#sideways though so she can feed you

[asimpforhotpixels]

no thoughts. head empty.

just mean popular girl! signora and nerdy jock! reader

"they asked for no pickles" energy

brutal x gentle type of thing

#I'm 2 seconds away from making a college au #but I need to finish my sagau first hhhh #but just imagine #the fatui harbingers as the it squad #they would be juniors while the archons are the seniors #signora would pick you up from your house to your school and everyone would literally part for you guys while walking down the hallway #at first you would look down and blush embarrassed from the attention until she lifted your chin up and kissed you right in the middle #of the fucking hallway and threatened to do that everytime you look down whenever this happens #she would 100% sit on your lap during lunch #sideways though so she can feed you #yeah you should throwaway shame when you're with her #la signora x reader #rosalyne kruzchka lohefalter

[justdontaskme]

A Promise to Keep (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

A/N: Hello! I got a request and a sudden spurt of inspiration. If seems a little all over the place, I apologize, I wrote it quickly in one sitting and feel like it might be the best it'll get. Please let me know what you think or anything else you want to see.

After your morning training session, all you really wanted to do was to head home and cuddle with Nala until your second session later today. So, you bid your teammates farewell with a promise to see them later. 

Preseason had been going well, but it was quite obvious the number of gaps missing as many of your players were still out representing at the World Cup. Speaking of missing players, your phone started ringing just as you entered your apartment. You placed your bag down, scooping up Nala as you made your way over to the couch. 

“Hola, mi amor,” Alexia greeted you over the phone, a tired but happy smile on her face at finally seeing your face today. 

“Hi, Ale. Say hi to mama, Nala,” you said, grabbing one of Nala’s little paws and waving it at the camera. You listened as Ale talked to Nala all about what she had done today and how much she missed her. 

Eventually, Nala got bored, and you placed her back on the floor to roam the apartment. You turned sideways, using the arm of the couch as a backrest, pulling your feet up to stretch across the seats. 

“Are you okay, Ale?”

“I wish you were here,” she mumbled, and even though you knew it wasn’t meant with any malice, you couldn’t help but detect that tone of bitterness in her voice, just hitching at the very end. 

You sighed deeply, not really wanting to replay a fight you two have been enduring for the last few weeks now. 

“I miss you,” you said instead, trying not to feed into another inevitable fight. “Enjoy this while you can, you’ll be home soon.”

“I’m here, and you’re there. How am I supposed to enjoy this when you are sitting back home when you could have been here.”

“Ale,” you started, your voice soft and gentle, trying to soothe her before she worked herself into a frenzy. “This is your moment, don’t worry about me.”

“But this is supposed to be our moment,” she said, her voice raising slightly. “You and me. It was supposed to be us. Now, I’m here by myself.”

“You’re not alone, Ale,” you reminded her, asking her to lean on her teammates for strength in this monumental moment. 

“It’s not the same, and you know it. We made a promise.”

You turned the phone away from yourself for a second, allowing your face to fall forward into your knees. She was right. The two of you had made a promise to each other that you would do whatever it takes to be on the grandest stage of the World Cup together. 

“I know, but you and I both know why I’m here. I’ve made peace with this situation. I hate it, but I wouldn’t have done anything different.”

“Not even to be with me?” Alexia knew she was selfish and wrong for asking that, but she had been struggling to really find her footing this tournament, and to have you thousands of miles away wasn’t helping. Her feelings were taking over. She felt like she was floundering, one second away from drowning every step of the way. 

“Ale, as much as I’d love to be there with you, I can’t put myself in that situation again. Not unless things change,” you said.

While you loved and enjoyed your time on the national team, there was so much going on behind the scenes that many people didn’t know about. Unfortunately, it had taken a huge mental toll on you, a toll you were still paying to this day and maybe for the rest of your life. 

“You always said you and I could get through everything together. Why is this any different? Why can’t we get through this together?” Her voice was strained and you knew she was not going to back down on this tonight. 

“Alexia, let’s not go down this road tonight. You have a big game tomorrow. Let’s not do this right now.”

“I’m suffocating. I feel like I can’t even take a step without everyone criticizing my form and my right to be here. And now I’m here telling you that I need you, and you just push it aside,” she yelled, causing you to almost drop your phone. 

“Hold on, Alexia. That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you meant.”

“Don’t go putting words in my mouth. You know I hate when people do that,” you warned her, feeling yourself slowly losing your temper as well. 

“And I hate when people go back on their word, yet you did and I let you.”

That stopped you for a moment. Everything Alexia has been saying all made sense. But you couldn’t just take a whole month off especially with preseason starting just to follow her halfway around the world. 

It didn’t stop you from feeling guilty for not being there when she needed you. Since she had gone, the time difference had really made its mark on your relationship, speaking much less often than normal. Calls were either less frequent or shorter in comparison to the ones just before the group stages started. 

You hated yourself for not noticing how much Alexia was apparently struggling throughout this month apart. Each call you remember trying to comfort and reassure her you were her biggest fan, but she didn’t just need some to believe in her, she needed your full support in fighting the demons in her heads that have been there since she went down before the Euros.

“Ale,” you tried to form a coherent sentence. One that was genuinely what she needed to hear without feeling forced. 

“No, you know you were right. I have a game tomorrow. I should get some rest.”

Before you could say anything else, she hung up on you. You tossed your phone to the other side of the couch, sitting in silence as the pent up anger from this and previous fights coupled with an insurmountable amount of guilt bubbled inside of you. 

****

From your seat next to Patri, your hands curled into fists when you saw Alexia being subbed off, knowing that she wasn’t happy with the decision, and even worse, she’ll be upset with the way she had played with the limited minutes she had. 

You started to worry and feel a twinge of guilt, wondering if your fight last night had anything to do with her performance today. You quickly shook your head, tossing the idea out of your head and reminding yourself that Alexia was a professional and she wouldn’t let something like that mess with her game. She must just have had an off day.

Things from the night before were still unresolved, but you hoped that it would all work itself out when you spoke to her later.  

It was a bittersweet win. You were in tears seeing the absolute happiness on the players’ faces, especially Alexia’s, yet when you turned to Patri and Mapi, you knew they already understood the feelings you were fighting.

Mapi came over and draped an arm over your shoulders, nodding her head without saying anything. There were only a few who would truly understand what you were feeling as you watched the Spanish national team reach heights that were before unachievable. And they managed to do it all without you and your fellow teammates. 

You waited by the phone all night, but never got anything from your girlfriend. You had tried calling once, but it had gone straight to voicemail, and you figured that it meant that she wasn’t ready to hear from you yet. 

Then, you reached out to Ona, who assured you that Alexia was okay and that she would keep an eye on her for you. You then asked her to pass on your congratulations and her love, which she easily agreed to. Thanking the younger girl, you went about making the necessary arrangements for your trip. 

****

As you stepped into the stadium, you were in awe of the atmosphere. The crowds of people here for this game, cheering along and choosing sides, even though their own nations have already gone home. It was a full stadium of people here to love and champion the game everyone loved. A wave of sadness swept through you as you imagined what could have been. 

You were supposed to be experiencing this with all your friends, the grass beneath your feet, not the concrete of the seating area. You should have been out there decked out in your Spanish uniform, your name and number proudly on your back, instead of being in the stands with your girlfriend’s name and number on. 

You let yourself wallow for a minute more before quickly reminding yourself why you were really here. While you continue to wish things were different, you didn’t regret your choices, but now you were to live with the consequences of those choices. 

Instead of dwelling, you stood on your feet, cheering along with the rest of the Spanish fans as both teams made their way out for warmups. You cheered loudly anytime Alexia touched the ball, but with all the people in the stadium, you doubted she could hear you.

Once the Spanish team finished warming up and started heading into the locker rooms, you did your best to catch Alexia’s eyes without making a big show. As far as you knew, Alexia didn’t even know you were here. 

Eventually you managed to make eye contact with Ona who sent you a bright smile before rushing over to Alexia and pointing you out in the crowd. Despite the countdown until kickoff and the protests of a certain coach, Alexia ran straight to you, meeting you at the edge of the stands.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, reaching one hand up to cup your face while the other went around your waist, pulling your bodies as close as the barrier between you two allowed. 

In the moment, it didn’t matter if there was a small wedge driven between the two of you since the start of this tournament, Alexia was beyond happy to finally have you back in her arms. She wasn’t going to waste a second of it. 

“I made a promise, we’d be here together,” you said, resting your forehead against hers, this closeness drowning out everything around you. “I came to fulfill that promise to you. Even if it’s a little different than the way we planned.”

“I’m sorry,” Alexia said, ready to jump into her rehearsed spiel of how she shouldn’t have reacted the way she did the other night. 

But before she could say anything, you quickly interrupted her with an apology of your own. “No, mi corazón, I’m sorry. You were right, we made a promise and I went back on it.”

“No, I know why you and the others did what you did, but that doesn’t mean I don’t support you. I just really wished I could have shared all of this with you by my side.”

“I know, bebé, I know. But we can’t change the past.”

“I’m so happy you’re here,” Alexia admitted, sniffling slightly. You reached up to wipe the pooling tear in her eye. 

“Me too. I promise we can talk about this more later. For now, go out there and make me proud,” you told her, not caring about the crowd as you leant forward and kissed her for the first time in over a month. “Te amo.”

The blinding smile on your girlfriend’s face and the returned ‘I love you’ was worth the month apart. Alexia snuck one more quick kiss to your lips before rushing off to the locker room before she was benched for the entire game. 

You sat back in your seat as you awaited the players' walk out. 

“My sister is such a sucker for you,” Alba said, knocking her shoulder against yours from her seat beside you. 

You burst out laughing, “Never hurts to have her wrapped around my finger,” you shrugged.

“Yet you were the one to skip practice in order to book a last minute flight to Australia just so you could apologize in person.”

“It’s called supporting your girlfriend,” you countered, eyes on the tunnel as the players were set to come out any second. 

Alba rolled her eyes goodnaturedly, joining you as you both sported your Alexia jerseys, loudly cheering for the superstar as everyone came out. You blew her a kiss and wished her the best of luck. 

This wasn’t how you two had thought a World Cup together would be like, but even with all the obstacles, you had finally made it to a final together. And really, that’s all that mattered because at the end of the day, you two would always have each other. 

#woso x reader #woso imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine

[onestopfanficshop]

babysitter's club

pairing/warnings: hobie brown x f!reader; she/her pronouns used! cursing, some smooching, potential misuse of british slang (i'm sorry brits 😭), no phonetic spelling of hobie's accent, mayday being chaotic and adorable, reader and hobie talk about their future (kids), hobie and reader get to pretend to be domestic homeowners for a night, absolutely illegal amounts of fluff

word count: 3k

author's note: WOW okay. this took me over two months (?!?) to write. this is what happens when you take summer classes to get ahead 😔 but ANYWAYS! i hope you guys enjoy this!

"Only give her the one with carrots and the apples if she gets really fussy, okay? Tonight is peas, and... she's made it very clear how she feels about peas, so, good luck," you heard Peter say, chuckling as he closed the fridge and explained more of Mayday's feeding schedule to Hobie.

"Do I look okay?" MJ asked, stealing your attention away from the scene in the kitchen as she fussed with her hair in the hallway mirror.

"You look absolutely perfect," you reassured her, slightly adjusting the necklace that she was wearing. "Make sure you don't forget your umbrella though; I heard it was supposed to rain."

You saw the boys approaching you two from the kitchen and broke out in a grin.

"You lovebirds have nothing to worry about. We'll take good care of Mayday. Right, Hob?" you said, glancing sideways at you him.

"Yes ma'am," he confirmed, giving you a two-finger salute.

"If you guys need anything, just call, okay?" MJ said over her shoulder, stepping through the door that Peter was holding open for her.

Do not call, Peter mouthed when MJ's back was turned, pointing his two fingers at his eyes and then pointing them at you two. You waited until the door closed before you started to giggle.

"Looks like somebody's trying to get shagged tonight," Hobie chuckled, leaning against the living room wall as Mayday giggled happily from where she was seated on her playmat.

"Hobie! There is a child here for crying out loud!" you say exasperated, swatting at his shoulder.

"What? It's not like she knows what that means, love," he responded, looking at you with a lazy grin.

"Can you just—at least attempt to behave, please? I'm not trying to babysit two babies tonight, thank you very much," you say, rolling your eyes as you plant your hands on your denim-clad hips, eyes raking over the messy state of the living room. You made a mental note to pick up Mayday's toys off the floor before MJ and Peter came back.

"Listen, all I'm saying is—,” he pauses, crouching down in front of Mayday and picking up a toy that she had dropped to give it back to her. "If my theory's right—which it most definitely is—we'll be babysitting two babies in no time," he said mischievously.

"Oh my God. You did not just say that," you said, moving to sit cross-legged to the side of Mayday. You tried to stay serious, but you're unable to stop the smile spreading across your face.

"I'm only teasing, promise," Hobie grinned. "You wanna order in?"

"Already did. Wanted to be 100% certain that I was the one who ordered," you say, learning to the side a little as you pulled your phone out of your back pocket and unlocked it to check the status of your delivery.

"Yeah? Why's that?" Hobie asked innocently. Your thumbs pause their scrolling as you look up at Hobie, utterly unamused.

"Because I absolutely will not be bombarded with those ridiculously spicy wings you got for us last time. Genuinely unhinged behavior on your end to not warn me," you say, shuddering as you recall the horrors that your tongue experienced last week. Hobie threw is head back as he laughed, watching your face curl up at the memory.

"Ah, I wish you could've seen it, May-May," he told the child, his face lighting up as he heard Mayday giggle upon hearing his laugh. "Her eyes were so bloody red, like this," he said, chuckling as he pointed to the sleeve on his shirt.

"He's exaggerating, honey; don't mind him," you say, tickling Mayday under the chin, causing her to laugh even more. "My eyes were not that red, Hob," you protested as you smiled at Mayday.

"They absolutely were. I have photo evidence," he rebutted.

"Wha—you took pictures?!" you ask incredulously, whipping your head towards him. "Hobie, I swear on everything, you better dele—"

You're interrupted by the sound of rapid knocking on the door, causing Mayday to make a startled noise as she fearfully grabbed at your arm with her tiny hands. Hobie made his way over to the door as you tried to soothe the girl.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay, honey," you say soothingly, hoisting her up and holding her snug on your hip as you untangled your legs to stand up. "It's just the door, bub." You watched as Hobie kicked the door closed with one leg, balancing the pizza on one hand while he locked the door with his other hand.

"Dinner's served," Hobie said triumphantly, setting the box down on dining table.

"We gotta get you your dinner too, huh, May?" you said, gingerly setting her down in her high chair before you tugged open the fridge. You squinted, staring down the rows of puréed baby food before turning to Hobie. "Which one of these are we supposed to give to her again?" you ask, picking up one of the cold jars and turning it over in your hands.

"Tonight is P-E-A-S," Hobie says, recalling what Peter told him. He leans on the kitchen island with his forearms as he skims the paper with the list of instructions that MJ and Peter left for you two. "And then after that is her bath, and—"

"Why on Earth did you just spell pe—"

Your sentence is cut short by Hobie swiftly covering your mouth his his large hand, eyes going wide.

"She hates 'em," he whispered. "Even sayin' the word P-E-A-S throws her into a hissy fit."

"Okay, well—," you throw up your hands in disbelief before planting them on your hips. "When she sees the jar of green P-E-A-S, I'm pretty dam- dang sure that she's gonna know what they are," you pointed out, catching yourself before you swore as you tugged open the drawers to find a tiny spoon for Mayday.

"Nice save," Hobie said, smirking as he took a seat at the dinner table in front of the baby.

"Listen, if she's gonna be upset eating this, you have to be the one to feed her," you sighed. You pulled the jar out of fridge and set it down in front of Hobie, along with the spoon.

"Why me?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

"Because she literally adores you?" you replied, as if it was common knowledge.

"Who doesn't?" he said, grinning.

"Alright, funny guy. We'll see if you're smiling when you have the 'vegetable-that-must-not-be-named' thrown all over you," you said, smirking as you opened the pizza box to help yourself. Hobie's hand covered the lid of the jar, and he gave it a firm twist, opening the jar with a pop.

"That's not very fair, love, innit?" he said, frowning at you as you got up to tuck a bib around Mayday's neck.

"It's actually very fair, in my opinion. This is payback for destroying my taste buds last week," you say, settling back into your chair and giving him an expectant look.

"You're never letting that go, eh?" he said, shaking his head. He scooped some of the food onto the baby-sized spoon, gauging Mayday's expression as he cautiously moved the spoon towards her mouth. The baby tentatively accepted the food, tasting it for a second before she scrunched up her face in disgust. Just like you predicted, she spit the food out of her mouth, nearly missing Hobie's shirt as she let out a short wail.

"Uh-oh," you say smugly, taking a bite out of one of your pizza slices. "You having fun yet?"

"May, c'mon," he pleaded with the infant, ignoring your quip. "S'not that bad, I promise," he said, trying to get her to take another spoonful. But Mayday remained defiant, turning her head to the side when Hobie brought the spoon to her mouth again as she let out little cries of frustration. He set the spoon down with a sigh.

"Man, why even make her eat this if she hates it?" he asked to no one in particular, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "Kid’s clearly miffed. I say we give her the one with the apples n' the carrots."

"Absolutely not. You get babies on the sweeter stuff now, and they'll never touch vegetables again," you declare adamantly, sliding the baby food over to yourself. You turned around and grabbed a spoon out of the drawer behind you.

"Look, Mayday!" you say cheerfully. You grabbed the spoon, scooped out a bit of the purée, and slathered it on your pizza slice. You mentally prepared yourself for the taste before you took an exaggerated bite, and the infant watched you curiously.

"See? It's really good!" you reassure her, encouraging her to try a spoonful of her food again. This time, she accepted the food from you, although her face still scrunched up every time she took a bite.

"You're a bloody baby whisperer," Hobie said in awe. "Are sure she likes it now?" he asked, taking note of the faces Mayday was making.

"Yeah, she just—" you paused, scraping out the last of pea purée and feeing to her. "A baby's gag reflex is closer to the front of their mouth. That's why they'll sometimes make faces when they eat a new food. Doesn't mean they hate it; they're just trying to decide if they like it or not. Right Mayday?" you say. The baby cooed in response, drooling out a little bit of her dinner. You lifted up the corner of her bib and wiped off the food that had gotten around the corners, and Hobie grinned as he picked up the empty jar, rotating it around and showing it off to Mayday.

"Nice job, kid. Did all that on your own," he said grinning, holding his palm up for a high five (Mayday ended up missing his palm almost entirely, but when you have limited fine motor skills, it's the effort that counts).

"Good job, May!" you beamed, pinching her cheeks. "Alright, lets get you cleaned up for your bath, yeah? We gotta let Hobie eat," you tell her, picking her up from her high chair.

"Finally," he said with an exaggerated sigh.

"So unbelievably dramatic!" you called over your shoulder as you carried Mayday to the bathroom.

Bath time, thankfully, went relatively smoothly (well, minus the part where May tried to play the "water drums", which got an ungodly amount of water onto the floor and subsequently, onto you. You're 99% sure Hobie taught her to do that at some point and made another mental note to lecture him about it later). After you dried her up and got some lotion and baby powder on her, you changed her diaper before getting her into her pajamas. By this point, she was pretty exhausted, and you could see her little eyes fighting to stay open as you laid her down in her crib.

"You were awesome today, May. Get some shut-eye for me, okay?" you said softly, kissing the top of her head. She was already asleep before you even finished your sentence, and you smiled at her one last time before you turned off the lights and quietly shut the door.

Hobie's head turned away from the TV at the sound of your footsteps padding on the floor, and he looked like he was trying to hold in a laugh.

"You look like you've gone swimming," he remarked in an amused tone, looking you up and down.

"You try giving a hyperactive eleven month-old a bath," you reply, sighing as you plopped down next to him on the sofa. You looked down at the splashed cuffs of your jeans before shrugging. "It'll dry, right?"

"For sure," Hobie nodded. "But aren't most eleven month-olds hyperactive?"

"Yeah, but most eleven month-olds aren't Mayday," you say, chuckling as you leaned your head onto his shoulder.

"True that," he laughed, draping his arm across your shoulder.

You two sat in a few minutes of comfortable silence, watching as a random 90s romcom played on screen at a low volume before you spoke again.

"Hey, Hob?" you ask.

"Hm?" he responded, still half-focused on the movie.

"I'm gonna ask you something, and I want you to be honest," you say. You adjust your position so that you're lying on your back across Hobie's lap, hands folded on your chest. He tears his eyes away from the screen and gives you his full attention.

"What is it, love?" he asked, brows furrowing slightly as he looked down at you.

"Did you teach Mayday to play the drums with water?" you ask, fighting back a smile.

"No...," he said mischievously, raising his eyebrows at you.

"Hobie!" you exclaimed quietly, trying not to wake up Mayday as you slapped his thigh.

"Nah, I really didn't. Swear down," he said truthfully, laughing softly as he put his hands up in protest. "Really, you oughta be lookin' at Gwendy for that. She let the kid have a go at her drums once—it was adorable. I mean, also terrible, because she kept missing the actual drums, but still adorable."

"Oh my God, that is too cute. I would've paid money to see that," you replied, fighting back a yawn.

"Yeah? I think Pav and Miles got it on video. I'll have em' send it to you," he chuckled, tracing random shapes on your cheekbones with his thumb. "You tired?"

"Yeah, but...," (this time, you let out your yawn) "...don't let me fall asleep here. I still have to pick up May's toys and put them away. Don't want Peter and MJ coming back to a mess," you sighed.

"Already did that, love," he said. You let your head loll to the side as you looked at the corner of the living room—sure enough, the toys were all neatly put away in the toy chest, and Mayday's playmat was rolled up and tucked away.

"You're an actual lifesaver," you say. You're about to let your eyes relax before you remember another thing, shooting them open again.

"Shit. I gotta do the dishes," you say. You're about to sit up before Hobie plants a hand on your torso, gently pushing you back down.

"Took care of that, too. And recycled the box. And the jar," he tells you, grinning down at you. "I'm a world-class babysitter, c'mon now."

"And a world-class boyfriend," you say, smiling as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to capture his lips in a sweet kiss. He grabbed both sides of your face and started attacking your face with kisses as best he could at the awkward angle, causing you to let out a giggle.

"Hobie! You're gonna break your neck," you protest against his lips.

"Mm, small price to pay for getting to kiss you," he said, smiling.

"Nuh-uh, because then you'll have to get surgery, and you'll have to go through physical therapy, where they give you a bunch of instructions on what to do to get better, and we all know you hate being told what to do–"

"Alright, alright, point made," he laughed, giving you one last kiss before sitting up straight.

"God, I had no idea that taking care of a baby for a few hours would make me this tired," you sigh, rubbing at your eyes. "How on Earth do Peter and MJ manage to do it every single day?"

"Yeah... s'kinda mad when you really think about it," Hobie said pensively. "I mean, it's non-stop from the moment they're born 'til they move out. Guess you gotta take it day by day, yeah?"

You made a small sound of understanding, pondering what he said.

"How do you feel about... y'know, having kids? Like one day?" you ask quietly, craning your neck to up at him.

“Why? Are you…?” he trailed off, looking at your abdomen with raised eyebrows.

“Nonono, I’m not,” you reassured him, giggling. “I was just wondering.”

"Well, of course," he replied, sinking into the couch a bit more. "I love kids. I'd wanna adopt a whole bunch of 'em. Don't know if I'd be any good at the whole parenting thing, but..." he trailed off, chuckling to himself.

"You would be. I can see the way you are with Mayday; you're practically a natural," you said decidedly. "Me on the other hand... I dunno."

"You don't know?" Hobie said, snorting out a laugh. You turned your head to look at him, frowning.

"Don't laugh at me!" you protested, swatting at his shoulder.

"M'not laughing at you, swear," he said. "It's just funny you're saying that because you were a natural with May. You'd be an amazing mum."

"Really?" you ask, craning to look up at him.

"Really," Hobie confirmed, planting a quick kiss on the tip of your nose. You started to giggle, but the sound was quickly drowned out by a loud clap of thunder in the distance. You sat upright, startled by the noise as you peered behind the couch at the windows, and you were met by the sight of a sudden downpour.

"Oh God... I really hope that didn't wake up—"

Right on cue, you and Hobie heard the static noise of Mayday wailing through the baby monitor. You sighed as Hobie gently untangled himself from you, patting your thigh twice.

"I'll go get her," he reassured you, leaving the living room and disappearing into the nursery. You flopped back down on the couch again, groaning when another clap of thunder struck a few seconds later. You heard the sound of Hobie's socks shuffling on the ground, causing you to sit up and turn your head. You were greeted by the sight of a sleepy and disgruntled Mayday, who was clinging to the collar of Hobie's worn t-shirt. Her hair was frazzled, and her poor eyes were red from all the crying.

"Aw, it's alright, honey," you said soothingly. You outstretched your arms to Hobie, and he handed her to you to hold her. She curled up in a ball against your chest, watery blue eyes looking up at you as a few more lone sniffles came out.

"It's just a bit of thunder, love. You're alright as long as we're here, yeah?" Hobie chimed in. He sat next to you now, smoothing down the red hair on the baby's head in an attempt to calm her.

"You wanna stay here with us until the storm's over?" you asked gently. May let out a soft coo in response, so you took that as a yes. You grabbed the throw blanket that was sitting next to you on the couch and draped it across all three of you, and you let your head drop onto Hobie's shoulder. He wrapped an arm around you and Mayday to tuck you both in. It wasn't long before the three of you fell into a peaceful sleep.

The door opened an hour later with the soft click of the door unlocking.

“Well, that was the most fun I’ve had in a while, honey,” Peter said, kissing the top of MJ’s forehead.

“Until it started pouring,” she replied, laughing. “What d’you think the kids are up to?”

Mary-Jane’s question was answered as soon as they rounded the corner. They were greeted by the sight of the three of you tangled up with the fluffy throw blanket hanging halfway off the couch. Hobie’s head rested on top of yours, his arms wrapped snugly around your waist. Your arms were around Mayday, who was sound asleep—a string of drool was dangling from her mouth, which was precariously close to landing on your jeans.

“Well, would you look at that,” Peter whispered, chuckling. He dug around in his pocket and grabbed his phone to snap a pic of the sweet scene in front of them.

“We’re definitely framing this.”

#hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown x f!reader #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #across the spiderverse #astv hobie #spiderman atsv imagines #spiderman atsv x reader

[nordicmuse]

Down by the River - Astarion x Tav Romance/Sm!t

After Astarion is shamed for what he is, he and Tav find themselves confronting the dynamic of their relationship, and if it can even be that.

Fading embers crackled as the group sat around the dying fire. It was late, and conversation had dulled to the occasional mumble about stiff muscles or the notice of a previously looked over wound. Tav stifled a yawn as she lazily spun a dagger between her fingers, having now cleaned it of goblin blood and polishing it until it shone her worse-for-wear face in the firelight.

Shadowheart rolled her head on her shoulders and sighed as an unpleasant pop sounded. Tav winced. To her right, Gale was nursing a sore knee, courtesy of a bad tumble, and sat with it out sideways, wrapped for support. They’d taken a hell of a beating today, but they were alive - more than what they could say for some of the druids and tieflings. Guilt still weighed heavily there it seemed.

Shadowheart stood on stiff legs and sighed, breaking the silence. “Well, I don’t know about the lot of you all, but today’s kicked my ass. I’m turning in.”

Tav opened her mouth to speak, but the rustling of leaves silenced her, making her palm her dagger. She relaxed as a mess of white hair pushed through the bushes and Astarion stepped into camp. His shirt was torn and bloodied from the day’s events, both his and slain foes alike, but where earlier they had browned as they dried, fresh bright splotches scattered amongst them. They were minimal, but undeniably there. He’d been feeding.

“Welcome back. Not that we noticed you were gone,” Shadowheart teased.

Gale rolled his eyes. “Must you go and do that while the rest of us are awake? We don’t exactly care to see-”

“Gale!” Tav whisper-shouted. She flashed apologetic eyes towards the vampire spawn.

Astarion rolled his eyes. “No, please, let him go on. You’re so very charming. I accept, but with a request of my own. You can’t eat in front of me either. Have to play fair, after all, and it’s hardly kind to rub it in that what I used to enjoy can’t sustain me anymore.”

“You should know to just ignore him by now,” Shadowheart chided him.

“Or better yet,” Astarion continued, “You eat whatever you want at any time, but if I see a speck of gravy on your shirt or a stray crumb, I’ll remind you just how inconsiderate you are.” His smirk did nothing to hide the pair of stained, elongated teeth at either corner of his mouth.

“You are vile,” Gale berated, raising awkwardly to stand on his bad knee.

“Hmf. Suppose that you are entitled to your opinions.”

“It’s not a huge favor to ask that you keep those monstrous tendencies to yourself. Though you clearly had no problem making it Tav’s prob-”

“That is enough!” Tav shouted, bolting to her feet. She pointed an admonishing finger at Gale. “You’re going to lecture him about what he eats when I had to watch you consume a pair of boots just yesterday? For fuck’s sake, find something better to gripe about!” she hissed.

“And you!” She turned to Astarion. “Learn when to walk away!”

A pregnant pause fell over the group as she stared them both down.

“Tav is right,” Shadowheart said. “We need to stop bickering. We’re all complicated. No use in pointing out what makes it different.”

Astarion glanced down at Tav, then brusquely averted his gaze. “Suppose you’re right. Now, if there’s nothing else to be said, I think I’ll be changing into fresh clothes and turning in.” As he stepped away, Gale scoffed to himself. Tav watched as Astarion hesitated that half-step, sighed, and continued to his tent.

Shadowheart and Gale excused themselves as well, but Tav stayed by the fire, sitting on her bedroll. Thoughts consumed her. Why were people so vile to him? He hadn’t hurt any of them. She grimaced. Well, not exactly. But she had let him. Of course she was aware that he had snuck up on her that first night. But she had offered himself to her freely, once the shock had passed. And, try as she might, she couldn’t convince herself that he would have fed from her if she had never stirred or simply refused. He tried to deny it at every turn, but that glimmer was there. Humanity.

And it made it all the damn more conflicting when she had offered herself to him again. And again. And again.

There was no denying it. She couldn’t hide the bruising or puncture marks on her neck, and she was admittedly lethargic the day following a feeding, but seeing him so rejuvenated made it somehow worth it. It didn’t make any damned sense. Why was she sacrificing herself for someone people saw as a monster? Probably because she didn’t see him that way at all. Not anymore.

And then something strange happened - Astarion had reeled her into a conversation about that fateful night, talked about how it seemed to have awoken an appetite (though he swore he had no intention of feeding off of Gale of Shadowheart), and being his musing, hypothetical self, he had asked her who she would feed off of if she were like him. And the answer came a bit too quickly. You. He’d laughed it off with thanks for the flattery, but she realized she had admitted something deeper than that.

Tav looked up from the all but extinguished fire, barely an ashen glow. Lanterns were snuffed out around the campsite, but the full moon illuminated the woods in a pale glow. She stood, muscles aching and face still stinging from the slash it had taken across the bridge of her nose and down her cheek today. She told herself she was just taking the long way around to her tent. It wasn’t her fault that it passed his. Besides… she wanted to check on him.

Her hand fell to the tent flap, hesitating as she was unsure of how best to get his attention when knocking wasn’t an option and she didn’t want their other companions to hear her call out to him. She pulled the tent flap back.

“Looking for me?” a saccharine voice whispered. She turned to Astarion’s tall frame leaning against a nearby tree, and dropped the flap.

She hung her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry-”

“Hush,” he said, a finger to his lips. He crooked his finger, beckoning. “Let them sleep. If you want to talk, I suggest we wander off some.”

She nodded, following him down a winding path to the riverbank, where the steady flow of water sang, drowning out their conversation.

“What were you doing out? I thought you were going to bed, too.”

“I could accuse you of the same. But if you mean to ask if I was feeding, then no, so you needn’t worry.” Defensive malice dripped from his words. 

Her heart stung. Was he accusing her of being appalled? “You know I don’t care about that - not in any bad sense. So then what were you doing?”

He leaned back against a large boulder, arms crossed over his chest. “Thinking. I might be able to be in daylight now thanks to our little passengers, but I’ve been a dark dweller for hundreds of years. It’s oddly comforting once you’re used to it. A monster can hardly change its true nature,” he bit out.

“You’re not a monster.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“You don’t get to decide that! I let you feed off of me. Why would I let you do that unless I gave a damn about your wellbeing? When I know you can survive off of animals, yet bare my neck and let you take from me?”

He averted his eyes. “I never meant to insult you.” He stepped away from the boulder, staring into the black water. “But even I have to admit that you’re a puzzle I can’t solve.”

“It’s not a puzzle, Astarion. I just… I just want you to be okay,” she admitted, surprised by her boldness.

“I’ve survived how many more lifetimes than you, darling girl? I’ve managed,” he quipped.

You feel it, too. You have to…, her mind wondered.

Tav stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Astarion’s arm. “You might actually believe you’re a monster, or maybe that’s what you tell yourself to prepare for the inevitable storm of assholes that can’t see past their own prejudices. But I’m telling you what I see, and that has to be worth something.”

He turned, red eyes locking onto hers. “And what is that?”

Had her chest been heaving this hard a minute ago? Her breath stuttered. “I see you.”

His eyes fell to her lips, she shook with anticipation. Was he wondering what it would be like to close that gap just as much as she was? Her hand fell to his arm again, trailing down to his fingers as she locked her hand into his. Was he shaking? Yes, he was undoubtedly glancing between her eyes and lips, torn in the middle of a decision. One she wanted so badly to make for the both of them - but he needed to be the one to decide. To be allowed to choose for himself.

After what felt like many moments of empty promise, she pulled back, her hand leaving his. As she turned away, his eyes widened, like the loss had panicked him.  He grabbed her hand and stared at her, uncertainty in his red eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong.” And she meant it, by every definition.

He pulled her body against his, lips crashing onto hers with fervor. His hands cradled her neck as he backed her against the nearest tree, all semblance of his self-control lost. Good. She didn’t want it. His tongue searched for hers, a different kind of ravenous, and he groaned pleasurably as she wrapped her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers into his hair. His kisses trailed down her neck, hesitating at the marks he had left on her. He needed to be distracted from where his mind was returning to. 

She used her leg to pull him flush into her body, an unmistakable hardness pressing against her. Both gasped at the contact. Her hands flew to his fresh shirt, opening the first few buttons, but he put his hand over hers. Breathless, he asked, “Leave it on. Please.” Shame clouded his eyes, brows furrowing. “I have… scars.”

“We all do,” Tav said, confusion riddling her voice. “Hell, I have an open cut running across my face right now. That will probably scar, too.”

Though his desire was palpable in the air, he pulled back another excruciating inch. “These ones are… different, to put it lightly.”

“From the transformation...” Her confused look softened, but turned to horror in her eyes. But not at him. At whoever could have done that to him.

Astarion didn’t say it, but he didn’t deny it. He backed up a step, though he looked physically pained to create the distance. “You don’t actually want this, Tav. You deserve better.”

“I want all of you.”

He grimaced. Fucking grimaced. “There’s not a lot of me left.”

She advanced, hand touching his cheek. “Then let me take whatever you will give.”

His eyes clouded with something - relief, resolve? But he nodded fervently and lurched in to kiss her like she was air and he was suffocating. She ran her hands over the planes of his chest exposed by the few buttons she had opened, wishing she could run them along his back, but respected his wishes. She would only take what she was given. His hands fumbled for her belt, unbuckling it as she pushed them down her thighs, exposing herself to the chill night. Her pants and boots were thrown haphazardly to the side, and they both heard the unmistakable tumbling and splash of something heavy hitting the water nearby.

They hesitated long enough to laugh as he lifted her into his arms, bracing her against the boulder. Tav cried out, biting off a moan as a long finger slid through her slick heat. Astarion groaned, producing the soaked finger in front of him. And sniffed. He was fucking smelling her.

“Oh, darling,” he purred. “I’ve tasted your blood. But this is going to be divine.”

Words couldn’t form as he sank to his knees, barely giving her a moment to realize his intentions before his warm tongue slid against her. She gasped, fingers tangling in his hair. She couldn’t help the involuntary tug when he sucked her clit into his mouth, working over the sensitive bud.

“Delicious,” he sighed against her.

Her brain fogged, and certainly not from the damned tadpole. But was it possible that everything she was feeling, he felt, too? It would explain the sense of mesmerized pride she felt.

“As-Astarion!” she begged, bucking her hips against his mouth.

He placed a steadying hand over her hip bone and broke away, causing her to cry out in frustration. “Quiet, now, or you’ll let everyone in on our little game here.”

Suave as he was, she knew. He didn’t want her to be embarrassed if she was caught with him. And it burned her, because nobody else gave a damn who fucked who the night before. Unless it was him, apparently.

“Let them hear,” she whispered. “I want them to know.”

“You say that-”

“Then believe me.”

She sank to her knees, shoving him backwards so she could straddle him. She unlaced his leather pants, growing frustrated with them and allowing him to free himself. He groaned at the relief from the confines, and need radiated in her core like alchemist’s fire. He was going to be the death of her, but not in the way he worried about.

Her hand encompassed him, and he jolted, lips parting. “Darling, I don’t mean to rush you, but I’m afraid you’re going to spoil your own fun if you keep that up.”

A smirk played at Tav’s lips. “Been a while?”

“What can I say? I’ve been a bit preoccupied with being kidnapped and turned into a nursery.” But the sharp, joking tone of his voice dropped. “But, yes. I don’t often take people to bed. Despite Gale’s prodding, I do still have impulse control, and I don’t seem to enjoy meaningless little trysts.”

She hesitated. “Are you saying this means something?”

“Please, don’t make me answer that tonight. But I think you already know that answer, even if I can’t bring myself to say it.”

“I understand.”

He took her hand, holding it between them. “Thank you.”

He coaxed her off of him and kneeled, closing his eyes as he unfastened the last buttons of his shirt.

“Astar-”

“I know what I said. And I have no plans of letting you see that. Not tonight, maybe not ever… but I’m not about to bed you on the cold ground,” he explained, pushing the white shirt off his shoulders and laying it on the ground. He beckoned her closer, drawing her into another fervent kiss and laying her onto the thin fabric. He kneeled over her, supporting himself on his forearms. They both sighed as his cock nudged her entrance. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Thank Gods.”

He pushed into her, sinking in inch by inch until his hips were flush with hers. Tav gasped, hooking her arms around him. She felt the marks a moment too late, and her eyes flew open, boring into his. But he was just watching her, studying her like he was waiting for regret to ebb into her eyes. It never came.

Her body ached from more than the ass beating she had taken today. It ached for him, wanted him impossibly closer. Her hips bucked as she tried to draw him in, causing his breath to stutter as his gaze grew hazy, setting a steady rhythm rocking into her.

“Astarion, fuck-” she gasped, pulling him flush to her chest. “I need you. Please.”

“Darling, you have me,” he rasped, punctuating the thought with a tantalizing grind of his hips that rubbed her clit as he moved. His movements grew feral as he kissed her fervently, head dipping down to her neck. She groaned at the distinct feel of his teeth grazing her neck. And though she knew he only did it to heighten her senses…

“I want- want you to- fuck… I want you to feed on me,” she begged.

Astarion’s hips stuttered as if the thought alone was going to drive him over the edge.

“Tav, now isn’t the time. I’ve had enough to satiate me.”

“But not enough to fill you. And you said it yourself - it can be extremely pleasurable in the right circumstances. And I want to give it.”

“Are you sure?” he breathed, eyes wide with doubt even as his hips rolled slowly against hers.

Her hands guided him to the healing bruise on her neck, and a moment passed where she questioned if he would accept her offer. And then a sharp sting radiated pain thorough her neck and shoulder. Pain and wooziness and… yes, that. She quivered, surrendering to his touch, to everything that was him. She would die for this, would beg for it without shame. She was his, whether his heart understood that or not. Even if it never did.

Her stomach tightened, release a cliff edge she just needed the slightest push towards… Maybe their minds were more interconnected than she thought. “Come for me,” Astarion groaned, reaching down to rub her clit and punctuating the thought with sharp, dizzying thrusts.  And the world shattered.

“Astarion!” Tav screamed, orgasm ripping through her like earth-shattering magic.

He panted against her, pushed her legs up to drive into her impossibly deeper, sweat beading on his forehead. She gasped, sensitive from her climax, and fell deliriously into a second one as he groaned, burying himself to the hilt and stilling, cock twitching inside of her as he finally broke apart.

He stilled, lowering her legs and bracing himself, eyes closed as he fought for breath. He slid out of her slowly, regretfully, and fell to the ground beside her. He pulled her into him, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, damp with sweat.

Laying on his stomach, he tucked an arm under his head and turned tired but sated eyes on her. No, more than sated. Adoring.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, disbelief heavy in his eyes.

“So are you. Wonderful and handsome and smarmy and arrogant sometimes… but amazing. I meant it. I see you, Astarion.”

His throat bobbed, then his gaze fell to the dirty, frumpy shirt they were lying on. As if realizing his position suddenly, he swore, jolting upright and turning his scarred back away.

“Damn it. I’m sorry. I truly didn’t mean for you to see that. You just…,” he sighed, “make it too easy to let my guard down.”

Tav pulled herself into a sitting position. “I don’t mind it, Astarion.” She cupped his cheek, directing his eyes to hers. “And, for whatever it’s worth… you’re beautiful. Unique. Something I want to spend a thousand nights mapping out.”

He smiled. “Then you’d be the first. And some horrible, selfish part of me wants you to be the last,” he admitted softly.

Tav leaned forward, wiping a droplet of her own blood from the corner of his mouth.

“I think I would join you in that eternity. We’ll find a way to make this work, if that’s what you want, too. I promise.”

“I… I believe you,” he breathed, pulling her into his arms.

“We should get back to camp. I’m sure tomorrow can’t wait to kick our asses again, and we both need rest.”

They dressed in silence, minus one boot that might have accidentally somehow ended up in the river. He apologized, but she could only laugh. He surprised her when he outstretched a hand. She took it as they strode silently back into camp.

With his tent just past hers, Astarion hesitated outside of her tent, lingering. Their hands stayed locked as he pressed his forehead to hers appreciatively. “Goodnight, you strange and wonderful thing,” he mused, smiling down at her.

It was a reach, but she couldn’t just let him walk away. It was some agonizing fear that if he left now, he would convince himself that this was all just for fun, that this was a distraction for both of them. “Stay,” she asked, searching his eyes.

“If I stay, the others-”

“I don’t care. Stay.”

Slowly, he nodded. “Alright.”

She fell asleep in the folds of his arms, not minding the dirty shirt he slept in. Hopefully he would ease about his back scars over time with her, reveal more of the history, but she was just content to be held by him tonight, and hopefully many nights after. And Astarion slept peacefully beside her for the first time in many long nights.

She woke to his gentle gaze roaming over her, taking in her face, her hair, her breathing. He adjusted as she stirred, almost apologetic.

“Good morning,” Tav murmured, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“Good morning. I apologize for staring, but… I wasn’t convinced it was real when I woke up this morning. I’m still not.”

Sleepily, she moved forward and pressed her lips softly to his.

He sighed, relief melting over him. “Thank Gods.”

Between his hands running through her hair and his adoring words, she drifted back into the daze between sleep and waking. Just resting her eyes a bit longer…

Except when she opened them again, Astarion was gone. The distinct voices of Gale and Shadowheart filtered through the tent walls. Camp was awake. Had he snuck out unnoticed, still embarrassed to be discovered? Her heart sank at the thought.

She left her tent, strolling into the center of camp where Gale was cooking breakfast over the fire and sitting on a cut log.

“Good morning,” Tav said, nodding towards Shadowheart who sat polishing pieces of her armor.

The cleric nodded. “Good morning.”

Gale nodded curtly. “Morning.”

She knew she was showing her hand too much, but worry ebbed into her veins. “Has anyone seen-”

“Your boot. Yes. Found it by the bank behind your tent, actually,” came his steady voice. Astarion waltz into camp, throwing the soggy leather boot down by the fire to dry. “It’s, eh- a bit damp. If it doesn’t dry well, we can visit a merchant in town, no doubt. Or check at the grove.”

Her relieved smile met his content one. “Good morning, darling. Sleep well?”

“You mean you actually got sleep last night?” Gale retorted, shooting Astarion an accusatory glance.

If at all possible, the elf paled, but a snarky grin masked it well. “What gave it away, Waterdeep? Her beautiful sounds, or the shirt I’m wearing? Had to wear the dirty one I bedded her on top of last night so as not to wear that bloody one that upsets you so.”

Gale stiffened, not expecting the crass admittance.

“But… yes,” Astarion said. “Tav and I are… trying this. And I don’t give a single damn what you think. All that matters,” he laced his fingers into hers, “is what she thinks. What I think.”

Shadowheart smiled. “If this is what you want,” she glanced at Tav, “ I’m happy for you.”

Tav nodded, lacing her fingers tighter into his. “It is.”

Gale nodded. “Seems like I’m on the unpopular opinion side of this debate. Which also means that I might have been wrong about you,” he said, locking eyes with Astarion. Astarion nodded, and the conversation ended. A quiet agreement of mutual respect.

Hours later, Tav ripped at the buttons of Astarions shirt, shoving it partly off his shoulders so she could roam her hands freely over his chest. Her tunic followed swiftly as he laid her onto his bedroll in his tent.

“Last night,” she gasped between kisses, “I told you- that I- wanted to explore you for a thousand nights. This is only two.”

“You’re foolish if you think I’m giving you up after the thousandth,” he rasped.

She laughed, falling into their passionate embrace.

#Astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #down by the river #larian studios #astarion x tav #bg3 smut #astarion smut #astarion spoilers #baldurs gate tav #bg3 tav #my tav

[vgperson]

What Did I Do In 2023?

Whatever I wanted, mostly.

----

As I mentioned last year, my site now has an RSS feed with basically everything I've done back to 2020, so this will mainly be going over the same stuff from that, just with added context.

In January, I finally sat down and properly realized an idea for a short story I'd had sitting around for a while: From the Sidelines, about a fantasy RPG expedition going sideways. I remain very proud of it in both concept and execution, and hope people read it.

In February, Your Turn To Die was released on Steam Early Access, receiving character profiles and some bonus mini-episodes, adding two more later in the year.

After finishing From the Sidelines, I carried that momentum to revisit my Ut0p1a story series about funny computer animals. I'd always meant to continue it - and conclude it - but hadn't been satisfied with the ideas I had for it until totally rethinking them this year. In March, I posted the remaining stories one after another: Right to Code and Left to Code. I'm very proud of these as well. Also in March, Kenshi Yonezu released LADY. (Video, interview)

In April, Uri released the Data Book of the Strange Men Series, a big collection of the writing she's done on the games in the series, with a lot of new parts as well, all translated by me.

Then in May... uh, well, let's see. In April, Capcom released the Mega Man Battle Network Legacy Collection. I always adored the Battle Network games, and was initially excited that they finally did the thing... but by the time it came out, I was pretty disappointed by how, while you certainly couldn't call them low-effort ports, the effort didn't extend everywhere I thought it should, with the biggest offenders being the total absence of any "convenience features" except Buster Max Mode, the bad font, and the almost entirely untouched translations.

So, I ended up deciding I might as well just replay the originals, and that was a fun time (aside from the parts that were bad). Doing this, I couldn't help but notice how... turbulent the translations were, even if I'd always known they were less than ideal. I mean, the first two games just used periods for ellipses despite the tight character limits, then in BN3 they had an ellipsis character... but it's center-aligned, Japanese-style? Aside from the intro, which has normal ones? Gosh, somebody should fix that - it's simple enough to find and edit in YY-CHR. "JapanMan" is silly, too - I wonder if anybody made a patch for that? Wait, what do you mean there's just a tool to extract and insert text in all the Battle Network games including the Legacy Collection???

Thus began a journey that sort of occupied the rest of my year. First I did the BN3 Translation Revision, trying not to worry too much about cross-referencing the Japanese text unless something seemed wrong, so that I didn't spend too long on the project. Then I began to consider BN2, with its unfortunate "foreigner" text that would need some more significant reworking. I established more convenient tools for comparing with the Japanese script, and thus did a much more thorough job with it, releasing the BN2 Translation Revision in June (AKA Princess Pride Month).

Finally, after giving myself time to recover and actually finish replaying the series, I knew what I had to do to close things out. With the BN4 Translation Revision, you can finally play Battle Network 4 with a translation that isn't such a mess. Whether you'd want to is for you to decide, though if you can get over the structure, I don't think it's the worst game in the series by any means. (Oh, and in December I also updated the BN3 Revision to 1.1, doing a thorough pass with the methods I'd honed. But I think I'm pretty much good on MMBN translations now.)

Anyway, backtracking to other things that happened during my Battle Network haze... June had Kenshi Yonezu's Moongazing (video, interview), and July had Globe (video, interview, interview).

Last but not least, released in November, I translated Refind Self: The Personality Test Game, a short game from Lizardry (creator of 7 Days to End with You) with a fun concept.

----

Obviously I was right to have said "no promises" last year. But really, Your Turn To Die should get its final part on Steam sometime next year, maybe even early-ish in it. That's certainly the goal.

I'm also hoping to buckle down and finish one of my own games, but as usual, who knows how that'll pan out. Letting my whims carry me this year let me finally finish From the Sidelines and Ut0p1a, which was great, and it also led me down a Battle Network rabbit hole, which was... fine, but definitely for a narrower audience. I'd always like to get back to more free game translations and the like, too, but it takes effort to find things I'd want to translate. For now, I think my increasing desire to be able to let loose some of these original games I've been planning, and the stories in them, might come out on top.

#vgperson

[merakiui]

That new Azul card…..you said ‘single dad on vacation’ vibe and I just wanted to say yessss!!! But also single dad! Azul that starts daydreaming about knocking up the cute little life guard he met.

Or oooor!!!! Maybe you’re a waitress at some restaurant he visits on the first night of vacation with his kids….you were so nice talking to his daughter so sweetly the whole night. Stopping by his table and (just doing you job-) flirting with him???? and now he can’t get you out of his head :(( going back almost every night for dinner just to see you. Just to keep feeding into his delusion that you might like him….even just a bit :(((

OOOOOO yes yes!!!! Maybe you work at the resort’s poolside bar and restaurant and so he sees you whenever he brings his kids to the pool or goes there for dinner. You’re so sweet and pretty, and by some miracle you wait on his table whenever he’s there. His kids adore you, excitedly babbling about what they did today or how they’re going to spend the day swimming and pretending they’re hunting for treasure in the pool’s deep end. You match their enthusiasm with genuine sweetness, smiling at them and wishing them luck on their treasure hunt. You also add in a teasing tone, “Make sure to give your dad a break every now and then,” and if that doesn’t knock Azul sideways it’s the way you wink at him that does. Perhaps you only meant it to be more friendly, but in Azul’s mind you were clearly flirting with him.

Azul isn’t a fool, but he is delusional (which is arguably worse) and so he likes to imagine he might have found love at this tropical resort. It feels dreamy, the type of thing that might happen in a novel or a film, but by the third night of vacation he can’t get you out of his mind. And when his kids are asleep, though the self-conscious part of him says you’re just being nice, he slips down to the bar in hopes of seeing you. Much to his fortunate luck, you’re working a night shift, mixing drinks and chatting with those sitting at the bar. You’re beautiful bathed in the glow from the colorful light strands hung around the bar. For a moment he could’ve mistaken you for a flashy fish attempting to lower his guard with a pretty, colorful display. He’s drawn in at once, taking a seat on the closest stool, and he watches you flit around.

God, what he’d give to be able to know just a little more. Enough to show you sides of himself. Enough to charm you. And you seem so tender and motherly when you interacted with his kids. Maybe you wouldn’t mind having a few of your own? Is marriage your thing? Or would you just prefer to call him your boyfriend and act like a married couple? Will you mind the fact that he has two little ones? Surely not, considering you seem to be a natural in dealing with children. You’d look cute pregnant; he’s certain of this. He can imagine it so vividly: you, so round and gravid at only seven months, waddling into the kitchen, hungry as anything, and he’s there preparing a big breakfast for you. And his kids are helping, insisting they do so because they want to “serve Mama a yummy meal like how she served us when we were on vacation.”

He’s pulled from his thoughts by your greeting: “Getting some much-needed solo time in?” He nods dumbly because you just have that effect, and you giggle and slide him a drinks menu. As he scans the list, you add in that teasing drawl, “The little guys wearing you down too much?”

Azul smiles and peers at you from over the menu. He matches your playful demeanor when he says, “I thought I’d sample the drinks on my own time. Without the kids, as one does.”

Oh, he’s a loser. The embarrassment claws at the back of his neck at once. Who says that? He should’ve just said yes. And why did he have to sound so business when he said it? Azul’s out of his element. Flirting isn’t really his forte, at least not when he’s faced with the object of his affections. But you don’t seem revolted. Rather, you tilt your head and smile, offering him some recommendations. He chooses one of your recommendations, trusting your tastes.

You delight in such wonderful conversation with him. At first it was about his vacation; how he’s liking the area, what he’s done, any notable things happen? He shares what sounds most captivating. You listen and nod along, only pausing to tend to another customer every now and then. But you always come back to him—always—and you tell him to continue his story and he does. You add some of your own commentary in when it’s necessary, and he doesn’t realize he’s been smiling so cheerfully until he’s paid and bid you farewell. He’s walking the path back to his hotel room, filled with fuzzy feelings and the warming tinge of alcohol, and he checks his reflection in his phone and—goodness, it’s late. He stayed until closing, didn’t he? But he’s smiling, and his face hurts because it’s the most he’s ever genuinely smiled before in a long time. And his pupils are dilated, nearly eclipsing his irises. He feels like a fool experiencing his first love.

He has a few days left of vacation. Surely he can charm you before he must return home with his kids. Surely… and if not, he recalls the Leeches have connections here. But that’s the last-ditch, desperate effort and he doesn’t intend to fall back on that. He can win your heart the sweet way. He’s determined!

#twisted chit chat #i need him so carnally #single father azul who hasn’t had sex in years and so he’s a little sloppy when he fucks you >:) #but it doesn’t matter because it’s the most sheet-gripping sex of your life and so you don’t even realize he seems rusty

[bultaoreunheyyy]

Airplane Germs

Title: Airplane Germs

Word Count: 2455

Summary: Jungkook travels from out of town via airplane to visit Yoongi and picks up a cold on his trip. 

Sickie: Jungkook

Caretaker: Yoongi

A/N: Platonic relationship (but you could definitely squint and make it romantic lol) and the sickie was chosen from this poll

Jungkook sets down his suitcase on the doormat and reaches for the doorknob, knowing it will be unlocked; but he’s careful this time, not barging in like he usually does. Instead, he very slowly opens the door, grabbing his suitcase and pulling it inside behind him as quickly as he can before shutting the door. 

A tiny ball of fluff comes barreling toward him, just a little too late to make its escape, and Jungkook chuckles as he crouches down. 

“Hello there!” He coos, scooping up the kitten and holding her to his chest. “You must be Nari. You’re a fast little one, aren’t you?” 

Nari digs her tiny claws into the front of his sweatshirt, her eyes going wide when she spots the drawstrings dangling down. She bats at one and the motion sends her sideways into Jungkook’s bicep. 

“Whoa,” he chuckles, squatting down so he can set her back on the floor. “Fast and fearless. I bet you get into all kinds of trouble around here, babygirl.”

“You have no idea,” comes a voice, and Yoongi rounds the corner with a smile on his face. “I haven’t slept a wink since I brought her home.” 

Jungkook stands up and grins, wrapping his arms around Yoongi as he leans in for a hug. “Hey!” He leans back, taking in his friend's appearance. “At least you don’t look sleep deprived,” he jokes. 

“Thanks,” Yoongi laughs. He pulls back further, holding Jungkook by the shoulders and studying his face with a frown. “You, on the other hand, look exhausted. How was the flight?”

Jungkook nods. “I’m so fucking tired. I think it’s been over twenty-four hours now since I last slept and I–” he breaks off suddenly, then tucks his face into the crook of his elbow with a sneeze that makes him bend forward at the waist like he’s bowing. When he straightens back up, he sniffles a few times. “Ugh. I think I’m coming down with a cold.” 

“Oh no,” Yoongi tuts. “Yeah, sounds like it. Come on, you can rest in my room for a bit before dinner.” 

Jungkook follows Yoongi down the hall and into the bedroom, Nari trailing close behind. He sits on the bed and cups his hands over his mouth and nose as he feels another sneeze building. Yoongi waits, watching as Jungkook blinks rapidly and then gasps loudly before sneezing three times in quick succession.

“Bless. Have you been sneezing like that all day?” 

“Just since I got off the plane,” Jungkook replies with a sniffle, his voice sounding a little congested and a little hoarse now. “I fucking hate airplane germs.”

Yoongi nods knowingly. “Yeah. I’ll go find some tissues.”

At his feet, Nari is playing with the shoelaces of his boots. He leans down to pet the kitten, who immediately abandons the shoelace and starts rubbing her face against his hand in a demand for more.

“Here you go,” Yoongi says as he comes back with a box of tissues, which Jungkook takes gratefully. “I’ll wake you up when dinner is ready, okay? And I’m taking Nari with me, or else you’re not going to be able to rest.” He scoops the kitten up and leaves, closing the door softly behind him. 

Jungkook takes a tissue and blows his nose and then lies down. As soon as his head hits the pillow, though, he feels wide awake, and he spends the next hour wiping at his running nose with tissues and fighting the growing ache behind his eyes, until finally he gives up and makes his way out to the kitchen.

Yoongi makes him a feast big enough to feed ten people, and Jungkook finds himself devouring half of it by himself. 

“That was the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” he moans, patting his stomach. “I’m so full.” 

“I really missed cooking for you,” Yoongi replies, grinning wide at the compliment. 

Jungkook looks over, feeling warm all over. “I really missed that too,” he says, and he leans closer to Yoongi, only to have to pull away a second later to sneeze. 

“Bless,”  Yoongi murmurs. “I think it’s safe to say you’ve definitely caught a cold. You should sleep in my bed tonight,” he says. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“It’s just a little cold,” Jungkook insists, even though he’s feeling worse as the night goes on. “I’m not taking your bed.” 

But Yoongi insists, and after they watch a movie on the couch together he tugs Jungkook up and guides him by the shoulders to his bedroom. “Sleep well,” he says, pulling Jungkook in for a hug before leaving to go set up his own makeshift bed on the couch.

When Jungkook wakes up the next morning, he’s so stuffed up that his nose hurts, and the space behind his eyes and his sinuses feels like they’re packed with cement. He eases himself out of bed and makes his way as quietly as he can to the bathroom, shivering as soon as his feet hit the floor, and he takes a hot shower to try to warm up and relieve some of the congestion, feeling dazed as he stands under the hot water. His chest feels tight and he coughs a few times, frowning in dismay at how much the action scrapes at his throat. 

When he’s done, he tiptoes out to the living room and sees that Yoongi is still asleep on the couch, so he goes back to the bedroom and climbs under the covers with the intention of sleeping for a bit longer. 

Suddenly, he feels something by his feet, and then there’s an uncomfortable pressure on his shins, and then oof–

“Hey!” Jungkook croaks, nearly breathless from Nari walking on his stomach. She pauses and stares up at him, giving a small mew before continuing her journey upward.

“Nari, ow. That hurts. You’re heavier than you look, and I have a cold– agh!” 

Nari settles herself on Jungkook’s chest, kneading at the shirt a few times before turning two circles and lying down. It does hurt, the pressure making it hard for Jungkook to breathe even without his cold, but as soon as Nari is settled she’s purring loudly and he doesn’t have the heart to continue his protests.

“Hey, babygirl,” he murmurs hoarsely. His chest burns when he inhales, his lungs unhappy with the added weight. He sighs and frees an arm from the blanket so he can reach up and scratch Nari on the top of her head. A cough works its way up his throat and he reluctantly lets it out, quickly cupping his hand over his mouth, and Nari tenses and digs her tiny claws into his chest when his whole body shakes from the motion.

“Nari, please,” he winces. Another small cough escapes and he clears his throat harshly in an attempt to combat the tickle in his throat. “Do you want to lie somewhere else instead, maybe?”

The tickle from his throat is slowly creeping up into his sinuses in a way that makes Jungkook shiver, so widespread and tingly that he can’t help the series of sniffles and throat clears that follow; Nari reacts accordingly, offended by the fact that he’s still making noise and still moving even though she’s made herself comfortable and is ready to settle down, and she lets out an annoyed meow.

“I know,” Jungkook rasps. He sniffs hard. Being on his back is undoing all the progress he’d made for his congestion in the hot shower. “I told you, I have a cold.” 

Now, he’s pouting a little, because even though he loves cuddling with Nari, his chest is hurting– both from the pressure of a cat squashing it and from the tiny little claw marks– and his nose is startling to itch, and his throat still has a dull ache, and his head is stuffed up and heavy. He’s glaring at Nari even though she’s just a tiny, innocent little kitten.

In short, he’s cranky, but it’s because he feels like shit. He’s allowed to be a little cranky.

Nari just stares at him for a moment before she resumes her purring, even louder this time, and slowly blinks her eyes. 

Jungkook sighs, and his nose twitches. Great. Now he feels like he has to sneeze. If a couple of coughs made Nari dig her claws into him, a sneeze will surely cause more damage and he’s not looking to get scratched up on top of being sick. 

He could call Yoongi to come get Nari off him. 

Or, he could stop himself from sneezing.

That’s how Yoongi finds him ten minutes later, mouth open and eyes streaming, nose pinched shut between his fingers as he tries desperately not to sneeze. 

“What are you doing?” Asks Yoongi softly from the doorway, and Jungkook almost, almost loses concentration, his breath hitching dangerously before he inhales sharply and clamps his mouth shut.

After several tense, agonizing seconds, Jungkook is able to open his mouth again to reply. “I’m…trying not to…to…”

Yoongi settles on the edge of the bed. “Just sneeze if you have to, Jungkookie. Don’t hurt yourself like that.” He reaches over and plucks a tissue out of the box on the nightstand, dangling in front of Jungkook’s face, but Jungkook shakes his head.

“Nari…she…” He blinks rapidly, trying to explain his dilemma but unable to get the words out as the sneeze continues to build.  

“So stubborn,” Yoongi murmurs, pulling his arm back but keeping the tissue in his hand. He reaches out with his other hand and rubs his thumb back and forth on the space between Nari’s ears. “Are you taking care of Kookie when he’s sick, pretty girl? Protecting him and comforting him with your pretty purrs? Hmm? Such a good girl, aren’t you?”

Jungkook’s hand that’s not pinching his nose suddenly flies up to his face, and Yoongi looks up just in time to see his eyes squeeze shut and his mouth open with a shaky inhale before he cups his hand over his still-pinched-closed nose and sneezes.

The sneeze sounds painful, a congested, fully stifled little thing that shakes Jungkook’s entire body from the force of it. Nari’s purrs die down and she opens her eyes, but she stays in her spot, seemingly unbothered by the sound or the movement. 

“Ow,” Jungkook breathes out, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“That was really fucking stupid, you know,” Yoongi scolds. “Why did you hold it in like that?”

Jungkook is barely listening. There’s a war happening inside of his head, the battle between the pounding headache drumming at his temples and the itchy, enraged irritation in his sinuses, and it takes every last ounce of composure he has to speak.

“T-t-tissue?”

He cracks one eye open to see Yoongi holding the tissue out to him once more, and his hand darts forward to grab it. As soon as he releases his grip on his nose, another sneeze barrels out of him. The next few sneezes are loud and come straight from his throat, but then the sneezes that follow are stuffy and halted, a congested result of holding them in. It takes an obscene amount of tissues to clean up the aftermath, and when he’s done, Jungkook’s cheeks are pink and his nose is red and chapped.

Nari, still perched on his chest, blinks at him indifferently. 

“See? Doesn’t it feel better to let them out?” Yoongi tuts, looking down at his friend. He brushes a strand of hair from Jungkook’s forehead, and then frowns, pressing his palm to his forehead with a soft gasp. 

“You have a fever,” Yoongi realizes. “No wonder you weren’t thinking straight.” 

Jungkook pouts. “I’m fine and I’ve been thinking just fine. I was just being considerate.” He turns his pout to Nari, who only purrs louder. 

“Jungkook,” he laughs. “She’s been hearing her Uncle Taehyung’s sneezes since day one. She barely reacted just now.” 

As if to prove Yoongi right, Nari nudges her head up under Jungkook’s chin and begins to purr again. 

“I’ll go see if I have any fever reducers. Hang tight.”

He goes in search of medicine, and Jungkook reaches up to pet Nari, his arm feeling heavy and weak. When Yoongi returns, he gives Jungkook two pills and a glass of water.

Yoongi sighs. “That medicine should help, hopefully. How are you feeling? Do you think you need anything else?”

“No, this is perfect. I’m mostly just sleepy,” Jungkook responds. “And my nose is itchy.” He sniffles, his sinuses already prickling with another impending sneeze. He hears Yoongi chuckle but he’s suddenly forced to give all of his attention to the tickle in his nose, and his hands come down to grip the blanket as if they have a mind of their own. For a moment, he’s caught up in the sensation of the building sneeze, only remembering that Nari on his chest and Yoongi is a few feet away right before it hits, and he’s grateful when he feels something soft pressed into his hand.

He brings the tissue up to his nose and unleashes a series of wet, awful sneezes. The pain in his head and in his throat amplify and when he’s done, he blinks through tears of irritation to see Nari’s wide eyes staring back at him.

“Sorry, little one,” he sniffles congestedly. “I guess I’m going to be doing a lot of that.” 

Yoongi hums and reaches out to rub Jungkook’s shoulder, brows furrowed in concern. “Bless. How did you get so sick so fast, hm?” 

“Airplane germs.” 

“Well, we’re canceling all of our plans today and staying in.”

Jungkook frowns. “What? No, we can’t do that. I don’t want to ruin all of our plans.” 

Yoongi tilts his head to one side. “Jungkookie,” he says softly. “Our plans aren’t anything special. I just wanted to hang out with you and show you around the city. We can see the city anytime.”   

“But you should at least go do something fun,” Jungkook counters. “I’ll stay here and cuddle with Nari.”  

“What’s more fun than spending the entire day cuddling with both of us?”

“Both of us?”

“Yeah. You think I’m going to let Nari have you all to herself? Scoot over.” 

Jungkook blinks a few times, tears welling up in his eyes as the realization that Yoongi is offering to stay in bed and cuddle with him sinks in. “You don’t have to,” he whispers, but he hurries to move over and make room for Yoongi. 

As Yoongi wraps Jungkook up in his arms, Jungkook sighs contentedly, knowing that even though he’s not feeling his best he still gets to spend the day with his favorite person in the whole world.

#bts sickfic #bts snz #sickfic #sick bts #sick jungkook #caretaker yoongi #bts hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #jungkook snz

[softagenda]

drunken dance (ais)

ais x reader(f) (mature)

alternate universe / dancer!mc / assassin au

originally posted on ao3

masterlist

Preview

His gaze soon returned to the prima, inspecting her with fresh eyes.

She was panting slightly, her face turned upward as her arms slowly dropped to her sides. Gold magic continued to exude from them, the fine mist now cloying and viscous, drooling from her veins like honey.

The prima then glanced up, searching for a moment before finding him in the crowd. She held his gaze for a moment, a flicker of something sharp awakening in those pretty eyes.

Ais tilted his head back, his mouth curling.

Interesting.

_________________________________________

The Red Banquet ebbed and flowed around you in a roiling, scarlet ocean of silk and sound. 

You watched over the early embers of the party as Eridia’s elite mingled, sparkling jewelry swinging as they danced, laughed, sneered, and drank themselves to oblivion. Soon the ceremonial dance would begin, and you would be called to the stage - for now you hid in the shadows and explored the palatial inner sanctum of the temple. 

“The night’s still young, yet some are already getting sloppy.” 

You glanced over your shoulder as Mhin approached, slinking through the shadows of the wall until they had reached your side. 

They were already dressed for the dance, in the ensemble that the troupe leader had painstakingly chosen for the occasion: the silk top hooked around their neck in a glittering chain of pearls, descending in a shimmering garnet swath to a matching band across the hem wrapped above their waist, the tiny beads bouncing against bare, pale skin. Two gossamer shawls hung from their arms, cinched at the shoulder, a golden cuff around the bicep, then once more at the wrist. Trousers of the same fabric billowed down their legs to golden anklets that sparkled and chimed with tiny bells.

Mhin moved silent as a ghost despite the jewelry dappled across their frame. A veil of silk hung across his nose and mouth, masking his expression.

“The more, the better,” you said. Drunk people were easier to manipulate.

They braced themselves on the banister, lilac eyes trailing over the crowd. “I always knew their kind never gave a fuck about the common folk, but this is… beyond even my imagination.” Their eyes narrowed on the massive fountains of white wine, tables full of enough fine food to feed ten times the guests present. “Throwing a party, wasting so much money and food, while hordes of Soulless terrorize the villages. Disgusting.”

You crossed your arms and leaned your hip against the pillar. “We’ll have to remember to circle back round to the kitchens after…” you trailed off, sharing a look. “With Leander’s help, we can haul back some of the food for the kids.”

Though the mask hid their expression, you could tell exactly how Mhin felt at the idea of eating the noble’s leftovers - in a word, homicidal - but the thought of Fenrir, Silvia, and the other troupe children stalled that infamously sharp tongue. 

“They would certainly appreciate it more than this lot,” Mhin scoffed. “I doubt a single one of these prissy noblewomen will eat much, even as their pig partners gorge themselves.”

Hoping to lighten the mood, you nudged them with your foot and smiled when they met your gaze. “Silvia would be beside herself at that mountain of fruit.” 

The corners of their eyes crinkled as a reluctant smile likely formed beneath the veil. “Huxtly would stick his whole head in the chocolate fountain. Make himself sick, probably.” 

“Fenrir could eat a whole one of those pheasants by himself.”

“If he could snag one before Yulia devoured them all.”

Grinning, you pushed off from the pillar and leaned on the banister next to them, your shoulders bumping. For a moment, you both enjoyed the idea, the banquet and all its glamor falling away amidst this pocket of peace. Your heart lurched wistfully in your chest. 

“Soon.” At their sideways glance, you continued in a hushed tone, “Soon we’ll be able to give them that. To see the look on their faces, when they have so much food they can’t possibly eat it all.”

Mhin stared for a long moment, before they sighed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. One wrong move, and our heads will stand on pikes outside the temple gates.”

You frowned. “We’ve swam through far more dangerous waters than this,” you said with a nod toward the party. 

“Don’t be flippant. Monsters roam these halls, the likes of which we’ve never seen.” Their hand reached out and grabbed your wrist, their words a fervent whisper. “Don’t trust anyone. Never let your guard down. 

You huffed and stood up, tugging your wrist back. “This isn’t my first performance, Mhin. Don’t you trust me to handle this?”

“You, I trust. Them… him ….” They shot a seering glare at the stage. An empty throne sat in prime of place, a behemoth crafted from snow white, glittering Abaranth silver. A priceless treasure, bought with the brutal culling of the Abaranth people. Mhin’s people. “Never.”

Seething hate burned in their eyes - an enmity born of extraordinary suffering and loss. They had never spoken in detail about the massacre of his village, but you had noticed the remnants of that pain all the time: in the way he gripped his dagger in his sleep, the way he flinched at a campfire that flamed too high, the viciously protective way he guarded you and the troupe members, especially the children.

You looked over the party again.

These people had rejoiced. They had clothed themselves in jewelry hewn from that purest silver and danced on the mountains of corpses they had wrought to attain it. Thousands killed to slake that insatiable lust.

All of it made possible by the god of this temple. 

The Vessel of the Seaspring and his army of Soulless.

“I’ll be careful,” you reassure them softly, your gaze on that empty throne. Determination to see this through burned white hot in your chest. You would succeed. And with this victory, the futures of so many would be saved. 

Spurred by that thought, you glanced at the entrance of the hall and immediately caught the eye of a man lingering in the doorway, his arms folded over his thick chest. Leander’s mouth lifted  into a smile, his chin jerking toward the interior. 

“Looks like it’s time to get dressed,” you murmured before rising and heading toward the staircase. After a moment, you felt the shift in air as Mhin caught up and walked at your side, their arm brushing against yours.

_____________________________________

Ais hated shit like this.

When he reluctantly strode out of the shrine gate and took his place on the thick cushions of the throne, the crowd of nobles cheered and toasted their glasses, spilling wine onto the floor. They didn’t seem bothered at all by his lack of response, too caught up in the drunken revelry to care if he watched them all with utmost apathy. 

With a pointed look at his man by the door, Ais enacted his plan to hurry along the events of the night and return to his rooms to laze about in solitude. Well, mostly solitude - he’d probably invite Princess to join him, maybe one of the dancers if they excited him.

Much as he’d like to, Ais couldn’t abstain from the entire banquet altogether - Ocudeus demanded his due from the horde of bloodthirsty humans - but he could decide how long and when. He figured, if he came for the dancing and ceremonial offerings, he’d at least be somewhat entertained and fed well.

Then, he could leave and sink into oblivion once more.

Chin propped on his palm, one leg thrown over the arm rest of the throne, Ais sat through two performances. The first was an instrumental ensemble with a variety of horns he’d never seen before. The second had dancers, but the kind that put on a theatrical performance, with exaggerated drama and a scene where one person was tragically killed by another. 

The crowd dabbed the corners of their eyes. 

Ais yawned. 

He’s contemplating the swirling red wine in his goblet, contemplating leaving early regardless of Ocudeus’ wrath, when the third performance swept into the room.

Near drowsing, he watched the dancers glide into position in the center of the room, draped in fluttering red robes and glittering pearls. A cluster of musicians set up close to the stage, their instruments polished and primed. He paused as a familiar face appeared just behind the musicians: short dark hair, emerald eye, a winsome smile on his handsome face. Leander.

Ais tilted his head, curiosity peaked. The mage rarely made an appearance in the palace of the Seaspring - before Ocudeus had swarmed his influence over the kingdom, Ais had been a frequent visitor at Leander’s pub. They used to be something close to friends.

Leander’s attention was riveted to the center of the hall. Ais followed his gaze.

The dancers had formed two rings around the stage, fixed in place with their arms out and curled artfully around them like the blooming petals of a flower. They waited, eyes bright and smiles hidden beneath silk veils, for the music to begin.

At the center of the formation was a single dancer - the prima. 

Even at a distance, she shone brighter than the rest. 

In addition to her ceremonial garb, she was draped in an additional robe, this one as delicate and transparent as sea foam and embroidered with the tiniest glittering gems that caught the light like a river of stars. Her long hair was swept high on her head and fixed with a crown: its frame comprised of curling, golden tendrils, cresting in the center around a massive garnet, each tentacle fixed with dangling pearls that danced with every turn of her head. The tail of her hair flowed to the small of her back, a long silky length that curled like rolling waves and gleamed under the torchlight around the hall. Her hands were the color of summer storms, in which rivers of gold branched across the dark sky.

A feast for the eyes.

Ais rose from his slouch and leaned forward on the throne. 

At some unspoken signal, the musicians began to play. An eerie, seductive melody began to fill the room, a string instrument singing through the sharp beats of a drum. The dancers began to turn in place, slow and winding, before curling toward the center and rolling together, their robes forming the waves of a shore. 

They twirled and writhed to the music, twining around each other, the two rings weaving together, separating, leaping around the floor as one. At their center the prima rose and fell with them, her lithe form undulating, each stroke of her arms through the air prompting an ensuing wave amongst the other dancers, as though she were the moon commanding the tides. 

The lethargic tempo gradually grew more passionate and alive. He’s reminded of the insidious curl of clouds that grew in strength and torrent, until a hurricane descended from the heavens - only this particular tempest, wrapped in red silk and gold, burned like an inferno. 

The prima leapt recklessly through the ranks of the other dancers, the glitter of her crown and robes parting the sea of fire like a lightning strike. At one point she danced to the front of the stage, as close to the throne as she could, and her gaze caught his over her veil.

Bright, burning eyes encircled by thick lashes and red paint. Pearls had been fixed in clusters around her temples, then scattered around her taut stomach and back, gleaming against her skin.  This close, he could watch the undulation of muscle and sinew in each curl of her body, each movement graceful, effortless, as smooth as the silk clinging to her frame. 

She spun back to the center of the formation as the music rose to a crescendo, her dancers all around twisting in a frenzy, and then lifted her arms. Every dancer but the prima paused, then fell to the ground like dolls whose strings had been cut.

The hair at the nape of his neck stood on end. 

The gold veins across her hands and forearms suddenly flared. An aura enveloped them, golden mist issuing from her skin, and then a single ball of light formed between her palms. 

Ais sat up as the ancient magic welled from within the dancer’s body. 

He tensed, claws gripping the armrests, as her hands molded the sphere of magic, radiating light like a miniature star, before twisting sharply. 

It burst across the air like a firework. Sparkling comets of magic flew through the air, delighting the crowd into shrieks and screams of delight. He flicked a finger as one shot toward him, redirecting it with ease, and watched as it merrily spun in the air before crashing into a statue and dissipating in a last, popping spark. 

Ais eased back onto the throne, surveying the crowd. The magic hadn’t harmed any of the humans, from what he could tell. They continued to clamor rapturously, some even chasing after the last few rays of magic and grasping with their hands to try and catch it. 

His gaze soon returned to the prima, inspecting her with fresh eyes. 

She was panting slightly, her face turned upward as her arms slowly dropped to her sides. Gold magic continued to exude from them, the fine mist now cloying and viscous, drooling from her veins like honey. 

Ancient magic presented amongst beings - humans and monsters alike - rarely but on the chance that it occurred, it did so in unique ways. He’d never seen magic quite like this, in all his centuries of existence. 

The prima then glanced up, searching for a moment before finding him in the crowd. She held his gaze for a moment, a flicker of something sharp awakening in those pretty eyes.

Ais tilted his head back, his mouth curling.

Interesting. 

_________________________________________________

When the servant had arrived at the guest quarters of the troupe with a summoning from the Vessel, he was met with little surprise or fanfare. 

Mhin had answered the door and, after a moment, nodded tersely. “She needs time to prepare. Wait out here.”

“The Vessel will not be kept wait - “ the servant tried to stop them, only to jump back as Mhin slammed the door in his face. 

Grimfaced, Mhin joined you in your corner of the dressing room. Fischa was dabbing the sweat from your body with a couple cotton pads, taking special care to refresh the makeup around your face and apply fresh glue to any pearls that slipped on your skin. “It worked.”

“Oh!” The other dancer gasped, her cheeks flushing, before she lunged for the box full of perfumes and essential oils. “How long does she have? Oh, but it’d be best if you could bathe - you can’t service the Vessel with a sweaty body. A wardrobe change, at the very least?” 

A nerve in Mhin’s clenched jaw jumped, but they said nothing as Fischa was soon joined by the other dancers, who dithered around you and argued how best to prepare you for a night with the temple god. 

After much debate, they bullied you into changing into a fresh ceremonial outfit - still vibrant red and accentuated by pearls and garnets, but clean, dry, and embroidered with gold sparrows and delicate blossoms. 

“Just a dab of this, and you’ll be ready to go!” Fischa beamed, her fingers dipping into a lotion compact. She rubbed circles into the crook of her neck and wrists, the scent of honey and clover brushing against your senses.

You wondered whether they would be as excited preparing you for a night with the Vessel, if they knew what you intended to do with it. Still, you would never return their kindness with anything less than gratitude. 

“Thank you, sisters,” you murmured, clasping her hands and offering a slightly wan smile. 

“You know, I can’t remember whether we’ve had a talk about… intimate relations,” Rukia chimed in, wrapping an arm through your elbow. “Have you been with a partner before?”

“Yes,” you said immediately, shutting down that frightening prospect before the other dancer got any further. “I’m aware.”

A series of knocks banged impatiently on the door to the quarters.

Fischa shared a look with Rukia when something seemed to occur to her. She hurried to a small dresser and dug around inside before returning with a small compact. She handed it to you with slightly pink cheeks. “Take this. Surely the Vessel won’t be… too passionate, but just in case.”

Confused, you opened the lid. A clear, viscous salve sat inside. You stared at it for a moment before her words sunk in. 

Your cheeks burned.

Clearing your throat, you screwed the lid back on with clumsy fingers and tucked the compact in your pocket. “Thanks, Fishca,” you said, avoiding everyone’s gaze and turning toward the door. 

Mhin grabbed your arm and pulled you to a stop just before the door. In their hand was a thin, ornate dagger, the blade purest white.

You tucked it within the folds of your pants, strapped to your hip with a leather belt. The drape of your robes should hide the slight bulge - it might cause a bit of trouble unsheathing the dagger, but you’d make it work. 

Mhin leaned close and murmured in your ear. “Don’t hesitate. If anything seems off, do whatever you have to to get the fuck out of there.” 

You nodded. 

“I’ll be nearby.” Their hand brushed across the bracelet at your wrist. It was enchanted with a spell that, when activated with magic, would signal the matching one on Mhin’s wrist to vibrate.

“If you need me.”

You nodded again, this time grabbing their hand and squeezing for a moment, before lifting your chin and striding toward the door. 

The harried servant, clearly both irritated and panicked to have been kept waiting, hustled you through the palace at fast as he could. 

Despite having an excellent sense of direction, you soon found yourself struggling to remember the turns you’d taken, as each hall looked identical with its blood red walls and black marble floors, when the servant guided you around one last corner that opened up to a larger room with a vaulted ceiling.

You paused on the threshold, sucking in a gasp. 

Amongst the luxurious velvet walls, the towering, worn mahogany doors set at the top of an equally ancient set of stairs looked unnatural. Around the circular room, grotesque statues lined the walls - no, not just statues.

Soulless.

Your stomach lurched. 

“Come, this way,” the servant ushered, hovering and gesturing insistently but apparently unwilling to touch you. “Please. He’s been waiting for so long now.”

You swallowed around a dry throat and followed on slightly shaking legs, your eyes darting around the room, trying to keep as many of the monsters in sight as possible. Still, even as you reached the bottom of the stairs, not a single Soulless had so much as twitched in your direction. 

Hell of an entrance. Literally.

“Up the stairs, through the doors. Go, go.”

You’d ascended halfway when you realized the servant hadn’t accompanied you. You looked over your shoulder. 

The servant was gone. 

Only the Soulless remained in the room. Where before they had remained as still and lifeless as statutes, now every red eye in the room opened and fixed upon you. 

Terror shot like fire through your body.

Sprinting up the steps, you burst through the old doors and slammed them shut behind you, your heart pounding in your head, your chest. 

Fighting to calm down, you forced your breath to slow and let your hands fall from their panicked barricade on the door. You sighed as your body cooled, a drop of sweat racing down your spine. Fischa’s anxious attempts to blot your sweat were all for nothing. 

Once your heart had stopped racing, other sounds began to filter into your senses. The soft whistle of a breeze through a cavern. Gentle, bubbling movement of still water. Groaning wood beneath your feet, the faint creaking of hanging metal.

Steeling yourself, you turned around and faced the inner sanctum of the Seaspring palace. 

__________________________________________________

She was a cautious thing, for sure.

From atop the rafters, Ais watched as the dancer took short, quiet steps further into the sanctum. 

She drew her robes closer, the chill of the room drawing goosebumps across the bare skin of her stomach and arms. She stopped at the edge of the water, taking in the vast temple encircled by the aging pier, the torii gate that towered above, the lanterns and talismans swinging idly amongst the mahogany pillars. Sweat cooled on her brow, her eyes bright and calculating. 

“Hello? Venerable One?” she called out into the room, her voice echoing to the depths of the cavern. 

He rolled his eyes at the title. The humans found something new to call him every decade or so, each more foolish than the last. 

She waited but, upon receiving no response, began exploring the left side of the pier. When she reached the tea pot and cushions, she hesitated before lifting the lid and peering inside. Searching for poison? Or just curious what the Vessel drinks?

Ais smirked as her nose crinkled. 

She stood up again and looked around. Her curiosity led her to the closest pillar, covered in white paper talismans. For several minutes, she read their contents, a furrow in her brow. 

“What would you wish for?” he asked.

The dancer jumped, her hand reaching instinctively to her hip as she searched for the voice. Soon, she looked upward, finding him amongst the rafters. Her eyes narrowed above the veil. 

“Your Excellency,” she demurred with a bow, even as her sharp eyes held fast on his form. 

He tilted his chin, resisting the urge to smile. “Answer.”

She considered him, that quick mind working behind those bright eyes, before she replied, “I would never dare to wish for anything, without a full understanding of the terms.”

Now, he smirked. “Smart.”

He could tell from the spark in her gaze that she held a sharp reply on the tip of her tongue but kept silent. “Speak freely,” he said, bracing his arm on his bent knee, a pipe hanging from his fingers. “I prefer honesty to pointless pleasantries.”

The dancer bowed her head in acknowledgement. “As Your Excellency wishes.” After a moment of silence, she asked, “For what reason has Your Excellency called for me?”

“Good question. Not sure yet.”

Her brow furrowed again. Her hands twisted in the silk, the many folds of her robes flowing over her arms. During the performance, the other dancers had reminded him of flowers, but she was too animated to remind him of such a staid thing. No, more than a flower, her movements - the way she dove and soared, leaped and tumbled through the air, reminded him of a sparrow flitting through the many bows and trees of a forest, carrying the light of the sun on her wings.

She looked around the room for a moment before turning back to the tea pot. “Shall I prepare a fresh pot then?” 

“No need.”

He watched as she moved to the tea pot and prepared to remove the leftover grinds, then hesitated. Where moments before the pot had stood cold and empty, a full, steaming pot of tea awaited her. Her gaze darted toward him in question.

Ais pulled from his pipe and said nothing, curious what she’d do.

After a moment’s deliberation, she lifted the handle and poured two servings into the nearby cups, her brow furrowing at the deep red color of the tea.

A short laugh escaped him.

Affecting an air both graceful and ever so slightly annoyed, she settled on a cushion and held her cup in hand, her nose poised over the steam as she tried to subtly smell the batch. 

“Is this wine?” she finally asked, after failing to place the flavor.

“Something like that.” 

He blew out two long furls of smoke from his nostrils before rising from the rafter and dropping down onto the pier beside her. She stiffened briefly but recovered well, her head dipping in a chime of clinking pearls and gold, as he approached and took the cushion opposite her. 

Ais leaned back on the pillar and whistled. 

Soon enough, the scratching of claws across the ancient wood grew closer until Princess turned the corner of the temple gate, her many tails wagging behind her, the handful of wet, amber eyes around her head rolling as they surveyed the room, the dancer, and himself. She trotted toward him, her snout prodding into the side of his face, before curling up at his hip.

Ais dropped a hand on her back, his fingers brushing her fur. 

The dancer had stiffened, her back ramrod straight, fear mixing in with the lovely scent of honey and spice around her. Bemusedly, he realized the addition didn’t put him off in the slightest.

After several moments, she relaxed again, hiding her eyes behind the thick rim of lashes. She lifted the cup to her mouth, took a delicate sip, and then set it back on the ground again. “How can I be of use to you, Your Excellency?”

“Use?” He took a long drink of his own cup and savored the burning down his throat. “What do you think?”

Ais watched the quicksilver calculation flash through her eyes. Then, her posture shifting, she seemed to settle into her determination. 

Her robes loosened, the sumptuous weight falling down around her elbows, pooling around her hips. The smooth skin of her shoulders were bared, her head tipping forward to allow her long hair to spill over them in soft curls. Her eyes narrowed again, not in calculation, but in sleepy, languorous seduction. 

Ais let his bent leg fall to the side, opening his lap. 

She took the invitation without hesitation, all curves and silk as she crawled across the distance and settled on top of him. This close, he could sense the brimming magic swimming in her veins, the golden branches across her hands and arms shining with power. 

Her hands smoothed across his chest, the tips of her fingers teasing beneath the folds of his clothes, before sliding around his shoulders and settling at the nape of his neck. She curled into him, those bright eyes inches from his own, the veil hanging between their mouths. 

He could sense her breath on the air, could taste it across his tongue. 

The smirk that spread across his face was an evil thing, even to his own mind, but still she did nothing as he tugged the edge of her veil from its fastenings and took her mouth.

______________________________________________

He kissed like a demon. 

His tongue invaded in a hot rush of teeth and breath, his mouth working with a fervor at complete odds with his attitude thus far. You’re swept in the tide, hands seeking purchase on his thick shoulders as his hot tongue found yours, each brush of rough wet muscle a torrent on your senses as you struggled to keep your wits about you. 

He tasted strangely spicy, the thick mulled wine from the teapot seeping across your palate. Each shallow swallow of the taste burned a line down your throat and settled in your stomach like whiskey.

Countless times, you’d lured targets just like this. Honeypot was something of a specialty, for all that you’d rarely engaged in true intimacy. You could separate the sensations from your head, your thoughts always focused on the mission, dissociating the physical from the mental. Missions just like this were a dime a dozen - entice, approach, distract, execute. Simple. Straightforward.

Nothing about this felt simple. Never before had the pleasure been this strong, this mind-numbingly good - never had it been this difficult to just think when a target laid hands on you.

Heat flooded your body, pooling in the pit of your stomach. When his hands braced your waist, scorching palms a brand on your skin, mischievous thumbs stroking along the dips and plateaus of your stomach, every nerve in your body seemed to perk up and come alive with tingling pleasure. 

You broke the clasp of his mouth, panting as his tongue swept across your lip. 

Red eyes bored into you, their weight intense and all-consuming. The Vessel pulled you against his chest, his hands guiding your hips down into the valley of his lap, and instinctively they began to grind against him, as though called to dance by a lewd melody you couldn’t hear. 

A stifled moan rose in your throat as the hard jut of him notched against your sensitive mound and rose to meet you, rubbing deep and slow against your clit through the perilously thin fabric. God, he’s big. You felt yourself growing wet, your arousal dampening the silk further, heightening each brutal brush against your folds.

Sweet, heady fog began to slip into your head, teased and tormented on the precipice of that perfect, elicit friction. 

The air between you felt cloying, humid and hot. You tossed your head back, fighting for breath and swallowing a moan as his eager mouth found your throat and proceeded to nip and suck. 

The mission. Don’t forget what you’re here for - oh fuck, that’s good . 

You struggled, searching your memories for the fuel to keep on trick. Mhin’s face, the glimpse of hollow grief on his face at the mention of his village. Fischa and Rukia. Huxtly, Fenrir, and Yulia, playing out in the fields around the tents, the breeze carrying their laughter.

Gritting your teeth, you dragged your hands from around his neck, down the firm planes of his chest and covered his where they sat on the curve of your waist and guided your hips in their lazy, exquisite dance against him. 

You held his wrists and drew him upward, until his palms smoothed over the bottom of your rib cage, his fingers teasing along the hem of your top, pearls on thin gold chains slipping over his knuckles. He took the invitation eagerly, roaming beneath the silk until his hands cupped your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples, testing the firm points as those terrible red eyes watched your face, devoured your flushed cheeks and hazy eyes. 

Your pleasure seemed to feed his and vice versa, a conduit forming as riotous heat and lust charged the air between you. 

Your hands left him to his devices, namely torturing you with flicks and pinches and hot handfuls of skin, and then returned to your waist, gripping your own hip bones as though bearing down on the thick ridge of his cock. Your right hand slipped within your pants and found the handle of the dagger. 

His tongue licked a hot swath up your neck, his mouth lingering by your ear, his breath puffing against your jaw. You turned and caught his mouth again, sucking his tongue inward, your head swimming even as you fought to think.

With a quick jerk, you pulled the dagger out of its sheath, cutting through the fabric of your pants, and lifted it into the air, poised above his neck. Your grip tightened, prepared to tilt and plunge the blade into his jugular, when - 

Your body froze. 

What - what’s happening . Every single nerve in your body continued to sing with pleasure, your mound aching like an open wound, your skin tingling with the heat radiating from his body and touch.

Your mouth gaped, paused in the middle of a deep kiss, as he sighed and leaned back, his gaze tracing the blush on your cheeks, the dawning horror in your eyes. His hand slipped out from your breast and cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip and dipping inside to tease your still tongue. 

“Should’ve known not to drink from my cup, sparrow,” the Vessel said, his red eyes narrowed in satisfaction, before inspecting the raised dagger with interest. “Looks sharp.”

Then he withdrew a couple inches, just enough to bring his face closer to the weapon. “Oh…?” He met your paralyzed gaze over the blade. “Abaranth steel?” He tilted his head thoughtfully before a smirk spread across bruised lips. “So it’s personal.”

You watched, terror quickly replacing the fading pleasure in your body, sucking the warmth from your veins until sweat lay cold and dry on your skin, your heart racing furiously.

The Vessel dragged his hand down your neck, across your shoulder and down your arm in a mocking caress, fingers cupping your elbow teasingly, before reaching the thick gold veins embedded in your skin. “Wanted a closer look at these, but… turns out there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

You fought against the unnatural paralysis with all your might, those same veins he traced with his thumb lighting up with stifled magic - but to no avail. His words bubbled to the surface of your panic. You glanced down at the mug you’d taken barely a sip of. 

The wine?

The Vessel hummed low in his throat, his gaze pausing on your face, before a slow smirk spread across his mouth. 

Checkmate, sparrow , he whispered, but not once had his lips moved to form the words.

Your heart pounded in your chest, panic building to a crescendo, your body vibrating as though struck by lightning. What is this? What did you do to me ? you thought feverishly. What did I drink ?

His scarlet eyes flared, their malevolent glow burning like banked embers in the gloom of the temple. Then, with a flick of his wrist, the tea pot’s lid spun off the frame and onto the ground nearby. He hooked his fingers over the rim and lifted the pot until the chamber was level with your eyes.

Thick, blood red water sloshed from within, dribbling down the side of the pot.

The same water that ebbed beneath the pier.

You stared, a scream echoing from the distance. 

Now , he mused, his voice almost bored even as it invaded your mind, let’s see what secrets you’ve got tucked away in this head of yours. 

_____________________________________

a/n: comments and likes are appreciated!

#ais reader fic #ais x reader #touchstarved fanfic #touchstarved reader fic #ais touchstarved #touchstarved #touchstarved imagines

[bijouxcarys]

𝐓𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐨 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 (𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧)

Masterlist

Robert Plant x fem!OC

Description: Sometimes the pain of what should have never been, opens your eyes to what can be.

Tags: @celestial-dragoness @whothefuckisanja @callmethehunter @ourshadowstallerthanoursoul @strsmn @firethatgrewsolow @chromations @brownskinsugarplum76 @angrychicksposts (if you'd like to be added, just let me know!)

Elena practically flew forwards, her hand only just managing to stop the rest of her from slamming into the dashboard. She blinked once and slowly looked to her right.

“Are you joking?” she asked monotonously. “What the fuck was that?!”

“Don’t blame me, blame the fucking pigeon on the road!” John pointed ahead of him, one hand gripping onto the steering wheel. Elena followed his pointed finger and sighed.

“Bon…” she began. “That’s a fucking badger.”

“Huh?” He squinted, struggling to see a thing through the persistent sun. “Gah!” he grunted, waving his hand relatively in the same direction of the sun as he started the car up again, continuing their drive. “El, will you pass me my sunnies from my bag?”

Elena looked at John as if he was speaking an unfounded language. “You’re such a diva now,” she huffed, but smirked to let him know she wasn’t serious. Though she was certain he knew her enough to know she could never be snarky to him. 

With an exaggerated sigh, she turned and stretched over in between the two car seats, reaching for John’s bag. She pulled it over to her and got to unzipping it, just as he made quite a sharp turn, causing her to fall sideways into him.

“My God, get your arse out of my face.”

“Stop making stupid driving decisions, then!”

“Why don’t you bloody drive? You’re old enough now.”

“I’ll end up killing someone, mate.” Elena rummaged through his bag, looking for his sunglasses. She snorted when she came across handfuls upon handfuls of spare drumsticks. “You got enough sticks in here, Bon-Bon?” she asked rhetorically, finally finding his sunglasses and retrieving them.

“Here y’are,” she plopped back down into the passenger seat, holding the shades out for John. 

“Cheers,” he thanked her, clumsily putting them on his face with one hand, poking his eye in the process. “We’re almost there, by the way.”

Elena nodded, taking in the more urban character of their surroundings. It was a contrast to where she and John had grown up and spent most of their time. Sure, they weren’t all the way out in the countryside, but everything was within walking distance from each other. The closer into Birmingham you got, the more bus stops and taxi ports came into view, and the more reclusive passers-by seemed to be.

John had learned the ins and outs of Birmingham for the most part, ever since he started to pursue drumming full time and had to make these journeys in and out of the city. His recent endeavour, a band eccentrically named Crawling King Snakes, had inspired new confidence in him. The colourful landscape of musicians he had come across had never been more vibrant than the one he found himself in the middle of now. More than anything, hope was peeking over the horizon.

“So, what should I expect from your new bandmates?” Elena asked, resting her legs on the dashboard and tracing her finger across the grooves on her brown corduroy trousers.

“Nothing too crazy. Expect a lot of Welsh from Dave. Paul’s quiet… Dunno, they’re just chilled out guys.” He shrugged.

“Not really giving too much away, are you?”

“They’re hard to describe, to be honest with you. You just have to meet them,” John chuckled. 

Elena left it at that and sat back, enjoying the rest of the car ride. The radio had treated them nicely that day, feeding them with the slick tunes of Little Richard and The Drifters, to Elvis and The Everly Brothers. All music the two friends enjoyed throughout the years. Elena had taken a recent interest in The Rolling Stones, a sharp turn from what she was used to listening to. Growing up, she found her place in the Blues, and Soul. She could listen to the likes of Ella Fitzgerald and Nat King Cole for hours and never tire of their silky vocals; the pure emotion and heart that went into each stave and syllable rang deep within her, and she felt every word like kitten kisses upon her ears. 

Since John decided to become a full-time drummer, she’d been exposed to a wider variety of music that seeped from the essence of da blues to form a complete musical revolution that had quickly grown on her. The first time she heard the Stones was during her late night shift at work. Minimal pay for a 17-year-old, but the pub’s great company and tunes cancelled out the meesely wage. Satisfaction stuck with her all night. I can’t get no…neh neh neh nene neh neh… All. Night. 

The flood gates were swung open once she stepped foot into the record shop in search of more Stones. That’s when she first came across Bay City Rollers, Cream, The Yardbirds… it was a whole different world and Elena hoped with her entire being that there would be more of it to come—that it wasn’t a mere diversion in the chaotic lineage of music evolution.

Bag over his shoulder, John led Elena inside the building, where Crawling King Snakes had booked out a small space for a couple of hours in exchange for £100. Dave was somewhat peeved that they had to spend that much on a couple of hours, but was easily convinced nonetheless. 

“Ayy, there he is!” Paul exclaimed, raising his arms in the air as he spotted John at the door with his female companion.

“Ayy, y’alright, mate?” John greeted him with a manly hug, slapping each other’s backs in the process. It amused Elena greatly when she witnessed John in the presence of other guys; his entire demeanour toughened and he gave the facade of a sharp-tongued lad’s lad. Yes, he had it in him. But the correlation between that and his surroundings was too coincidental for it not to be causational.

The room really was small for a jamming session. Four yellow strip lights hung above, and the carpet was worn and colourless, as though waiting to be quenched by the kaleidoscopic symphonies of talented musicians. 

“Dave, get your arse over ‘ere,” Paul waved his hand over to the other male in the room, long-haired and lost in thought with a blue bass guitar slung over his shoulder. 

“El,” John began, slinging his arm around Elena and bringing her beside him. “This is Paul Martinez and Dave Edmunds—guitar and bass. They’re mental. Beware.”

Elena laughed and shook her head, holding out her hand to greet the two men politely. They reciprocated the greeting with friendly smiles, one accompanied by a cigarette hanging from his lips.

“This is Elena. She’s my best friend, partner in crime, and primary critic. If anyone knows what sounds good, it’s this girl, here,” he proudly introduced with a squeeze of her shoulders against him. 

“Good to meet you,” Paul said through the muffle of his cigarette. 

“Right, El, I need to set up properly, you’re alright just hanging about, yeah?” John checked, putting his bag down on a nearby chair. 

“Mhm,” Elena nodded with a smile. “I’ll be here.” She watched as John made his way over to the drum riser to get to work on tightening the drum skins and double checking placements.

With her arms folded comfortably, she took a small step backwards, only to collide with something, or someone, coming through the door behind her. She turned her head and moved out of the way immediately. “Oh, sorry…” she instinctively apologised before looking up at the person in question. 

“Nah, yer alright, luv, I was just gunna skim past you.”

Her chestnut eyes fell in line with two striking orbs of blue—expressive and welcoming. He had thick, curly hair that traced the fine line of dirty blonde. It looked like it could easily switch up in the glare of the sun, with how delicate it seemed. It fell into strong sideburns that stopped just short of his chin, framing a dimpled grin that dismissed her apology.

“Ah, Bobby!” Paul called in the midst of lighting a cigarette. The blonde grunted and looked over at him with a dissatisfied glare.

“Will you stop calling me that?”

“Bobby Bobby Bobby Bobbehhhh,” John joined in, in a crouched position by one of the snares. With a boisterous laugh, he popped his head up, gesturing a drumstick at Elena. “Elena, Robert, Robert, Elena.”

Robert’s brows lifted in realisation, a smile once again taking over his features as he turned back to Elena with his hand held out. “Ah, you’re the one he’s been talkin’ about, then.” Clasping his hand in hers, he leaned in to give her a welcoming peck on the cheek, as he did with all the women he came across.

“Great to know he’s been talking about me,” Elena responded loud enough for the drummer to hear, earning a distracted middle finger from him in retaliation.

“Oh, he’s mentioned you a fair bit, yeah,” Robert nodded.

“That’s disconcerting…”

“No, all good things, luv, don’t worry.” Robert waved his hand in dismissal. 

They naturally drifted further into the room as everyone hooked themselves up to the few amps they had lying around. Robert was itching to get started. He’d been looking for other strong musicians with a similar zest for life to jive with for a while, and hoped that Crawling King Snakes could at the very least lead to something magnificent. It made him all the more nervous to test out new material, though, now that he had an audience. Not just any audience, either. The presence of John’s female companion, who Robert wasn’t blind enough to recognise as physically stunning. 

Even though this was simply an opportunity to jam and test out different sounds, he knew he had to get it right. Whatever it was. Early on, he learned that leaving a not-so-impactful impression on the ladies was the last thing anyone should do when performing. It would be a notch on his ego, an ego he was subconsciously trying to craft around the slightly sensitive, yet lively, 18-year-old boy that he was.

Little did he know he had already made a lasting impression, simply by the way he greeted Elena at the door. There was something extremely European about his way of saying ‘hello,’ in a sense that it held the weight of a respectful, gallant gentleman. To Elena, that was extremely comforting and unique; exactly the kind of person she’d enjoy surrounding herself with.

The way he chose to dress himself… wow. She’d very rarely seen men adorn their bodies with such delicate material, bohemian and Eastern-inspired all at once. If there was one thing Robert was, it was remarkable, exceptional… abnormal—everything the world was missing but didn’t know it needed. And that was just by the way he dressed.

It was fair to say Elena’s interest in this eccentric boy was piqued.

Incidentally, the feeling was mutual. Robert was instantly caught up in the way her deep brown hair fell in natural waves down her back, tamed, yet allowed to sway freely with every movement she made. And her eyes, fuck, they were so big and captivating. He’d already picked up on her accent, always one to take note of such things. Alluring, unapologetically informal. So care-free. He only hoped that his first impressions of her were accurate. It would be a shame to see something so beautiful turn out to be the complete opposite.

“Bonzo’s a great drummer, isn’t he?”

Elena, leaning against the wall with her hands behind her back, cocked her head in Robert’s direction. “Bonzo?”

“John.” He nodded his head towards him.

“He’s a fantastic drummer. Always thought that of him.” Elena’s voice was soft as she admired him from afar. 

“How long have you two been together?”

The brunette had to steal a minute to confirm she had heard correctly. She had paused amid her smile in John’s direction. “Who?” she checked, glancing at Robert.

“You and John.”

“Oh God, no,” she was quick to shake her head, face falling flat. “No, no…”

Robert’s light smile fell slightly, and a soft shade of pink infiltrated his cheeks. “No?”

“Yeah, no.”

“No, what?”

“We aren’t together,” she insisted with a gesturing finger between herself and her best friend. “Hasn’t he told you he’s married?”

Robert’s eyebrows scrunched up, sending a curious glance over at John. “It’s never come up in conversation, I guess.”

“It was recent, to be fair.” Elena watched Robert’s analytical observation. “He’s got a one-month old son, as well.”

“Well, shit,” Robert breathed, running a hand over his face. “Sorry, I just assumed ‘cause of how close you two seem to be…” Behind the comfort of his hand, he scrunched up his face in embarrassment and shook his head. “Fuckin’ Bonzo…” he muttered. Crawling King Snakes hadn’t been together for longer than a couple of months, and none of the eight sessions they'd had thus far consisted of private-life talk. Each of them were too preoccupied with the music and forming a cohesive combination of personalities to delve into the lives of one another.

Elena’s swift dismissal may have translated as abrasive, and she became quickly aware of that as soon as Robert hid his face behind his hand, inaudibly scolding himself. She didn’t jump to reassure him, however. His sensitivity to the smallest misunderstanding was captivating. Rare. There was no need to maintain emphasis on something that clearly left him unwillingly flustered.

So, she changed the topic, focusing on the nickname Robert had used twice now.

“You call him Bonzo?” Elena smiled, not only at the name, but the way it sounded on a Black Country tongue. 

“Yeah, well,” Robert chuckled, showing an off-centre slant in his smile that emphasised the dimple on his right cheek. “He was insistent on calling me Bobby, so I thought I’d call him something that would piss him off even more, but…” He shook his head, watching his bandmate test out each drum to perfection. “He actually didn’t mind it, so it’s stuck.”

“Bonzo…” Elena tested the name in her own mouth, the cadence different in her Lancashire drawl. “It fits him, dunnit?” She said through a grin. “I’ve always called him Bon-Bon.”

“Like the sweet?” Robert looked down at her, resting his hand on the wall beside her head casually, the small blip in their conversation fading into obscurity.

She nodded, still looking at John. “Mhm. It was actually an accident,” she pointed out, glancing at Robert. “I guess I struggled to say ‘Bonham’ when I was 4.”

“Blimey, you’ve known him for that long?”

Elena turned her head to him fully, her mouth dropping open a bit. “Alright, calm down, how old do you think I am?”

“I-I didn’t mean it as in ‘you’re old’!” Robert laughed. “You can’t be much older than us!”

“I’m actually younger than John by a year, so…”

“Well, I’m younger than him by a few months.” 

“So, there you go, I’m not old.”

“Listen, luv, I was simply shocked by how long you’ve known him,” Robert incessantly defended himself, much to Elena’s amusement. She smiled at him, looking back at John.

“Nah, I bloody wish I was older.”

“And why’s that?”

“Can’t drink yet, can I?” She gave Robert a pointed look.

“That’s right, you can’t.” He feigned distress, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “The struggles of being 17 in England.”

“Oh, I know, it’s torture,” she played along, resting her head back against the wall.

He smirked. “So, you’re a drinker, then, eh?”

“Well…” she shrugged, “A bit, yeah. I work in a pub as a waitress, so sometimes I can have half a pint at the end of the shift if there aren’t that many people in. Which hardly ever happens.” She rolled her eyes.

“I’ve only recently turned 18, so I’m still trying to get used to buying alcohol in the shops without worrying about being caught,” Robert chided. “What pub d’you work in?”

“The George Inn. It’s like slam in between here and up in Walsall.”

“I see…” Robert nodded, chewing his lip in thought.

“That being said, I want to move a bit closer to here, eventually. Not entirely in the city centre, though, I like the countryside a bit too much.”

Robert just smiled as she spoke. He took in every piece of information, enjoying the way she’d speak in her hometown slang every now and then. She definitely spoke a lot, but Robert didn’t mind. He admired it.

“Like, closer to the city, but not completely in the city… d’ya get what I mean?” She looked up at Robert, completely unashamed of her rambling. 

“I get what you mean, luv,” he reassured.

“I know this might be weird, but I just love being surrounded by nature. It’s how I grew up—how both of us grew up,” she gestured between herself and John, who was almost done. “And I have a thing for plants. Being in the city doesn’t really reward you with that stuff, does it?”

Elena watched as Robert’s smile widened, seemingly proud of himself. She raised an eyebrow. “What’s that look for?”

“You have a thing for plants?” he asked.

“Alright, I know it’s a bit… nerdy, or whatever, but yeah, I do. I like the smell of them when you’ve just watered them, and the reflections they make when the sun hits them in the right spot. They brighten up a room. There’s just something… comforting about them.”

“You really don’t need to defend yourself, Elena.” She liked the way he said her name. It was almost like he was testing it out for the first time. “I’m a bit like that with nature. My parents used to take me over to Wales every year on holiday, and we’d stay right in the heart of nature. Right on the coast. It was great.” He folded his arms, glancing over at John. “Aren’t you bloody done, yet?”

“You’re the one yappin’ on over there ‘bout God knows what, don’t have a chomp at Bonz!” Dave scolded, punctuated with a funky run of notes from his bass.

“Oh, shit,” Robert snorted, his face flushing where his sideburns faded out into a light beard. “Guess that’s me cue,” he said to Elena, a small boost of confidence overtaking him in the dawn of stepping in front of a band. “Oh, by the way, my last name is Plant. And I’ve been known to brighten up any room,” he teased with a boyish wink.

Elena couldn’t help but grin, as much as she tried to resist looking silly, as she watched him walk up to the mic stand.

If Robert didn’t feel some kind of pressure before, he certainly did now. He’d just bigged himself up in the most pretentious way possible, in his mind, by using his name. His bloody name! If he could, he would have slapped himself, right in the face. As he stood there, right in between his bandmates and the inquisitive gaze of Elena, he felt it brewing in the pit of his stomach. A certain drive. A metaphorical shove to let go. To show off. To submerge himself in the euphoria he called music. To do everything he’d admired his idols for for so long now. 

In this moment, he finally caught the essence by a fleeting blink of an eye, and he grasped it as firmly as he did the microphone, determined to never let it go.

Unsure of what she was expecting from the seemingly delicate, unruly-haired, sapphire-eyed young man in front of her, Elena sat on the edge of her seat as Robert exorcised such visceral sounds from his mouth. Unlike anything she’d ever heard. She watched as he got completely lost in the rhythm, shaking his curls around in time with each riff. 

The perfect combination of what she’d grown up on and what she’d recently ventured into.

It left her speechless; a big deal for someone like Elena, who rarely managed to keep her mouth shut. She had to distract herself, keep herself from acting like a babbling idiot before Robert even thought about asking her for feedback. So, whilst Robert helped John with some wires at the end of their session, Elena struck up a conversation with Paul, eager to know about his influences. But as much as she tried to focus on what Paul was saying, her eyes betrayed her mind, and made brief but definite glances at the singer on the drum-riser.

Robert bit onto his tongue as he concentrated on winding up one of the wires that had previously been connected to his microphone. John was busy complaining about how they had to make sure they left the room the way they found it, despite the state they found it in. They’d be blamed for it either way. Young, aspiring musicians were blamed for everything these days.

He made sure to nod along, but stayed entirely fascinated by Elena, making hidden glances over at her as she chatted with Paul. Her hair that struck him upon impact now became an accomplice to the rest of her; the two hours he’d been in her presence was enough for him to know he wanted to see more. He wanted to know her, learn from her. 

“Uh, Bonz’,” he interrupted John’s rant. He took another moment to succumb to the temptation Elena unknowingly laid out for him, her own cheeks adorned with faint dimples when she laughed. Finally able to tear his eyes from her, he looked at John. “Is, uh…” He nodded his head in the relative direction of Elena. “Is Elena gunna be around a lot, d’you think?” He tried to make his inquisition as casual as possible, nonchalantly hanging the wire in his hands up on one of the hooks behind the drumset. 

Whilst John Bonham enjoyed his off-peak ramblings, he wasn’t naive, and he most certainly wasn’t an idiot. This wasn’t the first time another guy had come up to him with a question about his childhood best friend, wondering if she was single, if they were a couple, or anything of that nature. It wasn’t a common occurrence, but it happened enough for him to recognise that tone and look in the eye of any man who asked about a woman with an underlying interest in getting to know her. 

He stood from his seat, stretching his back out with an exaggerated groan to cover up the smirk on his face. “If she’s not working, I should imagine she’ll be around us a lot,” he responded, watching intently at Robert’s reaction. But Robert knew he was being watched, and tilted his head in an attempt to cover his expressions with the curls atop his head. This’d be fuckin’ easier if my hair was long…

“You don’t have an issue with her bein’ around, do you?”

“No,” Robert answered immediately, lifting his head up to meet amused eyes. “Just… it was just a question,” he sighed, giving up as Elena appeared at the bottom of the drum-riser, smiling at John.

“Yep, almost done, El,” he responded to a silent question he knew she was about to ask. “What time you s’pposed to start your shift?”

“Five,” she answered, folding her arms and sending a comfortable smile over to Robert.

“What’d’ya think?” Robert asked, jumping down from the riser.

Elena’s smile widened, but her response was cut off before she could even begin.

“What do you mean, ‘what’d’ya think’?” John chuckled. “El loves anything I do, isn’t that right?”

“‘Ar Bon-Bon is clearly very modest,” Elena teased, sending John a wry grin before turning her attention back to Robert. She considered him for a second, the earlier elation settled in her chest for now, and she was able to respond with a coherent elegance. “Not bad, Plant.”

Robert answered with an equally elegant nod of appreciation.

“Right, all done, love,” John huffed, joining them. “Ready to go?” he asked Elena. She nodded with a hum of approval. “Same time next week, yeah?” John turned to Robert, offering a manly hug once again, which consisted of a half-hug and a slap on the back. Receiving confirmation, John fished out his cigarettes in preparation for the ride to Elena’s work.

Before leaving, Robert made sure to give Elena another gallant kiss on the cheek, letting her know it was nice to meet her. She responded in kind, giving his arm a small squeeze in the process.

And as he watched the dynamic duo leave, Robert found himself already restless for next week’s session, where he’d hopefully get to see Elena again.

#robert plant #robert plant x reader #robert plant fanfic #robert plant fanfiction #led zeppelin #led zeppelin fanfic #led zeppelin fanfiction #rock music #fanfiction #fanfic #request #70s #1970s #classic rock #writing #writers #writer #fiction #fanfic writer #short story #fanfic writing #bijouxcaryslibrary #fanfics #multichapter #60s #Spotify

[injoontz]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐝 ━ 𝐧.𝐣𝐦 & 𝐡.𝐫𝐣

pairing. na jaemin x fem!oc x huang renjun starring. na jaemin, seo iseol (oc) featuring.  huang renjun genre. vampire au // love triangle warnings. alcohol, smoking, making out, feeding word count. 1.9k

synopsis. in which iseul wants to get back at huang renjun ↳ jaemin!vampire x oc!human x renjun!vampire

Iseul leaned back onto the couch as her heavy body finally gave in to the weed. The couch sunk perfectly under her, easing her body and baiting her to close her eyes to sleep. Despite that, she wanted to stay awake and relish in the lightweight feeling she got from being high.

She felt like she was present at the party but also found herself staring off dreamily into the rowdy bodies. The music boomed through the whole house but it only added to the relaxing feeling Iseul felt. 

The coach sunk as someone sat down next to her and she felt their arm drop over her shoulder.

Methodically, Iseul looked over with relaxed eyes to see Jaemin smiling brightly at her.

“You look high as fuck,” he laughed.

Iseul smiled gently, “How have you been?” she leaned in a bit, the soft feeling of his shirt contrasting with his hard body. She could feel his muscles tense and relax whenever he moved. 

“I was just with Garam,” Jaemin said, pointing across the living room to a girl that was dancing freely. “She was nice, not really my type though.”

Iseul hummed, her eyes leaving Jaemin and drifting across the party. 

“How so?” she asked as her eyes fell on a couple. She quickly forced her eyes to look away.

“She said that she likes me,” Jaemin replied easily, “But she said it was because I was attractive because I was a vampire,”

“And you didn’t like that,” Iseul finished for him, “Because Na Jaemin doesn’t care about silly things like appearance,” she turned and flashed a bright smile at him.

Jaemin’s eyes widened a bit at the pretty girl resting on him. He let out a light chuckle, “I care about appearances, but I don’t think that’s why you should like someone,”

“Ugh, you’re too sober,” Iseul complained and passed him the cup in her hand, “Here, I don’t feel like drinking tonight,”

Jaemin took her cup and tipped the content back. Immediately he grimaced as the bitter alcohol burned his throat, “Fucking hate alcohol,” he grumbled.

“You still drank it,” Iseul pointed out, her head suddenly feeling heavy and dropping onto Jaemin. The sedating feeling Iseul felt from being high took over her whole body. Jaemin’s warm body baited her in and she pushed her cheek into his chest.

“You’re warm,” she said, “It’s weird,”

“Why?” Jaemin asked.

“You’re usually cold,” Iseul replied.

“I’m hot because it’s hot in here,” Jaemin chuckled.

Iseul hummed but didn’t reply. Her eyes had landed on the couple from earlier. She felt bitterness toward the two but could only watch resentfully as Renjun’s hand snaked around Yihwa’s waist. Yihwa’s hand went up and gently rubbed Renjun’s shoulder and then rested on his chest.

“Hey,” Jaemin said sitting up a bit and making the girl adjust her position to sit properly.

Iseul stared down her nose at Renjun and Yihwa. Jaemin’s eyes drifted over as well and he couldn’t help but let out a scoff. Leaning closer to Iseul, his arm wrapped around her a bit tighter.

“Wanna leave?” he asked, a suggestive tone to his voice.

Iseul glanced sideways at Jaemin, a glimmer in his eyes as his lips turned up into a smirk. Iseul turned her gaze back to Renjun and found that he was staring right at her. Their eyes locked and Iseul refused to back down.

“What so you can feed on me?” Iseul asked in a soft voice to Jaemin.

Jaemin glanced at Renjun, noticing how his eyes bore into the two. Smirking, Jaemin leaned in closer to Iseul, his teeth nipping gently at her ear making a tingly feeling rush through Iseul. “If you let me,” Jaemin replied, his hot breath tickling Iseul’s ear.

With a final look at Renjun, Iseul turned to Jaemin and nodded. Wanting to get on Renjun’s nerves more, she leaned closer to Jaemin and gently placed a kiss on his lips. Jaemin stared back at her with calm eyes before they flashed red and he stood up.

Holding Iseul’s hand, the two left the living room of the party and made their way up the stairs of the house. Iseul followed Jaemin slipping through masses of sweaty bodies. She tried her best to walk in a straight line but the drugs she smoked earlier made her feel off balanced.

“Hold onto me,” Jaemin said when he noticed her stumble. Iseul nodded and wrapped an arm around Jaemin’s and continued to follow him until they finally found an empty room.

The moment the door closed behind them, his arms were around her. They wrapped around her body from the back, hard and strong yet they held her delicately. Iseul had never experienced anything like it before and she felt herself sink into his body wanting more.

Then his lips were on her neck. First gentle, light feathery kisses that trailed down to the base of her neck. His hands gently ran up her arms and then held firmly onto her waist. With his head still buried into her neck, he spun her around slowly.

Iseul immediately dropped her head into his hair, the fresh scent of his cologne and shampoo drowned out the smell of sweaty bodies and beer. Jaemin’s hand found the roots of her hair and gently pulled her head back across his arm.

When his eyes met hers, she found that they were glowing brilliantly red, like the color of rubies. His lips were gently parted as he stared at her fluttering eyes. Standing up fully, Jaemin towered over Iseul and only when she had her back pressed against the wall did she realize how her stomach swirled with butterflies.

Her eyes fluttered shut as Jaemin leaned down and connected their lips. He kissed softly at first like he was testing the waters. He would gently press into the kiss and then pull away.

Iseul’s hands ran up to his light brown hair, tugging gently which earned a gentle moan from Jaemin. Hearing the sound leave his lips, Iseul felt her knees go weak and she dropped one of her hands to brace against the wall. 

Jaemin groaned and quickly hooked his arms around Iseul. Understanding, she gave a small jump and Jaemin quickly hoisted her up and against the wall. Iseul let out a gasp from the impact but it was cut short as Jaemin demanded for her lips. 

The sudden intensity made Iseul’s stomach tense and cling to him as he suddenly became the only solid thing in her dizzy world. The lack of oxygen mixed with the light-headed high she felt made Iseul weak and give in to the kiss.

His insistent lips parted her lips sending wild tremors across her entire body. The taste of his lips was slightly sweet as he gently bit at her bottom lip. His hands ran up her shirt, grabbing at the back of her bra for support.

Without warning, Jaemin pulled Iseul from the wall and took a few stumbling steps back until his legs hit the bed. Iseul felt herself fall forward onto Jaemin as he landed on the bed, but she never broke away from their kiss.

Jaemin pulled back from Iseul and she leaned back trying to catch her breath. She licked her lips, staring down at Jaemin. From where he lay under her, Jaemin’s eyes traveled down her face to where her legs straddled his hips.

“Fuck it,” Iseul heard him mutter under his breath and if possible his red eyes flashed brightly in intensity. 

His hands grabbed at her waist and yanked her off of him. Iseul’s back slammed back into the wall and she let out a pained gasp as Jaemin’s strong hands dug into her hips.

Iseul couldn’t help but let out a gentle laugh at Jaemin’s desperation. “You want it that badly?” she asked, her voice low.

Jaemin’s jaw clenched and his grip loosened on her. He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it on the ground somewhere beside him. “Get on the bed,” his voice was demanding but also tender.

Iseul’s eyes didn’t leave Jaemin as she slowly made her way over. Climbing onto the bed on all fours, Iseul gasped as she suddenly felt Jaemin grab her. She felt herself get thrown and Iseul landed softly on the bed with Jaemin’s face hovering over hers. Iseul stared back at him, taking in the situation before a bright smirk appeared on her face.

“Am I that addictive?” Iseul asked.

“You have no idea,” Jaemin’s voice came out barely in a whisper. He dipped his head down, his lips against her cheeks. They barely brushed her cheek but the light touch was enough to send shivers that made her whole body tremble.

“If you want to back out, tell me now,” he whispered.

When Iseul said nothing, Jaemin gently placed a kiss against her jaw.

“Or now,” his breath tickled her neck.

He traced the line of her collarbone with his lips before moving back up to her face.

“Or–“

Iseul reached up and pulled him down to her. The rest of his words died on his lips as they locked with Iseul’s. He groaned softly, low in his throat before his lips left hers and drifted to her neck.

His lips found their spot on her neck and Iseul could only let out a soft gasp as he kissed her there. Her hands flew to his hair, holding tightly as he continued to kiss and bite at her exposed neck.

When Jaemin finally pulled away, his hot breath fanned against Iseul’s neck. She let out a soft whine at the sudden lack of his presence.

“Last chance,” he said leaning back, Iseul’s hands falling from his hair.

Instead of saying anything Iseul only tilted her head to the other side revealing the side of her neck that wasn’t marked with kisses. Jaemin’s hand gently brushed against her neck to move away any stray strands of hair.

Iseul watched as his half-lidded eyes stared down at her neck, his fangs poking out from his slightly parted lips. Jaemin dipped his head toward her neck and she felt him smirk against her.

The sudden wave of pain that came from Jaemin latching onto her neck made Iseul cry out in pain. Her hands grabbed at his back, her nails digging into his skin. Jaemin hissed at the pain but went right back to drinking Iseul’s blood moments later.

Iseul grimaced as she felt her energy start to diminish. Her eyes fluttered, fighting the urge to close her eyes to sleep as Jaemin continued to feed off of her. Iseul’s tight grip on Jaemin’s started to grow weak and Jaemin pulled away.

His lips were tinted red from her blood and his red eyes glowed brightly from drinking blood. Iseul grabbed Jaemin’s hand, suddenly panicked at how she felt herself slipping into black. Jaemin held her hand as well and gently pressed a kiss to it. 

“You’re okay,” he said softly, leaning down and placing a kiss on Iseul’s temple, “I’ll be here to watch over you, just rest,”

Iseul let out a gentle whimper before she relaxed into the bed and drifted off to sleep.

©injoontz 2024

#najaemin #jaemin #na jaemin #renjun #huangrenjun #huang renjun #nct #nctdream #nct dream #nct127 #nct 127 #parkjisung #leejeno #marklee #leehaechan #leedonghyuck #zhongchenle

[thepenultimateword]

hii ! thank you for blog ! if you are able to could you please write another continuation to the strong f!villain and weak m!hero ??

Sorry this took sooooo long!

Part One, Part Two

When Sidekick opened his eyes, he had no idea where he was.

For a long time, all he could do was stare, cheek pressed into the soft couch cushion, at the crooked picture frame on the wall, a pressed sunflower that tipped sideways in his vision.

He flicked his eyes around, trying to pick up clues, but not one part of this place seemed familiar. As he tried to make sense of that, in as unpanicked a fashion as he could muster, the faint scent of smoke licked the air. That was never a good sign.

He shot upright, immediately sending a stab of pain into both temples.

"Aaaagh," he hissed, gripping his head even as he swung his legs over the couch and forced himself into a stumbly stand. He stared down at himself as he rose, still the same shirt and sweater from last night, though considerably more rumpled.

Wait. The date. How did they end the date? The last thing he remembered was the panic in his belly and the merciless burn of rum sliding down his throat.

Wait. Did that mean--

"Morning, sunshine."

Sidekick spun a little too wide, nearly toppling straight into Villain and her plate of... well-done eggs and bacon.

Her hand came out and steadied him before he could really properly fall. For a moment he stood in an awkward tilt, staring directly into her molten eyes.

"Villain!" he yelped, leaping back from the touch on his chest. "This is your...? W-what am I...?"

"You made a scene and passed out," Villain said. "I didn't know where you lived."

Sidekick swallowed, a hot lump of humiliation settling in their gut. "Oh."

She shrugged, bare muscles flexing out from under her sage, drop shoulder yoga shirt.

Sidekick’s face twitched involuntarily.

Villain sat on the edge of the couch and offered the plate out to him. “Breakfast?”

He didn’t move. “W-was I really drunk?”

Villain shrugged and stabbed the forks into a few of the browned eggs herself. "I carried you all the way. I had to take a subway and everything. You threw up on just before our stop.”

That would explain the sour taste in his mouth.

Sidekick’s hands flew over his face, warmth bombarding him from hair roots to toe tips. “I'm sorry..."

Strong fingers gripped his shoulder, dragging him back down to the couch cushions. The springs creaked as Villain shifted, her overpowering presence almost palpable at his side. Sidekick peeked between his fingers, finding her kneeling almost directly over him.

He shrank against the couch back.

“Eat,” she said, holding the fork up to his mouth.

Sidekick numbly obeyed. He didn’t realize until he’d already taken the bite that he probably could have taken the fork into his own hand. Villain looked satisfied, however, promptly scooping another bite.

The eggs were cheesy and smoky, to a point Sidekick couldn’t tell if he liked them or not. Some bits were soft and only a little brown and others he had to fight the urge to scrunch his face at the bitter char.

“Y-you’re not mad?” he dared ask between swallows.

“Oh, I’m mad,” she said, eyes flashing. The tenderness dropped away in turn for the predatory violence beneath. Though, it didn’t show in her actions as she cut the bacon into smaller sections with the edge of the fork and began feeding him that too.

Even so, a few tears stung the corners of Sidekick eyes. “I’m sorry,” he repeated pathetically and quickly wiped away they wetness with the back of his hand. “Sorry, I promise I’m not trying to be the victim or guilt you or anything. You have a right to be mad. Y-you can yell at me if you want, and I’ll listen and—“ More tears burbled over the brims of his eyes “—I’ll try to stop crying. I’m sorry.”

“You can cry,” Villain said.

Sidekick sniffled. “Huh?”

“You can cry if you’re upset. Why would I be mad at you for that?”

Sidekick rubbed their eyes a little harder. “I’ve been told…I cry too conveniently. Like I…I have a method behind it to get out of things when I’m wrong.”

“Do you?”

“I-I don’t think so. I just cry too much…”

“Seems subjective.” Villain set the plate on the floor, still a few bacon pieces on the side, and thumbed the left over tears from his eyes. Why were her hands so ridiculously strong? It felt like she could crush his skull if she increased the pressure just little more.

“I’m not going to yell you either,” she continued. “Let’s just talk, hm? What happened last night?”

Was this really happening? Was Villain of all people asking for his side of the story? Did she really care to hear it? She didn’t want to crush him to bug paste for embarrassing her and ruining her evening? Was this even actually villain? Maybe she just looked like her? No, that steely look in her eyes was definitely her.

"I just don't..." Was he really going to admit the amount of baggage that came with him? He still didn't know exactly what his feelings were for Villain, but if he wanted any sort of relationship with her, he doubted admitting the full extent of his pitifulness was the way to get it. But he also doubted he could lie with her staring at him so hard. She would definitely see right through him. "I don't usually go out... Without a mask that is. Nothing civilian. I have...um...some personal stuff, and I guess I freaked out. And I didn't want you to know what a loser I am and regret going, so I just pretended I was fine and knew what I was doing until... Well, until I couldn't pretend anymore."

Too much. He'd said too much. She was going to get mad at him for blabbering so much. She didn't care about his issues; she just wanted an explanation!

"You'd never been to the Tilted Anchor have you?" Villain said.

"No... Hero just mentioned it once. I guess because it was bad." He ducked his face into his palms and curled in against his knees. "I'm sorry."

Warm fingers traced his back. "It's fine."

Sidekick stiffened. They wanted to believe the surprising sincerity in her tone, but in their experience forgiveness was rarely so easy. "No, it's not."

A pause.

"You're right."

Sidekick's heart sank all the way to their queasy stomach, but Villain's fingers didn't quit making shapes in their sweater.

"Obviously it was terrible, and obviously I'm upset. You know, I had a whole date planned before we even met up?"

Sidekick jolted out of her hand cover, "What?"

"Yeah, and I really thought about it. We were going to go to this cute cafe I found and get drinks and cookies and then I going to walk you to this park that's covered in string lights year round. There's this one spot in particular where the roses hang over this bower thing." Her hand lifted just long enough to make an awkward square shape motion. "And it's all really romantic. I always thought if I ever went on a date that would be a good spot-- Well, anyway, it was a good plan and you bowled over it."

"I'm sor--" Sidekick started.

"But," Villain cut him short, "it's not like you did it on purpose. Even if I didn't know about your...mask thing, I could have gathered civilian identities might be too much for a first date. I could have said something too. I guess I was also nervous about what you thought."

Sidekick's eyes widened. Villain nervous? Over him? Impossible. She called him bug and melted him into pudding; she wasn't made of the same stuff that gave people feelings so mundane as fear.

"And you're not a loser," she added quickly.

Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

Sidekick's heart picked up speed. She understood. She understood, and she forgave him, and she didn't think he was pathetic. And yes, she probably just didn't know how annoying and silly he was yet, but it still made his insides all warm and pleasant feeling.

Perhaps he stared in shock a little too long because she continued, just a hint of her cool exterior chipping away.

"Point is, It's not fine, but it's not the end of the world either."

"Does that mean...we could have a redo?"

Villain paused, steel eyes flaying him down to the wick of his intentions. Finally, she nodded. "A redo would be nice."

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees s @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi i @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin @ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted @saspas-corner @echoednonny @perilous-dreamer mer @blood-enthusiast @randomfixation @alexkolaxe @pksnowie @blessupblessup @wolfeyedwitch @thedeepvoidinmyheart @cornflower-cowboy @bestblob @a-chaotic-gremlin @espresso-depresso-system @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @paleassprince @takingawildbreath @yindo @psychiclibrariesquotestoad @harpycartoons @pickleking8 @urmyhopeeee

#Methinks Sidekick needs therapy #villain is secretly very wholesome #hero x villain #sidekick x villain #strong lady x weak guy #female villain #hero x villain community #sidekick #villain #creative writing #writing snippet

[bite-sized-devil]

A cupcake for his cupcake 🧁

Happy birthday my beautiful Yan! Hope you have the best day darling, you deserve only the best things 🌻 💕 @crazyyanderefangirlfan

Beel has been planning this for months now, it shouldn't be this hard. Making cupcakes for your birthday sounded simple enough. Boy was he wrong! He thought he could get away with one trial run, but it had been such a disaster that he decided he'd need heaps more.

The cupcakes always turned out perfect, fluffy, moist, and with the perfect amount of frosting. It was him that was the problem, he always ends up demolishing them as soon as they were finished. He'd even tried making more so that he could eat some and then have some left for you. But the ones he made just for him ended up having the opposite affect, they were like a gate-way drug. He couldn't get enough of those little cake shaped bits of heaven.

Every dream he's had this month has involved cupcakes. The better ones also featured you; you as a cupcake, you eating cupcakes, you naked with cupcakes, you feeding him cupcakes. Honestly, if he were anyone else he would be sick to death of them. The closer it got to your birthday the more you featured in his cupcake fuelled dreams.

This is the day, FINALLY, your birthday. It needs to be perfect. He wants to see the look of pure pleasure on your beautiful face as you bite into the vanilla flavoured dessert. A foodgasim caused by food that he prepared. That's all he wants. That and any left over cupcakes you don't want, he'll definitely want those too.

So far everything is going off without a hitch. He's made enough cupcakes to fill in the heart shape he's creating. Not a single cupcake has been popped into his mouth, he made sure to fill up on food and snacks before he started. Now to do the frosting; he's chosen your favourite colours; blue, green and purple. They remind him of a cute mermaid he saw once while he was helping Levi clean barnacles off of Lotan. She wasn't nearly as cute as you though, his lovely, funny, gorgeous and charming sweetheart. No one could ever compare.

Almost finished, just one last part to finish.... Oops! He's squeezed the pipping bag to hard and it's exploded all over him. Some lands just above his lip and on reflex his tongue darts out to lick it into his mouth. As soon as his taste buds register the sweet taste his nostrils flare and his eyes go wide. More, need more he thinks to himself before ripping the piping bag open and bringing it to his mouth. Devouring every little bit he can.

Your POV:

You've been looking for the big guy all morning, kind of bummed that you didn't get to wake up in his strong arms. Maybe get some sweet good morning kisses, instead you rolled over to find a cute pink heart shaped post-it note, no doubt stolen from Asmo, that said "Happy Birthday Beautiful, I'll come find you shortly. Love you cupcake."

You pull out the note again as you think of it, swiping your thumb over the written out pet name he uses for you. It brings a sweet little smile to your lips, thinking about him trying to be as quiet as possible writing it out and placing it beside you as you slept. Ugh! Where is he? You NEED to kiss him.

Rounding the corner in the hallway you walk past the open door to the kitchen. You freeze in your tracks, glancing sideways you see your boyfriend stuffing his face with some sort of cake and a torn piping bag stuck to his shirt.

"Beel?" You say question softly. A hand coming up to stifle your giggles when you see him abruptly stop and turn towards you.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I ruined your surprise." His words come out a bit muffled because of the cake he's still eating but you hear the sorrow in his voice and the sadness in his eyes has you walking across the room towards him.

"It's ok!" You reassure him immediately. You pull the pipping bag off his shirt and let it fall to the ground. "What was the surprise? Because finding you in the kitchen like this is quite a surprise." You laugh while pressing your hand to the side of his face, trying to brighten his mood.

"Don't laugh.. I was making you some cupcakes for your birthday... And I, I got carried away when I accidentally tasted the frosting. I'm so sorry." Wrapping his arm around your waist he pulls you close so youry flush up against his solid chest. His big pink and violet eyes still so full of guilt, looking into yours.

"Aww pumpkin, don't look so sad. It's really the thought that counts to me." You caress his jaw before using your fingers to wipe some frosting off his top lip and bring it to your lips to taste.

"Ohh ... Mmmmmmhhhn." You can't help but moan a little at the taste, closing your eyes as you do, getting a little lost in the flavour. It's perfectly sweet with hints of vanilla, melting instantly on to your tongue.

Coming back from your little experience you open your eyes to find Beel smiling brightly down at you. He moves his big hands up your body to cup your face.

"You like it?" He's almost vibrating with happiness as he asks. You nodd enthusiastically up at him matching his bright smile with your own.

Leaning down he kisses you, taking your breath away with the sweetness of the frosting still lingering on his lips. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug, making him open wider letting you slide your tongue into his mouth. Swallowing all of his delicious groans.

His hands leave your face in favour of roaming your body, grabbing your ass with one hand and slipping under your shirt to rest a hand on your stomach with the other.

You squeal when he grabs your ass roughly, and he takes that opportunity to claim your jaw and neck for his own. Kissing sweetly down your jaw, then sucking and nipping at your neck. Your breathy moans turn to needy whines when the hand that was on your stomach slips under your bra and rolls your hardened nipple between his fingers.

"Beeeeeeeel." You whine between pants.

"Yeah, Cupcake? You need something?" He asks between kisses, his voice is low and laced with desire.

"You, please... I neeeeed you." You whine again and he answers with a growl. You're pressed so close to him you can feel it vibrating through his chest.

He picks you up with out warning and throws you over his shoulder with ease. You squeal his name when he smacks you on the ass while he walks to the door.

"Calm down cupcake. We're going back to your room so I can show you what else I've got planned for your birthday."

Botched cupcake making completely forgotten, he's got other plans for you now, much funer plans that involve two people. And then later he can give your the charm necklace he had made for you.

A delicate gold chain with a cupcake pendant that is bewitched to change colour to match your different outfits. He has had it engraved on the back: "Yours for all eternity - Beel"

I rather enjoying being your ☠️ anon! I'm sorry its over but I'm glad I got to spoil you a little for your birthday 😘💕🎉

#a very happy obey me birthday 🎂 #obey me! #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me fandom #om! #om! shall we date #obey me mc #om! mc #obey me beelzebub #beelzebub x reader #beelzebub obey me #obey me beel #obey me! beel #obey me! beelzebub #om! beel #om! beelzebub #obey me fanfic #saadie's fics 🌻

[twoidiotwriters1]

Daughter of Olympus (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: Yes it took 30 chapters but most times it takes BOOKS, only veterans know how much I'm spoiling you with Leara -Danny Words: 2,401 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter / Next Chapter Listen to: 'this is what falling in love feels like' -by Marina Lin

XXXI: In My Defense, I Was Left Unsupervised

After our fiasco with the bronze dragon, Percy gets a date with Annabeth, and Beck gets one with Silena, so they win in the end. Wonderful.

Since Lily's never going to ask Connor and Connor's never going to ask Lily, Travis and I make sure that they end up sitting together anyway. Travis shares his blanket with Katie and I'm sharing mine with... no one. But I'm content this way. 

Lily and Connor look at us with panic without realizing that the other is doing the same. "Good job, Birdy!" Travis murmurs as he walks past me. We high-five.

A couple of minutes before the fireworks start, everyone is in their place looking happy. Except me. I had to give up my dragon, it doesn't seem fair. I could bring him back to normal, I just hope Beck keeps his promise.

"Hi," Michael sits down beside me, I move so he can fit better. "I heard you had a crazy adventure as soon I left you unsupervised."

"Yeah, yeah," I sigh. "I could've gotten someone hurt, I was foolish..."

"I want to know if you're okay," he frowns. "I'm not always a jerk, Ara."

"Sorry—it's just... if I don't go back for it, the myrmekes will take it. And you wanna know the worst part? Percy, Annabeth, Charles, and Silena are acting like it doesn't matter!"

Mike laughs. "They can't help it, bug. Love makes you stupid."

"Have you ever fallen in love?

I realize too late I don't want to hear his answer, but Mike responds to my question right away.

"Nah," he rubs the back of his neck and scrunches up his nose. "I'm always thinking about you and your training, leaves me no time for romance."

"What?" I yelp. "Are you saying it's my fault you're single?"

"No!" Mike laughs again, hugging me sideways. A green glow coats his skin. "Look, crushes are weird, but one day you'll understand. You know, it's odd that it hasn't happened yet—you're a weird Aphrodite... a good weird, though."

Our soul lights don't match, but I'm sure I like him, so I'm confused. Am I wrong for feeling this way about him? Maybe. I never cared much about romance until now. Love is one of the best things in the world, obviously, but falling in love? It makes you witless... And yet, I'm looking at Michael like he's the nicest sunset I've ever seen.

I get this feeling that just screams "To Hades with it!" and I give my friend a fleeting peck on the lips. Mike's face turns bright red and I look away, feeling like you could boil an egg over my cheeks. 

After a long moment of silence, I gather enough courage and glance at Michael: he's looking at the fireworks with a dreamy smile on his face. 

"Ara..." He speaks after a minute.

I answer quietly, trying not to flinch. "Yes?"

"Happy Birthday." 

He plants a kiss on my temple and places one arm around my shoulders. I forget all the bad things happening around us. I'm blissfully happy, and fourteen years old.

Before she can celebrate Lily's birthday, Ara has to make sure everything's under control. She tells Jason to gather the Hephaestus kids so they can stabilize the engine, then look for Chiron so he can take away the crazy nymphs.

The girl is thinking of leaving when Jake lets her know Leo is awake. She blushes so much that Jake thinks she's coming down with some kind of fever, but she lies saying Hephaestus's blessing is draining her.

Ara's no coward... but she is a coward. She stays away from Leo, he's too tired to be looking for her anyway. Chiron and Argus arrive a few minutes later to take away the cage Leo built.

"Oh, them again," the centaur scowls. "Hello, Babette." 

"We will destroy you! We will dance with you, feed you yummy appetizers, party with you until the wee hours, and rip you to pieces!"

"Uh-huh," Chiron turns to Ara and her friends. "Well done, you four. The last time these girls came looking for Dionysus, they caused quite a nuisance. You caught them before they could get out of hand. Dionysus will be pleased they've been captured." 

"So they do annoy him?" Leo asks. 

"Absolutely. Mr. D despises his fan club almost as much as he despises demigods." 

"We are not a fan club! We are his followers, his chosen, his special ones!"

"Uh-huh."

"So... Dionysus wouldn't have minded if we had to destroy them?" Piper asks.

"Oh, no, he would mind! They're still his followers, even if he hates them. If you hurt them, Dionysus would be forced to drive you insane or kill you. Probably both. So well done. Same plan as last time?"

Argus nods and signals a camper to get closer with a forklift, so they can carry the cage away.

"What will you do with them?" Jason asks.

"We'll send them to a place where they feel at home. We'll load them on a bus to Atlantic City." 

"Doesn't that place have enough problems?" 

"Not to worry. The Maenads will get the partying out of their systems very quickly. They'll wear themselves out and fade away until next year. They always seem to show up around the holidays. Quite annoying."

Ara may be imagining things, but Leo seems to be getting closer every time she gets distracted. She turns around as Chiron and Argus walk away, barely reaching the entrance when a hand wraps around her wrist and stops her.

"You know," Leo says, "sometimes I hallucinate when I'm sleep-deprived, but I'm pretty sure you kissed me right before I fainted."

Ara scowls at the hand that's holding her in place. "Can we talk outside?"

"Only if you promise not to run away while I'm not looking."

"I promise."

Lily Saggio runs into them. Travis and Connor are right behind her. 

"What the Tartarus happened?! You were supposed to just take a walk!"

"I took a walk," Ara replies calmly. "I also ran a bit."

Lily raises a brow. Leo moves his hand away from Ara's wrist fearing Lily will cut it off. "Are you really okay, Ara?"

"Yeah," she replies, trying to look as relaxed as possible.

"We can still celebrate, then?"

Ara glances at Leo, but she nods. "Right. Yes." 

She joins her friends and waves at Leo, their eyes linger on each other before Ara turns and follows Lily back to camp. "So... talking in percentages," Lily continues once it's safe. "How much of your delay was Valdez's fault?"

Ara rolls her eyes. "I'd say maybe five percent. We would've finished in less than an hour if the nymphs hadn't shown up..."

"What were you doing?"

Ara knows Leo can't manage Lily's distrust, she's not the best at making people feel good after they've made a mistake under her watchful eye. "The nymphs stole the syncopators, we had to trap them to get them back," Ara lies. "Pollo was a great help. Where is he?"

"Nico took him away," Connor explains. "To feed him."

"And who told him he's allowed to take Pollo just like that?"

"Stop it, Ara," Lily scolds her. "He gave back your T-Rex."

Ara mumbles a couple of insults but she gives in. She considers telling Lily about the kiss, but she needs to clear things up with Leo first, this cannot be another Mike situation.

Lily's birthdays are always fun. It's the one night they're allowed to stay up way after curfew. Ara's got no curfew nowadays, but she still goes to bed at the same time as the others... most days, anyway.

The whole time the campfire is taking place, she wishes she could just talk to Leo. Every time she looks at him, he's looking back. Once she's had enough of this stupid longing, she gives Lily one last hug and says goodnight to the rest of the group.

Ara has barely gotten to the porch when she hears someone approaching. The girl immediately starts glowing, and she feels the silly urge to fix her clothes and brush her hair. Leo climbs up the steps with a strange look in his eyes, almost like he's scared. Ara decides to wait for him to reach her and then guides him to the swing at the very end of the porch.

"I just noticed," Leo clears his throat. "You got a haircut."

Ara glows brighter. "Yeah, cut it to shoulder length so it's easier to handle."

"Makes you look taller," he sits down next to her. "So... call me crazy, but when someone rejects you—"

"I didn't reject you."

"Oh, my bad," Leo replies sarcastically. "That's obviously the key to our misunderstanding."

Ara sighs. "I should explain..."

"Por favor y gracias," he leans back on the swing.

"I got Hephaestus's blessing thanks to you," Ara has to be brave, her mothers would hate it if she threw away her chance to be happy. "I felt like kissing you, so I did it. It was wrong."

Leo's soul light goes out instantly. "What?"

"That's not how I wanted it to happen," Ara makes a face. "I always act on impulse. I hate it."

"What are you—"

"I like you, okay? And I..." Ara blushes. "Oh gods, should I be telling you this? You're confused and I don't want you to—"

"If I ask you out right now, will you say yes?" He interrupts her, his gaze eager and attentive.

"Leo, that's not the point. You don't understand—I... I don't..." she covers her face in mortification. "I don't like what love does to me."

He gently places a hand on her knee. "I know you've had a... rough life, to put it lightly. But I'm not going to hurt you..." He pauses. "That's what scares you, right?"

Ara shakes my head, still not looking up. "It's the other way around. Being excellent at what I've decided to do doesn't come naturally to me—I thought it would get easier with time, but the challenges keep growing... and this is just another thing I'll fail to do properly."

The Fates know that if there is someone on Earth who's done his best to stay away from people, that's Leo, but he can't do that with Ara. It's like a loose screw that he keeps turning, thinking it'll eventually slip out, but it's only tightening more in place.

"So what if you can't be perfect at it?" It annoys him that a person as loving as her can't get any comfort in life, he wants to make it better. "It doesn't mean you can't have it with someone who truly cares about you."

Ara looks up pouting. "You're being so serious it's scary."

"I can be serious when I want to," he smiles a little. "But I could try and make the truth sound funny so it doesn't scare you. I really want you to like me as much as I like you, Ara."

"I like you," she admits bashfully, looking at her feet. "I'm crazy about you... it's so uncomfortable."

"Really?" Leo's heart is pounding on his chest, he's making a huge effort not to set the swing on fire. "Was it my amazing personality?"

"And your eyes," Ara speaks quieter, eyes fixed on her shoes.

"What about my hair?"

"Could look better without all the grease," she teases him.

"Hey!" He pouts. "A good mechanic gets dirty, sorry if that makes me unattractive."

"I never said that," Ara chuckles and looks up at last. One of her hands reaches up and gently brushes his curls back. "Don't put words in my mouth, Valdez."

Leo leans into her palm beaming. Finally, he's on the receiving end of her loving touch. 

Ara's gaze fills with worry after a second. "I really don't know what I'm doing most of the time, Leo. I'm not being humble."

"And what makes you think I've got a clue?" He raises a brow. "I just got here half a month ago... by comparison, you're pretty much the high-level expert."

"And yet it feels like you've always been around," she hums, cupping his cheek. "You won't take a no for an answer, right?"

Her voice has an encouraging tone, like she wants him to reject this idea... So he does. "Sorry, doll, I'm irritating like that." He shows her a crooked smile. "But if you say yes, I promise I'll wash up for our date."

"You gotta shower for all of our dates, not just the first," she replies. In Ara's eyes, they're like two little suns illuminating the porch. 

"I'd be stupid if I didn't," Leo smirks. "Gotta keep my girl happy."

His girl, he says, like it's all settled. Maybe it is. Ara has zero practice, but Leo makes it easy. He gives her the biggest butterflies she's ever felt, everything is telling her to keep him, so why not? Maybe he's the person she's been looking for her whole life.

Perhaps the boy moves first, perhaps it's her, but their noses are touching now. "Leo..." she stops. "Leo!"

"Hmm?"

"You're on fire."

"Thanks, doll," Leo grins, still leaning forward.

Ara moves away. "You're scorching the swing."

"Dang it!" The boy gets up and kills the flames. "It's all the stress from today—gets harder to control..."

Ara stands up with her hands behind her back. "Yeah, that's the only reason."

It's getting late and the campers will leave the campfire soon, so their moment is over. "I'm sorry, I'll try not to set us on fire next time."

Ara nods and slowly makes her way to the house's front door. "But if you do... the blessing keeps me safe from accidental burns, so that's lucky, right?"

"Man, gotta love my dad," he pauses and scowls. "But not for real. I mean—"

Ara laughs. Leo's starting to love the sound of it. "I get it."

The boy stops on the porch's steps and looks back at her. "So... I'd love to take you on a date."

"Tomorrow after dinner. Don't be late and take a shower."

"I did that already," he tugs on his shirt. "This is barely two days old."

Ara holds back her laugh and wrinkles her nose. "You're disgusting. I'm taking it back, I don't—"

Leo runs down the old steps. "Too late! You can't cancel if I can't hear you!"

The girl watches him run away, giggling at his antics. Ara can feel her anxiety gather in the pit of her stomach, and that irksome voice at the back of her mind asks "Are you sure?" and "Remember Mike?" but she ignores it.

This is different, Leo's soul light matches hers. They're meant to be together, and that's all she needs to know.

Ara enters her room and finds her T-Rex tucked into bed with a pacifier tied to its claw. She gets under the covers, hugging the dino close to her chest, and listens to her own heartbeat thumping against the plushie.

Next Chapter ->

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @ash-the-hoarder @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles

#twoidiots writing #pjo fanfic #pjo hoo toa #pjo fandom #percy jackson and the olympians #leo valdez x oc #leo valdez fanfic #doo

[crazyyanderefangirlfan]

Happy birthday lovely 🎈🎊

Here is the little fic I wrote for your birthday ☺️ hope you like it and I REALLY hope you have the best day! 💕💕

Beel has been planning this for months now, it shouldn't be this hard. Making cupcakes for your birthday sounded simple enough. Boy was he wrong! He thought he could get away with one trial run, but it had been such a disaster that he decided he'd need heaps more.

~

The cupcakes always turned out perfect, fluffy, moist, and with the perfect amount of frosting. It was him that was the problem, he always ends up demolishing them as soon as they were finished. He'd even tried making more so that he could eat some and then have some left for you. But the ones he made just for him ended up having the opposite affect, they were like a gate-way drug. He couldn't get enough of those little cake shaped bits of heaven.

~

Every dream he's had this month has involved cupcakes. The better ones also featured you; you as a cupcake, you eating cupcakes, you naked with cupcakes, you feeding him cupcakes. Honestly, if he were anyone else he would be sick to death of them. The closer it got to your birthday the more you featured in his cupcake fuelled dreams.

~

This is the day, FINALLY, your birthday. It needs to be perfect. He wants to see the look of pure pleasure on your beautiful face as you bite into the vanilla flavoured dessert. A foodgasim caused by food that he prepared. That's all he wants. That and any left over cupcakes you don't want, he'll definitely want those too.

~

So far everything is going off without a hitch. He's made enough cupcakes to fill in the heart shape he's creating. Not a single cupcake has been popped into his mouth, he made sure to fill up on food and snacks before he started. Now to do the frosting; he's chosen your favourite colours; blue, green and purple. They remind him of a cute mermaid he saw once while he was helping Levi clean barnacles off of Lotan. She wasn't nearly as cute as you though, his lovely, funny, gorgeous and charming sweetheart. No one could ever compare.

~

Almost finished, just one last part to finish.... Oops! He's squeezed the pipping bag to hard and it's exploded all over him. Some lands just above his lip and on reflex his tongue darts out to lick it into his mouth. As soon as his taste buds register the sweet taste his nostrils flare and his eyes go wide. More, need more he thinks to himself before ripping the piping bag open and bringing it to his mouth. Devouring every little bit he can.

~

Your POV:

~

You've been looking for the big guy all morning, kind of bummed that you didn't get to wake up in his strong arms. Maybe get some sweet good morning kisses, instead you rolled over to find a cute pink heart shaped post-it note, no doubt stolen from Asmo, that said "Happy Birthday Beautiful, I'll come find you shortly. Love you cupcake."

You pull out the note again as you think of it, swiping your thumb over the written out pet name he uses for you. It brings a sweet little smile to your lips, thinking about him trying to be as quiet as possible writing it out and placing it beside you as you slept. Ugh! Where is he? You NEED to kiss him.

~

Rounding the corner in the hallway you walk past the open door to the kitchen. You freeze in your tracks, glancing sideways you see your boyfriend stuffing his face with some sort of cake and a torn piping bag stuck to his shirt.

~

"Beel?" You question softly. A hand coming up to stifle your giggles when you see him abruptly stop and turn towards you.

~

"Baby, I'm sorry. I ruined your surprise." His words come out a bit muffled because of the cake he's still eating but you hear the sorrow in his voice and the sadness in his eyes has you walking across the room towards him.

"It's ok!" You reassure him immediately. You pull the pipping bag off his shirt and let it fall to the ground. "What was the surprise? Because finding you in the kitchen like this is quite a surprise." You laugh while pressing your hand to the side of his face, trying to brighten his mood.

~

"Don't laugh.. I was making you some cupcakes for your birthday... And I, I got carried away when I accidentally tasted the frosting. I'm so sorry." Wrapping his arm around your waist he pulls you close so youry flush up against his solid chest. His big pink and violet eyes still so full of guilt, looking into yours.

~

"Aww pumpkin, don't look so sad. It's really the thought that counts to me." You caress his jaw before using your fingers to wipe some frosting off his top lip and bring it to your lips to taste.

~

"Ohh ... Mmmmmmhhhn." You can't help but moan a little at the taste, closing your eyes as you do, getting a little lost in the flavour. It's perfectly sweet with hints of vanilla, melting instantly on to your tongue. Coming back from your little experience you open your eyes to find Beel smiling brightly down at you. He moves his big hands up your body to cup your face.

~

"You like it?" He's almost vibrating with happiness as he asks. You nodd enthusiastically up at him matching his bright smile with your own.

~

Leaning down he kisses you, taking your breath away with the sweetness of the frosting still lingering on his lips. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug, making him open wider letting you slide your tongue into his mouth. Swallowing all of his delicious groans.

~

His hands leave your face in favour of roaming your body, grabbing your ass with one hand and slipping under your shirt to rest a hand on your stomach with the other.

~

You squeal when he grabs your ass roughly, and he takes that opportunity to claim your jaw and neck for his own. Kissing sweetly down your jaw, then sucking and nipping at your neck. Your breathy moans turn to needy whines when the hand that was on your stomach slips under your bra and rolls your hardened nipple between his fingers.

~

"Beeeeeeeel." You whine between pants.

~

"Yeah, Cupcake? You need something?" He asks between kisses, his voice is low and laced with desire.

~

"You, please... I neeeeed you." You whine again and he answers with a growl. You're pressed so close to him you can feel it vibrating through his chest.

~

He picks you up with out warning and throws you over his shoulder with ease. You squeal his name when he smacks you on the ass while he walks to the door.

"Calm down cupcake. We're going back to your room so I can show you what else I've got planned for your birthday."

~

Botched cupcake making completely forgotten, he's got other plans for you now, much funer plans that involve two people.

~

And then later he can give your the charm necklace he had made for you. A delicate gold chain with a cupcake pendant that is bewitched to change colour to match your different outfits. He has had it engraved on the back: "Yours for all eternity - Beel"

-☠️

I’m screaming, I’m crying. This was amazing! Beel your the most amazing demon ever! The smut in the end 😳

@blackwings-with-angeleyes-deact if this you I love you so much

#obey me #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me smut

[emotionalcadaver]

Part 1: These Devilish Intentions

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: Lucy is faced with her first test as a member of the Peaky Blinders.

Word Count: 2,756

Notes: Warnings for depictions of blood and violence.

Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

Previous Part • Next Part

Chapter 2: An Eye for An Eye

She sat at the little desk that had been set aside for her in the corner of his office, pen scratching over paper while she worked. A quiet swear caught her attention, and she looked up to see Polly attempting to balance a large stack of papers in her arms, carrying them to Arthur’s office.

“Can I help you with those, Ms. Gray?” she asked, already beginning to rise from her seat. Polly shot her a look like she was a rodent that had wandered in from the street.

“No, thank you,” she said, shoving Arthur’s office door open with her elbow. Lucy sighed, trying to keep the dejected slump out of her shoulders. The Shelbys were…divided when it came to her presence. Ada had been more than welcoming–though she suspected that was more because she was thrilled to finally have another woman around who wasn’t her aunt–and Arthur had warmed to her in the past few weeks. But Polly and John remained hostile and suspicious; and she often caught them watching her from their desks with scowls on their faces.

“Lucy,” she looked up to see Tommy standing in the doorway, shrugging his coat on. “Come on.”

“Sorry,” she quickly pulled on her own coat, tugging her leather gloves over her hands as they stepped out the door.

Tommy didn’t respond, just turned and began to walk down the street. Lucy followed him briskly; in the few weeks that she had been working for him, she’d grown more than used to his sullen silences and unreadable expressions.

He had been kind to her, though.

The first week was rough. She had been unsure of what exactly she was supposed to do at the betting shop and had gotten hollered at by Polly when she tried to help with paperwork. When it was just her and Tommy, stalking about Small Heath and managing business in the streets, she did fine. During his meetings she took careful notes that he was pleased with, and one time when a man had come at him with a knife at the Garrison she had wrestled him to the floor. But the office work didn’t come to her as naturally as working in the stables or out on the streets did, and she often felt a wavering ball of anxiety in her chest that she was being a burden; or that Tommy would decide that he’d made a mistake taking her on when all she seemed able to do was bumble about or sit uselessly at her desk. 

A sigh passed her lips, eyes glancing down at her shoes. 

“Relax. You’re doing fine,” Tommy said suddenly, voice gruff, but the attempt at reassurance was clear. 

Geeze, maybe he really could read minds. 

“Your aunt hates me.”

“She doesn’t…hate you. Polly’s just…wary of strangers is all.”

“If you say so.”

He shot her a sideways glance, allowing her a brief look into those crystal blue eyes. “She doesn’t like that I didn’t consult with her before bringing you on.”

“Do you normally consult with her before you make decisions?”

“No,” he glanced away from her and she decided that it would be best not to press him on it, despite her curiosity. She’d learned quickly when she should and shouldn’t ask him prying questions.

They got into the car and made their way leisurely to the yard. While Tommy went to speak with Charlie, Lucy wandered to the stables, pushing the door open and smiling and the sound of a familiar whinny.

“Hullo, you,” she said to the filly poking her head out of her stable, reaching into the bag where they kept sugar cubes for the horses and feeding her one. The horse snorted in greeting and Lucy grinned, patting her neck. “That’s a good girl. Have you been good while I’ve been gone?” she laughed as the horse nosed at her, allowing her forehead to rest on her snout. “Yeah,” she wished that she could take the filly out for a ride, but they didn’t have time. They were just stopping by for Tommy to check on the latest shipment, and then they would head back to the betting shop. She fed a few more sugar cubes to the horse in apology.

“Lucy. Time to go,” with a start she turned to find Tommy standing in the doorway, watching her with those unreadable blue eyes. It was with a quiet desperation that she hoped that he could not tell how much she enjoyed the way that he said her name. 

Nodding, she gave the filly one last pat and a kiss between her eyes. Tommy’s gloved hand reached out, stroking along the horse’s flank. Lucy hadn’t even heard him move. As they excited the yard, she cast a quick glance in the direction of where she had seen Matthew’s friend watching her, all those weeks ago. There had been no encounters like that since she’d struck her deal with Tommy. She wasn’t sure what he had done to keep her father and Matthew at bay, but she was nonetheless unendingly grateful.  

They were just walking up the street towards the betting shop, when Finn’s voice rang out, running from the door of the house towards them. “Tommy, John’s been hurt!”

Inside they found John sitting in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, the left sleeve of his shirt rolled up to reveal a huge, deep gash in his bicep. Tommy knelt by his brother’s side, already murmuring to Polly to go get the medical supplies that they stored in the upper cupboard. 

“Lucy, go get some rum from the Garrison, go on,” Tommy ordered, leaning over to examine the gash in John’s arm.

She rushed out the door and down the street, the wooden doors of the pub heavy as she pushed them open. There was a decent amount of men already gathered inside, chattering amongst themselves. They went silent when she walked in, eyes turning to look her up and down. Ignoring the flare of nervousness at having so many male eyes on her at once, Lucy straightened her back and kept her chin held high as she walked to the bar.

“I need a bottle of rum.”

The man behind that bar–Harry, she was pretty sure that his name was Harry–looked her up and down. “Sorry. We don’t serve unaccompanied women here,” he returned to wiping down the bar.

Lucy blinked, taken aback. A few of the men chuckled, looking at her with amused, patronizing eyes. A flutter of annoyance, both at the way they kept leering at her and at the embarrassment of being turned away, burst in her chest, hot and angry.

“Tommy Shelby sent me,” she said, and the smiles immediately disappeared, men suddenly turning away in fear and discomfort. Harry's face went a bit pale. “But that’s alright. I can go back and tell him that he needs to waste his time coming down here because you won’t serve me,” she turned on her heel.

“Wait,” Harry said, voice panicked. He sighed heavily, head hanging as he set down the cloth he’d been wiping the bar with. “Dark or light?”

“Doesn’t matter. Thank you,” she snatched the bottle from him and left without paying. The Garrison always served Tommy on the house anyway. 

“Jesus, what took you so long?” Polly asked when she came rushing through the doorway, tossing the bottle of rum to Tommy.

“Harry wouldn’t serve me until I mentioned Tommy’s name,” she grumbled. Polly shot her a look that was almost sympathetic. John groaned as Tommy poured the liquor over his wound. Arthur was hovering about, ringing his hands anxiously while Ada set out bandages on the table.  

“Remind me to talk to him about that later,” Tommy said, not looking up from where he was working on John’s arm. She nodded. He looked back at John.

“Now, who did this to you, eh?”

John shook his head furiously. “I was heading back from collecting payment from The Guns and The Chains when I got jumped,” his eyes blazed with fury. “Bastards came out of nowhere. Tommy, I swear, when I find them–”

“No,” Tommy said, moving out of the way so that Polly could set to work stitching up John’s arm.

“But I–”

“I’ll deal with it,” Tommy said sternly. “Lucy, get the word out to the pubs that from now on, they’ll need to bring their payments for protection to us.”

“Tommy, when you find those boys–”

“I said I’ll deal with it,” Tommy snapped. He turned back to Lucy. Something entered his eyes, and she swore that she could see the gears spinning in his head by looking into those blue orbs. “Arthur, you take some boys with you, go track the thieves down. When you’ve found them, take them to Charlie’s yard.”

Taking that as her cue to leave, she nodded and moved to slip out the door

“Lucy!” startled, she turned at the sound of Tommy’s call. He side-stepped Polly, following her towards the door, hand reaching into his pocket. “Here,” he pulled out a piece of thick gray fabric, and pressed it into her hands. “Careful of the razors,” he warned.

For a moment she looked down at the hat cradled in her hands in utter shock, before looking up at him, gaping. 

“I don’t understand.”

The side of Tommy’s mouth twitched, like he was trying not to smile. His large hand rested on her shoulder, warmth burning through the material of her coat and shirt. Blue eyes pierced her mind.

“Welcome to the Peaky Blinders.”

“Yeah, you’re officially one of us now!” Arthur bellowed from where he was still hovering over John, shooting her a wink. 

She gazed up at Tommy with an expression that was probably close to reverence. It was hard to imagine; weeks ago she had been so lonely and scared she had thought that it might kill her, and now, not only did she feel protected and safe, but she had been all but folded into a whole new family.

Her father had always told her, when she complained on their way to church, that praying to God was what one did in order for good things to come to them. And she had prayed. She had prayed so damn hard, and yet nothing good had ever seemed to happen to her.

Funny to think; that the Devil had been kinder to her in a few short weeks than God had been for her entire childhood.

Her hand came up to cover Tommy’s resting on her shoulder, fingers squeezing over the warm skin.

“Thank you,” she hoped that he understood, just how grateful she truly was for everything that he had done for her. Tommy shook his head, once again looking like he was biting back a smile.

“Off you go,” he nudged her, not unkindly, towards the door. Clutching her new hat in her hands and openly smiling, she pulled it onto her head, the cloth snug atop her red curls.

And, newly crowned and with a sudden, surging feeling of confidence, she stepped out in the smoky air of Small Heath. 

∗ ∗ ∗ 

It was dark outside by the time they pulled up to Charlie’s yard. Tommy killed the engine of the car and leapt from his seat. Lucy followed him to a warehouse that she knew from her time working in the yard was practically empty. Charlie had been unwilling to tell her what it was used for.

Tommy shoved the door open, and she was greeted with the sight of two men kneeling on the ground, their arms bound behind their backs by rope. They were both gagged, and had swelling black eyes, small cuts, and bruises marking their faces. Arthur swung a fist at one of them with a growl, striking him hard across the cheekbone.

“We got them, Tom,” the older Shelby said.

Tommy strode forward, looking over the two men. He all but tsked, shaking his head disapprovingly.

“You try to steal for me,” his voice was level, but she could hear the slightest tension of anger beneath it. She shifted from foot to foot. It was so easy to forget, when he had been so kind to her, just why nearly everyone in Birmingham was so damn terrified of him. “And then, you dare to put your hands on my brother,” he grasped one of the men’s faces in a gloved palm. “That will not stand,” he let him go and stalked around them. Like a wild animal circling its prey.

“We need to make an example of them, Tom. Remind everyone why we run the streets around here,” Arthur urged. Tommy leaned against a wooden pillar that supported the ceiling, hands folded in front of him. His eyes scanned over Arthur, then jumped to her, face twitching with something; some idea forming in his mind. He tilted his head. Lucy looked back at him levelly, unafraid. Those blue eyes seemed to practically glow as they examined her.

“Arthur, go outside,” his voice was soft as a pillow. Arthur gaped.

“Tom-” 

“Go.”

Arthur scowled, stalking towards the two bound men, spitting at their feet before he turned and stormed out the door, slamming it behind him. The entire time, Tommy never took his eyes off of hers. 

“Now, what do you think we should do with them?” he asked. Lucy took measured steps forward, still not breaking eye contact with him until she was right in front of the bound men, reaching out a hand, she finally looked down at the two thieves, her fingers caressing over one of their faces. The man’s eyes squeezed shut as he trembled, hot tears running down his cheeks.

“I think,” she glanced back up. Tommy looked near monstrous where he was leaning against the post. “We should remind them why they call us the Blinders.”

His lips curled upward wickedly. “Go on, then.”

She looked back down at the men, hand raising to slowly pull her hat from her head. She balled the fabric in her fist so that the razors were exposed and she could easily control how they cut. 

“Shh,” she whispered as she grasped the first man’s chin in her hand to hold him still. He attempted to wrench away from her but she held him fast, and then he howled around the gag as she brought the blades sewn into her hat to his eyes, slicing a single, horizontal cut across them.

The moment the cut was done, she let him go and he fell to his side, writhing and howling in pain. The other man attempted to flee, scrabbling to get to his feet but then Tommy was behind him, hands grabbing at his shoulders and shoving him back down to the ground. He attempted to thrash his face away from her, but she grabbed his cheeks in her hand, squeezing so hard that the skin squished beneath her fingers as she held him in place. 

The pleading expression on his face was pointless. She was soulless, near numb inside. There was no feeling inside of her at all, as she made the cut across his eyes in one quick, sharp movement. And then his voice joined his partner’s in wailing to the sky in pain. Still gripping his face, Lucy leaned forward so that he could feel the heat of her breath across his face.

“You get caught stealing from us again, and next time I’ll take your hands,” she promised.

Tommy stood over her work for a moment, quietly examining it, before using a guiding hand to steer her towards the doors.

“Charlie and Curly will take care of the rest,” he assured.

Outside it had begun to rain; the downpour so heavy she had to squint to see more than a few feet in front of her. But they didn’t head to the car right away, instead lingering near the bank of the cut, watching as the water rushed, swelling with the buckets of rain being added to it.  

“So,” she said, as the rain plastered her hair to her forehead. “Did I pass your test?”

If he was surprised that she knew what the whole incident had actually been about, he didn’t show it. Instead The Devil just slunk over to stand behind her. His hand burned where it touched her shoulder, turning her to look at him. His thumb stroked over her cheek, soothing and igniting all at once. 

“With flying colors.”

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#lucy winters #lucy winters x tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #peaky blinders #my ocs #fanfiction #these devilish intentions #my fanfiction

[mongoose-bite]

I have found the best NPC. I love kobolds. Look at this stylish little guy! He's still got the weird dog nose they gave them for 5th edition but I am still delighted with him. I miss my kobold sorcerer. This is like seeing him for reals. Also, while I try to remain vague, there are spoilers unavoidable below. Shulkie don't read this.

So we finally get some answers regarding the prism. Now I know why it was confusing; there were multiple things inside. The only mystery now is why the Sharrans were after it. I tried very hard to kill the Emperor twice. Faye feels like eating the tadpole was the worst decision of her life, but eventually I took the hint and we still remain on its side.

Faye hates that manipulative thing, but I on the other hand am now pretty curious about a squid run. Ngl I always thought illithids were kind of hot, but my inner lorebeard was always 'no it would never make sense for them to fuck.' Thank you, Larian, for suggesting a way to reconcile these things. They're in that sweet spot between 'humans with a coat of paint' and 'what would even count as sex with a sentient rock half a mile across' where it's an interesting challenge, but you've got some places to start.

I, and Faye, still don't really believe its story, but there's no point accusing it of lying. So she humours it, but burned inspiration to keep herself from tadpoling further, and did not offer to hold its hand.

We arrive in Riverton and immediately I feel overwhelmed by the sheer number of NPCs chattering. I often don't like city areas in games. Too much going on. I got used to it after half an hour of mindlessly running around and eavesdropping.

Once we arrived in the city Faye started spending money like it was water; to be fair, I needed to gear up Jahira a bit, but a lot of it went on fucking around, metaphorically and literally, because while Faye would never have the nerve to take up the twins' offer by herself, Halsin had invited her out to the woods the night before, and he makes her adventurous, as long as he's with her. That did escalate quickly though, and then again when we went to the circus and aced the dryad quiz. Quicksave unnecessary. She has zero fashion sense and he doesn't see the need for clothes at all; they're fucking perfect for each other. They both project noble gravitas in public and are horny dorks in private. I am pleased with my pick.

What I think is interesting is the story Halsin tells you about his previous experiences with drow. Faye was just 'oh that's awful,' but Dyce would know the feeling. He's enthusiastically consented to things because his other options weren't that great. He'd get it, and probably reevaluate some things himself, which is frankly an impressive feat, because he doesn't do introspection much; these characters are so well-written. That experience might have been formative for Halsin, and feeds into how he approaches relationships, as much as he doesn't like the word. His 'feel free to make other people happy too,' would have Dyce all 'same hat!' as well, which was not something I expected from this character. Sluts with layers.

Speaking of bad options, I spent a good five minutes back and forthing on Raphael's offer before realising he'd told me where he kept Grabthar's Hammer, and luckily Faye was on the same wavelength. Have I also mentioned how much I love Laz'ael? Her 'why you make this difficult? But I think that's admirable' is adorable. Exchanging a queen for a prince feels like a sideways step rather than a forward one, but it proves she can move.

At the time it didn't occur to me that Raphael was talking about somewhere in the Hells, cause I am dumb, but I'm guessing one of his neighbours will sell him out, although who knows what she'll want in exchange.

Next stop, lower city.

#crunchy plays bg3