#anyway *adjusts my veil*

[emelkae]

wearing all black because i'm in mourning for the character i had to cut from my story

#rip dr. rue #i love you so much but you cluttered the narrative :/ #she'll be in the prequel but i've found i don't have room for her in the sequel #the draft's simpler now. still jumpy but way less info for the reader to keep in mind #and to replace the scene i got to write circuit being a mechanic which i never usually get to do #also a scene of sharpe brooding by himself which will clarify some motivations for stuff that happens later #sometimes you gotta tell instead of show. especially when showing gets confusing #anyway *adjusts my veil* #me.

[fbfh]

makey makeover - rodrick x hyperfeminine reader

wc: 1.5k

pairing: rodrick x gn hyperfeminine!reader

warnings: rodrick isn't used to being taken care of but only briefly mentioned at the end, rodrick does not know what hyaluronic acid is

summary: rodrick can never say no to you, but if it means having you straddle his lap while you use all your skincare products on him and listen to music together, he wouldn't want to say no anyway.

song recs: makey makeover - crazy ex girlfriend cast, jesus of suburbia - green day, perfect day - hoku

a/n: I started writing a kids book yesterday?? like I finished the first chapter and outline in one sitting???? it wasn't at all planned but when the muse strikes yk. Anyway I don't think it will take me as long to write so if you wanna read a chapter book about magic and girlhood and unicorns and other mythical creatures with bella sara vibes that's probs gonna be ready reasonably soon lol

tags: @yesv01 @magcon7280 @dustyinkpages @the-snake-pit @kiara7777 @inthehoneymoonwithconnorrk800 @followingthefanfiction @2220825 @Maggzsworld @xiaos_crustytoenails @ionlymadethisaccountbcihadto @strawberryjen124 @Isaentremundos @hxnbah

Rodrick likes to think he's a pretty tough guy. Between being born and raised on the rebellious messages of pop punk music, and the nonconforming ideologies of emo and other alt subcultures, Rodrick knows in his bones that he'll never let the man break his spirit. He'll never bow down to someone just because they want him to do something. He's had countless opportunities to stand by these beliefs at school and at home, and he has never - not once - come close to doing anything for someone simply because they want him to. Rodrick has been confident in his ability to never give into other people’s orders, no matter how much they demand of him. 

Until now.

“Pretty please, Roddy…?” You pout your glossy lips at him, blinking up at him and batting your doll like eyelashes, and that’s all it takes to make him fold.

“...I guess, if you really-” He’s cut off by an excited squeal from you, and he’s glad that you’re too distracted to notice him blush. Rodrick has never felt his willpower give in so fast, but as he watches you rush around your room and smile, delighted that he’d agreed, he realizes that he’d do pretty much anything you tell him too. Ben and Chris would call him a pussywhipped simp, but… no, that’s pretty much it. He chuckles a little at the thought, watching the pile of stuff grow. He recognizes nail polish and tweezers, but that’s about it.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” You say, rambling happily as you settle down on your bed across from him. “I’ve been wanting to do self care stuff but I’ve done so many everything showers and self care nights there’s nothing left for me to do on myself. But you…”

You take his face in your manicured hands, moving him around to inspect more closely.

“You are in serious need of a facial.”

Rodrick doesn’t really process what you’re saying, he just loves when you touch his face like that. 

“...Uh, yeah totally.” He mutters absentmindedly, distracted by your sweet smell. After a moment, he processes what you said, and chuckles, leaning back into your silky pink pillows. “Babe, you can do anything to me, anywhere, anytime.” 

You giggle, feeling your face flush a little as you get all your stuff organized. Rodrick runs his hands up and down your waist, fidgeting with your soft fluffy pajama shorts and big loded diper shirt you wear all the time. He sees the little burn marks and worn out hems and realizes it’s the one you stole from him. He smiles softly, loving the way you look in it even more now. His attention is pulled back to you when you push something over his face, brushing his hair back. You adjust the fluffy cat ears on the headband, making sure you have access to his whole face. Rodrick giggles a little, knowing he must look a little out of place wearing a pierce the veil shirt and fluffy kitty cat headband. 

“I don’t think my forehead has been this exposed since like, 4th grade…” he chuckles.

“That’s good, you’ll have less sun damage that way.” You smile, putting some micellar water on a cotton pad. It’s a little cold to the touch, but after a moment, the feeling of you gently wiping over his face and neck ends up being way more relaxing than he had expected it to. You throw it away, and he hears it land in your trash can with a crinkle. 

“I’m gonna mist your face now, okay?” You say, and he nods. You spray rose water on his face, and Rodrick can’t get over how considerate you are to give him a heads up like that. Rodrick smiles a little as he adjusts to the subtle floral smelling facial spray he’s used to smelling on you. He basks in the quietness of your room, opening his eyes as he watches you sitting on his stomach and looking for the next product. You hesitate for a moment. You feel like something’s missing, but you can’t put your finger on it.

“Oh,” you say, reaching for your phone as you remember. You open up Spotify, and put your favorite playlist on shuffle - the one you and Roddy share. It’s full of both your favorite songs, mostly boiling down to early 2000’s pop punk and trashy pop. It’s chaotic but really does suit you both perfectly.  Rodrick smiles suddenly as he instantly recognizes the opening notes of Jesus of Suburbia begin to play. You take out your favorite serum, jasmine and blackberry hydrating jelly, and place a few drops around his face. 

“What’s that one?” Rodrick asks, picking up another bottle. 

“Hyaluronic acid.”

Rodrick looks at the little dropper bottle.

“Does it, like, melt the flesh right off your bones?” 

“No…?” You chuckle, massaging his cheekbones and jawline with your fingertips.

“Then why is it called hydroponic acid?” He asks rhetorically, “Acid is supposed to melt shit.”

You laugh again, and he makes a mental note to sample your laughter for a song at some point in the future. He doesn’t know which one yet, but he knows it will be his best one yet. 

You rub some cooling aloe vera gel into his skin, then take out your rose quartz gua sha stone. You tap your fingertips against his chest, and he looks at you with an amused smile.

“What does that do?”

He watches you work, eyes locked on you. He can’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed and peaceful. 

“I’m prepping your lymphatic drainage system.” 

That clarified absolutely nothing for Rodrick, but he trusts you implicitly. You’re so good at so many things, but Christ, you could write a book on all that girly beauty stuff. It’s way more hardcore than people think it is. You know about all these acids and drainage systems and the pink rock thing, and even though he’s impressed, he’s not at all surprised by how good you are at all this stuff.

You begin gently gliding your gua sha over Roddy’s skin, working from his forehead down to his neck and jawline. He stops talking as you work, and it’s like you melt all of the stress out of his body through his face. He could fall asleep with you touching him so gently like this. After a while you rub some more cream into his face, then place something under his eyes that feels like thinly sliced jello.

“What the fuck?” He asks, bringing another laugh out of you. He watches you take two more of the weird jelly things and put them under your own eyes.

“They’re under eye masks.” You answer with a chuckle. “They hydrate your skin, depuff, and get rid of dark circles.”

“Huh…” he hums in response, playing with the patches as they sit on his face. 

Once you’ve used half your arsenal of skincare products on him, you peel off his sheet mask and let him sit up. You hand him a mirror, and as he sits up and stretches a little, kind of wishing you had more to do, he feels like he just woke up from the best sleep of his life. 

“So? What do you think?” You ask excitedly. He can’t help but crack a smile at how cute you are. Rodrick takes the mirror you offer him. When he sees his reflection, he almost doesn’t recognize himself. 

“Oh my god…” he says with a soft smile. He’s glowing. He doesn’t think he’s ever looked this soft and moisturized and… cared for before. He doesn’t even have any crusty eyeliner from yesterday smudged around his eyes. He can never get it off all the way, but one wave of your magic wand, and it’s gone. He laughs again, touching his cheek. He looks up at you in surprise.

“My face is so smooth…” “I know!” You exclaim in delight. “So, do you like facials after all?”

You have a feeling you already know the answer, but Rodrick looks up at you anyway.

“Yeah,” he states, pulling you in for a kiss, his lips soft and exfoliated, topped with your favorite strawberry lip balm. You think Rodrick is right, it does taste better in a kiss. After he pulls away, it takes him a minute for his brain to stop short circuiting. 

“So… uh, are we doing this again next weekend?” 

You laugh at his hopeful tone of voice, how he raises his eyebrows a little. 

“Yeah.” You nod, taking him in for another kiss. You take his hands in yours, looking at the stick and poke tattoo he got of the heart you drew on his hand in chemistry class, his little calluses from drumming. “Next week I can do something about your cuticles.”

#rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick #rodrick x reader #rodrick x hyperfeminine reader #hyperfeminine reader #diary of a wimpy kid #diary of a wimpy kid x reader #doawk #doawk x reader #yeah no idea where the book thing came from #i literally wasn't even a horse/unicorn kid growing up #i was more into faries #like i liked the horse girl aesthetic ig but i never really got into it #but it's fun #i almost accidentally named a character after a member of paramore so im glad i caught that lol #stay tuned

[sykosugu]

the big day | satoru gojo

summary: a wedding blurb wc: 0.4k

cw: none! a/n: hi my little loves! this is another old one I had saved in my docs I decided to share with you! Just a little shortie for you all. I hope you enjoy!

Satoru’s nervous. Months of mutual planning have gotten him to this point, and he’s nervous; In the best way possible. Tufts of off-white mixed with greenery decorate the pillars of the aisle; each baby blue flower placed with a purpose along the handmade garland. He stands at the end, hands in the pockets of his slacks as his mind begins to race, but not before a hand is placed on his shoulder to knock him out of his trance. He turns, a set of hands comes to smooth the lapels of his jacket, and to adjust the boutonniere on the left hand side. A soft tap to his cheek really snaps him out of it. “Your time to shine, buddy,” his friend Geto whispers. He nods in response and releases a breath he wasn't aware he was holding before turning around. 

Spouts of hushed murmurs between the guests as they wait for the event to unfold before them as they’re instructed to stand. Sounds of I Get To Love You by Ruelle come from the piano as they all turn around and all eyes are now on you, standing at the other end of the aisle, veil covering your face and your arm looped around your fathers. A delicate pink flower arrangement placed in your hands as they shake ever so tenderly. 

All eyes are on you, but your eyes are on him. He looks divine; suit pressed perfectly across the planes of his body, tufts of white hair laid in all the right places. Tears in his crystal blue eyes as he takes you in for the first time in this state. He thought you were beautiful when he saw you for the first time when you were sixteen; but oh no, nothing would ever compare to you now. The soft white fabrics perfectly sprawled along your frame; Delicate lace patterns decorate the lengths of your arms, and the perfect sweetheart neckline that perfectly shows off the intricate diamond gift he sent you this morning; an encrusted “Mrs” pendant to hang perfectly against the dip of your clavicle.. He thinks you look serene. He can’t wait to peel the veil from your face to really get a good look at the woman he fell in love with all those years ago.

Reaching the end of the aisle, he takes his stand next to you and your father. “Who gives this woman to this man?” The minister asks. “Her mother and I do,” your father answers beside you. Your father then turns and places your hand in your future husbands’. “Remember, I’ll go back to jail,” your father warns. He knows your father has never actually been to jail, but he nods anyway before he steps in unison with you to your respective spots and everybody takes their seats before the minister proceeds.

“You ready?” you whisper to him as the minister speaks. 

“I was born ready to marry you,” He whispers back.

art: @/3-aem

#satoru gojo #satoru gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo fluff #satoru gojo writing #gojo jjk #jujutsu kaisen writing #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk gojo #satoru #gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #jujustu kaisen

[b33zlebubz]

RECKLESS ABANDON--------

CHAPTER FOUR - breaking and entering makes great therapy

TASK FORCE 141 X READER (PLATONIC)

PREV CHAPTER || MASTERLIST || AO3 LINK || NEXT CHAPTER

TAGS: gender neutral reader, angst, fluff, slow burn found family, PTSD, trauma bonding, reader is a foster kid in high school, family drama, blood, violence, guns

"After your life falls apart at the seams very early on, you work hard to keep the small amount of peace you still have. Foster care is rough, work is draining, school is a drag...but you eventually find yourself in a good place. All of that quickly goes to waste, however, when your family's unfinished business finally finds its way back to you."

You’re not bothered again until Thursday night. 

There’s a light knock on your door that stirs you out of your restless sleep and you blink, disoriented.  At first you think it might be morning, and that Price has come to collect you to bring you to wherever he deems safer for you to stay.  His voice, however, never comes.  Instead, there’s a second knock—this one with a little more urgency than the last.  The window to your right is still dark, and a glance at the clock on the wall next to you tells you it's nearly two A.M.

“Fuck, I’m coming,” You mutter, nearly tripping when the thin sheets tangle around your ankles.  You straighten yourself, adjusting the sweater on your shoulders and pulling the sweatpants back over your legs. Only then do you turn on the light and open the door.

You expect to see Price staring at you in your doorway—or maybe Laswell, with a clipboard under her arm and an impatient look on her face.  You expect to find out you forgot when you were told to wake up or that you overslept and missed the quota to leave.  Instead, Gaz’s eyes meet yours from under a baseball cap and he chucks an empty backpack at your chest.

“Get your shoes on,” he says, whispering.  “We’re getting your stuff.”

You blink, disoriented.  “It’s—”

“Two in the morning, yeah, I know,” he says, checking his watch before turning on his heel and continuing down the dimly-lit hallway.  He waves his hand, gesturing to follow.  "Follow me.”

Disoriented, you quickly slip your feet into untied shoes, shut your door, and slip the backpack on your shoulders—stumbling after Gaz as he strides down the hallway.  The back of your shoe digs painfully into your ankle and you pull on it clumsily as you walk.

“Is Price with you?”  You ask.  Gaz walks past the elevator, instead opting for the stairs as he pushes the door open for you.

“Nope.”

A knot tightens in your stomach as you follow him, “I don’t think I’m allowed to—”

“Trust me, it’s alright.  I got clearance,”  is all he says, whispering still.  "Just keep your voice down."

You curse, but follow him down the steps anyway—tugging the backpack closer over your shoulders.

"If you got clearance why is it so important I stay quiet?"

"Just…"  he pauses on the landing with a sigh as he turns to meet your gaze, holding a dark hand up.  "Trust me, yeah?"

Your brow lowers in thinly-veiled annoyance.  Partially because you’ve been woken up, and partially because you're getting tired of being shoved around without explanation.

"Last time I followed a stranger like this I got a gun pressed to my side,"  you shift on your feet.  "So, no.  I don't think I will."

He sighs, giving up.

"Okay, well,"  he offers his hand to shake.  "I'm Gaz."

You stare at him for a second, as if waiting for him to admit that he might be messing with you.  Still, he doesn't let up, waiting expectantly for you to shake his hand.   A quick sweep of his figure tells you he's unarmed—at least, as far as you can tell.  He’s not in uniform.  Instead, he’s in dark clothes with a hood pulled up over his hat, a bag shrugged over his shoulders and a phone in the pocket of his hoodie.  He's younger than Price—late twenties, maybe—and he holds your gaze with a calm resolve.

With great reluctance, you shake his hand.

“There.  Now we know each other,” he says.  He swipes some sort of I.D. card through a card reader to his left and the door opens with a click.  “Now follow me.”

You sigh, but you don't resist.

The rain that has been falling over Texas the past few days has finally stopped.  In the early hours of the morning, even the crickets have ceased their incessant chirping.  Only the sound of your shoes and the running engine of a car disturb the quiet.  It’s chilly; and the crisp spring air causes your skin to prickle under your sweater as you follow Gaz towards a running car at the end of the lot.  It’s too dark to see much else.

When you get to the truck, he opens the back seat for you and you climb in.  Immediately, the familiar voice of the man in the driver’s seat makes you freeze.

“Bloody fuckin’ Jesus.”

“You!”  Your eyes widen whenever Soap’s eyes meet yours, “you nearly killed me!”

“I was saving your life, twat!”

“By what?  Pointing a gun at my face?”

“Yeah, no, fuck all this—”  Soap goes to step out of the driver’s seat when Gaz grabs his sleeve, preventing him from fully stepping out of the truck.

“Hey,” he says, lowly, as he slides into the passenger's seat.  “We had a deal.”

Soap laughs bitterly and pulls his arm away, “your deal did not include driving Price’s rabid fuckin’ nepo case around.”

“Rabid?!" You echo, appalled.

“Okay, both of you, relax,” Gaz says.  “Before Price has our heads, yeah?” Your heart drops a little in your chest as your accusing gaze immediately switches to Gaz.

“Wait,”  you realize.  “You said you had clearance.”

“If we get this done quietly—we won't need clearance,”  Gaz explains to you.  Meanwhile, Soap grumbles something you don’t understand before switching gears on the truck and pulling out of the lot.  “It’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission, anyway.”

You scoff.  “That’s great and all, but I still have no idea what the hell is happening."

“We’re driving you home,"  Gaz meets your gaze through the rear view mirror,  "you'll get twenty minutes to grab what you need.  Sentimental stuff, clothes, medication…that sorta thing.  Nothing that can be used to track your location.”

Your expression softens just a little as he talks and Soap drives.  It's considerate.  Really considerate, actually.  Price had barely let you ask about everything you’ve left at your house before reminding you that you couldn’t go back.  To have your own stuff, your own clothes, a pair of shoes without blood on them…

You sit back in your seat and cross your arms, dropping the argument and looking out the window as Soap drives in stubborn silence.  You watch the rest of the base pass in a blur and duck down whenever they drive through the gate—leaving no more concrete buildings for you to look at.  Instead, trees and fields line the pitch-black landscape, and a band you vaguely recognize plays on the radio.

Gaz and Soap talk.  Mostly about trivial military jargon with names you hardly recognize and places you don't know.  You learn a little as they talk, though, like how they are both sargeants.  You also finally get the name of the group that Price leads: Task Force 141.

You make yourself comfortable in the back seat, bringing your legs up to your chest.  When their conversation lulls to an end and the car is quiet, you decide to continue on your quest for answers.

"Where are we going?"  You ask, "tomorrow…I mean."

Gaz answers through a heavy yawn, "you ever leave the country, kid?"

"Not that I know of."  If you ever did, it was with your father before he disappeared.  "And I'm not a kid."

"Well…congratulations.  You've got a free flight to Russia tomorrow."

Your brow furrows.  You should have expected that they would take you somewhere far.  But considering everything you’ve skimmed past on the American news as of late—it was the last place you expected for Price to deem safe.

"Russia?"  You repeat, making sure you heard him correctly.  "Why Russia?"

"'Cap wants you far away, out of danger, and we need intel from guys who worked with your dad," Gaz answers.  "The longer you stay in this country the more likely it is Graves finds you again.”

You sigh and lean your head against the window, grateful that at least one person cares about how much you've been left in the dark—even if his words made your throat tight and your head spin.

"Graves," you repeat, furrowing your brow at the name.  Something you've heard before; shouted in the chaos of the firefight that led you here and whispered under Price’s breath whenever he would talk with Laswell.  "Who's he?"

Gaz huffs something of a laugh, a smirk on his face as he elbows the other Sargeant.  "Soap's best friend."

"Commander of the Shadow Company,"  Soap speaks for the first time in ten minutes, his voice dripping with deep-rooted contempt.  "Traitorous little shits, the lot of 'em."

The memory of cold metal digging into your side and the drawl of a thick Texan accent blare in your mind.

"They were the soldiers dressed in black,"  you speculate, and Gaz nods—confirming your suspicion.

“They’re not a group you want to mess with,” Gaz says, his brow lowering as if he’s recalling a bad memory.  “The only person they answer to is Graves, and the only thing Graves answers to is money.”

“So someone’s paying him to find me,”  you say, puzzle pieces sliding together.  “For the missile code I don’t have.”

“Exactly.  But don’t worry.  We’ve got your back from here on out.  Whatever you need, you come to us—as Price said.”

Your gaze softens a little before your eyes flicker to Soap, who only grunts in begrudging agreement.  You feel the tension in your shoulders slacken a little, the hammering of your heart sooth, and you nod.  

“Right,”  you say, nodding.  “So what you're saying is I can kick Soap out of the window seat tomorrow?"

"I'd sooner let you shoot me in the fuckin' head."

"Too bad the target was missed the first time," Gaz mutters, which earns him an immediate smack to the shoulder from the other Sargeant.  You don't know what he means, but you're pretty sure the small scar that juts into the side of Soap's hairline has something to do with it.  

Eventually, the truck rolls to a stop down the block from your house.  

"Twenty minutes,"  Gaz reminds you as you step out of the truck, tossing you some kind of an earpiece.  "Stay in touch.  If you run into any trouble, we're not far behind."

"Right," you say, with a nod, tucking the earpiece around your ear.  "Will do."

It's weird seeing your house again.

It's not a flashy thing; tucked into the corner of some middle-class neighborhood.  Before, it had been one of the more inviting houses you've stayed in—but now it looked foreboding in the dark, white paint crisscrossed with yellow tape.  Tactfully, you avoid the front entrance, instead opting for the fire escape of the apartment building next to it—dented and bent from all your prior endeavors of sneaking out over the course of the past six months.  For a moment, you miss it: your friends, stolen beer, school, your shitty job at the gas station…but you don't let yourself dread on it.

You grab the rusty metal and hoist yourself up and onto it.  It creaks as you climb the unsteady steps to your window and, for once, you're grateful it doesn't shut the whole way.

"Kid, don't you have a back door or a—"

Gaz's voice in your earpiece causes you to yelp with surprise, and you slip.  Your body tumbles with the painful clang of metal as your hands quickly reach, and you catch your windowsill in your fingers.  You bite your lip as pain blossoms through your upper back, making stars ignite in your vision for a few moments.

"Fuck," you breathe, before pulling yourself up so that your arms are situated in the rusted box planter.  Feet dangling, you kick at the wall as you claw up the window before somersaulting inside with a grunt.

Your heart in your throat, you hold your breath as you listen for any sign of someone else in the house—waiting for someone to notice.  When nothing comes, you slowly get to your feet and stretch out your sore back.

"Don't question my methods,"  you grunt, holding a finger to the earpiece like the people do in movies.  To your surprise, it works.

"So, you slipped on purpose, then?"

Your room looks just as it had when you left.  You're not sure why you expected otherwise. 

"I never slip,"  you retort sarcastically.  "That was tactical parkour."

"Duly noted," he chuckles.  "Sixteen minutes left."

Quickly, you rip the backpack off your shoulders and start shoving things into it.  Headphones, clothes, all the cash in your nightstand, medication, toiletries…your mind reels with what else you might need as you dart around the space.  You find a pair of boots and slip those on in favor of your blood-stained shoes, which you keep on you to discard back at the base.  It's when you're in the middle of ripping your blanket off your bed when your foot hits something cardboard. A shoebox.

You let out a breath and sink to your knees, pulling the beaten, scribbled-on box out from where it lays partially underneath your bed.  Your thumb smoothes over the masking tape that sticks to the top of the box and your own childhood chicken-scratch handwriting stares back at you.

DAD

You purse your lips. 

You open the box to be met with a heaping pile of letters and cards.  Some in other languages, some not.  At the bottom, there's a wide variety of small objects from his travels, most of which are a combination of yen, afghani, euros and other coins. There's also a rusted, metal lighter and a pen. 

Most of the pictures you had were lost in all the moving about; leaving you with only one wrinkled, dingy polaroid of a younger version of him in his fatigues.  He wasn't smiling.

Hands slow, you reach for the first card on the pile.  The last card you ever received from him.  The date is written clear at the top, underlined and circled and smudged with age.  Below it is a cheesy quote from the card, and below that is his scrawl, happy birthday!

You didn't remember much of your father.  You recalled his face, sort-of.  The echo of his laugh and the sight of his smile whenever he'd come to visit twice a year—once in the summer and then again in winter.  Though you're not sure if those were real memories, dreams…or just the image you thought up of him in your head. You don't remember who he was, any of his hobbies or traits…and a dull grief strikes you, then.  

You didn't know him—hardly ever thought of him, in all the chaos.  

And while you were sneaking out, skipping school, and cursing him for dying and leaving you with nothing but an emptiness that could never be filled…he was spending all of his final moments writing about you.  

You take out all the cards and shove them into the backpack.  Upon realizing the lighter still worked, you took it as well.  Then, you zipped up the rucksack and climbed back out the window.

If Soap and Gaz noticed tears on your face whenever you stepped back into the truck, they never commented on it.

@brokenpieces-72 @warenai @karurururu @pertinentpostmortem @kaoyamamegami @hayleybarnesx @nostalgialeech @scuftryo @0alk0msan

#kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty x reader #call of duty reader insert #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john price x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader

[butterflewaway]

Hi! I really liked the scenario where the MC of touchstarved was too dumb to realize the boys simping for her and I wanted to as about how the others boys react to Leander being the only one who can hold hands with the mc (and a Leander pov knowing the others are jealous) and maybe even MC touching his face again to feel the difference in texture. Hope that's not too much! Thank you anyway!

Ohhhh you are so fun!! I like this request!~

I couldn't figure out where to fit Mhin and Kuras as I doubt they'd be at the bar in the early afternoon so let me know if you'd like a part 2 as a continuation! <3

Warnings: jealousy!!! Leander is his own warning, taunting! touching uwu

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The dreary weather really was something else in this city. How could the air feel cool yet humid yet stifling as if pulling the breath from your lungs? Your bandages were dripping with sweat and coming loose, so you practically jogged into the Wet Wick.

Members of Leander's Bloodhounds were scattered around loosely, thankfully not densely packed this early in the afternoon. As you were about to slip behind a group of men and run up the stairs, an arm shot out from behind the bar to grab your hood, pulling it straight off.

Your hair tumbled out and you blinked as your eyes adjusted to the sudden light. Leander was leaned over the bar, lips pulled up into a smooth, pretty smile, eyes looking as tired as ever. "Hey pretty thing. Where you been all day?" You balled your hands into fists under your cloak and smiled back shyly.

"Oh you know. Around." Your ominous answer did little to dismay Leander, and he pulled you closer to the bar. "Would you like a drink, pretty? On the house." The barmaid looked over briefly after hearing that to scowl at the tall man. She hustled to the kitchen to presumably complain to the other workers.

You smiled as you shook your head. "Ah, no thanks. I was actually just on my way up. Really tired from ah- the day." You stared at each other in silence as your words replayed in your head. You could see the disbelief in Leander's eyes. Tired from the day? The sun had barely been up for less then five hours.

Leander let go of your cloak, and without thinking you moved your hand from the safety blanket to straighten the fabric. Piercing green eyes watched your every movement like a predator. "Ah." Fuck. You messed up. You flinched under his scrutinizing gaze and rushed to tuck your hand back into safety.

But before you could, his gloved hand once again reached out to grab, this time your hand. Deep inside, you knew Leander wouldn't get hurt. You flinched anyway. As if sensing your unenthusiastic response, Leander held up your hand to his face and gently kissed your palm, not breaking eye contact.

Your face turned beet red, mouth agape as you stared into his charming pale green eyes. Light reflected from the candles and bounced off his golden earring, grabbing the attention of the newcomers shuffling into the bar. You held your breath as Leander calmly unwrapped your hand halfway and rested his cheek against your palm.

You had no way of knowing, with your back turned to the entrance of the establishment. And though Leander acted as if the only thing he saw was you, in his peripheral he saw his dearest companions staring at the display before them with a mix of anger, jealousy, sadness, and thinly-veiled disgust.

You absentmindedly ran your fingers over his cheek and dipped down to trace the scar along his jaw. Your lashes fluttered tiredly, as if weighed down by the world. He smiled into your hand and pet your head. "Go take a nap pretty. You look like you need it." You looked away to hide your reddening cheeks and nodded, pulling away and wrapping your hand simultaneously as you trudged up the stairs, completely unaware of the eyes that followed.

Vere slid into his usual seat, pink eyes narrowing on Leander's face. The mage simply stared back blankly, before remembering where he was. A big smile erupted on his face and he grinned at the fox. "Hello Vere. Thirsty?" There was a sharp edge to the questioning lilt of Leander's tone. Vere scowled and reached to grab a bottle of champagne poorly hid by the missing barmaid.

Ais slid into the seat beside him, red eyes digging holes into Leander's cheek, as if expecting it to start decaying at any second. When nothing happened for a frame of five seconds, he peeled his unnerving gaze away to look at Vere's pretty pout. As Leander hummed and mixed a drink for the demon, his lips briefly flashes a wicked smile. He hadn't been chosen yet, but he was damned sure he was ahead of everyone else.

#ais touchstarved #touchstarved game #touchstarved x reader #touchstarved headcanons #touchstarved fic #touchstarved #mhin #ts kuras #ais ts #leander touchstarved #ts leander #touchstarved leander #vere touchstarved #vere #mhin touchstarved #touchstarved mhin #red spring studios #touchstarved demo

[bahbzxxx]

Windblume Star🌹🥀

Yandere!!! Venti x Reader

Warning: Yandere content ahead. If Yandere themes make you uncomfortable, this is not the fic for you.

If you’d like a creepy and darker Venti, this is the fic for you!!!

___________________________________________

Venti purrs from behind you, stroking your hair. He didn’t outwardly seem too bothered that your body had completely frozen up under his touch, and that you clearly would rather shove a brick down your throat than talk to him…

But you know better. His efferverecence veils a fury that he is straining so hard to control…

He loves to remind you of this. “All for you, my darling!”

You could do with a flower in your hair, the archon decides. You’re absolutely stunning without, but maybe it would cheer you up? Yeah, that hopeless and terrified look he can guarantee is on your face right now kind of dampens the mood. To be honest, it’s really dampening his mood! Why oh can’t you be happy with him?

Venti plucks a wind-wheel aster from beside him, and chuckles as he pulls back some of your hair to expose your cheek to him. He leans into your ear as he puts the flower in your hair, finding the minuscule shudder of your body so very amusing Anything he does to you gets a reaction! Even if it’s little…you can’t hide from him forever!

“Ah…my sweet Angel…I hope you don’t mind…but I just cannot resist the image of you wearing a flower…”

He grins devilishly.

“One of my flowers.”

He gives you a kiss on the cheek.

In return, he receives a jab in his ribs.

He’s actually in a bit of shock…

You’re already standing up, having added so much unnecessary distance between him and you. What was that for, hmm?

He looks at you and huffs. Why do you look so pale? He’s just trying to show you he loves you…

“Now now…is that really anyway to treat me?”

He gets up, and brushes himself off, giving himself a teeny tiny pat on his ribs so that, maybe, you’d get a hint that you had hurt him, and that made him sad! Why did you make him sad?

“You seem to be forgetting just the teeniest thing about me. Hmm?“

That stare. Those wide eyes. They way you’re terrified to so as BREATHE…

“Ah! I’m just messing with you, don’t be so silly!”

He walks toward you, gently holding his hands out.

“There’s no reason to worry. Don’t be afraid…don’t be afraid of me…”

You are practically frozen when he makes his way to you. His smile is gentle as he adjusts the flower in your hair. He takes it out, with the intention to put it back in. It got a bit ruffled when you…uh, made your cute little escape, yeah!

“What worries you, my Windblume star?”

His eyes. They’re so beautiful…

They’re the most terrifying eyes of all…

…

What is it with you and running off whenever he tries to be kind to you, and tries to understand you?

Venti watches, astounded that you are already so far away from him. Yes, you will never actually escape him, and naturally, the winds shielding old mondstadt from the outside know very well their one instruction from the God of Wind.

In his pale hand, the aster still sits. It’s little petals are still whirling, but barely.

The archon suffocates it with all of his might, in his fist, exercising that amazing “restraint” of his.

Yeah. You made him a little more than “sad” with that move.

Good luck, little Windblume Star!!!!

#venti #beloved of the anemo archon #venti x reader #genshin #cringe #genshin impact #genshin venti #genshin imagines #venti x you #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere venti x reader #yandere venti #yandere genshin x reader #yandere #yandere venti x traveler #dark Venti #yandere content #toxic Venti #dark Venti fic

[dudeitiskarev]

Crystal Clear

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x female reader

Summary: Your special day wouldn’t be so special if you didn’t have doubts about it. Good thing your soon-to-be husband has always been good at reassuring you and making you see the bright side of things.

Blurb.

No warnings. Just fluff.

Everything had come together exactly as planned: From the tiny dry flowers on the invitation cards to the wedding cake flavor (and party playlist). Even the weather was in your favor—the warmest fall day so far. Everything was… perfect.

Except you. 

Your dress fit nicely, just not how you’d like it. Your hair was simple—maybe too simple. Your makeup wasn’t extravagant, but the more you stared at yourself as a bride, the more you wished you’d gone with your usual makeup. 

“You ready?” Penelope walked in and lit up the entire room. You wished you had that effect wherever you went. “Everyone’s already waiting.” She took a few steps closer to stand behind you, staring at your reflection through the full-body mirror. Her smile began to fade as you didn't return it. “What is it?” She asked with a soft voice while adjusting your veil.

“I need to talk to Aaron.” You turned around. 

“We can call him.” Penelope took out the phone from her cleavage and began to dial his number.

“No, no.” You gently enveloped her phone with both of your hands. “I need to see him I– I need to… I need him, Garcia.”

“He– he can’t see you before the wedding.” Penelope’s face dropped and her eyes quickly filled with tears. “It’s bad luck. And he’s waiting for you in the aisle. He’s perfect. You’re perfect.” She gestured at you. 

“Pen… I know. It’s not what you think. I’m not calling this off. I promise. I just…” you sighed again with your eyes closed. “Please just call him for me.”

“Oh, okay.” Her relief was visible. 

You sat at the edge of the bed and turned your back to the mirror. Your leg bounced on its own and you lipstick was surely all smudged by how hard you were biting your lips. 

“Honey?” Aaron’s voice came from behind the door while he softly knocked and all your thoughts calmed down just by hearing him. “Is everything okay?”

You smiled and stood up, leaning on the door. Aaron did the same at the same time on the other side. Mirroring each other perfectly without even trying. 

“Yeah it’s just—“ you sighed. 

Aaron gave you a minute as you didn’t speak again. He figured there wasn’t much you wanted to say, but needed him to say something. Anything.

“Remember that night, after Rossi’s engagement party?”

“Of course, I remember.” 

That was over two years ago but you remembered it crystal clear. That night was the first time you two kissed. 

“I was madly in love with you back then.”

You smiled at the memory. “You were?”

“So in love. My heart almost burst out of me when we kissed.”

There was another quiet moment. It was obvious to the entire team back then that you two had feelings for each other, but you didn’t know he was already in love. 

“Let me in,” Aaron said.  

“You can’t see me in my dress before the wedding,” You responded and opened the door anyway. “It's bad luck.”

Neither of you believed in superstitions. 

“Oh, wow.” Aaron gulped at the sight of you and placed one hand over his chest, right where his heart was and the other went to cradle your face tenderly. “You've been my wife since that night.” He rubbed his thumb over your cheek. “It’s okay if you have doubts. I’d worry if you didn’t have them.”

“I’m not having doubts.” You reached for his hand. “I guess I’m a bit overwhelmed.” 

“Of course, honey.” He pulled you close into a tender hug and kissed the top of your head. “That's okay. We can take a few more minutes. They can wait.”

“Okay.” You breathed him in.

You two stayed there in the middle of the room, hugging, enjoying each other’s presence in silence. 

It was the most important day of your lives so far, and you both knew it was just the beginning. 

#aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner #blurbs

[minkkumaz]

DAMN THE MAN, SAVE THE EMPIRE

on the surface, you were beautifully perfect. inside, was a different story. this composure influences an argument between you and minho. he helps you realize that no one cares anyways.

PIERCE THE VEIL series

PAIRING lee minho x gn!reader WC 1.1k TAGS established relationship trope. minor arguing. cussing. petnames: honey, gorgeous. angst but not that severe. reader has problems with her feelings. OMI NOTE minho is secretly ptv coded and nobody can change my mind. hope yall enjoy the (kinda) back to back post muahaha.

everything on the outside remained perfectly porcelain, a fabricated smile resting on your face like a manufactured doll. a doll that was malleable, taking every punch swung it’s way. minho never appreciated the idea of this, how you just let people boss you around.

but you were happy, and that was the only thing that mattered. you adjusted to any weird situation or any uncomfortable circumstances.

yet when the door closed behind you and you were out of reach, tears escaped from your glossy eyes. everything cut into you at once, all the stress pouring into you like salt on an open wound. the apartment was empty, not a warm body to be found.

it seemed like the coast was clear as you let out strangled sobs. you let your body lean against the wall, slowly descending yourself down the cold plaster. carefully tucking your knees into the rest of your body you sat and cried. 

all of your senses subsided, making it feel as if you were in a small orb incapable of feeling anything. what was once your safe space became a problem, as you felt panicked arms rush around your figure. 

you didn’t hear a single footstep, nor any movement around you. so why did it feel like you were being held?

moving your head away from your knees, you look up to see what was happening. instead, you are met with a worried minho. he raised the pads of his fingers to wipe tears from your flushed cheeks, his other head holding the back of your head.

“honey, are you okay? why are you crying on the floor?” he mumbled, hugging your body into his.

“i– i’m fine! i’m okay, i just um tripped and it hurt.” you blatantly lie to him, pulling away. “i know you’re lying to me, i just want to help you.” he tries to take your hand, but you move it out of the way before he can grab it.

“minho, i’m fine. please drop it.” you stand up from your spot on the floor, ignoring the furry creatures that came over curiously.

“y/n.” he said sternly, grabbing hold of your wrist before you could get away.

you turned back on your heel, visibly frustrated. he wasn’t supposed to know as much as he was about to, and you know it’d kill him if he did.

“let me go, min. i told you it’s nothing, please.” you tried your best to wiggle out of his grip.

“why do you keep shutting yourself out to me? just tell me that at least.”

“i don’t have to tell you shit.” you spat. “god, i’m just trying to be helpful to you! are you so conceited that you won’t let me be there for you?” he argued with you.

“can’t you just believe that i’m okay? sure i was maybe crying a little but what does it matter to you?” you yelled, tears threatening to spill from your eyes once again, “you’re too busy to care anyways.”

“you know i can’t control my work schedule. you’re being selfish.”

“right, i’m the selfish.”

“you only see the dark side of my love for you, y/n. i want nothing more than to do what i can to help you.”

“theres not much you can do for me. i’m perfect. i’m okay.” you exhale deeply in an attempt to calm yourself.

“but that’s the thing, you aren’t.” he reaches his hand out to you again, in which you hesitantly take.

“minho please–”

“i know you think that– that you have to be some kind of flawless image all the time. and that nobody will take you seriously if you’re vulnerable.” he pauses for a second, recollecting his thoughts, “but nobody likes this shit anyways. i want you to stay true to yourself.”

“that’s easier for you to say. you can stay perfect behind closed doors, while i’m like this.” minho doesn’t respond. “is that what you wanted to hear? that maybe i’m going a little insane? that maybe i’m pulling out my fucking hair trying to maintain this?”

when his eyes trailed to your own, they were glistening with so much sadness. he wrapped his arms closer around you in an embrace. you stayed stiff in his hold, but this didn’t matter to him.

“what if i told you that i was constantly phasing out? that sometimes it feels like i’m wearing a second skin when i’m on stage.” he whispers into your ear, his breath sending chills down your spine.

“you do..?” you mumble innocently, finally letting yourself loosen up.

“of course i do. everyone does. chan does, han, changbin. you aren’t the only one that feels like they need to perfect all the time.”

“fuck. when you say it like that i feel like a terrible person.”

“oh honey. if anything, that only makes the feeling deeper. maybe we can’t afford to calm our minds, but at least know that you aren’t alone. you never are.” he pulls his head out of the crook of your neck, moving his hands to cup your face.

doongie moves from a spot in the corner with his cat bed and other siblings  to curl around your legs his fur rubs softly against your ankle, making you feel slightly ticklish. minho laughed slightly at the small feline creature coming to comfort his other parent.

“see? even our kid is here for you.” you smile at his words, letting yourself fully relax in his arms.

he leans closer into your face, leaving a tender kiss on your lips. it feels comforting, like you finally got the chance to be at home after so many moments of worry. the longer you stayed in his touch, the more reassured you felt.

when he separated from you, you whimpered slightly at the loss of contact. this only enabled him to plant one more chaste kiss onto your lips.

 it was sweet. everything you needed to know that this was your safe space. feeling nothing but the plump lips of your lover against yours.

“i’m so sorry for being upset with you and pushing you away from me..” you sigh, pressing your forehead up against his. 

“you have nothing to apologize for. i told you that i just wanted to help you. just tell me what you want to hear.” he tells you.

“you’ve told me everything i need to know, minho. i will.. try to be more open from now on.” you promise.

“then how about we start with what has my world so worked up. i don’t want you to cry anymore.”

© 2023 minkkumaz, all rights reserved support your writers by reblogging + giving feedback! it is greatly encouraged and appreciated. thank you! → why feedback + reblogging is so important. ~ (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ if you'd like, donate to minkkumaz ! PIERCE THE VEIL series

#⋆｡˚ my works #lee know x reader #lino x reader #minho x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know angst #lee know fluff #lee minho angst #lee minho fluff #stray kids x reader #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids lee know #skz x reader #skz angst #skz fluff #skz fanfic #skz imagines #skz lee know #kpop fanfic #kpop x reader

[anemoarchonhoe]

Commissioned by @udretlnea

Request: I'm thinking slice of life, second person, and it takes place in Mondstadt. The reader is well known and liked by practically everyone; they are currently there to observe the Alchemy Event going on right now- This is just set-up. I imagine Venti is there waiting w/ Diona for their potion order; then he sees Reader and he gets intrigued so he surprises them. The two walk out of earshot and have a pleasant chat about what's been going on- Since the fic is only 1k, I'd prefer to keep it short between them. Reader mentions how they're adjusting to their role as "Overseer of Teyvat" (implying this is a Creator!Sagau); they offhandedly mention how Khaenri'ah's been working on dimension hopping tech before Diona drags Venti away. And the fic ends with Reader feeling uneasy about opening Teyvat up, but they choose to ignore it to go and experience the event.

Thanks for commissioning me!

It is convenient; the fact that you obtained godlike power as soon as you stepped foot unto the soil of Teyvat. It had been a tremendous help in navigating these new lands you'd been transmigrated into and made life easier. Just like this time. It didn't really take long until you reached the venue where the Alchemy Event organized by the Knights of Favonius is, all due to your ability to teleport long distances. You shook your head to get out of your musings and began to look around your surroundings.

It was a modest event focused solely on alchemy. Unfamiliar faces from both Mondstadt and outside of it flocked the booths, tents and stands full of test tubes and questionably multicolored smoke to see what was happening. It soothes you to be normal for a few minutes… until people noticed you standing amongst them and bowed in your presence. The scene made you squirm a little where you stand, not totally uncomfortable but still unused to the attention. You raised a hand, as if blessing them, nodding your head to signal that they can resume the event. Which they do, but some approached you to either ask for a blessing, for guidance in their life's path, or simply to greet you. You are liked, perhaps not as loved as the archons despite ranking higher, but you prefer it that way. It's less expectations, after all.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the Overseer of the world."

"Heya, Your Grace!"

You carefully made your way past the crowd to reach the two people who called out your name. You smiled in relief; finally, people you know! Venti was looking at you with a bright smile with both hands on his hips and Diona is enthusiastically waving at you. You pat Diona, which the bartender swiped at with a playful hiss.

"Venti, Diona, hi!" You greeted them. "What a surprise to see you here. This is the last place I imagined you to hang around in."

"I understand you for thinking that way, but curiosity had gotten the best of me." Venti answered, and then assumed a serious thinking pose. You rolled your eyes playfully with a thinly veiled smile. He's going to ask something ridiculous, isn't he? "If alchemy has the power to transform matter, I wonder if it could also be used to turn water into wine?"

There it is. Diona fumed, but you cover her mouth with your hand and answered. "I could turn water into wine. Easy."

Venti's eyes widened. His smile as bright as the sun above. "Really?!"

"No." You're not sure. You probably could, if you tried.

"My hopes and dreams…" Venti fake-cried and pouted, but he immediately gets over it and smiles. "Anyway, what brought you here, Overseer?" He gestures for you to walk with him, so you follow, steps falling in line with his.

"Oh, you know," you vaguely wave your hand, trying to make sense of what you were feeling. "Just looking around. I got curious myself about alchemy so I came."

"Ah, I see," Venti nodded. You mentioned to him and the other archons on one of the traditional divine get togethers — brought back by Venti and Zhongli — that your world once studied alchemy. Turns out your alchemy is a sham and couldn't turn stuff to gold, but it did make way for the study of chemistry. "I hope you are enjoying yourself."

"Don't worry, I am. Especially since I'm with you."

Venti gave you a soft look."Aww. I'm honored, truly."

You laughed and gave him a push, your cheeks feeling a little warm from the attention. He snorted and retaliated by send a gentle breeze your way to mess your hair.

A companionable silence briefly falls over the two of you like a cozy blanket as you sit down on a bench with the perfect view of the event. A tiny explosion from some failed alchemical experiment echoed somewhere and you thought you heard the Traveler's surprised yelp and Paimon screeching from the same direction. You both ignored it.

"You seem busy these days, Overseer," The Anemo Archon finally broke the silence. "What have you been up to?"

"The usual. Making sure the Irminsul is healthy through checking with Nahida, keeping the Abyss Order in check, rebuilding Khaenri'ah- ah, since we're talking about the place, I should also mention that they're working on some advanced technology. Something about travelling through another dimension."

Venti nodded, but his face looks a little troubled. "Are you sure that's a great idea? With Celestia gone, there's nothing that can stop Khaenri'ah from fulfilling their dreams. However…"

There's just way too many risks. You can hear his unspoken words in your head. As far as you are aware, they're "digging" through time and space to get to the world where you came from. While interdimensional trade can certainly be advantageous for this world in both technological advancement and knowledge, you're afraid of the repercussions of messing around with wormholes and potential war that can erupt due to disputes borne of different culture and lust for more territory.

Humans are greedy creatures, after all.

But before you could answer, Diona is already running towards where you were both seated. She pants and places both hands on her knees. The girl huffs one last time and looks at the green-clad bard, irritated. "Where in Teyvat have you been?! Your potion is complete so come get it already!"

"Okay," he replied, standing up. "I hate to cut this conversation short, dear friend, but I must leave. I hope you enjoy the rest of the event."

You nodded with a tired smile, watching Venti follow Diona, who's doing her best to keep walking ahead of the bard in spite of her shorter legs. You feel a little uneasy about the future, your heart being seized with fear for this world you swore to protect.

For now, however, you want to enjoy this peaceful day. Perhaps you'll go greet the Traveller.

Word count: 1,000

Character count: 5,692

#ventus.adventure #ventus.commission #genshin impact venti #genshin impact venti x reader #sagau #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #cult au #venti x you #venti x reader #genshin venti x reader #genshin barbatos #isekai #slice of life

[the-face-in-the-mirror]

As promised, here she is! Margaret in all of her new glory. I have scarcely been able to stop staring at this one, she's so pretty it's almost unfair.

Finally, a proper outfit for the icon herself. My goal here was to make Margaret look more like a princess and a royal heir, with some inspiration taken from Princess Zelda's design in Breath of the Wild while utilizing some of the colors that Margaret is seen wearing in canon. I might adjust the veil later to make it fit in more seamlessly with the rest of the outfit, but right now, I think it looks okay; let me know if ya'll have any ideas for that.

I always thought Margaret needed more love as the heir to the throne; being the firstborn, you'd think there'd be a little bit more emphasis on her and the position she holds, but she just kind of... exists in a bubble, it seemed like. This time around, Margaret gets a bigger role in terms of her place in Liones and the royal family. Given the time period, there'd be very little separation between Church and State, especially since the Holy Knights are a thing, so I've decided that Margaret gets to essentially be the head of the Church, or at least hold a high position in it. Since Margaret has never demonstrated any magical ability in canon, I imagine I can work with that to aid in her position as High Priestess; I'm still figuring that part out, but we'll get there.

Her overhauled role also gives Margaret more to do than just being constantly locked in a basement like in canon. Personally, I don't really get why she had to be other than the excuse that it was for her own protection, but even then it still seemed weird since Hendrickson had her being watched at all times by the chimera anyway. She'll likely be up to a bit more in this rewrite, and I hope to expand more on her character being stalked by the chimera versus no longer being stalked by it. Margaret could be cool and honestly it's what she deserves.

That's it for now, so I'll see ya'll just as soon as I figure out what to do next. See ya!

#seven deadly sins #nanatsu no taizai #margaret liones #nnt fanart #nnt rewrite #nnt canon rewrite #nnt rewrite comic #sds rewrite #sds canon rewrite #sds rewrite comic #Margaret you're serving #you're doomed by the narrative and you're serving! #for real though I could stare at her for hours #good job me

[somedaylazysomeday]

Good Intentions Part Twenty

The Haven gets a new donor, Silco wants a side deal.

Rating: Explicit.

Word Count: 4,900

Warnings: Ongoing references to sex as a form of payment, veiled references to organized crime, arguments, oral sex (fem!receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, and blackmail

Previous | Next | Masterlist

---

You did your best not to squint at the men on the other side of the table. Doing so would only make it look like you were suspicious of them. 

You were suspicious of them, of course, but there was no need to be obvious. 

“My apologies, gentlemen,” you said slowly. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but with all of the opportunities available to you, I don’t understand why you are so interested in helping to fund the Haven.”

“It’s complicated.” Jayce Talis, the most famous Piltover inventor in recent history, rubbed at the space between his heavy brows. 

“I do own and operate a relief organization and facilitate certain healthcare treatments, including minimizing the effects of Shimmer withdrawal,” you pointed out mildly. “Maybe, if you explain it slowly, I can follow along.”

One corner of his mouth curved upward, emphasizing the fullness of his lips. He was famously handsome and infamously unavailable, but that was fine. Your tastes ran in other directions. 

His business partner - a man who was known around the Undercity only as Viktor - crossed his arms, slouching back in his seat. You tried not to judge it as a show of poor manners, especially when he straightened his leg with a wince. It was very likely Viktor just needed to adjust positions. Of course, it was equally likely that he didn’t find you very amusing. 

“Make your point, Jayce,” Viktor muttered. “We have important business to take care of at the lab.”

“Yes, the lab,” Jayce said, adding a nod in your direction. “As you may already know, HexTech is doing well. We have made several important advancements and are set to debut more over the next few years. We own the patents to everything outright, so all profits come to us. Piltover has given us a few dozen grants and investments have flooded in. We have plenty of money to pursue the further development of HexTech.” 

You nodded. It all seemed simple to understand so far.

“There is one particular area where HexTech does not excel: outreach.” Viktor interrupted with an impatient look at his now-pouting business partner. “That is why we reached out to you.” 

“Yes, but is there a particular reason you want to support the Haven rather than any other Undercity outreach?” you pressed. Maybe you were a little paranoid, but your recent experiences with Silco had convinced you that being more discerning was probably a smart move. 

Jayce sat forward slightly. “The Haven’s track record is impressive. Your expense justification reports have all shown remarkably low operating costs, your residents have started to find work with other Undercity businesses, and there’s plenty of buzz about the dent you’ve made in the Shimmer trade in your neighborhood.” 

The blood roared in your ears at that. “That’s an overstatement, of course. Drug use waxes and wanes in neighborhoods over time. It’s just coincidence that Shimmer use decreased when the Haven opened.” 

Jayce furrowed his brows, but Viktor looked like you had finally said something interesting. “I assume that is the line one must repeat vehemently if one wants to avoid the attention of the chem barons.” 

“Chem barons?” Jayce repeated, now frowning harder. “They’re a local legend, a convenient shadow government that the people can blame their problems on.”

“Of course,” you agreed. 

Viktor looked darkly amused. “Nothing more than a legend, certainly.” 

“Yeah…” Jayce said slowly, glancing between you and Viktor. “Anyway, we’ve heard about the decreased drug use and we want to support that as much as possible. You and the Haven seem like the best choice to make that happen.”

“How is your security?” Viktor asked abruptly. 

“We have a small team of guards for the exterior of the building,” you said honestly. It probably wouldn’t help anything if you told them exactly who was paying for that small team of guards. “There is almost no Enforcer presence in the Lanes, so we can’t count on a patrol happening at a crucial time.” 

“I can pull a few strings,” Jayce assured you, totally confident. “I have some connections with the Enforcers. Piltover wants to support new development, especially when it isn’t tied to the drug trade. And they’re not going to find anything better than an anti-Shimmer organization with a proven track record.” 

You nodded in acknowledgement of his point, but looked to Viktor. “And you? Do you also think the Haven is a good match for HexTech’s goals?”

Viktor lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “I fail to see what impact your outreach could possibly have on the Undercity. The politics are snarled, the people are desperate, and there is too much money to be made from exploitation.” 

That was a harsh assessment, but it was true. Jayce cleared his throat uncomfortably, but Viktor spoke again before the better-mannered of the pair could offer any reassurances. “That being said, I am… reluctantly impressed by what I have heard of your meetings with Silco. There are few willing to argue with him.” 

You stiffened slightly at Viktor’s mention of Silco. Up to that point, you had both pointedly avoided using his name, as evidenced by the way Jayce was glancing between the two of you. 

“I don’t understand,” Jayce admitted. “Who is Silco?” 

“You will find out,” Viktor said, the statement sounding both threatening and utterly inevitable as he stood. “I must return to the lab. Jayce, I agree with whatever choice you make.” 

You watched as Viktor leaned heavily on the cane and left the building. It was situated at the edge of Piltover, just across the bridge from the Undercity. Jayce had assured you multiple times that, if they were not working on time-sensitive experiments at HexTech, they would have been more than willing to meet you in the Undercity. He may have even been telling the truth. 

Jayce was still half-smiling when he looked back at you. “Who is Silco?” 

You got the impression that he would keep pushing until he got an answer, so you chose your words carefully. “He is a… major player in the Undercity. He wants- well, he says he’s working for the good of the people. That’s up for debate.” 

“But what does he do?” Jayce pressed. 

“He’s an industrialist.” You sat very straight on the edge of your chair - not quite standing, but giving the impression that you were ready to leave. “Speaking of helping the Undercity, I need to get back to the Haven. When you’ve made a decision about your outreach, please let me know.” 

“Easy enough,” Jayce said, standing to offer a hand over the table. “HexTech would like to provide funding for the Haven, to be used in whatever way you think is appropriate.” 

You were giddy with excitement, and it rushed through your veins like adrenaline. Somehow, you managed to keep a straight face long enough to thank Jayce and accept the check he filled out for the Haven. It was generous, which made your heart soar. You would be able to help so many people!

The good news put a spring in your step and you were still bouncing as you climbed the stairs to Silco’s office. Thankfully, no one was around so early in the day - you had serious doubts about your ability to look cranky and irritated right then, but you would have been obliged to put on a performance if there were onlookers. 

“You seem cheerful,” Silco noted as you closed the door behind yourself. 

“So far, so good,” you told him, walking over to his desk. “What’s the plan for today?” 

He ignored your question. “Productive morning, I take it?” 

“Very.” 

You peered out through the window. The Last Drop was just barely tall enough for you to catch glimpses of the building projects happening over near the Haven. The mechanic’s shop was well on its way to being completed, the construction crews had broken ground on the second apartment building, and the grocers were taking over an existing building, so they were already in the process of hiring staff. 

As you leaned back, you caught sight of a familiar handprint on the glass and your lower belly tightened with the reminder of how it had gotten there. 

“And how much will HexTech be allotting you?” 

With the casually conversational way Silco asked his question, you didn’t immediately notice that anything was wrong. Your attention was split between the handprint on the window and the ever-increasing needs of your body. At last, awareness filtered through and you froze. 

‘I-” You cleared your throat, giving your best innocent expression as you turned to look at him. “What do you mean?” 

Silco gave an impatient gesture. “Come, pet, we have already discussed that I know all that happens in Zaun.” 

“Nothing happened in Zaun,” you said blandly. 

His answering look was dry. “But a potential alliance between the Haven and HexTech undeniably concerns Zaun and her future. Do me the courtesy of assuming I know of your meeting with the two inventors behind HexTech.”

“Fine,” you agreed, largely because he gave no indication of moving on. “I met with the owners of HexTech.” 

“Thank you,” Silco said, gaze drifting to the window. “And how much has young Talis decided to give the Haven?” 

You paused, uncomfortable with the idea that you needed to place a boundary. You and Silco shouldn’t be close enough to need things like boundaries - the clear divisions between you should have been so obvious as to be implied. “I’m not sharing that information with you.” 

“Why not?” he asked. “If I know the size of their donation, I can exceed it.” 

“I don’t need any more donations at the moment,” you told him. 

Silco’s brows unfurrowed. “Ah, that much? Congratulations. You may rest secure in the knowledge that the sale of your morals has fetched so high a price.” 

You recoiled at the slight before you could stop yourself. A drug lord was going to lecture you about morals? That bothered you. Surely that was the cause of your discomfort. Any other reason would imply that Silco was important enough to you that his opinion mattered. 

“I didn’t have to sacrifice my morals to accept their donation, unlike others the Haven has received in the past,” you told him icily. 

Silco stood abruptly, his chair lurching back with the movement. You held your ground, though it took more effort than you were comfortable with. “My donations served your residents just as well as the ones from HexTech will, and at far more dire a time. Do not act as though I were not there to support you every time you have needed me.” 

You gaped at that. “Because we’re in a deal! Every donation served you just as well as it did me - it increased your leverage over me and the Haven. Convenient, since you need me around for an easy source of sex.” 

He scoffed, looming over you. “Do you truly believe that there are not others who throw themselves at my feet? I receive more offers of easy sex than you would believe possible.” 

“Then why keep me around?” you pressed. 

“Because you are the only one who offers the slightest hint of a challenge!” he snapped, breathing heavily. You had stepped into him rather than away, and he was already so close that your chest and his were nearly touching. You glared at each other from inches away before one or both of you closed the gap separating you.

His mouth was hard and unyielding against yours, disinterested in any hint of refusal. Fortunately, refusing his kiss was the last thing on your mind. The energy of securing the HexTech donation was still crackling through you, and sex was a wonderful outlet. The slight tinge of irritation accompanying it only served to increase the appeal. 

You met him with lips that were already slightly parted, and your tongues were dueling in a moment. Kissing Silco wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to you, but it was still rare enough that you considered it a novel experience. 

Your toes were curling at the slow luxury of his mouth on yours. Silco was rarely in a hurry, even now, when you were apparently taking a break in the middle of a fight. Your interest was only piqued further when he started removing your clothing with rough movements. When he had finished, he pushed you backward as you gasped with shock.

Fortunately, Silco had thought far enough ahead to position you close to his desk. The sensation of your bare ass on the cold surface of the desk was jarring, but you watched Silco eagerly. You were more than willing to brave the temperature difference in order to watch him undress for you. 

To your surprise, Silco lowered himself, fully-dressed, into his throne-like chair. You eyed him, frowning as he took your ankles in his hands. They were placed to either side of his chair, leaving them supported by the arm rests at his sides. It went without saying that your knees were forced open by the position, leaving your core exposed to the air… and to Silco’s gaze.

That mismatched stare was fixed between your legs, studying the most private parts of you as you tried not to squirm. When he reached out to touch your cunt, you felt his fingertips like electric shocks… but he only parted your folds and continued his silent observation. 

Irritation, embarrassment, and need swirled together in you until the pressure pushed words from your mouth. “Silco. What are you doing?” 

“Studying my favorite acquisition,” he replied distantly. Even lost in your own distraction, you could feel the echo of your first time together, in this very situation in this very office, when Silco had said something similar. “And wondering how my pet can be so very unyielding, yet yield so delightfully in other areas.” 

You frowned at him - not that Silco was looking at your face. “Whatever answers you’re looking for, you aren’t going to find them down there.” 

That made him glance upward, a small smile playing around the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps it would be best if you lay back.” 

You complied, though not without rolling your eyes. “If we’re having a repeat of our first session, I hope the sex is more satisfactor- Oh!” 

Without any sort of warning, Silco’s mouth had closed around your clit. You half-lifted back off the surface of his desk, staring down at his face between your legs. You could only hope that your expression was less desperate than you felt, but wicked pleasure filled Silco’s gray-green eye, so you didn’t think that was accurate.

And then he set about making you forget all about expressions and irritations. Silco buried himself between your thighs, teasing you with fingers and lips and tongue and teeth. He nibbled, he stroked, he thrust… He used every hint of weakness he had gathered from you over your time together, recalling every sensation that drove you wild and subjecting you to all of them at once.  

You arched up off the desk so sharply that the muscles in your back and abdomen protested. Your knees tried to close around Silco - either to keep him close or to force him away from you, you weren’t sure which - but his shoulders kept you spread open and subjected to his torment. 

By the time he had pressed three fingers deep inside of you, your body was glistening with sweat. You were panting, your hips trying to both ride him and grind closer to the lips that were wrapped around your clit.

Silco always ate you like he was trying to ruin you for anyone else, but this was more intense than anything you had experienced with him before. You didn’t remember when you had sank your hands into his hair, but it didn’t matter. You were using him only as an anchor; he never moved far enough away for you to need to pull him back. 

At last, he removed himself from you, pulling away almost entirely. The only parts of his body that was touching you were his shoulders, still holding you spread open for him. 

“Silco?” you asked, an edge of desperation clear in your voice. 

“Shh, pet,” he soothed. “I am trying to decide whether you deserve the reward of coming on my tongue.” 

You whined, lifting your hips as if you could convince him to come back. 

“I am less than thrilled by your association with the Piltover business,” Silco admitted slowly. Torturously slowly. “Yet I suppose you may have earned a treat for coming to meet with me anyway. Is that correct?”

You nodded. 

Silco leaned slightly closer. “You would not break our deal over a single donation from another business, would you?” 

You shook your head. 

Silco came even closer then - still not touching you, but near enough that you could feel every exhale on your damp folds. “Does our deal still stand, pet?” 

You nodded, but Silco shook his head. “I need to hear it in that lovely voice. Tell me, darling: does our deal still stand?”  

“Y-yes,” you stammered, the dryness in your throat making it difficult to speak. “Yes!”

“Ahh…” he mused. “How long will it stand?” 

He watched you with a gaze so sharp you understood instinctively that he would only accept a spoken answer. This one was more challenging; he hadn’t told you what he wanted you to say and thinking was difficult when your brain was soaked in hormones and arousal. 

“Until- ah!” Silco had darted a long lick up your folds - not touching anything firmly enough to throw you over the edge, but still startling. And distracting. “As long as I’m in the Undercity.” 

“Our deal will stand as long as you are in the Undercity,” Silco repeated. You nodded and he looked thoughtful. “I suppose I must offer sufficient incentive for you to stay, then.” 

As if the shock of it removed you from the situation, you noted it dispassionately as he parted you a little more, nestled his nose against your clit, and thrust his stiffened tongue up inside of your heat. 

And then the moment of observation passed. You were thrown back into your body just in time for it to go through an earth-shattering orgasm. Your body arced up off the desk again, muscles spasming so hard that you had the vague sense of Silco holding your hips against the surface so you didn’t throw yourself onto the floor. 

But that was a dim knowledge, far in the background of your thoughts - the vast majority of your brain was caught in a stranglehold of pleasure. How could you be expected to lay still when every bit of you was crackling with such intense energy? You had to move. It was not possible to do anything else. 

At last, Silco removed the live current that was his mouth against your core. He had to struggle against the grip you had on his hair. You weren’t really trying to keep him in place, but your muscles had locked down in the aftermath of your orgasm. 

“How do you feel?” he asked conversationally, when he had freed himself from your grip, losing a few strands of hair in the process. 

“Nnn umm…” Nope, those weren’t words. You tried again. “Needum mint.” 

“Take your time,” Silco invited, relaxing back into his chair. He licked his lips, cleaning the shine of you from them with his tongue. Watching the process made your uncomfortably sensitive body tighten, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away. When he had licked everything he could reach, Silco retrieved a handkerchief and wiped his mouth, chin, and cheeks. 

If you were capable of higher thought at the moment, you might have been embarrassed by how much of a mess you had made on Silco’s face. Fortunately, the brain fog was still too dense, and you just watched him vacantly. 

Rather than rush you into another round, Silco snagged a piece of paper from beside your hip. He lifted it and started to read. From the light that filtered through it from the window behind him, you could see that there were schematics of some kind drawn on the page. They were highly detailed, but something about the writing looked young, like it had been done by someone without fully developed fine motor function. 

And then Silco’s fingers wrapped around your ankle and you stopped thinking about anything else. Especially when those fingers began to play idly against your skin, tapping an unfamiliar rhythm on your anklebone. 

“How much more reading do you need to do?” you gritted out at last. 

Silco glanced up at you instantly, eyebrows raised. “I can stop at any time, pet. I was under the impression that you needed a moment to recover.”

“I have recovered.”

“Why did you not tell me immediately?” Silco asked. 

Despite the censurious words, he lazily tucked the schematics into a desk drawer before he stood. In a moment, he had opened the front of his trousers, pushed aside the layers of fabric, and lined himself up with you. 

There was something almost sweet about the fact that Silco was so hard. He had brought you pleasure without being touched in return, and yet his erection hadn’t flagged while he sat quietly reading for minutes. For all that he was a selfish, manipulative bastard, Silco was surprisingly impacted by the way he affected you. 

Any hints of altruism were shoved aside as Silco plunged inside of you. Rather than hesitating or asking if you were ready, he surged powerfully forward until he was seated as deep inside you as he could be. Your hips shifted to accommodate him and your legs trembled against the arms of his chair as you struggled to surface against the pressure of him stretching your walls. 

Silco’s hands were tight on you. One was wrapped around your hips, providing an anchor point as he began to thrust in and out of you. His other hand was firmly on your ass, half-lifting and half-squeezing as he rolled his hips against you. 

That rolling motion made your lips part for air as you stared up at the ceiling. Silco was big enough to fill you, but something about that motion put pressure against your walls in a way that felt almost cyclical. It was like he was fucking a little circle inside of you every time he pushed in, which meant that you got intermittent pressure against your g-spot. It was magical. 

You tried to lift against him, to counter-thrust and speed things up, but Silco wasn’t having it. His grip was firm enough to hold you utterly still, making sure that all you could do was experience the way he was taking you apart for a second time. 

“Silco, please,” you gasped out. “Faster. Harder. Please.” 

“No,” he denied simply. Silco’s hand momentarily released your hip to grab your wrist instead. He tugged it downward until your fingers were brushing the throbbing place between your legs. “If you want your pleasure, you’ll have to take it.” 

You were tempted to deny him and yourself, if only to prove that he wasn’t in charge of you, but the slight graze of your fingertip over your own clit made you squirm. But if you were going to be responsible for your own orgasm, you were damn well going to make sure that Silco helped.

With some effort, you lifted your legs from where they were still resting on the armrests of Silco’s chair. It took only a moment to wrap them around his waist, and when you tightened them, the pull was strong enough to force Silco forward against you. 

When he had bottomed out inside of you, Silco’s grip shifted upward, pressing against the surface of the desk on either side of your hips to support the shift in his center of balance. His eyes widened, startled as you kept him close. You used your newfound freedom to thrust your hips, moving him and out of your core as you strummed at your clit. 

The resulting sensations were enough to take you sailing over the edge again. This orgasm was less abrupt than the last one, but almost more satisfying because your inner muscles had something to lock down around. 

Dimly, you registered that Silco was trying to withdraw from you, but couldn’t escape the grip of your leg muscles. You only understood his reasoning when his body stiffened, face tightening and growing slack as he reached his own peak. 

Silco’s orgasms tended to be subtler than yours, but even his legendary poker face failed him. His expression tightened, then went slack as his body spasmed in a series of explosive surges. He hissed out a curse that sounded like half a prayer, his lips continuing to move long after he had stopped speaking loud enough for you to hear it. 

Slowly, you let the tension seep from your leg muscles. When your feet were dangling toward the floor once more, Silco eased himself out of you. The first spill of your combined mess seeped directly onto the surface of Silco’s desk, but he cleaned it up and caught the next with the same cloth he had used to wipe his face earlier. 

When Silco was seated in his chair once more, you took the cloth and held it in place as you slid down from the desk. Silco smiled wryly. “I never intend to make such a mess, but you are irresistible. Especially when you’ve wrapped me in those lovely legs. If I must be trapped, I will say that I prefer to be trapped in your embrace.” 

“Flatterer,” you accused gently. 

“It is a lovely benefit when the truth is flattering,” he replied, giving you a look you didn’t quite understand… until he added, “Now, pet, tell me how much I should write for the amount of my next donation check.”

You turned toward him with an irritated huff. “Are you still talking about this? I don’t need an extra donation from you, especially not when your motivation is simply to outdo someone you consider a threat.” 

Silco’s lip curled. “I hardly consider those two boys to be a threat.” 

“Then what is your problem with them supporting the Haven?” 

“I dislike the idea of Piltover gaining a foothold here in Zaun,” Silco explained after a moment of thought. “Even if their influence is only over a small outreach. It could hinder the growth of Zaun’s independence.” 

You bit back the irritation that rose at the Haven being referred to as a small outreach. It was a small outreach, of course, but it was so important in your life. It hurt to be reminded that your work was considered minor to other people. 

“Fine,” you said instead of telling him any of that. “What are our options? I’m not telling you how much they donated.”

“Very well,” Silco said tightly. By all appearances, he was displeased with your insistence, but something about the look in his mismatched gaze gave you the distinct impression that he was getting something he had been angling for all day. “If you will not allow me to match HexTech’s donation amount, I would be willing to overlook their involvement in the Haven…” 

“And what will it cost me?”

“I want to be part of the Undercity Innovation Committee.”

It took a beat for you to remember what that was. “Jazper’s group? No. Absolutely not.” 

Silco watched you in silence. His brow creased and it was like watching a far-away storm building into something catastrophic. 

“I have no control over that,” you expanded. “I can’t risk everything I’ve built - I can’t risk the Haven - to argue for you being part of the meetings.” 

“And I would never ask you to,” Silco assured you smoothly. “I have other resources at play. All I need from you is not to argue against me being on the committee.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “So you don’t need me to fight for you? Just don’t tell them not to let you join?” 

“Yes.” 

It seemed simple. Almost too simple. And yet… it had been a long day. You could use some simplicity. “Fine, I agree to those terms. If someone else brings up the possibility of letting you join the committee, I won’t argue against it.” 

“Perfect.” Silco took the end of your conversation as an opportunity to refasten his clothing, so you started to get dressed as well. 

By the time you had finished, Silco was holding out a slip of paper toward you. You looked from it to his face, unwilling to accept an unknown item from him. He continued to offer it anyway.

“If I understand, your objections were not to me making a donation, but to me trying to make a larger donation than HexTech,” Silco explained. “I do not know how much they donated, but here is my offer.” 

“Silco…” you lamented, arms still folded across your chest. 

He lifted a brow. “If you prefer, I could resume trying to discover the HexTech donation amount…” 

You sighed loudly so there could be no mistaking your irritation as you snatched the check from his hand. You didn’t look at the amount, but the way Silco grinned as you shoved it into your pocket didn’t seem promising.

---

Author's Note - Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed. I'll see you next month with another update!

Quick reminder: this story does take a lot of time and effort to write, edit, and format every month. At this point, we're up to roughly a 200-page book. I appreciate the likes that you guys give me, but reblogging my work is the only way new people can find it. I would really appreciate it if you would reblog not only my fics, but any fics you enjoy!

#good intentions #good intentions fic #arcane netflix #arcane fanfiction #arcane silco #silco #arcane viktor #arcane jayce #viktor #jayce talis #silco x reader #silco x fem!reader #silco x you #reader #reader insert #reader insert fanfic #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert fic #spicy #lemon #not suitable for minors #minors dni

[cookie-crumblr]

Hype Train! Little Mouse~

F!Streamer Reader x M!Yandere Streamer OC

Part 2~

His Info: 📹✨

Part: 1 2 3

Hype Train! 1, Part 1, here!

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: 100% smut, no plot in this part whatsoever. !F reader, use of she/her when referring to reader, reader has a vagina, YANDERE, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, pet names (pretty, pretty girl, slut, ), brief fingering, p in v and anal at the same time, ribbed dick, poly 2guys (still just for this instance, not romantic or permanent), guys kiss, knife play, blood play, stabbing ml, extremely short part(sorry, i’m so excited to write for our new bully!!) overstim, reader passes out.

Lemme no if i missed anything XD

“Yes!”

The Jasper behind you grabs your other leg and lifts it into the air, bending your knees adjacent to your chest.

“What a perfect, pretty little slut for us,” They say.

“F-First! Wh-Which one of you is actually Jasper?”

The one in front of you tosses his knife into the air and catches it by the blade as he stands.

He forces the handle into your palm, and your eyes widen.

Behind you, the one adjusts so that your arm is at least comfortably movable.

“Stab me, pretty girl.” His grin is wild, and terrifying.

“Wh-What? No way!”

“The safe word works both ways, i’ll tell ya ‘f I need to,” He seems so excited…

Your heart races, this one is Jasper.

And you stab him.

You throw your arm forward with a hefty grunt, full force, deep into the flesh of his upper arm.

“AhhhHAHAHHAAA!! Yesssssss, fffuck! Pretty, I was not expectin’,” He stops and rips off his mask, before quickly grabbing your face and kissing you with the same amount of force.

When he pulls away you gasp.

“It’s me pretty girl, see,” He pulls the life out and opens the cut. You see tendon, and bone and red a-and-

His lips crash against you again, just as roughly, after discarding the knife to the ground.

Fingers find your spread cunt and go straight to scissoring you open.

The heat’s becoming unbearable and you struggle as much as you can against them both.

“Jasperrrr, pleaseee,”

He’s crouched down where you can’t see him.

You hear a zipper being opened and Jasper lets out and airy laugh beneath you.

He’s putting his own blood onto Dev.In’s ribbed cock as lube.

“You’re in f’r a treat pretty…” He coos.

You still can’t see shit as he guides their tip to your ass.

Just the hot tip presses into that tight little hole.

“AH! You gasp, it’s way hotter than any human cock, like almost burning you hot. You wiggle.

“mmmm” They moan directly into your ear.

Your flesh prickles with excitement.

While you are distracted and getting used to the magma-esque intrusion.

Jasper’s own spongey, and pierced tip enters.

His arm grabs Dev.In’s hair and roughly pulls them to him, “Don’t cut Y/N, but that blade better not leave her skin.”

They kiss beside you and groan together as they press into you in unison.

“AH-UNNNFFFF Mmmmmmmm!!” You cry out and gasp and groan all at once, feeling so fucking full. “H-Holy shhhhhiiiit!” Your head, you realize, has thrown back over Dev.In’s shoulder, and you stare dazedly at the dark wood beams across the ceiling.

They take no mercy on you as they both use your holes for their own pleasure.

Against the thin lining between them, they harshly grind.

It almost feels like they’re trying to fuck eachother through you.

“My my, what a pretty fucking slut. Are you enjoying being abused by us? hmmm?”

“Yessss” Your mind is so empty you don’t even think before words leave with the moans you hadn’t realized you were letting out.

The nubs on Dev.In’s hot dick are roughly scraping your ass, and with Jasper in your pussy you can hardly breathe.

Your vision is whiting out and static specks pierce the veil of your reality.

You’re in a continuous state of orgasm for so long, you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

You don’t even know when it started anyway.

You feel Dev.In come first.

Boiling liquid fills your intestines.

A loud cacophony of grunting from the three of you fills the space, Jasper comes soon after, painting your squelching cunt white.

Jasper is the one to remove the knife from your neck. You feel that he was fully in charge for this and it’s comforting in a way.

He takes you into his arms and your legs shake violently as they finally relax and lay in a normal position.

“What a pretty, pretty girl~” Soft lips melt against yours in the most loving way you can imagine. Your eyes flutter and roll as he pulls away.

Exhausted, and swathed in the safety of his embrace, you black out.

#my oc #yandere #oc x reader #oc x you #yandere x reader #my fic #yandere x you #tw yandere #dead dove do not eat #yandere smut #poly yandere #oc jasper #my writing #yandere oc #reader x yandere #yandere streamer #yandere streamer x you #streamer oc

[captain-mj]

Can you do a GravesPrice wedding???? (Also I want the shadows to try to getGraves into a dress and they succeed! You don’t have too tho. You can have Graves in a tux.)

I compromised with a white tux and a bridal veil, I hope that's alright? I projected a little bit of my struggles with femininity onto Graves

I'm writing a longer PriceGraves thing right now that I hope you guys enjoy

Graves sighed as Jason, Mila and Oz sat with him. "I don't like this. I don't like this at all. I appreciate you guys trying to make feel pretty on my special day and all, but I uh... I don't think I want to wear a dress."

Oz gasped. "But you look so nice!" And he did. Graves really did think he looked pretty. But it wasn't him. The dress was tight around his waist and looser around the shoulders. It did look lovely.

Mila nodded. "Yeah, but it's his special day. What do you think would fit you best, Boss?"

Graves frowned and actually thought about it. He never really thought he'd get a day like this. When he was a kid, he was told weddings were for women. Then, once it became more accepted for men to care about it, he had started to realize he was gay which definitely meant he could never have this. His family would've never tolerated it.

Now, he had a new family. Family that liked him. That didn't mind.

Still, he struggled sometimes. He sometimes wished he could approach being gay the way his younger friends did. That he could take eyeliner and put it on and makeup.

But that stuff didn't spark the same feelings in him that it did them. It was not freeing. It just...sparked nothing.

Graves put the white suit on and felt... Well. It was better. The pants were so much more comfortable at least. He didn't like having his bare legs out. But it still didn't feel quite right. Definitely closer though.

Jason got the idea for the veil and once Graves put it over his face, he was pretty sure this was the closest he'd get to what brides felt on their wedding day. It was a nice mix of femininity and masculinity that just felt nice. Good even.

Graves found he liked a lot of things about wedding planning. The flowers. The tasting a bunch of cakes. Price looking at him fondly every chance he got. It made him forget about the returned invitations from his family.

Price was a saint. Always was. Better than he deserved anyway.

So the day came. Price and Graves went back and forth about who should walk down the aisle and they eventually settled on Graves because Price didn't want to risk his knee giving him problems and they had to rush to adjust for him. It didn't happen often, but his knee could have him almost bedridden on bad days and Graves had agreed with him at the time.

But all the attention would be on him.

It hit him hard as he walked down the stupid aisle.

The flowers were a mix of buttercups and peonies. The florist had tried her best to get him to change his mind and pick flowers that looked better together or at least matched, but Graves had wanted peonies and Price wanted buttercups and neither wanted to tell the other person no.

There were only a handful of people. The 141, Jason, Mila, Oz, Laswell, Farah and Alex. Not too many people.

Graves didn't understand why something ached in his chest. Why the suit felt stifling. The veil a giant arrow pointing towards him for ridicule.

Too feminine, not feminine enough.

Price looked at him and smiled.

Just right.

Graves was... just right. He was fine. Because Price loved him as he was.

Price gently lifted the veil and let it drape across his back.

"Beautiful."

Graves started to cry. Price grabbed Graves's hands and kissed them, while the priest spoke. He had insisted that there be a priest even though Price didn't care. But Graves wanted there to be, so they made it happen.

Price almost kissed him before the "I do"s.

"John Michael Price. Do you take him to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do."

"Phillip Thomas Graves. Do you take him to be your lawfully wedding husband?"

Graves had so many emotions. They almost choked him up until he couldn't say it, but he took a deep breath. "I do."

"You may now salute the groom."

They kissed. Soft and sweet. His arm went around Graves, holding him carefully. Graves went on his tippy toes to keep the kiss going, not for the first time hating the height gap.

A few of their friends clapped excitedly or whistled. Price pulled him away and smiled at him.

"Now, lets eat that cake, yeah, my love?"

Graves nodded and they held hands, cutting the cake. It was a vanilla bean flavor with a chocolate layer on top. They took their pieces and left everyone else to eat it. Graves remembered seeing videos of couples and offered a bite to Price on a fork. He made eye contact with him as he took his bite for mimicking him.

"You really do look beautiful. Even teary eyed. What happened?"

"I'm just really happy I got this day. With you."

#cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #Phillip graves #Price x Graves #Graves x Price #Captain John Price

[paintbrushnebula]

I thiiiiink I did good on my oceanography exam!! 🪩

(don't know my score yet tho)

Anyway here's something I've been working on ✨

So this is my vision of what Rapunzel's dressing like post tower, at least after she's really starting to figure herself out. I thought about her having this type of hairstyle where she ties it into layered sections that ultimately looks like a fuchsia, then she'd litter it with a bunch of little flowers like an homage to her big old braid from the movie. I really wanted to keep that shaggy style from her short hair too. Also, I really wanted to dress her like a humble domestic artist

(Those weird stains are marker that bled through the previous page)

In my mind, this take on Rapunzel kinda lives separate from the series, like ive really only been thinking about the aftermath of the first movie's story. What she goes through in her post-tower recovery. Its be hard for her to adjust to princess life and a part of her is wondering if it's the path she wants. So now it's like she's at war with herself. She wants to rediscover her purpose, since her old one was erm. eternity of servitude in isolation hidden under the veil of blissful unawareness. And it sounds a whole lot easier to accept the purpose that's being obligatorily given to her, which is being princess and eventually, queen. But like Is that something she'd want though? Should she just give in if she can't figure out her purpose on her own?

This isn't me just writing Rapunzel's internal dialogue btw, like, these are actually things I think about when I think about what I'd have preferred had happened post-movie lol

#tangled #brushneb says stuff #rapunzels tangled adventure #disney rapunzel #Rapunzel #tangled the series #Disney #fanart #art #tangled fanart #tangled au #sketchbook #traditional art #my art

[iliaclwrites]

Oh my gosh, as a huge ABBA fan, I would love to read something about cheerleader!reader making him listen to them 😂

You rolled over on the bed, pressing a hand into his chest. "Look into his angeleyes," you crooned to the stereo, and Eddie groaned, throwing a hand over his face. You jumped onto his waist, and pulled his hand away, staring deep into him. "One look and you're hypnotised."

"Babe," Eddie complained, trying to struggle away from your weight to slap at the stereo. "Oh, god, turn off, come on, come on--"

--

Eddie groaned, watching as you attacked the cassette tapes in his van with your manicured claws. "Babe, no, come on, this is a long roadtrip," he complained, the kids in the back of the van already peering around the chairs to see what they were doing. "Don't get me pissed off before we've even turned onto the highway, pom poms," he threatened, but it was too late.

"Super trouper lights are gonna blind me," Dustin sang along with you, your heads swaying, "but I won't feel blue!"

"Sweet merciful Jesus," Eddie muttered, resting his head on the wheel as they careened down the road. It was a long goddamn drive to California. "Have mercy on my soul."

--

"Eddie," you hissed, tugging at his tie. "You can't just cover your ears, people are staring at us!"

"They're playing ABBA, princess," he muttered, glaring up at the live band. "You know my feelings toward those motherfuckers."

You sighed, looking at him. He was dressed up in a suit for prom, and you had made an effort in a long pale green dress, on the fringes of the dancefloor together. You sighed, and used all of your goddamn cheer strength to wrench his fingers from his ears and tug him into the middle of the dancefloor.

"Whoa, whoa, hey, I didn't consent to this!" Eddie yelped, but you payed him now mind, just jumping up and down with your arms around his neck to Gimme Gimme Gimme.

"--A man after midnight," you sang, pulling him in by his tie for a kiss. He kissed you back, hands coming to rest on your hips and swaying you to the song, before pulling away.

"Okay," he said finally. "I mean, if you're gonna react like that, maybe I'll get into this whole ABBA thing."

--

Eddie tugged nervously at his collar. Dustin sighed, and adjusted his tie again. "Quit it," he snapped, glaring down at Eddie. The older man swallowed. He really hated the kid's damn growth spurt. No one should ever be that tall. "You're making my life difficult."

"Has anybody seen Eddie?" your voice floated across the dancefloor to him, and he paled where he was hidden behind a curtain. Dustin pressed his hands to Eddie's shoulders, urging him to breathe. Eddie peaked around the curtain, and saw you -- all in white, the veil still in your hair, pacing as you looked for your new husband.

"Give 'em Hellfire," Dustin said, and smacked Eddie's ass, sending him careening onto the stage. He hated that kid. Eddie had raised him way too well.

"Um," Eddie said into the mic, and your head snapped up to him. He strummed his guitar. The band, already onstage, looked around to be ready for their cue. "Okay. Well. Hi, babe. You found me."

You were staring at him, bouquet limp in your hands.

"Anyway. This one goes out to Mrs. Munson. My little wife. My Pom Poms." He coughed. "A one, a two, a one, two, three four -- don't go wasting your emotion. Lay all your love on me--"

#eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x cheerleader #god this was SO GODDAMN CHEESY

[dollfxcx]

SUB PENNY.

sorry it took this long, was busy with work!! [btw this is still heat mkay? I love heat penny. beginning is slightly similar to the last fic I posted but not that much. and since it wasn't specified I gave him his tentacle back, ayup]

TW: NSFW, blood & blades (mentioned)

Word count: (1.9k+)

Pennywise whines to himself as he curls up in the corner of your room. He's built a sort of nest out of some of your old clothes and has been perched there for nearly three days now, purring and whimpering most of the time. He'd been away for a week, hunting and feeding the whole time, and then he came back to you, not seeming to even want to move a muscle. When you look up from the book you're reading, you notice how he's staring at you, blue eyes half hidden in his fluffy clown collar.

"Will you tell me what's wrong?" you ask, snapping your reading to a close, he grunts and curls up even more, turning his back to you.

"Come on, tell me. What is it?" Pennywise lets out another whimper.

"Heat." is the only word you hear him say before an evil blush spreads across your cheeks.

"You're– What???" you squeal in amazement, he glares at you over his shoulder before moving back into the nest to make room for you to lay down next to him. At his invitation, you snuggle against his chest, which rises and falls in emulation of a human breath he doesn't really need, and you stroke his hair, which makes his purring increase, after a few minutes of cuddling, Pennywise whines again.

"What can I do to make you feel better?" He shrugs and sighs.

"It will go away. It will all go away."

"What do you mean?" your fingers comb his ginger locks, he babbles to himself for a full minute before he decides to speak.

"The Hibernation." pronouncing those words seems to cost him an almost physical effort, as if his lips didn't want to open to let out those necessary words.

"And that would be..?" you know he doesn't like questions that are too pressing, but you try anyway.

"After a whole year of hunting, the Hibernation takes place. It's like a reset of your… computers. I won't remember almost anything as I’ll sleep for 27 years. And I'll start over." the explanation is terse, harsh, cruel, your back stiffens at the revelation.

"Will you forget that we..?" you ask, hoping for an answer that won't break your heart.

"Yes. I'll forget the whole experience and the things I've learned from you, the feelings I've had." he speaks slowly, the clown facade long abandoned.

"Well, what about me? Are you just gonna leave me behind and expect me to pretend like nothing happened?" it hurts to ask, you feel his arms wrap around your waist, making him groan at the contact.

"Not if you agree to be my mate." Your heart is pounding at the revelation and you know he can feel it, but still he seems utterly helpless, almost tired.

"I thought I already was." you state, earning yourself an almost amazed look, veiled in disbelief at your own stupidity and ignorance.

"Oh, did you mean like... mating? Like, having babies?" Pennywise sighs, exasperated, his blue eyes meet yours and you feel yourself drowning in them.

"Being us of different species, even if we wanted to, it's not possible to reproduce."

"Why not?"

"It's just not." You lower your head and nod, you don't know why, your fingers gently caress his forearms, eliciting a satisfied moan from him.

"Then what am I supposed to do to show you I… want to? That I agree?" for an instant you seem to see disbelief in his gaze, as if he can't believe the fact that you're willing to do this, to really belong to him.

"After the mating process, there is a ritual to be performed. Blood exchange, which from two floods becomes one. And like the latter, we will be one. That implies you adjusting to my timetables as I can’t change my nature. But I can change yours." his tone would be solemn were it not interrupted by whines and, you could swear, expectant sighs.

"You could have just asked right away." you smile at him, running a finger along his cheekbone so slowly that he trembles under your touch.

"Get on the bed, honey." you suggest, which makes a sigh escape his lips, but he does as you ask, with every step, with every part of his body that comes into contact with something else, he almost moans. He slowly lays down on the mattress, on his back, looking for you with his eyes as if he were lost. You hoist yourself on him with calculated, almost malevolent slowness, eliciting a strangled moan from him. Your hands trail across his chest, caressing him gently, you feel his skin stretch under your fingertips, the power you now have over him, as he's completely at your mercy, is intoxicating. You smile to yourself and place your lips on his quickly, action he doesn't appreciate as, with that abruptly broken contact, he gives you a look between annoyed and exasperated.

"Now you have to be good for me, otherwise I won't be able to help you. Do you think you can?" you ask, your hands slide towards his neck to undo the collar of his costume, he growls softly at the request. You know it's not in his comfort zone not to be in charge, but you also know very well that he needs this, needs what you're about to do. Unfastened the collar, you go on to unbutton the costume, which slips off him with a pleasant rustle, revealing a slender and very, very pale body, white like his face yet reddened on his chest by the overwhelming expectation that boils underneath it.

"Pretty." you murmur, your fingers running down his torso, causing him to tremble and shiver. You lean forward slightly to press your lips on his cold skin, starting from his neck and slowly descending to his navel, occasionally sucking on it to make him choke on a longing sigh.

“Y/n…” he grumbles, eyes narrowed, fists along his sides in a vain attempt not to lose his mind.

"Yes, sweetie?" He doesn't answer you, he just keeps repeating your name, only stopping to complain. You step off his lap to make it easier for you to slip off his pants, you're surprised he hasn't yet made them disappear into thin air like he usually does, but apparently he's too caught up in his longing-filled oblivion to remember. When you succeed in the action (not easily, given the obscene length of his legs), he's already hard. You expected his cock to be like last time, tentacle-like, yet now it's almost normal, pale exactly like the rest of his body except for the blush pink tip, he's twitching pleasantly, which makes you throb just at the sight. Snapping back to reality, you wrap your hands around his thighs, harder than you should, perhaps, causing him to whine loudly, and push them towards his chest, his arms moving below his knees to hold them in an almost fetal position. With his legs no longer hindering your movements, you lean forward and wrap your fingers around his cock, hearing him inhale sharply.

"You're being really good, have a little more patience, mh?" your lips settle on his swollen tip, hurriedly kissing it, and then you start caressing his cock with your finger tip, slowly moving it up and down along its entire length, his hips thrusting down in the hope and need of more contact. At his action, your hand tightens firmly around his base in warning, Pennywise whimpers softly as he tries to thrust into your hand.

"I know, I know, it must be really hard, right? Can you tell me how much you want me to help you? How much you want me?" you get on your knees and lean towards his body, which is already shaking uncontrollably.

"Y/n. Y/n. Y/n." he says, again and again, over and over, his hands gripping the sheets tightly.

"Tell me, Penny. Use that pretty mouth of yours for me." Pennywise rolls his hips in exasperation, you see how his teeth are getting sharper, how drool is dripping eagerly from his lower lip and, if you didn't have a strong will, you'd be willing to give him his way. But you won't, it's your chance to make him pay at least a little.

"Please. Please." he mumbles after a few minutes, you know it cost him to say it, but you appreciate the effort and right now you just want to please him. Still holding yourself on your knees, you begin to sink on his cock, your thighs rubbing against the back of his on the way down, your hands tightening around his legs to keep them in place, pressed tightly against his chest. It really looks like you're about to fuck him, as if you have your own cock well sunk into him, spreading him and opening him wide. What is actually happening is far from it, but you like to imagine it, how he would wrap around you as you pound into him. You hear him moan and burble in a language you don't know, his legs are visibly shaking, his cock inside you twitches pleasantly. Pennywise gasps as you begin to rock your hips back and forth, just as if you're thrusting into him, your clit rubbing perfectly against his crotch, eliciting a moan from you, your nails digging into the flesh of his spread thighs. His body is beautifully flushed, moist with sweat, the sighs coming out of his throat, so shameless, would be enough to make you cum immediately, but you force yourself to hold back, it's still a rare thing that Pennywise lets go this much and you have no intention of ending it prematurely. Your thighs slam against his, the noise it causes, like wet slaps, echoing around the room so loud it makes your ears ring. Pennywise sobs, eyes narrowed as he continues to curse in his native language, you comfort him, cooing, moving more slowly, letting your cunt tighten around his cock and stimulating him to a much needed orgasm.

"Come on, Penny. There's no reason to hold back." you reassure him, he spills his release soon after, filling you entirely, with so much unexpected force that you let go of his legs, which fall heavily to your sides, thus allowing him to thrust inside you a few more times, pumping his cum inside of you. His flushed cheeks and tousled hair is a sight you never expected to see, but you don't get too lost in the view as Pennywise grabs you by the wrist, pulling you back into his lap. He materializes a small blade out of thin air and points it at your left hand.

"Open." he intimates you, his voice is hoarse from crying out and screaming. You do as he tells you and he sinks the blade into your flesh, thick drops of blood flow from your fresh wound. With the same weapon, he does the same with his hand, his blood flies, floats, in the air in reddish droplets. After that, he takes your injured hand, pressing his torn palm against yours, muttering words you can't understand.

"My blood is your blood and now we are one." he then tells you, probably translating previous invocations of his, and you repeat word for word, causing his purring to resume merrily. You look at him and he looks at you for a seemingly interminable moment, the silence broken by Pennywise as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face.

"Thank you." it's the only thing he says, it's the first time his lips have uttered those words. He kisses your forehead affectionately, silently, his purr makes you feel drunk. It's only when your eyelids start to close, your cheek pressed against his chest as you lay on top of him in your bed, that you hear him speak.

"You are mine now." You sigh peacefully.

"I always have been."

-----

[I'm going on holiday and I'll be back by the middle of august, not ignoring your requests, if you sent any, just a bit of patience!!]

#it 2017 #pennywise #pennywise the clown #pennywise x reader #it (stephen king) #pennywise headcanon #fanfic #fanfiction #pennywise the dancing clown #pennywise x you #clownlove #it fanfiction #it fandom #pennywise fanfiction #ao3feed #ao3 fanfic