, metal gate just ahead of him. Letting his eyes drift shut and his head fall to the steering wheel, he didn’t bother looking up when he heard quick footsteps paired with his best friends broken voice, nor when three more equally worried and irritating voices broke through his haze. He felt too heavy to move, and suddenly wasn’t sure what he’d say even if he could, so instead he let the heavy fog in his mind take his body over yet again.

[homemadefantasy]

Taryn's Inquest - Cardan's POV

Summary: Taryn's inquest and the moments that follow - from Cardan's perspective.

Across the room, Jude appears, dressed as Taryn. She is in all of the Court’s finery, looking as much to me like her sister as she always has, which is to say she looks nothing like her sister. Sure, they may have the same physical appearance, but the difference in the manner in which they carry themselves is unmistakable. Where Taryn is demure and desperate to please, Jude is unapologetic and strong. I am amazed she is able to fool anyone with how straight she stands and how high she holds her head; Taryn would be sniveling with her shoulders slumped. 

I am at a loss as to why she would return this way, play-acting a part that could not suit her less. Nevertheless, I must assume she has come to me in this way for a reason. If she wants to identify as her worthless twin, I shall let her.

Despite my role as king and the image I must maintain, despite my resolve to protect Taryn, despite everything, it takes all the self-discipline, a skill of whose existence until very recently I was unaware, I can muster to refrain from running across the room and taking her into my arms. 

Soon, she is standing before me, deep within a curtsy that appears to cause her physical pain. It looks entirely unnatural for her to be bowing to me, to anyone, not even considering that she is the queen of the land. Oh, Jude. I just barely catch myself before saying the wrong name. 

“Taryn?” She looks up at me with reluctance. Her pupils dilate and her eyes glitter with barely contained anger. 

“Your majesty,” she says stiffly. 

I suppose she expects me to play my part as well. I suppose I shall. I hesitate for a moment, imagining with no small amount of difficulty that the sister before is the pathetic, sniveling travesty of Jude. 

“We recognize your grief. We would not disturb your mourning were it not for questions over the cause of your husband’s death.” 

Questions, I suppose, I now know the answer to, since she sent her sister in her stead. Although, many other questions take their place. My jumbled thoughts turn to my many unrequited letters, and I wonder at her return. She must never have planned to; I suppose Taryn’s impending execution alone lured her back. But, for the time being, I will exploit any opportunity to convince her to rule beside me. In Elfhame. 

I am pulled back to the present as Nicasia, with no small amount of malice, accuses Jude of Locke’s demise. Unbeknownst to her, it seems, she is standing before us. Am I really the only one who can see that this is very much not Taryn? I realize, with a knot of shame, that I alone pay the exceptional amount of attention to her required to uncover her slight so quickly.  

Her voice changes then, the silence of the room glinting off her voice as moonlight off the edge of a particularly sharp knife. “Jude is in exile.” Is she really? “And I’ve never hurt Locke.” If there were any doubt of her not being Taryn, it has just been expunged from my mind, as Taryn would never have shown such repulsion, however subtle, at the necessity of saying the name. 

Nicasia is too wrapped up in her own grief over Locke to notice. 

I am not so encumbered. 

“No?” 

“I lov… I loved him.” She says with no small amount of difficulty. I think back to Locke’s ridiculous party, of her obvious infatuation. Of the ridiculous and unexpected anger that seemed to overwhelm me at the sight of her in his arms. Of my own fury mirrored in her eyes when she glanced at me. Of the countless weeks that followed during which I tried, albeit unsuccessfully, not to think or care about Locke’s toying with the Duarte sisters. Of Jude’s defiance at that critical moment when Locke believed he would have both sisters under his control. Of the chaos that directly followed. 

“Sometimes I believed that you did, yes. But you could well be lying. I am going to put a glamour on you. All it will do is force you to tell us the truth.” Or at least it would, had she not foolishly bargained with the most abominable of my siblings. However, despite the idiocy of the choice, I cannot deny that it has ended up being quite a valuable little talent. 

“Now, tell me only the truth. What is your name?”

“Taryn Duarte.” Jude dips into an unnatural-looking, at least for her, curtsy. “Daughter of Madoc, wife of Locke, subject of the High King of Elfhame.”

As if. There wasn’t a single word that just came out of her mouth that was not a lie. That’s my girl. The thought comes to me unbidden and with sharp barbs that pierce through my heart. Because she’s not. She’s not my girl, is she? Regardless of what I thought before her exile, she chose to stay. She chose to stay as far away as possible from me. Nerves suddenly overtake me as I begin to consider just why she is here in the first place. 

“What fine courtly manners.”

“I was well instructed,” she says pointedly.

“Did you murder Locke?” The room goes silent as it awaits her confession. 

“No. Nor did I orchestrate his death. Perhaps we ought to look to the sea, where he was found.” I do not miss the implication, or the glance she shoots my former lover. 

Neither does Nicasia. She turns to me, likely believing she is imparting great wisdom and knowledge upon me. Little does she know that I only require answers from one person right now. “We know that Jude murdered Balekin. She confessed as much. And I have long suspected her of killing Valerian.” How did she know about Valerian? Perhaps I ought to keep a better eye on Nicasia. 

“If Taryn isn’t the culprit, then Jude must be.” Perhaps I will ask her myself. “Queen Orlagh, my mother, – ” Yes, I know who Queen Orlagh is, thank you – “swore a truce with you. What possible gain could she have from the murder of your Master of Revels? She knew he was your friend – and mine.” 

Debatable. In front of me, Jude appears to be having some sort of episode. After a moment of consideration, I decide to humor Nicasia. 

“Well, what do you think? Did your sister do it? And don’t tell me what I already know. Yes, I sent Jude into exile. That may or may not have deterred her.” 

“She had no reason to hate Locke. I don’t think she wished him ill.” I could think of a few reasons. I hate Locke for what he did to Jude; I can hardly imagine what she feels for him.

“Is that so?”

Right then, my mother decides to be… helpful. “Perhaps it is only Court gossip, but there is a popular tale about you, your sister, and Locke. She loved him, but he chose you. Some sisters cannot bear to see the other happy.” 

Jude regards my mother with veiled surprise before she counters her with – “Jude never loved Locke. She loved someone else.” I am on the edge of my throne. “He’s the one she’d want dead.” 

My brain locks up, unsure if it should key on her confession of love in front of the whole court or on her declaration that she desires my death. Either way, I know it is meant as a direct attack – both halves. She can lie, after all. Before she can rattle me further, I cut her off, needing the rest of the conversation to be private. “Enough. I have heard all I care to on this subject – ”

“No!” Upon registering whose voice interrupts my command, I nearly snap. A murmur ripples through the crowd at the sheer audacity required to interrupt the High King mid-decree. Nicasia shamelessly continues. “Taryn could have a charm on her, something that makes her resistant to glamours.” 

She’s already resistant to glamour. I want to scream. But if Jude is going to torture me in front of the whole Court, why can’t I? “I suppose she’ll have to be searched.”

Her shoulders subtly shift back as she stands a little straighter, stiffer. Hiding terror that I can’t quite understand, she counters me. “My husband was murdered. And whether or not you believe me, I do mourn him. I will not make a spectacle of myself for the Court’s amusement when his body is barely cold.” 

Very well, then. What a perfect excuse to get the answers I require. “As you wish. Then I suppose I will have to examine you alone in my chambers.”

***

She stands rather awkwardly across the table from me, her face fixed with an odd expression I can’t quite place. 

She’s back. She’s home. She’s here. I can’t repress a grin. I gesture for her to join me on the couch. Start with the question that’s been eating away at me since I saw her walk in, the one which may seem the most trivial to anyone else, but is the most important to me. I attempt nonchalance as I say it. 

“Well, didn’t you get my letters?”

Six unanswered letters. Six fragments of my heart that were never so much as acknowledged. Six attempts to understand what was going on in her head. 

“What?” Bewilderment flashes through her clever eyes. 

“You never replied to a one. I began to wonder if you’d misplaced your ambition in the mortal world.” She may well have. This may have been intended as a short visit. I will change that intention.

She appears to be genuinely confused. Is it possible she never received them? Does that explain her absence?

“Your Majesty,” she begins. Your Majesty? Does she really hate me so much as to resort to such formality? “I thought you brought me here to assure yourself I had neither charm nor amulet.”

Oh. We’re still playing that game, are we? 

I give her a look. “I will if you like. Shall I command you to remove your clothes? I don’t mind.”

Something in her snaps. Her facade, I realize. “What are you doing? What are you playing at?”

Did she really think I didn’t recognize her? I think back to our interaction in the throne room. Had she thought me beguiled by a simple wardrobe change? 

You mistook one for the other once before. 

The memory hits me like a punch to the stomach. “Jude, you can’t really think I don’t know it’s you. I knew you from the moment you walked into the borough.”

For some inexplicable reason, this seems to unsettle her more. Was she here on some agenda besides her own? The Council’s warnings of her potential allegiance to Madoc suddenly flood my thoughts. 

“That’s not possible.” She shakes her head; that same unplaceable expression returns. She seems to be trying very hard to figure something out. Her scheming face strikes me as bizarre. What is her angle? 

All at once, I become singularly aware of every inch that separates us. It’s worse, somehow, than when we were an entire ocean’s breadth apart, to be so close yet not touching. She’s not close enough for me to see the green in her hazel eyes. She’s not close enough that I can feel her breath as further assurance that she is, in fact, here before me. She’s not close enough that I could reach out to hold her hand, should she want that. No question of whether I want that. I want that more than I need air to breathe, in this current moment. She’s not close enough. I hate it. I stand up, needing to have her in my arms. “Come closer.” 

She backs away from me, an emotion I don’t want to recognize screaming from her eyes. The pain in my chest swells. I clench my fists to hide their shaking, but I need to confirm one thing. 

“My councilors told me that you met with an ambassador from the Court of Teeth, that you must be working with Madoc now. I was unwilling to believe it, but seeing the way you look at me, perhaps I must. Tell me it’s not true.” What will I do if it is? I cannot arrest her. She is my Queen. Every advantage is hers: her authority over the kingdom, her authority over my will, her authority over my heart. Should she be in an alliance with her adoptive father, the kingdom, along with its pathetic king, would be ruined. 

Initially, this accusation just seems to confuse her again. Then, she seems to understand, though she does not voice whatever realization she just had. “I’m not the betrayer here.”

Oh. I hadn’t anticipated that her continued absence would still concern my paltry attempt at humor. Alas, for this at least, I can make amends. 

“Are you still angry about—” Suddenly, as I study her body language, I come to a realization of my own. Her entire body is taut and shaking, and she seems to be wearing her anger as armor. I recognize this tactic; I’ve used it myself countless times. The tactic of using anger to disguise one particularly uncomfortable emotion. “No, you’re afraid. But why would you be afraid of me?”

She fears me. How could she possibly still think I harbor any desire to hurt her? Can she possibly still believe I hate her? I thought this lie had been dispelled long ago. 

“I’m not,” the quaver in her voice and the shaking in her body give her away. “I hate you. You sent me into exile. Everything you say to me, everything you promise, it’s all a trick. And I, stupid enough to believe you once.”

Every word she says is like a tiny sword aimed directly at my chest. Is it possible she never realized? I had thought I had made it quite clear how desperately I had awaited her return. “Of course it was a trick -” She clutches a knife to her. Madoc must have sent her to kill me. Her hatred is genuine, and my heart lies in shattered remains all over the floor. 

Before I can so much as utter another word, the whole world shakes. Or is it just my world?  No, Jude seems just as alarmed as I am. Ah, of course. She must have been meant to kill me, and the explosion meant to hide her escape. I am unable to do much else but stare at her, concealing my anguish as I always have: behind a glare. 

Her ears prick up as something akin to sword fighting echoes down the hall. With a muttered “Stay here,” she darts out of the room before I can react. 

No. Not again. Absolutely not. I am not losing her again. Even if her plan was to kill me, let it be so long as I never have to endure another second of her absence. 

She is already gone. When I make it into the hall, I am just able to make out Madoc’s figure as he carries Jude off down another corridor. A battle rages around me, and though I know I should be concerned about how close they made it to my chambers, all I can see is Jude’s absence. 

It seems that Jude was the prize. Although the contingent of soldiers that Madoc brought here far outnumbers my guards, they recede as soon as they see that she is secured. The renegades begin racing down and out of the hill. Well, all shall soon understand the price that is to be paid for such an act. 

Thorns and briars, vines and branches, commissioned by myself and empowered by all the cruel magic of Faerie, wind their way through the many corridors of the Palace of Elfhame after Madoc’s men like vipers after a meal. I fall to my knees and my vision blurs, every ounce of strength and every drop of energy pouring into the attack.

The Bomb finds me some time later, slumped against the doorframe to my chambers and surrounded by blood. 

“She’s gone, Your Majesty.”

The world goes black.

[corcracrow]

inspired by the post from @shallyne :)

~Would It Be Insensitive To Say

Get Yourself Together, So I Can Love You~

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Feyre yanked open the door, letting in a blast of cold, damp air, and bolted out into the hurling rain. She’d probably just ruined her very expensive, very soft cashmere cardigan, but somehow she found she didn’t care.

“Feyre— wait!” She barely heard Rhys’ desperate plea over the pouring rain, which would probably turn to sleet soon, and resolutely ignored it, ignored him.

Once again, Rhys had made the stupid, stupid decision to keep secrets. From her. Whom he had promised to always tell the truth, to always show his pain to.

Mother knew that in the past year they’d been dating, she’d shown him hers, had told him every last aching, stinging detail, of her mother’s disappointment, her sisters’ indifference, her father’s detachment.

And once again, he had broken his promise, hiding his own wounds and refusing to let her in. She wasn’t going to take it any longer.

If he wanted to hide himself away, fine. Feyre refused to keep wasting her energy pulling him out of his armour everytime she wanted to have a damn conversation.

She stalked down the sidewalk, thunder rumbling overhead. Rumbling so loudly she didn’t hear Rhys’ pained breaths and splashing footsteps until he was just behind her.

He skidded to stand in front of her, reaching to steady himself on her shoulder.

“Feyre, please. Just listen.”

She shoved her soaked, golden brown hair out of her eyes, brushing his hand off her shoulder in the process.

“Why, Rhys? Why should I listen to you deflect and laugh away my questions, move past our problems like it’s nothing, just so they can rot under the surface and ruin this relationship? Why bother?”

“Feyre, let me explain-“

“Get out of my way, Rhysand,” she growled. Feyre felt wild and out of control, cheeks flushed despite the freezing rain.

Rhys let his hand fall back to his side and stepped back. Feyre pushed past him.

“Please.”

She barely heard his soft whisper over the rain, and did her best to ignore it, to not notice the way his violet eyes softened as she moved past.

“Forget it, Rhys. I’m not going to stick around and watch you destroy yourself while you lock me out of your life.”

Feyre turned away, splashing resolutely down the same sidewalk she had walked up in sunshine just a few hours ago.

She’d taken only a few steps when she again heard Rhys’ footsteps, and his warm hand caught hers.

“Feyre— I’m sorry. I know we said we wouldn’t lie anymore, and I’m sorry, okay? I just— I don’t want to lose you too.”

Feyre knew what he was referring to. His sister, taken by a terminal illness when she was still young, and his mother, killed in a car accident when Rhys was sixteen.

But he wasn’t sixteen anymore, and though Feyre knew what it was to lose family, she also knew how to move past it, to work through her grief and find joy again. Rhys had helped her do just that, and she’d tried to do the same for him. But—

“I don’t want to lose you either. But pushing me away isn’t the solution, and I’m tired of trying to convince you of that.”

Feyre pulled her hand out of his grasp.

“If you’re not going to make the effort, why should I, Rhys?”

He looked down, the rain running down his tan, carved features and dripping onto his shoes.

“Well?” Feyre waited a beat longer before she turned to go, beginning to shiver. “That’s what I thought.”

Again she made it a few steps before she heard Rhys’ determined voice.

“Because I will.” He said. “I will make the effort.”

She turned once more to face him and crossed her arms stubbornly.

“Why?”

Feyre could feel all the frustration of the past few years boil up then, condensed into that one small word. She wasn’t really asking Rhys. She was asking the world at large. Why her, why would he bother, why should anybody bother to care, why now, when she felt so small and insignificant beneath the freezing, battering rain.

Rhys looked as though he were steeling himself against something painful, something he was frightened of. She hated that look on him, head bowed, letting his midnight hair fall over his eyes.

It wasn’t right.

“Why?” She pressed, shouting now.

He straightened and stepped closer, raising his voice over the rain.

“Because I love you!”

Feyre felt her mouth drop open.

“What did you say,” she breathed.

“Because I love you,” Rhys repeated. “And I was too frightened to tell you, Feyre. In case you didn’t want to stay, in case you saw the worst in me and wished to leave and- I wouldn’t blame you. But you didn’t. You stayed. And I- I don’t deserve you. You’re too good, too strong, you’re unbreakable, and I’m afraid, Feyre, I am so very petrified of losing you and I’m so sorry it came out this way. But now you know, and I understand if you wish to leave—“

“Rhys.”

“Feyre?”

“You idiot.”

Feyre felt a smile unfurl across her face. She was almost certain she was glowing.

“You absolute idiot, Rhysand.”

She let her arms fall to her sides.

“You think I stuck around this long because I like you?”

Feyre took a step forward, then two, then ran into his arms, flinging hers about his neck.

“Prick.” She muttered against his chest. “I love you too.”

And then she kissed him, standing in the rain, and somehow she didn’t feel insignificant anymore. Somehow, the world was opening up, and despite the clouds covering the sky, Feyre was certain she could see the starlight reflected in his eyes.

“Say it again,” she said, pulling back.

Rhys leaned closer ‘til their noses were brushing, his breath fluttering against her cheek.

“I love you, Feyre darling.”

“I love you too, Rhysand.”

Feyre kissed him again, electricity tingling down her spine, before an actual bout of shivers broke the kiss off early.

“I need to dry off.”

Rhys smirked. “I’d be happy to help you, Feyre darling.”

“Oh please. You’re perfectly happy to let me stay soaked.”

Rhys only kissed her again, laughing against her lips.

“Let’s go home, darling.”

[sunoos-mint-choco]

Cuppa Cafe

Non-idol! Han X Cafe worker! Reader (fluff)

Includes: All of Skz members

Summary: Han never liked going to places much but when Felix and Chan told him about this cute worker he was curious so they went to go get a coffee and there he saw her the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen his heart thumping so hard it might fall out of his chest and fly into her hands as he fell in love.

Status: on hold

——————————————————————————

1• Americano ☕️

2• The Café 🍽️

3• Sunsets 🌅

4• Sunrise ☀️

Extras• ???

——————————————————————————

[aquariusaurus]

post-rumbling pieck and falco talk (applied pokkopiku)

Pieck: So, have you ever seen Porco's memories?

Falco: Not really. I only saw a few and they're really not that much.

Pieck: Like what?

Falco: Probably just him making sandwiches and coffee every morning while yawning.

Pieck: Sounds very Porco to me *chuckles*.

Falco: But there's one memory that I should tell you Miss Pieck.

Pieck: What was it?

Falco: Mr Galliard once talked to himself in his room a few days before they attacked Paradis Island. I think he kind of talked to his brother? He was proud about saving Reiner just like his brother did while in his titan form during the Liberio War but at the same time he was sad to know about his life span was decreasing day by day and worried about his parents going to lose him too one day. Knowing that he was the last warrior who got the titan shifter at that time, he was devastated that the candidates are going to take over the other warriors' titans since their lifespans were way shorter at that time and he was never ready for it. He had a lot to tell to the other warriors. He even regretted not talking much to Mr Bertholdt and Miss Annie after they were sent to Paradis Island. He told himself to less bicker with Mr Braun, work harder for War Chief and he even talked about you too, Miss Pieck. He appreciated you so much for being with him and working with him ever since the trio went to the island. He wish you live longer along with him and couldn't face the fact that you were going to die first. He said that whoever got the cart titan after you would never replace your ability or even the work environment he was going to get with that person.

Pieck: Oh, wow! I never thought Pock was this sweet but sadly he was the one left us way first. I hope he met with his brother and Bertholdt again. I miss them so much, Falco.

Falco: There's also another thing, Miss Pieck.

Pieck: What is it?

Falco: I think Mr Galliard loved you, Miss Pieck. The way he talked about you really explained it, softer and described more about you than the others. He was afraid to tell you knowing how you're going to die before him and now I don't know if he ever regretted the decision.

Pieck: He loved me? I- I had always loved him too back then when both of us were starting to feel comfortable with each other and often seek each other out but I never thought he would loved me back. All this time we just lived together as comrades or even as friends and never thought of ourselves as lovers. I had the feeling only and not even trying talk to him about it because of this 13-year curse. This lifespan thing really by cursing us all even think it's gone now and you know what Falco? I'm the one who regretted not telling him about my feelings and now he's... gone too.

Falco: I'm really sorry Miss Pieck-

Pieck: Oh Falco, you did nothing wrong, you did the right thing to survive and telling me this. Remembering this little bits of him is really cute. Thank you for this Falco. Don't ever feel guilty about living your life okay?

[whiterexpper]

Wrote my first Nevermore fanfic

I mean, I’ve never written one before. A fanfic so…yeah…👉👈

[sadevergreen]

Untitled Impulse Centric LARP au Fic

this is my first fic so uh bare with me. it’s not finished, maybe i’ll do another part but i’m not sure rn! i headcanon impulse as aro ace so here’s some ideas about that but i don’t get into until like later me thinks whoops

Swords slashed as silver gleamed in the light of the mid afternoon sun. Bodies swayed like grass among stalks in a golden field, the perfectly picturesque scenery contrasting the confrontation taking place in its midst. It was summer, and the world was breathing new life with relief. As the labor of battle persisted, the small but mighty party sweated under their armor and heaved for breath in between strikes. There was chaos, then a concentrated struggle, and an upper hand gained. A stall in the air stung as their enemy was struck down at their mercy. The brave paladin Impulse raised his sword, tip pointed to the throat of the Archlich Grian, as he opened his mouth to deliver words he’d never have the opportunity to say again, “Scar, what are you doing?” Grian interrupted instead. 

“Hmm?” Scar replied innocently. 

“What are you doing, why are you holding your bag like that?”

“Like what? I’m not doing anything, I’m just carrying my stuff-“ his voice carried an obvious nervous giggle with it. The jig was up. 

“Scar, you are a terrible liar. What do you have there?” Game forgotten, fake swords of plastic and foam fell to the dirt in premature defeat. Impulse stepped back and offered Grian a hand up. The bag in question seemed to be writhing more than an innocent bag ought to. 

“It’s nothing, really! Nothing at all. It’s just- Jellie. Okay? It’s Jellie. But she was so clingy this morning and I couldn’t just leave her home all alone, could I?” As Scar spoke, he lifted the top of the bag and a gray and white tabby cat poked her head out. 

“Oh my god. You are kidding,” Grian shook his head with disbelief. 

Scar delicately plucked Jellie out of the bag and threw his now mostly empty bag over his shoulder. While Scar was holding her tightly to his chest, Pearl said “I mean if she’s gonna be a part of the party she needs a costume too.” 

“Oh! Yes! We can give her little booties, and a pirate hat! She’s gonna be so cute!“ Scar delighted. 

“No, we are not seriously indulging this! Scar, this campaign isn’t even about pirates. This is the literal last session, anyways.” Grian said. 

“While I agree that having Jellie as a member would be adorable, at this point, her entrance might be a little sus,” Impulse sheepishly interjected. “How about we finish out this campaign, and then I’ll talk to Tango and see if maybe he can organize something pirate and Jellie related?” 

“Fiiiiine, she’ll watch this session. But I want pirates, Impulse! I’ve been putting a bid in for pirates for months now, and I’m on my last straw! Pirates or we quit!” Scar declared dramatically. 

“Ok, fine. Fine. Can we please get back to the campaign?” Grian urged. 

“Yeah, I’m not sure how much longer I can last in this cloak,” agreed Mumbo. The summer was not forgiving to the fantasy attire in question, everyone by gone sweating through thick black linen. Mumbo had always been a decent friend of Impulse’s, but it wasn’t until they started this campaign that they were able to really connect in a meaningful and personal way. It was nice, he had known Mumbo for a long time, having gone to high school together just a year or two ago. He was that kid that had a mustache by 13, but he never shaved it, only shaping it into the perfect handlebar mustache. He was by far the tallest, towering at least a foot over Grian, but was by far unintimidating. But the game was again afoot. Mumbo threw the hood of his heavy cloak back over his head and the rest of the group resumed their positions. 

Stance set, Impulse stood, sword tip pointed at the throat of his former friend. “This time,” he begins, “…is my turn.” The blood ran hot on Impulse's face, and Grian’s primordial form screamed with the dead grass around him. He didn’t sob as he seeped through the dirt and became the hum under the soil. Pearl had been waiting for the stalemate to break, and in an instant she let her hysteria rear its ugly head. Pearl swings wildly yet accurately. A run, a leap, and a heavy swing was all it took for the Demilich Mumbo to fall, powers inactive and at the misplaced mercy of Pearl. She howled and cackled, and the wind screamed with her, and the birds laughed along. Debts were settled. Mumbo and Grian would betray them no more. They were free.

 Impulse accepted Pearl into a bear hug, and he melted into her shoulder as the blood cooled. She leaned back to wipe the blood off his face, and he folded immediately. Past conflicts could draft into the past, and the wind of the present would sweetly kiss their foreheads and rustle their hair. 

“Hey, it’s ok. It’s gonna be alright. We won. They can’t hurt us anymore. We did it. We’re ok.” Pearl assured. 

Snnrk. 

“SCAR!” Grian shouted. 

“What? I’m not doing anything!” Scar defended pointlessly. 

“Stop giggling during the conclusion of this campaign!” 

“It’s alright,” Impulse interjected. “We’re pretty much finished anyways.” 

“What are you giggling about anyways?” Mumbo asked. 

“Oh! Look at Jellie- She looks so cute! Just watch this,” Scar said. Said Jellie cat hopelessly chased after a bug in the air from her confines in Scar’s arms. 

“Awwww,” chimed Impulse. 

“She’s so cute!” cooed Pearl. 

“Admittedly, that is pretty adorable,” Mumbo agreed.

“If I knew we were allowed to bring pets I would’ve brought Maui,” Grian grumbled as he set off back towards Impulse’s house. 

Impulse clicked on the lights and as came inside, and his (somewhat) newly inherited home came to life again. Impulse had always lived with his grandparents, a touchy subject he didn’t like to go into detail on, but his small, two bedroom, one bath, outdated family home had been feeling far less familial. He was thinking he should get a dog to liven the place, because a dog would help him get up in the morning, and take a shower, and go outside during the days he was off work. But dogs were a lot of effort, and he hadn’t had more than a goldfish growing up. But maybe having a roommate would help fill the space. He’d been considering that, too. Maybe Tango, they were always close. Or perhaps Skizz, he was pretty much family. Something, just something, to fill the empty space in the house. It was like living with a ghost, except most days he couldn’t tell whose ghost it was he was living with. Maybe it was his own. 

Impulse never bothered to redecorate after his grandmother died. She was the last to go. Pictures hung on to the walls that showed his entire life. From small steps, to science fair awards, to middle school graduation, to prom, to high school graduation, to nothing else. In the last photo, closest to the old bedroom where the door is always closed, is the perfect image of a strapping young man. Maybe not strapping, but starting to be more sure of himself. Facial hair freshly trimmed, hair styled and washed, formal clothes ironed out, a few less pounds. He doesn’t know when the next time he’ll be like that is.

“Can I get y’all something to drink?” he asks everyone, who had started to take off pieces of their costumes and faux armor and lay them on the dining room table. 

“Some water would be nice,” Pearl said. 

“Anything else?” 

“Nah, I’m probably gonna head out soon. I have to take Maui for a walk,” Grian said. 

“You take your cat on walks?” Mambo asked. 

“Yeah, he needs his cardio.”

“Alright…” Impulsed drawled. “Is anyone else headed out?”

“I work tomorrow, so I need to run some errands today,” Mumbo said. 

“I kind of brought my cat, so uhm,” Scar punctuated his sentence by lifting Jellie up onto his lap. 

“I’m free tomorrow?” Pearl offered. 

Tomorrow it would be, then. The house was just as lonely and haunted as it always was. Shadows danced mockingly from the ceiling, at least we have each other they sneered. Impulse couldn’t sleep, not on nights like these. His entire body was exhausted and begged to sleep, but his mind was more awake than it had been all day. He felt like a creature, like an experiment. So detached from the room, it felt like floating in a bad way. In the, I’m entering orbit and I’m going to puke, kind of way. He checked his phone instead. 

Nope~ his messages were empty. It was late, already past 12. He could at least try. He could always try. 

: Hey Tango! You busy?

T Tek: not specifically, what’s up?

: Not much, finished that LARP campaign today! Scar wants to do a new one related to pirates but I know you’ve been waiting to get in on it

T Tek: oh yeah!!!! for sure- I really want to get a big group together like that’d be sick, i could probably go for pirates,,, it’d be tougher maybe but also fun

T Tek: do we know any place within reason that has a large body of water?

: Uhhhhhhhh no

T Tek: damn, well maybe we’re just stranded pirates

: Pfff yeah there we go

T Tek: perfect >:-)

: I hate the nose so much XD

T Tek: how dare !!! >:-0

T Tek: but im gonna hit the hay

: Alright, good night man! Maybe tomorrow we can start planning the campaign?

T Tek: i’d love to but i have a bit of a hot date tomorrow >:-)

: With who???????????!???!

T Tek: that jimmy guy i was telling you about? like it’s nothing official but we’ve been talking a bit and we played stardew valley together so i think a bond has been forged forever

T Tek: he named a chicken after me

: Fair point

Ok, so maybe Tango was a bust, but Pearl was a night owl. She’s basically nocturnal. He should try Pearl next. 

: Hey Pearl! You sure you’re free tomorrow? It’s alright if you’re busy, I don’t want you to feel like you have to pity me or anything lol

Ok maybe that was a bit more desperate than he intended. Definitely not L O L.

Pearl: dude no of course!! i’ll be there >:) you’re not a bother or a pity, you’re my friend! 

: Thanks dude :,) I kinda needed to hear that lol

WHY DID HE LOL HIS FEELINGS???? At least Pearl was still Pearl. 

Pearl: <3 

Pearl: what do you wanna do tomorrow?

: I don’t know uh- I don’t super feel up to going outside

Pearl: that’s fine! maybe we can watch some movies? do self care stuff?? 

: That actually sounds kinda awesome! 

Pearl: hell yeah!!! can i invite gem too? she’s got more of that stuff than i do

: Sure!

Impulse had never been super close with Gem, but they were still friends and he knew her pretty well. She was the sweetest, kindest, toughest, badassest person he knew. She had layers to her. Everyone does, Impulse supposed. 

Pearl: to start this self care journey i insist you go to bed!!

: Ahh but it’s so hard to fall asleep

Pearl: staying on your phone isn’t gonna help that (shrug)

: Ya got me there. I’ll try then?

Pearl: there we go! be kind to yourself dude, i’ll be there in the morning >:D

Half the conversations Impulse had over text felt desperate, not really saying anything, but just talking for distraction. Talking a little longer about really nothing to try to stall time, but it never really worked. Stalling was just stalling, it made him feel needy, and a disgusted knot twisted itself into his gut. Further encouraging him to slip into self induced isolation. 

By tomorrow, Pearl really meant I’m going to show up to your house at 9 AM with a friend you know but don’t know know and take you out for coffee. That was fine. He liked coffee. Unfortunately, Wet Dirt happened to be the chosen location of a certain hot date. At a corner table sat Tango and Jimmy, with the former having his back turned from the group. They looked sweet, Impulse hadn’t met Jimmy besides a few group get-togethers, but if Tango liked him, that was enough. Jimmy was certainly tall, probably shorter than Doc, but around Etho’s height. He had short blonde hair and the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. He looked straight out of a Christian ranch movie. Seeing them together made something under his skin crawl. It was longing, then guilt, then hopelessness. These were the exact feelings he was trying to escape from at home, but they followed him around like a lost soul. 

The coffee house was decently large but cozy, all spaces filled with vintage decor or large bookshelves, providing just enough visibility while still allowing for some privacy. Pearl and Gem didn’t seem to notice the two as they walked towards the counter to order. Impulse sighed to himself and joined them by the large chalkboard behind the counter proclaiming specials and drink menus. Impulse didn’t mind a black coffee, but a little sweet treat could never hurt. Especially when you’re feeling down. Pearl seemed to have ordered something sugar and espresso packed, while Gem perused the pastry selection. 

“Anything look good?” she asked. Impulse hummed.

“I think I could go for a croissant, but I don’t know.”

“Ooh, I would agree. They have some macaroons but they’re always so expensive. I don’t know, maybe I’ll splurge,” Gem replied. 

“Yeah, but you should treat yourself! Maybe I’ll get one to try as well. I’ve never had one of these.”

“They’re good! You get what you want though, you gotta treat yourself too!”

Gem ordered a chai latte, as Impulse stepped up to order, he felt an oncoming anxiety. He never had problems with ordering or social things, but he felt like he was choking on the festive scents from the store. He remembered the barista looking concerned at him, if not a little annoyed, and he remembered feeling ashamed. He looked towards Pearl and Gem waiting for their orders to be fulfilled for some kind of guidance, and part of him expected to receive none. Maybe he didn’t deserve assistance for a task he should be able to complete. But he remained frozen. Because maybe he did deserve mutual support. 

“Oh, sorry, I almost forgot, we’re together. We’ll get a medium caffé mocha and a croissant, please,” Gem interrupted before he could disown himself. 

They left the shop relatively content, but Impulse still felt put off. “Are you feeling alright, dude?”

Pearl asked. 

“Yeah no, sorry, I don’t know what happened there. But it’s fine! I’m fine,” Impulse rassured. 

“I know that’s not true, what’s going on? We’re here to listen to whatever’s up with you,” Pearl said. 

“Ah, I- … It’s hard to talk about. I don’t think I’ve felt really secure since my grandma passed away. It’s just been lonely, I guess?” 

“Is that a question?”

“No, I guess not. I have been weirdly lonely at home.”

“That’s not weird,” Gem interjected. “You lost someone close to you, and you’re left living on your own for the first time without any kind of reliable support or structure. That’s difficult, Impulse! You’re trying to go through the motions like it’s normal, but it isn’t yet and I think you need to let yourself grieve.”

“I was not expecting that level of psychoanalysis this early in the morning!” Pearl joked. 

“Ha, no, Gems right. I just don’t know how to get myself back to normal, though,” Impulse responded dejectedly. 

“Have you thought about getting a pet or something? I know pets are helpful for creating structure!” Gem offered. 

“I’ve thought about it, but I haven’t really committed to the thought.” 

“Why don’t we go to the shelter?” Pearl smiled. “You don’t have to commit, you can just meet some animals and say hi!”

“It’s like animal therapy!” Gem said. 

So that’s how he ended up at the local Humane Society, crouching on the ground in front of an old looking border collie. 

“Her card says she’s been here for 5 years,” Pearl said. 5 years was a long time to be sitting in a 4 by 4 kennel. Prim, her card helpfully provided, looked dejected and aged. Her eyes said yeah, keep looking, you’re not here for me. Impulse felt his chest tighten. He felt an understanding between the two. Pearl and Gem looked at the loud and friendly dogs, standing on their back legs to beg for attention, but Prim had given up. Prim had accepted fate. Impulse was starting to. But maybe that didn’t have to be the case. Two peas in a pod were less lonely together.

[moth-like-habits]

Warmth // ethubs, 527 words

Etho is half convinced the only thing he can feel is cold.

His fingers are cold, his toes are cold, and he’s willing to bet frostbite is on its way. It’s not serious yet though- no, if it was really bad he’d feel hot, not cold. This is just your standard bit of freezing. Nothing he can’t handle.

He’s at the point of being cold where the only thing you can think about is how cold you are. It’s a dull pain, wrapped around your bones. It does not ebb, it just is. Impossible to ignore and very distracting. Especially if you want it to be.

Etho is cold, that he knows. His eyes are closed and if he thinks hard enough he can almost imagine snow falling around him. A firm yet forgiving blanket over the ground. He’s fallen in the snow, that’s it.

It’s almost believable. However, there’s no cool wetness that snow brings. He tries to convince himself that’s a good thing. Wet means cold, and he’s already cold enough as it is. It feels like it’s creeping in and around him.

Void, he’s cold.

there goes his immersion, the realization setting in. Etho’s heartbeat picks up and he can hear it, he can hear it because it’s dead silent, an echo in the—

He’s cold. It’s winter. There’s snow. That’s all.

His heartbeat’s still racing, pounding in his chest. Is he breathing? Can he breathe? The thought sends a bolt of panic straight through him and his eyes flash open. It’s dark, and he’s gasping for air, surging up.

And air fills his lungs.

There’s the weight of a blanket across his legs, and a warm presence rubbing circles on his back. He is sitting in bed. This is not the void.

The hand leaves his back and Etho would object if he had the breath to spare— until he hears the spark of flint and steel and sees the orange glow of a candle on the bedside table. The hand returns, continuing its circles, and between that and the light Etho’s frantic heart starts to slow. He is safe, and it’s Bdubs’ gentle touch that assures him. They stay like that until he’s breathing normally and he slowly reels his mind into the room.

The candle is lit on the bedside table where it always sits (in case of nights like this). It’s the one who lit it that he brings his attention to now. Bdubs, patiently watching him come back to himself. Etho’s sure he must look terrible, but the warmth in Bdubs’ tired eyes says that he doesn’t care. A pinch of guilt creeps in— he’s woken him up. The king of sleep himself, awake because of his nightmare. Yet the gentle squeeze of his shoulder says I’m glad you’re okay, and the small smile says I love you, I don’t mind.

Instead he just says “Come ‘ere” and that’s all it takes for Etho to move into his embrace, the last of the tension finally slipping away. The candle will stay lit tonight, and wrapped in his lovers arms it’s hard for Etho to imagine being anything but warm.