#I haven't written anything in so long

[easy-there-leftovers]

I See You, Darling

[Astarion x reader] The idea never left my mind, and I so very badly need this right now. Heavily inspired by this cutscene where Tav chooses a dialogue option and Astarion's eyes just deviate-- (gif above, just wait for his eyes to look at you WKDKWKDK) |Word count: 2k.| Based off of this post I made.

Part 2 here!!

Also, this is more heavy on the world building rather than dialogue. If I end up making this a series, I might write with more dialogue in mind but it was just necessary to do this first afhjaqfbnjkafbnebn--

A story in which an overworked art student longs for a fictional character that they've devoted so much of their time to.

Alternatively; Astarion realizes there's someone else watching him. And he can't wait to get acquainted with them.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine. 

You’ll admit, perhaps you were simply tired. Attending a prestigious school for the arts doesn’t exactly leave you with much free time to indulge in more calming forms of recreation. Your course requires you to consume a wide array of media to expand your library of creativity, after all. All in the name of generating more interesting media to entrance and enthrall your audience with your original work. 

Maybe all the moving pictures and swimming texts have caused you to greatly misunderstand what you are seeing. Surely, your favorite character isn’t looking directly at you, right?

Right?

But before that, let’s review what might have happened earlier to explain just what exactly in gods name is happening.

Shall we?

——

You purchased the game a few months back. “Baldur’s Gate 3.” A game that took the players and immersed them in the world of Dungeons & Dragons, introducing them to the mechanics of tabletop RPG as they did. It seemed interesting enough. And if the concept of character creation and storytelling didn’t sell you on the idea of it, the pretty faces on the cover certainly did.

So, with the little money you could spare from your part time job at your own institution’s library, and with what little sanity you had left to argue with, you impulsively bought said game. And it was fun. Exhilarating. Electrifying. 

Until you ran into a problem.

Astarion. The rogue, elven vampire that you have chosen to romance after careful deliberation. You scoffed to yourself. He was one of the biggest reasons why you purchased the blasted game at all. You’ve carefully studied the character in all his glory, from his striking carmine eyes and delicate unstained curls, to his aptitude for bloodshed and all manners of gore. He was such an interesting character, giving you more and more reason to pursue him as the story progressed. Yet the same can’t be said about your relationship with him. Or at least your “Tav’s” relationship with him. 

You’ve had some difficulty in deepening your relationship with the ex-magistrate. It seemed as if no matter what options you chose, no matter what manner of advances you made, he’d be quick to dismiss you. Painting you as a desperate little pup as he did. Denying you the opportunity of further knowing him. You’ve created and overwritten more save slots than you'd like to admit, perusing each one to select different lines of dialogue only to be rejected time and time again.

You thought it strange. But perhaps this was simply the way his route was meant to unfold. He was such an incredibly complex character after all. Perhaps this was meant to prove the party’s loyalty. 

But that didn’t stop you from being frustrated with other aspects of the gameplay. You've spent countless nights hunched on your work chair, back curving like a dead bug as you analyzed each and every possible outcome in combat. Eyes, bloodshot from cutting your sleeping hours short, just to endure the story until you were at an appropriate place to log out. And hair, flicking and curling out in different directions due to you weaving your hands through them in exasperation. 

You saw your reflection on your screen as it darkened to load the next scene and you couldn't help but stare at your character in slight envy. You know full well that however you designed them, it wouldn’t affect how the others perceived you, and yet you couldn’t help but pretty them up for your own interest. You designed it with yourself in mind, but making them far more attractive than you would ever be. Effortlessly beautiful as they stirred to wake up in the forest you settled in for camp.

How could Astarion ever turn this beautiful being away? If not for their heroism, then surely their looks would be enough to draw him in, no?

And speak of the devil. Once you could control your character again, you readied them to interact with your sharply dressed companion. Wanting to try your luck once more as the bright sun shone upon your character like a promise of a new day. Unfortunately, you’re greeted with a look of boredom, oh so familiar, that you sigh. “I hope you’re not here to beg—” Mocking him, echoing the words you’ve come to expect with faux mirth in your voice. But you cut yourself short when you realize he has yet to say anything. 

Strange.

 What’s even stranger is that he's just staring at you. Well,--- he’s staring at Tav. Your character.

“What the fuck…?” You move your mouse around, clicking to try and toggle the dialogue options to no avail, screen stuck in a cinematic close up of his face. Much like how the camera always pans when awaiting your response. 

However, unlike the common script of his actions that you’re used to, the one that you’ve memorized like a well practiced dance, his eyes smoothly glide off of your character and onto you. 

You freeze, but your heart doesn’t. The beating of your chest growing stronger the longer he looks at you. Eyes, blood red like rubies, boring into your own. He regards you, blinks, and then smiles that deviously charming smile of his before your screen turns dark. Your computer turns off, and you stare in shock of what just happened.

‘No fucking way, no fucking way, no fucking way—‘ You’re not delusional, right? Sure, you’re tired, but no fucking way did you just imagine one of the hottest characters you’ve seen in a while break the fourth wall just to fuck with you.

You laugh to yourself.

Yes, you’re just tired. Nothing like a good four hours of sleep can’t remedy. Although, as you get up from your chair, foolish as it may seem, you grab a used shirt from your floor, and hang it on your computer in the case that those piercing eyes come to life once again while you sleep.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you get ready for the day, you notice your dirtied clothing still on your computer. Covering it as if it were a petrifying doll from a horror movie. You feel childish for doing so, reasoning that you were simply stressed from the events that taken place prior and removed the cloth.

As you did, your screen was brought back to life. Showing you the next night as if your little "tryst" with Astarion never happened. An entire thirty minutes or so of progress seemingly gone. Thankfully, you saved just before your game went haywire and you attempted to load up your last slot. 

Zzzt Zzzzt!

Alas, your game was not cooperating once again. You tried the save just before that and the same error screen presented itself to you. ‘Maybe this is a sign that I should just fucking work instead.’ Irritated at the thought, you moved to log out of the game but a familiar voice convinces you otherwise as the screen returns to normal. 

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” 

‘Is this— a romance scene?!’ Astarion had never initiated an interaction before! Perhaps the game gods were granting you mercy. Or maybe, something you did last night might have given way for this line of dialogue to open up. Regardless, you happily took the opportunity and began reading your choices.

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” ━─━────༺༻────━─━

Well. Thank you.

It’s none of your concern, fangs.

Better now that you’re here.

What happened last night?

━─━────༺༻────━─━

What…did happen last night? You don’t recall anything past the blackening of your screen, but it looks like you did something after that which caused this dialogue.

You don’t want to squander this opportunity, who knows when this will happen again, but your curiosity gets the best of you. So you save, and choose option 4. 

“Oh, you poor thing. Spooked you, did I?” He laughs, seemingly taking in the look of confusion that graces both yours and Tav’s face.

“What do you think happened last night?”

“My fucking game crashed.” You answer automatically.

Tav moves to open their mouth but is silenced with a tut. “Not you, spawn.” His eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement, but the way his mouth is pulled in a tightly-lipped smile offers you further insight otherwise. 

“I need your answer.” His eyes are on you yet again, and you feel the world begin to spin.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you plan to get ready for the day, you notice you’re not exactly in a state to do so. You expected to wake at dawn, the dark and cool air to greet you as it fills your room and envelops your walls. Instead, you wake to see an endless amount of evergreen and the smell of the dark and damp grass beneath you filling your senses.

And if spending hours, weeks, months, of playing this damned game has taught you anything, you know that you now reside in the heart of the forest that you usually set up camp in. But this time, you're far from your bedroll and the fire that your party created.

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far to no avail. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine. 

And this chill so does love playing games.

You clamber away on your knees when you hear that deep chuckle of his emanate from right beside your ear. Creating as much distance to inspect this figure you’ve yet to face.

You see Astarion in all his vampiric glory. ‘Well, for a vampire spawn, I guess.’ You comment to yourself. Crimson eyes, darker than you imagined, with full, dark lashes contrasting his pallid skin and pure hair that glow under the moonlight. An unsettling, and cursedly attractive, smirk curls onto his lips. His ivory fangs on full display as he does.

“It seems as if those useless artifacts were worth something.” He marvels at his handiwork, his prize, and approaches it with confidence. 

“Well, your character certainly is more ‘prettied up.’” He circles you, carefully appraising his newest asset, and grins. “But you are far more intriguing.”

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster.

“Although, you are very cute. Cheeky little pup, aren’t you?” He jests.

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster which earns you a click of his tongue in response.

“You’re not broken, are you? Or am I to anticipate your little ‘what the fuck?’s as your only contribution?” Long, and incredibly masculine, fingers crawl and curl to grasp your chin like a spider. 

“I’ve waited months to have you. And now here you are, finally within my grasp.” The statement causes something to stir within you.

“What do you mean, ‘months?” 

He narrows his eyes, possibly trying to comprehend your stupidity.

“I’ve been watching you. Waiting, for the right moment. Interacting with this– caricature of yourself until you could deny yourself of me no more.” Blood rushes to your head. Your cheeks burning in embarrassment for seeming overly eager. And in panic as his intentions have yet to be cleared.

“And now that I’m here? Do you want to kill me?” You feel your heartbeat in your ears, awaiting his response. Your eyes wide in fear, yet trying to fake heroic bravado in the attempts to gain the upperhand.

And in this moment, he thinks you absolutely invigorating.

“Oh no, sweet pet. I’ve waited far too long for that. I’m going to make you mine.”

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

Should I make this into a series? "The adventures of a misplaced artist in Baldur's Gate!!" Or something like that. Let me know, lol

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion x you #astarion x mc #aware!astarion #to be continued #or maybe not lol #I haven't written anything in so long #and for good reason #baldur's gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader

[fourmula1]

hi, first of all, i’ve recently found your blog through the yukitaliano tag and i’ve really come to enjoy all the content you post.

I wasn‘t sure whether i should send this ask because in your pinned post it is written, that you primarily write maxiel but open to other ships while you ask bar says something different. I wanted to ask anyway and if your no interested just ignore this and yeah, i just hope this doesn’t get through as being disrespectful or sth similar (i am heavily overthinking this…)

Anyway; Do you have some thoughts about yuki and Michael after the last race. I just feel like yuki tried his hardest and he was doing such a good job and then he had problems with the brake and his engineer was pushing him to be harder on the breaks and he just couldn’t bc he would lose the car. So when he gets out he’s really overwhelmed and also disappointed with the whole situation. And he just wants to go hide in his room, but Michael doesn’t want to leave him alone and let him get inside his head, so they walk back and yuki gets some well-deserved cuddles and hugs from Michael.

(I don’t know whether this is too long or too short but i hope it is understandable anyway bc english is not my first language…)

hello! thank you so much! pls never hesitate to send me anything! i am happy to indulge yukitaliano!!!!

-

All Michael could do was listen over his headphones and gage the situation. He couldn’t actually speak to Yuki but he could hear everything Yuki and his engineer were saying to each other and it was. Bad.

Michael had been here before, albeit in two wildly different styles of coping with problems. Were Daniel was calm, quiet, reigned in with his emotions Yuki was wild, and free, and chaotic.

But not unjustified.

Perhaps he could reel it back a little when all the world could hear him, but Michael understood Yuki’s frustrations. It was part of his job to understand his driver, meet him where he’s at, and build from there.

Which brought him to walking Yuki back to his driver’s room, quick to keep anyone at bay who might want to approach. His driver needed a minute and it was Michael’s job to find one for him.

With the door closed and Yuki frustratedly getting out of his race suit Michael was quick to step back and let Yuki do his thing, knew he’d know when the right time was to step in. He didn’t need to say anything. Yuki didn’t need to say anything. Yuki was an open book with his emotions in both his language and his physicality. Michael could see his tense shoulders, could see his pinched eyebrows, could see the way Yuki’s body was pulled taught as he struggled out of the sweaty race suit, left in his clinging fireproofs beneath as his suit hung at his hips.

Now.

“Hey,” Michael said as he stepped forward, arm sliding over Yuki’s shoulders to pull him in. Yuki was small, so small his head tucked nicely into Michael’s chest, his own arms coming up to circle Michael’s waist. “Deep breath,” Michael said, giving Yuki’s back a little rub as he hugged him.

Yuki was an explosive little ball of lightning – for good and bad times – but it was the quiet little moments like this that Michael was able to realize Yuki needed this. To be still, to be quiet, to be held until the tension in his body relaxed.

In the circle of his arms Yuki breathed, forehead resting right between Michael’s pecs, tense body trembling. Michael slid a hand up to the back of Yuki’s neck, holding him there and stroking his thumb along the shell of Yuki’s ear. Gentle. Soft. Quiet.

When Yuki finally relaxed a little he pulled back, head tipping back, back, back to look up at Michael at such a close distance. His eyes were welled with tears and Michael hated a little bit that he thought Yuki looked beautiful like this – upset, near crying, and so fucking pretty it hurt.

“Okay?” Michael asked him and Yuki nodded, saying nothing but tipping his head forward again to burrow into Michael’s chest and hold on again.

“Alright,” Michael agreed, tipping his own head down to press the faintest of little kisses to Yuki’s hairline. All would be well once Yuki felt grounded again, and Michael knew he’d be okay.

Until then, a driver’s room cuddle never hurt anyone.

#yukitaliano #i haven't written anything in so long #i feel sucky lol #thanks for being nice to me

[solmesia]

Hhnnggggg I love your writing and your art I'm eating up for breakfast lunch and dinner

aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

#asks #i really dont know what to say #omg #i haven't written anything in so long #art is what i honed my writing is like wild and weird to me still but its so nice to get affirmation that im doing ok #help im actually hiding my face in my hands #stuff i say #dfkhglmgfgkmhgkhmgmhk

[itskaeee]

madly and hopelessly in love with the same deep amount of need to care for that person like albedo did towards kaeya in I'll keep you safe

#.kaes time to ramble #.kae screams into the void #i'll keep you safe #kaebedo #like ah #i don't even know where this is coming from #i haven't mentioned that name in months #maybe that's the sign that i slowly get back to writing? #i haven't written anything in so long #i miss the attention my writing has gotten

[ghostgum]

Would anyone be interested in some Travis x gn!reader fic? Asking for a friend

#it'll be on my sideblog #but idk #i haven't written anything in so long #travis hackett #the quarry

[ettaberrytea]

@ people who leave ao3 comments on old fics just to tell the author they're still enjoying it I love you all so much💕💕💕

#I haven't written anything in so long #but when people do this it gives me a little burst of writing energy #thank you #ao3 #fic writing

[rhetoricalrogue]

Knocking off some serious rust on my writing by doing a quick 1001 words of something featuring my Sandrock builder and Owen, who I saw for like five seconds and decided that Lucy was going to befriend and eventually fall for.

Lucy had known how warm Sandrock got during the daytime, but nothing could have prepared her for the blast of hot air that hit her dead in the face the second she stepped off the train. It felt as if she were one of her mom’s famous cookies being put into an oven and it must have shown on her face, because one of her fellow travelers gave her a sympathetic nod.

“It takes some getting used to, but eventually you don’t mind.” The older man gave a little laugh before adding “It could be worse, at least it’s a dry heat!”

Nearly a month later, sweat making her scalp itch as it soaked into the sides of her favorite baseball cap, she was definitely not used to it. Growing up in Highwind meant getting a lot of sun, but nothing had prepared her poor skin for the blistering sunburn that was currently making her nose peel. Mi-an had been the best sort of new friend anyone could ask for, sharing her supply of aloe gel that made things bearable and laughing together over refreshing cups of buckwheat tea at the end of a workday.

“Gotta figure something out to save water,” she mumbled between the screwdriver clenched between her teeth as she fiddled with the second recycler she had put the finishing touches on just that morning. There was something wrong with the way the grinding blades were sitting in their grooves that she wasn’t happy with, but at least it did the job for now. “I’d move everything inside, but the workshop is so tiny.”

“Afternoon!” Lucy let out a surprised squeak at the friendly greeting shouted from behind her. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

Mortified by the fact that she knew she looked like a literal hot mess: long black hair in a messy ponytail stuck through the back of her cap, sweat making her favorite shirt stick to her back like a second skin, and a ninety-five percent chance of her face bearing a streak or two of grease along her cheek or forehead, she turned around, a smile hastily slapped on her face. “Not at all! What brings you across the tracks? Need something repaired?”

 “Actually,” Owen said, leaning a hand on one of the fenceposts by her mailbox, “I was wondering if you might have a chance to come up for air and take a break.”

“A break? It’s…”

“The hottest part of the day? When people should be indoors with a cool drink and lively conversation, preferably with the owner of the local saloon?”

Lucy laughed before wiping her hands on the sides of her pants. “Something tells me you’re missing my business.”

Owen grinned. “Always like having more business, but I also miss the company. You haven’t come into the Blue Moon for a few days, and I was starting to wonder if the cooking put you off or something.”

She grabbed a rag from her tool kit and wiped at her cheek when she noticed his eyes straying towards a certain side of her face. “I’ve been busy. These commissions aren’t going to build themselves, you know.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And a builder can’t build on an empty stomach. Come on, what do you say to lunch, my treat?”

“You’ve got yourself a deal. I never say no to free food.” Opening the gate, Lucy began the walk over the train tracks with Owen. “I think you’re being nice to me because I helped rebuild your stage.”

“Hey, I’m a nice guy. I’m nice to everyone.” He winked at her. “Though the quality work you did on Stage-y did win you some extra brownie points.”

“I’m just glad I could help out.” She stepped into the cool interior of the Blue Moon, quietly thanking Owen for holding the door open for her.

“Oh, hey.” He swiped his thumb across the high point of his cheekbone, right below his left eye. “You missed a spot.”

Eyes wide and the tips of her ears starting to burn, Lucy fought the urge to cover her face with her hands. “Thanks,” she mumbled, making a beeline to the booth next to the entrance. The nearby copper planter Owen had made out of one of her practice cooking pots was a little misshapen and not good enough quality to be sold as a kitchen-ready item but was buffed to a reflective shine to act as an impromptu mirror.

She was touched by the fact that he’d treated a subpar product she’d offhandedly offered him one day as a priceless gift, giving it a home that made it feel as if the planter had always been there.

“Your usual.”

Lucy thanked him for the cool glass of buckwheat tea. “I’ve only been here a month, how does this become my usual?”

He slid into the seat opposite her. “Because you’ve almost always ordered it with all your meals.” He held a menu out to her. “Feel free to surprise me though.”

“That sounds like a challenge.” There was a mischievous lilt to her voice, the company and the shelter from the blistering heat putting her in a better mood than she had been only a few minutes ago.

If she was honest with herself, it was mostly the company, but like she said, she’d only been in Sandrock for a month. She needed to focus on making a foothold for her workshop instead of sighing over certain saloon owners, no matter how pretty she thought his eyes were.

Speaking of pretty eyes, she couldn’t help how they twinkled back at her, making her heart do a quick flip. “A friendly challenge.”

 “Challenge accepted,” she told him, tipping her head and pretending to seriously consider the menu in front of her, if only to make him smile.

Maybe sighing over Owen wasn’t such a bad thing: she could do that and focus on her new start in town. She was a builder; she could multitask.

#my time at sandrock #my writing #i haven't written anything in so long #it feels GOOD to finally get something out of my head and onto the screen #this guy is so dang endearing I swear #did I stick with the default name for my first builder? PERHAPS.

[lliaq]

I have put words down on a page instead of just thinking them, it's a miracle.

#I haven't written anything in SO LONG #but the weewoo brainrot got to me again #my brain said 'It's time to be a gay Eddie truther' #I mean I always have been but I guess we're really in it now #I want to keep writing bc I don't wanna lose this random burst of inspiration #but I am also very very tired

[cerise-on-top]

what if the 141 boys had a ridiculously tall husband. like. a little bit taller than konig, probably. and he's really scary to people, actually!!!! but not his s/o , nuh uh, he's disgustingly sweet to his beloved.. sorry i'm rambling, i think (jokes and idiocy aside i adore your headcanons <3)

Hey there! Thank you, that's very kind of you! Also thank you for sending in a request for a male reader, you're one of the first ones and I was very excited to write about a male reader for once :D

TF141 With A Very Tall Husband

Price: He didn’t really think he’d ever be dating someone much, much taller than him. Sure, he doesn’t particularly mind, but he’s not short either, with him standing at 1,88m himself. It makes him feel small at times, especially if you’re pretty muscular too. He doesn’t get insecure about it in the slightest, oh no, but it’s weird to be so much shorter than your loved ones. However, he’s pretty used to scary people by now. Ghost isn’t exactly a delight to have around at first when you don’t know him either, so he knows how to deal with scary people. Might ask you to tone it down a little bit when you’re scaring other people too much, he doesn’t particularly wanna attract attention like that. But you being a sweetheart towards him? It melts his heart. He knows what you’re like towards people that aren’t him, so it makes him smile that you’re willing to do just about anything for him just to spend some time with him. You wanna trim his beard? There’s a good chance you’ve got some experience with that anyway, so he really doesn’t mind it as much. Hell, he probably trusts you more than his own barber at times. Besides, it’s a nice little bonding activity. If you have a beard then he’ll offer to trim it for you as well. Price isn’t really opposed to being the little spoon, or just being held in general. Quite the opposite, you being this tall sometimes puts him in a cuddly mood where he just plops down into your arms. Gently scratch his scalp and there’s a good chance he’ll even fall asleep on you. He’s so used to being everyone’s protector, it feels nice to be protected for once. But he won’t always settle for being held either, it’s his job to make you feel safe and sound as well, and thus he will take on the role of cuddler as well. Will fight you for that role, actually. Price is a real sweetheart towards his loved ones as well, so I think the two of you would fit well together. His mere presence demands respect in the right people, which can sometimes scare others. So, from time to time, you might both scare other people together. Sometimes intentionally, sometimes unintentionally.

Gaz: He makes so many jokes about you being this tall and feigns being hurt about being much shorter than you are. You’re his behemoth, his leviathan and his ziz. Loves calling you the names of monsters that are said to be pretty big, it’s endearing to him. Besides, you’re scary enough that some people call you a monster anyway, if just for your height. If anyone ever were to call you that in front of Gaz, then they’ll end up with a black eye. No one gets to call you a monster but him. While he won’t always approve of you scaring everyone, Gaz does have a few friends that he wants you to get along with, he won’t particularly do anything about it either if that’s just what you’re like. Might try to make you seem a bit less scary by being a bit more affectionate with you in public. Holding your hand, giving you a peck on the cheek, giving you a hug. Those kinds of things. He actually loves you being this tall since that means you can pick him up and spin him around. He’s not been picked up ever since he was a little boy, so he definitely wouldn’t mind you showing off to him just how strong you are. Is also always looking for an excuse to hold your hand. Oh, seems like he forgot just how big your hand actually is and how much it engulfs his. Remind him for a moment and hold his hand, will you? Gaz is a sweetheart towards his loved ones anyway, if you look past the fact he will sass anyone to show his affection, so he loves that you’re so sweet towards him. Though, sometimes he wishes you were about the same height so you could actually share each other’s wardrobe. But hey, at least he gets to wear your extremely oversized shirts and hoodies, one of his favorite things to do. Another thing he also adores is just sitting in your lap when you’re home together and will also place your hands so that you’re holding him in your arms. If you’ve got really warm hands then he’ll place them atop his thighs to keep himself warm. Gaz isn’t the warmest person out there, but that just means you get to warm him up yourself. Is actually a lot cuddlier because you’re this tall and will become your personal blanket.

Ghost: He feels kind of perplexed about you being so much taller than him. Ghost is 1,95m, he towers over pretty much anyone, so how dare you be so much taller than him. Pretends to hate you being this tall, actually loves it. Sometimes he dreams of sparring with you under the moonlight to assert his dominance, even though there’s really no need to since you’re such a sweetheart towards him. He probably just needs to ask and would get anything from you. He really doesn’t mind you scaring pretty much everyone off, he has the same effect on people he doesn’t know. That just means there’s less people to worry about in his life for the time being. You’ll be spending a lot of time alone with each other that way, which he really likes. Though, maybe don’t scare his teammates too much, he genuinely likes them and wants them to be well too. Though, it’s kind of hard to properly scare them anyway. Ghost is usually a pretty quiet man when there’s no need for chit chat, but he doesn’t mind hearing your voice. In fact, he might get worried if you suddenly stop talking and will ask you what’s wrong. If you’ve got nothing to talk about then he’ll ask some questions so he can continue hearing your voice. He also blushes from time to time when you suddenly give him some sugary sweet compliments. He’s a grown, scary military man, he really shouldn’t be, but it’s just so endearing, especially when you, even bigger and scarier, call him your little honey bunny. It actually motivates him to do house chores. Not that he won’t do them anyway, but you calling him embarrassingly domestic names makes him just a tad bit soft, which leads to him trying to be a good husband. You may cuddle him since he trusts you, but he will also want to hold you from time to time. Life is a constant give and take, so prepare to be cuddled. Won’t particularly ask for cuddles, though, since he’s kind of too embarrassed to admit he’s touch starved. To you it’s blatantly obvious, though, which is why you initiate those cuddling sessions. Ghost appreciates it and sometimes hides a smile in either the pillow or your neck. As long as you don’t see him being silly, all is good.

Soap: He used to hate you being this tall. Soap may “only” be of average height, but he’s the tallest in his family, which he was actually pretty proud of. He towered over his father, even. And then he joined the military, where quite a few people were taller than him. And then you had the audacity to introduce yourself to him. You, the tallest man he’s ever met. It hurt his ego. Ever since you got together, though, he slowly got over it. You’re just such a sweetheart, how could he hate you over something as trivial as this? However, nothing could ever stop him from trying to pick you up and spinning you around. Soap is a pretty strong lad too, he’ll make it work somehow. You will feel tiny and cared for too. There’s a good chance he can’t reach your lips to kiss you. Yes, he could just ask you to bend down, but where’s the fun in that? Climbs you like a tree instead. He’s also always thinking of that one post where, instead of asking their boyfriend, the person should just punch him in the stomach. He won’t do it, but he remembers it every time without fail. He doesn’t mind you being scary either. Hell, Ghost is also a pretty scary guy to have around when you don’t know him and he’s one of Soap’s closest friends. Besides, he knows better anyway. You’re a total goof and the biggest sweetheart this world has ever seen. You being scary towards others just means that he’s got you all to himself all the time. Soap is a clingy guy, so you can expect him to cling to you like a koala from time to time. Actually, that was a lie, you should expect him to jump at you and hold onto you very often. Cuddles over safety. You’re likely also one of the only people on the planet willing to hear him out when he’s talking about his passions. And he could go on for hours every time. Explosives, weapons, whatever show you’re watching together, all is fair game. See, you’re one of the biggest sweethearts to him because you actually listen to him, despite him going into great detail about it all. You may not always be able to understand him when he’s talking chemistry again, but you hear him out anyway, and for that alone you’ve won his heart. He also sits on your lap while talking. You’re his little throne now that he takes immense pride in.

#cod #cod x reader #john price #john price x reader #price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #I doubt anyone cares but I HC Soap to be 1.78m and Gaz to be 1.81m I just forgot to mention it #m!reader #I know I'm biased but I feel as though I'm actually more willing to write about male readers than fem readers #90% of all things I see in this fandom are with a fem reader there's barely anything for male readers #still thinking back fondly on that one time I got a request for a ftm reader #but that was an eternity ago and I feel as though I'd write that request better now and with more content #I tried to write a lot for this because I was really looking forward to it #besides it was a pretty cute request too. I've actually got a request that's similiar to this one too #it's with Laswell and a reader that's roughly as tall as König #and then I've got something for Nikolai and Price as a couple #I'm gonna write some HCs for that alone and then write some more with added reader as a bonus #I know I never mentioned it anywhere but I do try to be a reader centric blog. but I can write charxchar as well #I just haven't done so since middle school I think #wait no I've written charxchar not too long ago for madcom and tf2. good times #not sure if I'll continue writing today though. I started a new anime and I'm enjoying it a lot so I might watch that instead

[thegreenthepeacetheorange]

I decided to write this little Everlark piece, based on this post of mine yesterday:

It happens suddenly. First the thunder, then the rain. It shatters against the roof and the windows, drowning out all other sounds. Peeta grips the back of his chair and his eyes take on that distant look that tells me he’s been transported back to the darker times, back to the Capitol. I sit still, unsure of what to do, staring at his bowl of lamb stew that now sits on our wooden table untouched as little tremors take over his body. What can I do? I want to go over, to wrap my arms around him, but he’s said before that sometimes he just needs time to himself – so I don’t. After half an hour, I’m about to stand up and go around the table to him when he gets up shakily and says he needs some time to himself. He walks away, mumbling something about water and Johanna and screams.

I sit tense in my seat, my own bowl gone cold, and stare at the rain clattering against the window. Peeta had opened the window earlier in the day, to let in some fresh air. Because I’d refused to go out today. Because it had been too difficult to even get out of bed. Until Peeta had scooped me up in his arms and carried me downstairs half an hour ago, despite my weak protests. He said he’d not gone out of his way to get this lamb stew for it to be wasted. Now the rain drips in through the top opening in the window and pools on the ledge. I’m reminded of the rain dripping in through the cave in the first Games. Huddling against Peeta in the sleeping bag, trying to absorb his own warmth into myself as the cave grew colder around us. My inept attempts at flirting with the good-natured boy with those blue eyes that settled and unsettled me. Those kisses that twisted my insides with something warm.

Before I know it, I’m up and moving. Pushing the chairs away from the table, putting our bowls into the little oven to reheat. I muster up all the strength I can to push the table closer to the sofa that sits a few metres away. Once it’s close enough, I grab the blanket off the sofa, draping it over the back of the sofa and the table, creating a sort of canopy, like the one Peeta made to protect me from the rain in the cave. Peeta’s art books prove to be sturdy enough to weigh down the blanket corners on the table to keep it from slipping off. I then strip the sofa of its cushions and carefully place them under the canopy and the table, creating a soft floor we can sit on. More blankets thrown in on top. The lamps from the kitchen counter and outside in the hallway then make their way into my den, casting a soft glow inside.

I’ve just retrieved the bowls from the oven and placed them inside my little makeshift cave when Peeta comes back into the room. He looks weary, tired. Once he sees me bent down under the blanket, the bowls of steaming lamb stew, his face takes on a quizzical look. “What—” “I thought maybe we needed to… escape to our cave for a little while,” I hold out my hand, inviting him to join me. He raises his eyebrows at me, ruffles his hand through his wavy blonde hair before he crouches down and follows me under the canopy. I snuggle in closer to him, throwing one of the blankets over us, and then another one to make sure Peeta’s legs are covered. I carefully place our bowls on our laps.

“Eat up,” I say, looking up into his tired eyes. He gives me a soft smile, the kind that always melts my insides with its warmth, before he picks up his spoon. We eat quietly, listening to the rain pouring down outside. Periodically, Peeta scoops some of the dried plums out of his own bowl and adds them into mine. I accept them with a smile, realising just how hungry I’ve been after a day of staying huddled in my own bed. After we’ve fully emptied our bowls, Peeta reaches up outside our den to place them onto the table above. He settles back inside, stretching out to lie down, his head propped up by cushions. I instinctively lie down next to him, draping my leg over his and resting my head against his chest, feeling its steady rise and fall. His arms tighten around me and I can feel his breath tickling the top of my head as he bends his head down into my hair. “So… how about that kiss?’ I laugh before I make myself rise up enough to see his grinning face, look into those blue eyes that have come back from the distant place to seek out my face. I feel his lips smile against my own as I lean down to kiss him.

#everlark #everlark headcanons #everlark fanfiction #katniss and peeta #peeta x katniss #katniss x peeta #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #thg #the hunger games #i haven't written anything in so long so i'm aware this is not very good but have it anyways

[osamusriceballs]

One week

Bokuto x fem reader

Warnings: NSFW

Words: ~ 1,7 k

About: Just Bokuto missing you so, so much. And kinda cumming too fast.

It's been a week.

Only one short week of you being apart.

You remember how you held Bokuto's face in your hands and told him that you'll miss him—and how he adorably pouted and told you that he'd miss you more and win this game for you and make you proud.

You had smiled and told him that you're always proud of him, and he had simply wrapped his arms tightly around you and kissed you goodbye.

It's been a week since that moment, and now you've been anxiously waiting for him to come back.

He did win the game. For you, baby, as he had proudly reassured you on the phone, telling you that he'll make sure to take the next flight to visit you—and you know he will come home any second.

A rustling noise of keys makes your ears perk up, and after a few moments that seem like forever, you finally see him.

Koutarou.

"Y/n!" His energetic voice echoes through your whole apartment, and you barely manage to get up before he already makes his way towards you and wraps his big arms around you.

"Baby, I missed you so much. So, so much." He emphasizes every word by pressing kisses against your cheeks, your lips—everywhere he could reach, his full lips feeling soft against your skin, just like you're used to remembering his touch.

"I've missed you too, Kou." You smile and press yourself closer to him, not leaving any distance between your bodies now. He instantly responds with his hands coming from your back to your hips, holding your body in a firm grip. You look up at him, noticing how intently he's suddenly looking at you. You squirm in his hold, a sudden feeling of want and need rushing through your body—oh, how you've missed his touch too during the past week. He seems to feel the same, his hands roaming around your body, wandering up on your shoulders, and resting on your ass cheeks finally, gently squeezing the soft flesh.

"Baby, can we... can we go to the bedroom, maybe?"

Your heart stops for a second, your body already tingling with slowly building anticipation. As much as you want to talk to him, you also want to be close to him- and, oh, how much you crave his touch now.

"Please." You tilt your face upwards and press your lips against his—in a deep and intense kiss, hoping to feel the same hunger from him, and he is quick to push his tongue into your mouth, turning the kiss into a messy tangle of tongues, lips molding against each other, and bodies pressing hardly against each other. His hands move from your ass to your thighs, and it only takes him one firm movement to grab them and wrap them around his waist. You grab his shoulders and bury your hand in his hair, enjoying the feeling of his soft fluffy hair, slightly pulling on the strands because you know the effect this has on him. He groans into the kiss, blindly stumbling in the direction of the bedroom, not paying too much focus on anything else besides you. You mentally bless his reflexes and strength for saving you both from falling when he stumbles against his bag that he had left on the ground, and he slightly pulls back to focus on the way, walking into your shared bedroom with a few hasty steps.

His grip on your thighs tightens when you rake your nails against his chest, feeling his muscles under the black shirt, your breathing pattern irregular when he finally reaches the bed and stops. An excited grin is displayed on his face when he turns to sit on the bed, the motion effectively placing you right on his lap. His hands leave their place on your thighs and wander under your shirt, feeling the warm skin of your stomach, grazing against your ribs, causing a whine to leave your lips while you involuntarily try to close your legs—a futile attempt when his thighs both rest between yours.

"Baby, I missed your body, missed touching you like this." He breathes out when he roams his hands against your bare skin, feeling you everywhere within his reach. "Kou, please touch me." You know that you sound whiny, that he is already touching you, but you just need more of him—you want to feel him everywhere.

"I am, I am, already touching you. What do you need, baby? I'll give it to you." One hand comes up from under your shirt and grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. His eyes are full of love and affection, a dark need lingering behind these pure emotions. That's the Koutarou you've been missing for so long—

"Want to feel you. Want everything." You mumble, knowing that he will take care of you so good—he always does. And he immediately nods and leans back to pull his shirt over his head, effectively leaving his upper body bare—and god, the smooth sun-kissed skin covering his muscular body makes your cheeks burn and flush. You push against his shoulders, and he gets the hint and rests his back on the bed, waiting for you to join him. And you're quick to lean down, still sitting straight on his crotch that you feel hardening with every shift of your body, and you start to kiss down on his neck, making your way down to his collarbones and chest. "Baby—" his voice has turned darker, more needy, and he throws his head back into the pillow when you lick and bite the skin on your way to his prominent v-line and to his dark happy trail right above his boxers.

"Baby—" a loud whimper leaves his lips, and he suddenly bucks his hips almost to your face. You lift your head and look up at him, his chest heaving heavily, and he suddenly sits up and leans down to kiss you intensely.

"Wanna feel you, baby. Please let me." He gently grabs your arms, and now it's your turn to lay on your back, and he gently pulls your shirt up to expose your chest. Your hands fist the sheets underneath as he pushes your bra to the side, and his head instantly leans down to kiss the valley between your tits. "Kou—" a gasp leaves you at his eagerness when he leaves messy, wet kisses against your body, but his hands already fumble with your pants. Bokuto helps you shed yourself out of your pants, and your panties are quick to follow.

You barely register how he undresses himself; in the next second, he's already hovering over you again and gasping your name against your neck.

"Y/n—missed you so much, baby," his voice right next to your ear makes you shiver in anticipation and you know he won't make you wait any longer. You arch further into him and push your hips against his, until you feel his bulge against your stomach. He grinds against you, the hardness of his cock pressing against you, and you slowly bring your hands down his back to bring your hand between your bodies to his cock, but he is quick to stop you when he realizes what you're about to do. "Can I—put it in already? Wanna feel your warmth, wanna be buried in your pussy." A shiver runs down his body, and you nod with a breathy whine when he lines up at your entrance.

So full. Only the head of his cock nudged between your legs, and you already feel full. He slowly inches deeper, the stretch delicious and welcome, especially since you haven't seen him for quite some time, and your body is overwhelmed with sensations and feelings. "Kou—"

"It's okay, baby. It's okay. I'm here." He keeps eye contact as he pushes deeper, but you can see him struggling as well, with his breath shallow and fast and his face blissed out.

He moans loudly for you when you clench around him, the sound unrestricted and loud in the room, and you tug on his silvery-white strands as a response. His moan changes to a whimper, a cute needy sound coming from this big, beefy man, and he finally allows his hips to move, to feel your warmth and wetness. You know you're already dripping for him, making his cock wet, and the lubrication makes him easily glide in and out of you. The first few thrusts start steady and slow, but the whimpering sounds won't stop coming from his lips, a few beads of sweat running down his forehead while he slowly ruts his hips against yours. "Baby—I'm sorry—" he gasps and presses his head against your neck. "Can't fuck you- like I want to—'s too much, missed you too much—" his hips suddenly stutter, and his body tenses on top of yours, and you feel him cumming, the warmth filling you up and making you feel so good while he cums and cums, throaty moans escaping his lips along an incoherent mixture of your name and prayers.

His body finally goes limp above yours, his massive weight caging you underneath, and you gently rake your nails against his back and caress the smooth skin under your fingers.

You stay like that for a few seconds, only your rapid breaths filling the room, until he tenses and sits up a bit to look at your face.

"Baby—I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to cum so fast," another whimper leaves his lips when his softening cock slips from your pussy, and his cum starts leaking out from you. It's a lot. You felt him cumming before, and you know that he usually cums quite a lot- but the amount that's starting to leak from you now is insane.

"Kou—you came so much. All for me?" You ask and bring your hand to his cheek, only for him to lean into your touch. "All for you, baby. Haven't touched myself since I last saw you. Wanna give you everything, always."

He brings his lips down to yours and connects them in a deep kiss, his body slightly trembling from having just finished. He pulls back eventually with a look of sadness on his handsome face, and you know that he is disappointed in himself. "You didn't finish, baby. I want to make you feel good too." Your heart swells with affection at his words, and you smile at him with hearts in your eyes probably.

"It's fine. I'm feeling really good already."

"Y/n, baby." He smiles when he says your name and fully lifts his body, his prominent muscles on his chest and arms all showing when he leans back and looks down at you. "You know that I can give much more than that." He grins, the sweet playful grin that you love so much on him, and he leans down to kiss down on your body, his hands holding your waist and pressing you down to the sheets, and you know exactly what he's up to.

"Now, I'll make you feel really, really good, baby."

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #bokuto #bokuto smut #bokuto x reader #I headcanon that he eats you out like a starved man after this #and then you go for three other rounds #like seriously #he's got so much to give #he's such a pleaser #but he sometimes gets overwhelmed #poor bby :( #the way this took me so so long to write #so sorry #haven't written anything this month so far #I was quite busy with my internship #but I have like the whole weekend off #which is like the first time this year I think #I feel so good rn #might open a bottle of wine and enjoy the night

[floating-goblin-art]

cw mild gore idk

very normal about them

#arttag #terzomega #haven't written anything in so long god #anyway i had this on the backburner somewhere and decided to kinda-finish it #omega ghoul #terzo emeritus #papa emeritus iii

[yikesharringrove]

steve being absolutely whipped for steve is my favorite thing ever. like ok what if they were friends and billy likes steve, and steve's oblivious to it but billy will drop whatever he's doing to make steve's like a the tiniest bit easier and it's so cute

It all starts with homework.

Homework Steve dropped on the floor in the hallway, to be more specific.

He fucking tripped and his shit went everywhere, and he was scrambling to pick it all up, when he noticed another pair of hands shuffling with his papers.

“Thanks, Hargrove,” he muttered.

“Most of these are wrong.” Steve snatched the math worksheet out of his hands, his face hot as he stuffed it in his backpack.

He tried to push past the absolutely solid wall that was Billy Hargrove, but the other boy kept blocking him.

“C’mon, I’ll help you.”

“I don’t need any help.”

It was a fucking lie. He knew he’d gotten most of the problems wrong. They were working on some weird formula that had to do with area, or volume, or something like that. And Steve really didn’t understand it.

But he didn’t want any help from fucking Hargrove, who would just spread it around the school that Steve Harrington is in remedial geometry as a senior.

But Hargrove had reached into Steve's backpack, and yanked out the assignment, using the pencil he had stored behind his ear to erase Steve’s shitty work.

“All you have to do is multiply the length by the width by the height. And that’s volume.”

Steve had added those three values and then cubed them. It had taken him hours.

“I know.”

Billy gave him a scathing look.

“Meet me in the library at lunch, and we’ll fix it.”

-

Steve wasn’t actually expecting Billy to be there, but he was. And they fixed Steve’s math.

And he got an A on the homework, his first one all year.

So it became a thing. They’d do Steve’s math homework at lunch together. And Billy would walk him through the tough problems, and clap him on the back when he got something by himself.

His teacher noticed his progress, and congratulated him on it.

“I got a tutor,” he told her.

They were studying on some random Thursday together, Billy with his nose in some worn-out novel, periodically peeking over the pages to take a look at Steve's math homework.

He was doing much better, and now Billy only had to silently point to an incorrect answer for Steve to go back and fix it.

Steve's stomach rumbled, breaking the silence,

"Jesus, Harrington. I think your stomach is trying to eat itself."

Steve rolled his eyes, but he smiled at Billy.

"Seriously, just eat lunch."

There technically was a rule against food in the library, but the librarian liked Billy, and tended to turn a blind eye to whatever he was doing at his usual back table.

Steve checked his watch.

"I'll just grab something later. I need to finish this."

He kept working on his math. His stomach growled again.

Billy sighed.

He dug into his bag, pulling out the crumpled brown paper bag Susan has passed him in the morning. She always made him lunch after a rough night with his dad.

Consolation prize, he guesses.

He pulled out the peanut butter and jelly sandwich, placing one half on Steve's open textbook.

Steve looked at him with round eyes.

"Nah dude, that's your lunch. I can get something after school."

"Like hell. Just eat the sandwich, Harrington."

Steve scarfed the first half like a small animal, and Billy glared at him until he had the second half.

He'll be okay, he can just sneak some food at home before his dad gets back from work.

-

"Harrington! How many times," Coach yelled from the sidelines. "You're leaving yourself too open!"

Steve was breathing hard, sprinting down the court after being bowled over by one of the guys on the other team.

It was deafening in the gym, the stands packed full.

Steve was playing like shit. The other team was dogging him, stealing the ball from him, blocking his every move.

He was point guard to Billy's shooting guard.

Billy yanked him by the back of the jersey, pulling him back to mutter in his ear.

Steve nodded once.

It was a good play, a simple pick and roll.

The other team scored, and Billy nodded at Steve.

They brought it down the court, and Billy made eye contact with Steve as he moved to set a pick on the asshole guard that kept knocking Steve down.

Steve moved, sprinting to the basket to finally make a fucking shot.

As he moved, the guard followed, but there was Billy.

They collided hard, and Billy got knocked flat on his ass.

His head cracked against the wooden floor, and he saw stars for a second.

He was fucking pleased as punch to see the other guard flat on his back, too. Looking as dazed as Billy felt.

There was a hand in front of his face, and he took it, allowing Steve to bring him to his feet, a look of concern in his big eyes.

"You okay, dude?"

"You score?"

"Yeah."

"Then I'm fine." He clapped Steve on the shoulder, jogging back to get in the game, shaking off the dizzy spell.

-

Billy paid no mind to the phone ringing.

He was sat at the kitchen table, finishing up his chemistry homework.

Sometimes he and Max did homework at the kitchen table together. Neil would give approving looks when he walked by if he saw Billy helping her with something she pretended not to understand.

"Hargrove residence." Neil was the only one who answered the phone that way. The rest of them said Hargrove-Mayfield.

Billy tightened his grip on his pencil.

He could feel his dad's eyes on the back of his head, standing straight against the wall where the phone was mounted.

"Yes, he is here."

Fuck.

What could Billy have done now? He's been a model fucking citizen for the past week.

And no one can trace that fucking fire under the bleachers back to him. Besides, he put it out before anything could really get burned.

"Billy, the phone's for you."

At least if he was in trouble, the person wouldn't be asking to speak with him.

Billy stood up, ignoring Max's questioning look.

Billy took the phone, not making eye contact with his dad.

"Hey! Sorry, I know this is weird, but I got your phone number from Max a little while ago, and I know usually we just study during school, but I am so fucking confused on this assignment. And I'll pay you! I'll even order food if you want to come over to help me. Oh! This is Steve by the way."

As if Billy wouldn't recognize his rambling.

"Um, sure. I can help you." He looked at his dad. "And no need to pay me."

"Just try to get out of here without any money. I dare you. So, can you come over? Tonight? This is due tomorrow."

Billy wasn't supposed to leave on school nights.

"Can you give me a second? Please?" He didn't wait for Steve to respond, he just lowered the phone.

"Dad," he started.

"How long have you been tutoring that Harrington boy?" Neil's voice was unreadable.

"A few weeks. Mostly at school. He needs some help tonight, and uh, offered to pay me if I come by his place."

"And you said you didn't want to be paid?"

"Yes, sir."

Billy tried his very best not to flinch when his dad patted him on the shoulder.

"That's good. Rubbing elbows with the Harrigntons. I was wondering why they didn't press charges when you beat that boy to a pulp."

Billy fucking hated when Neil brought that shit up.

It wasn't his fault he has a hard time controlling his rage. If anything, it's Neil's fault for slapping him around before sending him on an errand.

Steve just happened to kinda get in the way.

But Billy apologized, and Steve said he got over it, and clearly he did, if he's inviting Billy over to his house to work on his homework.

He raised the phone back up to his ear.

"Sure, I can help you. But I can't be out late. It's a school night."

Neil nodded approvingly, and Billy flipped him the bird the second he turned his back.

"Yeah, whatever. The front door's unlocked, just come upstairs when you're here."

Steve didn't even wait for a reply before he ended the call, and Billy quietly placed the phone back on the receiver.

He cleaned up his own homework, and took his bag with him.

"Billy," his dad said as he was halfway out the back door. "Curfew's at 8:30. And I'll be locking the door."

"Yes, sir."

-

Harrington's house is fuckin' huge.

Billy should've expected it, with Steve's family being as well connected as they were.

He let himself into the house, as Steve had told him to do, and was immediately met with a slight woman, staring at him like he'd just walked uninvited into her home.

"Uh," he said. Why the fuck would Steve tell him to just come in? "I'm Billy? Billy Hargrove. Steve's tutor."

And then her face brightened, and holy shit, Steve looks exactly like his mom.

"He is upstairs, I'll show you." She waved him to follow behind her and she took off up the stairs.

Billy scrambled to kick his boots off and raced after her.

She was lean like Steve, with long legs and insanely thick,dark brown hair that went clear down to her ass.

(Steve even kinda has his mom's perfect ass.)

She knocked on the door to Steve's room, even though it was slightly ajar, and let herself in.

Steve was sitting at his desk, his head in his hands, all curled up and sitting cross-legged on his chair.

"Tesoro, il tuo amico è qui."

Steve turned, and he fucking beamed at Billy.

"Grazie, Mamma." He waved Billy over in the same motion his mother had done downstairs.

Billy felt awkward in the room, and his face felt hot, and his palms were sweaty.

"Avete bisogno di qualcosa?" She asked, and holy shit, how has it taken Billy this long to realize that Steve and his mother were not even speaking fucking English to one another.

He knew he was staring.

"No, grazie."

She smiled again at Billy as she left the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

"Damn, your mom's hot," was all Billy could think to say.

Luckily, it worked. Steve rolled his eyes, turning back to his work and shaking his head. But Billy could see a tiny smile on his face.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't start that shit and just help me with this, okay?"

Billy peered over his shoulder.

Steve was working on an English assignment, the same one Billy had completed last week.

It was a questionnaire about the Shakespeare play they had read in class, Othello.

Billy knew it was grueling, fifty multiple choice, ten matching, and three essay questions.

He had the book open text to him, and there had been lines and passages highlighted and annotated.

"This shit was nasty. I did it last week."

Steve scrunched his brows up at Billy.

"You're in English 12? How? You're a junior?"

Billy shrugged.

"That's just what I tested into when I moved here. I was on a fast track in California." Yeah, he would've probably gotten to graduate a semester early, if they had stayed.

"Okay, well, then you can help me. Because I can barely read as it is, and this stupid Shakespeare stuff just doesn't even make sense."

He put his head down on his desk, leaning his forehead against the questionnaire and groaning loudly.

"It's like another language. You have to learn to translate it. I mean, you and your mom were speakin' something, so you know how to do this."

"Yeah, and that's kinda the problem." Steve sat up, looking at Billy. Billy moved to sit on the corner of his desk. "My mom's from Italy, and I didn't even speak English until I was like, six. Regular English has never made sense to me, and then they give us this shit." He flipped the book closed harshly.

Billy had to bite his tongue, because the only thing he could think to say was you sure do talk a lot for someone who allegedly doesn't understand English. But he didn't really wanna be a dick right now.

"Okay. Here's what will do. We'll answer as many questions as you can. Once we get to the ones about specific passages, I'll read them in plain terms, and you'll be fine, okay?"

Steve nodded glumly, but he picked up his pencil.

"Okay, dude. You can definitely answer this first question."

Question one: Who wrote Othello.

Steve circled the correct answer and Billy pat him on the head. Steve glared at him playfully.

They went through the questions.

Some were easy, and clearly all Steve needed was a cheerleader, because he circled the correct ones right away.

But then, some were fucking difficult.

"Okay, question 36: What is the significance of Othello's handkerchief?"

Steve flipped through the book desperately.

"What fucking handkerchief?"

-

It was a little past eight, and Steve was just barely halfway through the packet.

He was clearly trying not to get frustrated, as he came across harder and harder questions, understanding less and less.

"So, in the passage, Iago is basically trying to turn Othello against Desdemona. He's saying that if she deceived her father, she would deceive Othello."

"But, I don't get why she lied to her dad. Like, what was the lie?"

"He didn't want her to get married to Othello, but she did anyway."

Steve just looked desperately at Billy.

"So, she did cheat on Othello? And Iago is telling him about it?"

"No, she didn't Iago is trying to fuck with Othello."

"Wait, so Desdemona did nothing wrong, and then Othello still kills her?" He looked incredulous.

"Yeah, man. It's Shakespeare. In the tragedies, everyone dies. In the comedies, everyone fucks."

"Why?"

"Because it was Elizabethan England, and everyone was fucking and dying, and half of these stories are based on the Greek plays that came before, in which everyone just fucked and died."

"I wish my life was like that. I just wanna fuck. And then die." Steve put his pencil down, leaning back in his chair. "I'm sorry, man. That I dragged you here to help me with this. I'm just fucking dumb."

Billy smacked Steve in the back of the head, and he yelped, glaring at Billy and rubbing the spot where Billy had merely tapped him.

"You're not stupid. This is hard. Now, let's keep going. This isn't gonna finish itself."

-

Billy ended up finally leaving Steve's close to ten.

His mom thanked him for helping Steve, and shoved a wad of cash in his hand that Billy felt too awkward to count until he had parked in his spot behind his house.

Jesus Christ, she gave him fifty bucks.

He put it with the rest of his stash, in the locked glove compartment, and wiggled into the back seat.

He doesn't doubt that his dad had locked the house promptly at curfew. He doesn't doubt that he was gonna get his shit rocked tomorrow after school when he showed up back at home.

But Steve had finished his assignment, and had flung his arms around Billy when it was finally over, and it's okay. Billy can take a few smacks.

-

"Hey!"

Billy turned to see Steve rushing towards him down the hall. His cheeks were pink and he was beaming.

He thrust the assignment from last night into Billy's hands, and there was a big red A- on the top.

"That's my best English grade, like, ever. Thank you! Seriously, Billy. Thank you so much. I'm taking you out for dinner this weekend, okay? To say thank you. I'll buy you a burger and a milkshake, and anything you want."

"Nah, man. Your mom paid me last night, it's okay."

Steve shook his head, his hair flopping onto his forehead, and he pushed it back, still grinning. Fuck, he's so pretty.

"Can it. We're going to the dinner and you're gonna eat fries until you puke, okay? We're going Friday."

Friday.

Billy's supposed to help Susan trim all the hedges on Friday.

Okay, if he wakes up early, he can do the front before school, and if he comes home during his free period, he could-

"Sure, Pretty Boy. Friday."

-

He was up before the sun, cutting hedges.

He had to shower before school, which he fucking hates doing, because he doesn't have enough time to properly do his hair in the mornings.

But he finished them.

He finished them all.

And he told Susan such when she handed him his pity packed lunch that morning.

She thanked him, and his dad narrowed his eyes.

"Why?" He barked.

Billy tried to act casual.

"Couldn't sleep, thought I'd just get it out of the way."

Neil didn't stop staring suspiciously at Billy until he and Max had closed the backdoor behind them.

"Why did you really do all that this morning?" Max asked when they were safe in the car.

"Jus' have plans after school."

She rolled her eyes.

"Oh, that's rich. You're going on a date."

Well, he hopes so.

But that's never gonna happen.

The school day seemed to pass as slowly as fucking possible. He was anxious all day, fidgety and nervous, and a tiny bit sweaty.

Steve was leaning against his car outside when Billy finally stomped away from the school, and he smiled brightly at Billy.

"Should we just meet at the diner?"

"Yeah. I gotta drive Max, so." He gestured lamely.

"Okay. See you in a bit." Steve tapped the hood of the Camaro, and normally Billy would've threatened to bite anyone that knocked into his car like that, but Steve can kinda do whatever he wants as far as Billy is concerned.

Billy made sure to idle in front of the house, making sure Max got inside alright, and making sure his dad watched him drop her off.

He'd be in worse shit if Neil thought Billy made Max walk home by herself.

But he sped back into town the second the screen door slammed closed behind her.

Steve already had a booth when Billy arrived, and he waved Billy down enthusiastically, as if Billy didn't hone in on him the second he walked through the door.

"Hey, man! Glad you could make it," he said, as if he didn't insist that Billy make it.

Billy grunted at him, shuffling into the booth on the other side of Steve.

"Thanks again, dude. My grades have never been so good. My dad even said I've been doing alright, which is, I think, the nicest thing he's ever said to me."

"Yeah. It's no problem."

"Why don't people know you're smart?" Steve's question took Billy off guard a little bit. "You act like you're a dumb jock, like me."

"You're not dumb. And it's just self-preservation, I guess. I don't need every pretty boy in this school to know I'm a good tutor. Already got my hands full."

Steve's cheeks went the faintest bit pink, and if Billy didn't know better, he'd say that Steve's casual shifting of position was more like a little squirm.

"I guess that makes sense," Steve mumbled, picking at the edge of the menu in front of him.

Their waiter came at that moment, and Steve ordered right away, rattling off what he wanted like it was second nature.

"So the usual, then?" The waiter winked at Steve, and Steve flushed a little deeper, looking shyly at Billy.

"I'll have the same." The waiter nodded, and swept off with their menus.

"So, you're here a lot?" Billy didn't want to look too far into it, but he was ravenous for little scraps of information about Steve. A little peek into his life.

"Yeah. I come here for dinner when I'm home alone a lot. Cooking for one person is kinda lame, and I like being somewhere that's not so. Quiet."

"How often you home alone?"

"Every few weeks. My mom travels around with my dad a lot, but she feels bad about leaving me on my own. Doesn't really stop her, thought." And Steve looked positively glum, like a pouty little cat caught outside in the rain.

"Well, next time you're alone let me know. I don't have too much going on. Usually."

Steve brightened, looking at Billy with a tiny mile on his face.

"Yeah? You don't have better friends then some dumbass you tutor?"

"I don't tutor a dumbass. And in case you hadn't noticed, I don't have many friends. Only been in town for a few months."

"I've been here my whole life, and I don't have many friends, either."

"That's their problem, then."

Steve beamed at him.

#Billy just absolutely getting his bell rung but being like 'its ok bc steve scored 🥺' is my love language #I've been working on this for such a long time and idk how to end it so it's jsut kinda......open #yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #i haven't written anything in a million years

[mirrorhouse]

PRIS GLITTERBELL ✰

the youngest daughter of three, pris' intended role in life was set in stone before she was even born. trained to pickpocket, obfuscate her intentions, and wield a dagger from a young age, at fourteen, she began working for her family as a smuggler. fifteen years later, after a series of betrayals, pris fled the underdark with nothing but the clothes on her back and the coins in her pockets-- only to be snatched up by an illithid ship the moment it seemed like true freedom was finally within her reach.

#baldur's gate #bg3 #bg3edit #pris #* #i'm not sure why i've fallen in love with her so hard but i do love her a lot #i've been starting new playthroughs over and over and finally am sticking with this one #and!! i haven't made gifs like this in sooo long or like. really written anything down for my characters either. but i did it for her #even though this barely counts as writing or even a fully formed coherent thought #anyway. she <3

[wikiangela]

fuck it friday

tagged by @jamespearce9-1-1 @daffi-990 @disasterbuckdiaz 💖

haven't written much lately bc I got too into oth and it's day 4 of watching and i'm like halfway through s2 lmao so I don't have much more of the married buddie fic (which is currently my priority) I can share without sharing everything haha - so, fuck it, here's a non-buddie snippet 🙈 i'm writing this just for me so like, who cares but also figured i'd share bc fuck it haha it's a ryan/taylor fic from the oc - they had an open ending where they weren't explicitly together, so in this fic they both go to college and keep in touch but aren't officially dating until she visits for christmukkah and they talk 🤣 it's very slowly coming together bc I deleted what I had and started from scratch lol

___

It’s hard to coordinate phone calls with a nine hour time difference, especially since Taylor is… well, Taylor is Taylor. She takes up any extracurricular activity she can, gets involved in the social life of her university, and always has her schedule fully packed up. Sometimes when she tells Ryan about her day, he needs to ask if she's taking breaks and has time to breathe. But that’s Taylor. He can’t help but smile as he thinks about her restless need to do it all. He wishes he could be there to make sure she rests, too. 

He wishes he knew where they stand, as well. They’re kinda in this weird limbo right now. They talk at least a few times a week, they spent the last hour before she left making out on the train, but he’s still not sure if they’re dating, if they’re exclusive… He doesn’t think so, and it’s annoying to have to wonder. Taylor is usually so blunt and honest, and she’s always been the one needing reassurances on where they stand. But she’s not saying anything, and it’s slowly driving Ryan crazy.

He picks up the phone and throws his book to the side.

“Hey.” he whispers, falling back against his pillow.

“Hi, Ryan!” he hears her bubbly voice that instantly makes him feel all warm inside. When he closes his eyes, he can see her adorable smile and those piercing hazel eyes that always seem to look straight into his soul. 

“Hey.” he repeats, a smile forcing itself onto his face.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @911onabc @housewifebuck @rogerzsteven @watchyourbuck @underwater-ninja-13 @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @pirrusstuff @theotherbuckley @wildlife4life @fortheloveofbuddie @nmcggg @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @exhuastedpigeon @king-buckley @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @hoodie-buck @spotsandsocks @jeeyuns @callmenewbie @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @weewootruck @hippolotamus @steadfastsaturnsrings @malewifediaz @honestlydarkprincess @buckaroosheart @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @giddyupbuck @jesuisici33

#fuck it friday #ryan x taylor #fic snippet #wikiangela writes #my writing #my wips #ryan atwood #taylor townsend #the oc #the oc fic #feel free to ignore lol just sharing to motivate myself to keep writing #haven't written anything but buddie in so long omg #i hope i get the characters right 😬 #i just go where inspiration takes me and currently it's a couple sentences a day in various wips lol #i had a whole scene of ryan talking to seth too and i liked that and might use it but couldn't make it make sense haha

[thedeathofduty]

Talisman

Summary: King Viserys I dies, sending the royal family and your own life into disarray. When Aemond is sent on his way to Storm's End and your betrothal is called off, the Queen promises to do right by you as soon as she is able. That night, your fears, memories, and insecurities get the better of you.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x UnspecifiedHouse!F!Reader

Warning(s): Very, very brief mention of sex

A/N: Thank god that more talented people than I have already gifed every second we've gotten of Aemond otherwise I would've had to put a super pixelated screenshot down there instead. How do you guys make these? Here's part two!

Queen Alicent had insisted on speaking to you alone, without even your father or the Lord Hand as witnesses, which set your already frayed nerves to what felt like their very breaking point. Your hands were clasped tightly together in your lap and still, you could not stop their trembling. The two of you were sitting in her chambers and her handmaiden was pouring the two of you some tea before quietly leaving the room. You had known, of course, that something was wrong. Just a mere hour ago, your father had been all but dragged from his study and corralled into the throne room with all the rest of the High Lords and Ladies. No matter how desperately you cried out, none of the knights of the Kingsguard would tell you where they were taking him or what was happening.

And now here you were, sitting across from the Queen who regarded you with kind, sad eyes. She had never looked at you like this before. "Lady Y/N," she started before clearing her throat and glancing down at the small cup in front of you, "please, before we begin. It will help with your nerves." You nodded quickly, grasping the cup in your hand and hissing when some of the tea spilled on your fingers as you brought it up to your lips. "I tell you this now with the utmost confidence in your ability to be understanding... and patient." You looked at her over the rim of your cup. She pressed her lips together, refusing to meet your gaze for a moment before closing her eyes and sighing deeply. "The King is passed."

"Wh-what?" Your cup clattered against the table as you clumsily set it down.

"Please," she murmured and you held your tongue. "He named my son Aegon as his successor and, though my father believes in the inevitability of war, I do not. I am trying my best to tread a different path, to do what needs be done without bloodshed. There is no reason why thousands should die, why the Princess and her family should suffer, why the dragons should be turned loose. Do you understand?" You opened your mouth, but she continued. "There is a better way, Lady Y/N. I can see the path towards peace so clearly now. But..." She sighed, pushing her own cup aside and reaching across the table to grab your hands. "Even peace is not without sacrifice. Have you seen Aemond today at all?"

"No, Your Grace. I tried looking for him, I was hoping he could lend me some clarity, but I could not find him." You had even gathered your skirts and run to the training grounds where Ser Criston usually was, hoping maybe he could tell you where to find your betrothed, but the area was deserted. That was where a guard had found you and brought you before the Queen. "Do you know where he is?"

"I do, yes." She sighed again, her eyebrows drawn together, looking like each word was cutting her tongue on its way out of her mouth. "Lady Y/N, you must understand. I hold you in the highest regard. I cannot think of a young woman more suited for my son. You are dutiful and kind. I know he was quite taken with you, but whether there is to be war or not, we must strengthen our house. We must forge difficult alliances to persuade the Princess Rhaenyra to accept this new order. Gods, do I wish it could be different. Would that I or any of my children had been married for love and not politics." Your breath hitched.

Your betrothal to Aemond had been announced only a few short months ago, but he had caught your attention the moment you entered King's Landing a year ago. You remembered everything your Lady Mother had told you back when she was alive about how making a man fall in love with you was almost like casting a spell. 'You have to bewitch him, be the very air he breathes,' she'd told you one night shortly after you'd bled your first moon. Back then you were unsure of what she had meant, but you accepted the bottle of lavender oil and rose petals she had given you then. Years later when you would sit and pretend to read at the edge of the training grounds under the trees there, you still wore it on your neck. It made you feel womanly and powerful and more confident than you really were. Eventually, he noticed you, too.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you looked out the window, wishing a stiff breeze would pick you up and carry you home. Surely, she couldn't possibly mean...

"Aemond is to be betrothed to one of Borros Baratheon's girls." There it was. You tried to tug your hands away, but she only held them tighter and stroked the back of them with her thumbs. "But I swear to you, Lady Y/N, that you will not be cast aside. I know of the affection you both had for each other and I am sorry that it must be this way, but I promise that as soon as the Princess accepts our peace terms, I will personally secure a betrothal befitting a woman of your station and quality. I swear this to you." She squeezed your hands again and you swallowed the burning lump of coal in your throat. When the two of you locked eyes, you weren't ready to see that they were just as tearful as yours felt.

"What will happen to me?" Your voice trembled and broke at the edges, your mind racing with images of yourself next to or beneath some old, perverted Lord. You thought you would be one of the lucky girls. How stupid you felt. Fresh tears sprang into your eyes as one finally fell.

"Nothing, my dear girl. You and your father will both be safe and well taken care of here." The Queen reached up and gently brushed a stray lock of hair from your face, her eyes mirroring your own.

None of the people at court were even allowed to go to the Coronation. It was a pageant reserved only for the smallfolk, to make sure that they saw Aegon as their one, true King. You cared not for any of that nonsense, the politicking of it all, the "stinking, bloody outrage of it all", as your father had shouted at supper that night, slamming his fist on the table and forcing both your cups to spill. For once, you said nothing about his outburst, focusing instead on moving your food around on your plate until it was too cold to eat anymore.

"Queen Alicent told me she would find me another match."

"Another match," he scoffed, shaking his head, "What could be a better match than the Prince?"

What indeed.

You excused yourself early, leaving your father to puff and fume as uselessly as he wanted. He may complain within the confines of your four walls, but you knew he would never push for you and you could forgive him for that. He would never raise a hand to you and he loved you enough most days. On some of those days, you even felt sorry for him. He was all alone in the world, with only you for comfort and you were destined to leave him behind to start a family of your own someday.

As you lie in your bed that night, your eyes glued to the ceiling, you tried to quiet the drumming of your heart enough to find some semblance of rest. You had seen Aemond only last night and though you knew thinking of him was the last thing that would help calm you, you could do nothing to stop yourself. The apartments you shared with your father overlooked the gardens, a step up the ladder that Aemond had facilitated for you out of a desire to see you elevated to the status he'd said you deserved. Were you to lose even this now that you had lost him, too?

Aemond had arrived in a foul mood after the dinner with his family. Though it went against the rules of propriety, you knew your father was willing to bend or even break those rules for you, as he made clear when he allowed you to take Aemond's arm and lead him into your chambers. It had nothing to do with trust or faith and everything to do with status. Maybe some part of him even hoped the Prince had already deflowered you and you were with child so the Hightowers would have no choice but to go forward with the wedding. As you gently closed the door behind you, you felt... lucky, more than anything.

'What troubles you, My Prince?' You almost never called Aemond that anymore, except maybe in jest, but you had not seen him this cross in a while. He stood in front of your small fireplace with his back to you, his arms crossed over his chest and his head bowed. Every line in his body was taut as a bowstring and while you ached to reach out and smooth a comforting hand over his back, fear stayed your hand.

When he turned to you, there was a faint smile on his lips and he beckoned you over with a welcoming hand. 'I am not so troubled that you have to resort to naming me with titles, my love.' You sighed gratefully and leaned into him as his arm curled around you. The two of you stood there for a few moments and you finally rubbed your hand on his back like you had ached to just moments before. 'You see it, do you not? My nephews.'

You hummed, your mouth twisting in discomfort. 'Yes, they are...' You struggled to find the right way to phrase it. Imposters? Proof of the Princess Rhaenyra's indiscretions? Not of Velaryon blood? All true.

'Bastards.' He stepped away from you then, clenching his hands into fists. 'Unfit to rule over even a patch of rock in the Isle of Faces and yet one is to be King someday and the other Lord of the Tides.' One hand brushed against his eyepatch, his face souring. 'It is an absurdity. And I alone am regarded as the problem, for-for speaking the truth others so spinelessly ignore!'

'You know why, Aemond. Your father,' you paused and snorted, 'is hardly your father.'

'Even my mother stood against me tonight.' When he looked at you, you could see the sorrow in his shining blue eye and you could not stop yourself, you brought your hands up to caress his face, your fingers tracing his scar. You leaned up on your toes and drank his sadness from his lips as he gripped your waist so tightly, you thought he meant to breathe your soul in like it was a plume of smoke and vapor. 'Are you with me, my little talisman?' he'd asked as soon as he gave you a hair's breadth of space to answer him.

It almost hurt that he asked. Did he not know? But you understood how he liked to hear you swear your allegiance over and over again. 'I am with you, my love.'

To think that was only one night ago and now here you were, alone in your room with nothing but memories and your heart flying away to be claimed by some girl for the sake of a war that you had no personal stake in. Never had you thought you would be so lucky as to be allowed to marry for love, but for a moment it seemed that the Mother had smiled upon you with all her mercy and warmth, as your own mother no longer could, only for everything to be cruelly ripped away from you without even so much as a goodbye or an apology from the man who was to be your husband. You knew he loved you even if he never said those exact words aloud. It shined out of every inch of him like starlight. You had never needed to hear it until now.

Would he find the Baratheon girl he was to be promised to quite beautiful? Would she "bewitch" him too? Would she become his new talisman, the one thing he swore by for every scrap of fortune in his life? He used to tell you the gods had been kind enough to leave him with one eye so he could look at you. Would he tell her that?

You stomach turned as you imagine him and some other girl... together, in the way you had been craving from him for so long. You had never wanted anyone in such a way, had never even touched yourself until you met him. It was like he had lit a fire inside you and he was the only one who was meant to put it out. The gods are cruel.

You flipped over onto your stomach, listening to the wind blowing through the gardens outside your window. Though you longed for him, for his comforting words and loving embrace, even for his body in bed beside you, for once, just once, you also hoped that you would never have to see him again. The thought of seeing him like that, with a pretty little wife hanging off his arm, sent a wave of tears to your eyes. You were alone now. There was no need to hide from anyone and, even if your father was awake, he had never interrupted you when you were despondent like this before, not even after your mother's death. With the hope of lightening your heart's heavy burden, you unclenched and allowed yourself to sob into your pillow.

#mine #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd #aemond fic #this was actually supposed to be way longer but #i haven't written anything in a long time and i'm scared that if i try to bite off more than i can chew #we will all end up with nothing so here you go #bone apple teeth