#As you can tell I love blue and purple tones

[krazydraws]

Late night Shading experiment +human design for him for an AU maybe?

#rottmnt donnie #rottmnt human au #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt art #Tbh I only gave him glasses so I could use lighting for them lmao #As you can tell I love blue and purple tones #rottmnt #rottmnt fanart #artists on tumblr #Edit: pinning bc wtf this is the most likes I’ve gotten on ANYTHING??TYSM for suddenly appearing ya’ll wow

[rafescurtainbangz]

Breaking Dishes (Rafe Cameron One Shot) +18

Minor DNI

Rafe x female reader

Rafe's best friend helps him make the best of his buzz cut era and he gets whatever he'd like in exchange.

Warning: SMUT, lots of pet names, lovey Rafe, friends to lovers, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), unprotected p in v

********

"It hurts."

"Does it hurt? Or does it itch? There's a difference.

"Both, Y/N... This is fuckin' stupid."

"No. Nah. Nope... What was stupid was the fact that you, a grown-ass man, didn't know how to do his own laundry."

"That's what you're for."

You flick your eyes from his hair to the mirror, catching him with your death stare. "Keep going." He gives you a shit-eating grin, making you fight off a smile of your own.

"This has to be done." He looks at his hair in the mirror, the bleach altering his dark blonde buzz to an icy white."

"Almost," you sing, running your polished nail through the bleach, eyeing your work.

"And I get whatever I want if I do this. Yeah?"

"Anything you'd like."

Anything.

It started simply with you and Rafe. He looked like a pouty little man-child, holding his Ralph Lauren polo by the shoulders, his privilege showing as he eyed the streaked bleach stain across the front. This sort of shit had gone on for days. First, it was no detergent, then fabric softener only, followed by straight bleach on the third day. He looked pathetic, desperate to accomplish this simple task. You helped him on the fourth day, sparking a friendship in the process, making your first year at college a little easier.

There was so much stuff he just didn't know how to do... Stuff that he could fully figure out on his own, but if he did... Then, he wouldn't need you. And both of you knew that.

There was a spark. There always was. But this time, it was a loaded exchange. You do this for me, and I'll do anything you'd like, Rafey.

"Purple shampoo?" He mumbles.

"I’m being proactive. Gotta tone it. Don't question it," you giggle, emulsifying the shampoo, watching the suds and bleach swirl down the sink. "Gah... Looks so fucking good." He grunts in reply. "Stay here." You run over to the rack, grabbing a fluffy white towel. "Stop!"

"What? Why? It's my hair, Y/N. Jesus fuck."

"'Cause... It's a surprise," you practically growl out the words through your excitement, swathing the towel around his head; pawing out the water.

"What am I gonna do if this looks like shit?"

"It won't. It won't," you smile. "What are you gonna tell Topper?" 

"That I lost a bet. I don't know. You're takin' advantage of me, y/n."

"You're the only person I know with a buzz cut, Cameron. It fits your aesthetic. Lean into it."

"I'm not leaning into shit."

"Stand up." You feel your cheeks redden as Rafe rises from his hunched-over position in the sink, his muscular frame bare, just a pair of gray sweats on his tight body. "You blushing, Y/N?" He asks as a cocky smile spreads on his lips. You bite yours, casting your gaze away as you try to collect yourself. "I look that good. Huh?" He taunts, hooking his finger under your chin, guiding your gaze to his. You stare into his beautiful baby blues, feeling your heart start to race.

"Yeah, Cameron."

He bites his cheek, holding back an all-too-wide smile as his cheeks redden as well. You reach up, tapping the high point of his face, silently calling him out.

"Got me," he whispers, making your heart flutter. "Alright... So, can I look?" You smile and nod. Rafe turns on his heels, eyes widening as he takes himself in. He goes through all the emotions at once, landing on a meh. His lip tugs slightly, shoulders shrugging in acceptance."It's not that bad..."

"I love it," you praise, smiling brightly back at him.

"You're way too fuckin' excited about this, Y/N."

"Nah... You wouldn't get it."

"M'Kay. What now?" He cops a slight attitude, unenthused with the rest of your request. You snatch your phone out of your pocket, flicking to your camera, turning it on record. "NO!" He rips it out of your hand, turning it off before passing it back.

"What..." You pout.

"The fuck do you have to record this for?"

"Me!"

"What are you gonna do with it, Y/N? This goes nowhere."

"It's just for me, Rafey. Jesus Christ. Calm your tits."

"Don't tell me to calm my tits," he huffs. "I'm so fuckin' serious, Y/N."

"I promise," you answer earnestly. "And, you have to say the thing."

"I forgot."

"Bullshit."

"When?" He crosses his arms before his chest; his hip popped slightly.

"After I start the song, of course," you tease. "Alexa play Breaking Dishes by Rihanna."

"This is weird," he snips, looking down at you disgustingly.

"It's alright, baby girl. You don't have to get it."

"Don't call me baby girl, Y/N," he huffs as the song starts to build.

"Fine. Alright, Rafey. Lights, Camera, Action."

"A man, a man, a ma-a-a-an..."

Rafe rolls his eyes and sucks his teeth, throwing his arms to his sides. His ab muscles flex more than before, making you squeal internally. Fuck, he looks good.  Your eyes widen, threatening him with your glare to say his fucking line.

"Snow always lands on top."

"Ah! Yes, Rafey!"

You press the little red button, ending the recording, letting out a delighted squeal before jumping into his arms. His eyes fall down your body, roaming back up nice and slow. Rafe's gaze gets stuck on your lips, wetting his own; tension building between the two of you as you wait to see if he'll ask for what you both want.

"You know, Y/N... I wouldn't do this shit for anybody else," he mumbles. 

"I know," you smile. "So, what do you want, Rafe?" You ask, drawing his focus back to your watch.

"Helped you set up that big mirror last week," he rasps.

"Mhmm..."

"Wanna fuck you in front of it, Y/N." You feel your stomach flip; your heart instantly picks up pace.

"Oh."

"That okay?" He asks, leaning in slightly.

"Yeah... That's okay."

"You want that?" He smiles, his lips mere centimeters from yours, breathing softly against yours.

"Yeah."

"Words, Y/N," he whispers.

"I want you to fuck me in front of the mirror, Rafe," you respond, voice hoarse and breathy as your nerves start to get the better of you. Everything fades away as Rafe's lips crash into yours, taking your breath away; claiming your mouth against his.

Heat rolls over your skin. Your body starts to tingle, hands moving from his neck, wrapping around his broad shoulders tightly, drawing him closer. His lips are sweet, just like you expected. A soft moan escapes your lips, landing in his. You feel him smile against your kiss, making you do the same.

"You sure this is okay?" He mumbles between kisses as he walks with you into your bedroom.

"Perfect." Rafe's tongue slips through your lips, greeting yours, rolling softly with your rhythm.

Fuck...

He draws back from you, looking at the two of you in the mirror. "First thing I thought about when you asked me to put this up, Y/N. Been thinkin' about it ever since."

"Yeah?" You smile as you look back into his blue jean eyes. "Why do you think I bought it?" His smile shifts to a smirk at the sound of your admittance.

Rafe sets you down, making quick work of your clothing, peeling it off between kisses. You bite your lip as your fingers dance over the indentations of his muscles, working down to his waistband, his slutty gray sweats, hiding absolutely nothing.

You work the material over his thighs and down to his ankles. He kicks them off, just a pair of white cotton Calvin's on his tight frame. You take your time, revealing his thick cock inch by inch. His dick springs free, standing straight; a bead of cum gathered on his swollen tip.

His rough fingers ghost over your soft skin. Rafe takes hold of your breasts, pressing them together. His touch lightens; feather-soft circle over your nipples.

"Rafe," you whine as you throw your head back.

His mouth quickly greets your skin, sucking harshly, skimming and flicking your hardened nipple with his tongue.

His hands roam down your body as his lips return to yours. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. It's happening. Rafe's hand disappears between your thighs, making you moan. He runs his finger along your silk. "So fucking wet for me, y/n," he hums, turning you to face the mirror.

You feel your whole body start to pulse, every nerve firing hot. Rafe's fingers meet your bud, circling softly. You'd always look at his hands, wondering what they could do. "Feels so good," you whine, causing him to chuckle sinfully. Rafe pulls another moan out of your parted lips, his dark gaze matching yours over your shoulder.

He adds a second finger, curling it inside of you, thrusting in and out. Rafe moves his thumb to your clit, adding a little more pressure. "I've always wanted you," He growls, lips grazing your ear.

"Yeah," you mewl.

"Do you think about me a lot, y/n?" He breathes.

"Yes," you press out the word through a moan.

"And you wanted to know what my hands could do. Didn't you? I've seen the way you look at me," he taunts. "Are they doin' it for you, Y/N?" He works you a little harder.

"Yes! Yes." You cry. Your thighs start to tremble. Rafe's lips lock on your neck, licking you, marking you as his own. "I'm gonna cum."

"I know, baby; I know," he whispers against your skin. "Can you be a good girl and cum when I tell you?"

"Rafe, I... S-Shit."

Your eyes flick open, resting on him as you fight back your pleasure, Rafe working against you, trying his very best to push you over the edge.

"Cum."

"Fuck!" You lose yourself, fluttering around his fingers. He continues to please you, toiling harder and quicker than before. Your lips crash into his, cries of pleasure against his mouth. The two of you are breathing heavily; Rafe sucks off your bottom lip slowly.

"I can't wait to have you, y/n," he groans huskily. "Fuck. That was beautiful." Rafe wraps his strong arms around your waist, holding you tightly. "How was that, baby?" He drawls.

"Fantastic... Holy shit."

His hands fall down your skin, landing on your hips, turning you before pulling you close. Rafe circles your ass, squeezing you, giving you a little spank. Your urges are too strong. You just can't resist.

You throw yourself in his arms, lips locking with his. He moans into your kiss, tongue rolling with yours. Your hands grasp the front of his thighs, nails sinking in slightly.

You drag your fingers down his tight body. A smile spreads on Rafe's lips as you wrap your hands around his thick dick.

"Shit, y/n," he chuckles raspily as you fall to your knees.

"Can I suck your cock, Rafey?"

"Mmm... Mhmm," he groans, a lusty chuckle leaving his lips. "Hell fucking yes, Y/N." You feel your confidence building by the moment.

You swirl your tongue on his velvety head, collecting his precum on your tongue. Rafe takes a sharp breath, followed by a loose, drawn-out moan.

"I've always wanted you in my mouth, Rafe," you pant. You trace the head of his shaft, lips close, breathing warmly against him. "Do you want my mouth?" You whisper onto his tip; his lashes flutter.

"Ugh, Shit. Yes, y/n," he groans. "I need your mouth on my cock." His voice is coarse and delicious, driving you wild. You flatten your tongue, licking him from base to tip. Rafe's fingers rake through your hair, his hands gripping the back of your head.

His hips thrust into your mouth slowly, pushing you to see how far he can go. He draws out; your tongue swirls to the tip. "Fuck me, Y/N," Rafe hums. The grip on your hair tightens.

Each thrust is deeper than the next, a soft swirl to his tip. Your eyes start to water. Rafe readjusts his stance, his eyebrows furrowing. Bringing your hands up to his balls, you play with them as well. Rafe bites his lips, grunting with each thrust as he starts to buck his hips into your mouth.

You're choking on his cock, tears streaming down your cheeks. You bring your fingers down to your warmth, pleasing yourself as well.

"Y/n," Rafe grunts, taking notice; his breathing increases. "You're going to make me cum, baby," he sears. He adjusts his stance, thighs quaking. "Mmm... Y/n. I can't wait to have you. I'm going to fuckin' ruin you, Y/N," he growls, eyes pinched shut.

Hollowing your cheeks, you increase your suction, causing his lips to part. You feel his dick twitch on your tongue. Rafe thrusts into you roughly, his climax spilling deep into your throat.

He throws his head back again, holding yours against him as you scratch your nails along his ass. "Y/n, f-fuck," he pants, breathing rapidly. "Ugh... Holy shit."

You come off him slowly, eyes set on him.

"Best blowjob of my life.."

"Stop," you giggle.

"Fuck, y/n. I mean it." He helps you to your feet, quickly pulling you in tightly. He presses a kiss against your forehead, breathing rapidly, still coming down from his climax. "Can't wait to taste you, Y/N?"

"M'so wet..." You hum, fanning the flame. His eyes darken, trailing your curves before tossing you down on the bed. You feel your pussy throb, craving Rafe's lips; his fingers; his cock. He wraps his arms around your thighs, drawing you toward his face.

You throw your arms above your head, arching your back as his tongue glides through your silk. "Shit," you mewl as you feel the warmth of his mouth, and the whisper of his breath against your sex.

Rafe buries himself between your thighs, nose brushing your clit; tongue dipping into your entrance. Your heart starts to race again. You prop yourself up on your elbow, meeting his stare. Drawing your hands up your body, you take hold of your breasts. Rafe moans against your pussy, watching as you play with yourself.

He whispers your name softly against your clit; you toss your head back. Feeling the roughness of his hand against your stomach, working higher. Rafe palms your breast, rolling your nipple softly between his fingers.

You feel your pleasure building. Your body moves, grinding your hips to get a little more friction. Rafe's hand lowers; your anticipation builds. He licks a line up your slit.

His fingers toy with your entrance. "Rafe, please," you wail; your thighs widening, pressure building in between.

"Ugh... Fuck!" You cry; Rafe sinks two fingers deep, his soft lips sucking roughly. Your thighs start to quiver as he thrusts his digits in and out. "Can you cum on my fingers?" He breathes. "Can you soak my hand for me?"

"Yes... Yes."

"Mmm... My cock's gonna feel so good sliding in and out of this pretty pussy, Y/N."

"Yes!" You punch out the word, back arching off the bed.

You feel your release, just like he asked, making a mess of his hand as you grip the sheets. You can hear the sound of it. His fingers working sloppily, in and out.

"Baby..." You stutter, relaxing around his fingers, craving more.

Rafe grips your hips in his strong hands, tugging you even closer to the edge. You tilt your head up, watching as he takes a grip on his cock; hard and throbbing. Your eyes shift as he guides himself closer.

He seizes himself by the base, tapping his dick against your clit. Your thighs tremble with each touch, spurs of pleasure, your sensitivity at an all-time high.

"So fucking wet," he praises. Rafe's hands shift, taking a harsh hold on the back of your thighs, pressing them to your chest. "Mmm... Hold these f'me," he groans. You relax your head to the side as Rafe runs his tips through your silk; his eyes meet yours in the mirror, a smile spreading on his lips.

His mouth parts, mirroring yours as his cock starts to stretch you out. You let out a soft whimper; your eyebrows knit as he gives you all of him. Every inch pushes you to your limit; your eyes roll back as he draws out, quickly thrusting back in.

Your hands grab his forearms, holding on tightly, drawing him closer, pulling him deeper. "Look at me, Y/N," he moans, his eyes shifting from the mirror, driving into yours. He leans into you, folding you in half, pinning your thighs against the bed as he kisses you deeply. Your tongues intertwine; moaning and blissful cries are exchanged between your lips.

You separate slightly, breathing rapidly, lips hovering close. His skin slaps against yours, your forehead, nestled against his. "You're so fuckin' beautiful," he pants.

"God, this feels so good."

"So good, baby," he echoes. Rafe picks up speed, feeling your walls drawn in around him. His strong hands grip your hips, using them as leverage to drive deeper.

You throw your head back, eyes shut tight as you feel yourself about to fall apart. Your mouth draws open; a string of curses and praise flow freely. Rafe's lips lock onto your nipple, sucking hard.

"Rafe. Fuck!" Your pleasure releases; your body pulses around his shaft. Your hands reach for him, pulling slightly, tugging him toward your lips. Rafe picks you up swiftly, taking a seat on the bed, his cock still deep inside.

"Are you okay?" He pants with a smile.

"So good... So fucking good."

You start rolling and grinding your hips on top of him. Rafe starts to bounce on the mattress. His breathing increases; you can tell he's close. Grabbing his shoulders, you press him down on the bed.

Rafe's hands squeeze your ass tightly, guiding you, setting a rapid tempo. "Fuck... Ugh," he whimpers. "I'm gonna cum." He takes you by surprise, drawing out quickly, rolling you to your back.

He plunges back in, reaching for air as he grunts and moans incoherent words. "I'm cumming... Shit," he groans as he climaxes; Rafe continues to drive his release deeper. He presses his lips and body against yours, rocking slowly to a stop.

"Holy shit...." he pants, holding you close. Rafe nuzzles himself into your neck, breathing rapidly as he kisses you softly. You sigh blissfully, relaxing into the bed, giving him better access to your skin. His lips work over your neck, moving up to your jaw.

"So..." he whispers.

"So," you giggle, your heart racing rapidly against his.

"I like you, Y/N, if that's not clear. And that... Fuck. That was so damn good," he groans blissfully.

"I like you too," you cup his cheeks in your hands, kissing him gently.

"And, just so we're crystal clear, you pictured yourself fuckin' me and not..." He points to his hair, narrowing his eyes on yours.

"Rafe? No, President Snow. Of course, I pictured myself fucking you and not Rafe Cameron."

"Brat." He spanks your ass, making you yelp.

"Fuck, Rafe!" You whine as you look back, watching the print shift from white to red.

"Ah, shit. You don't like it rough, Y/N?" He taunts through a snickering laugh. You lower your lips to him, brushing gently.

"You owe me now, Rafey... Round two. I like it rough."

A/N Thanks for reading. Kel♡

#rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe fic #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x smut #rafe cameron x y/n #drew starkey #rafe cameron one shot

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

title: dancing in the rain

author: sciencebecameouraddiction

fandom: hazbin hotel

rating: PG

genre: slight, baby angst/ major fluff

pairing: Alastor x Reader

summary: all hell had was acid rain, and all you wanted was the rainstorms you knew on earth.

Rain hardly ever was an occurrence in Hell. And when it was, it was acid rain. You sighed, looking out the window and watched the green acid pouring down on everything, missing desperately the rain storms that you had on earth. Being the youngest at the hotel, you remembered more clearly the burn of the sun on your skin, the cool breeze on a fall day and even the mix of the humidity in the air that felt like it would choke you but the reprieve as a rainstorm came and fell from the heavens.

“What has you so melancholy, my dear?” A voice asked behind you, shockingly quiet all things considered, toning down the announcer quality in his voice.

“Hey Alastor, just thinking is all.” You replied and smiled at him, not wanting to explain that the acid rain made you sad.

“Now, whatever it is that you’re thinking about is casting a dark shadow over your usually lovely face. So, tell me, what’s wrong? What kind of hotelier might I be if I didn’t ensure that all the patrons here were happy?” He said, the announcer tone coming back into his voice, which made you wince. Knowing that meant he knew you were lying so he was going to put on a show if you were. You sigh.

“It’s the rain.” You explain.

“The what now?” He asks, all effects gone from his voice except shock and a bit of confusion.

“The rain. I miss the rain. Not this rain. The rain on earth. The smell of the earth after a good rain storm, the way that especially in the summer when it was so hot, the rain was a cool reprieve. It always felt like…” You trailed off.

“Forgiveness?” Alastor finished, looking outside the hotel now too. You blink and look up at him.

“Yes. Are you sure you don’t read minds?” You chuckle, resting your head on your hand. You suddenly feel his microphone tap your head. You look up at him as holds his arm out to you.

“Come with me.” He says, not giving you time to feel confused. As when you take his arm you shadow travel with him to the other side of the hotel appearing at the door of his room.

“This is your room.” You say, confused now.

“Ever observant. A skill many would kill for I’m sure.” He smiles at you, but the sarcasm is evident as he holds open the door for you and you step into his room.

“Just a certified Sherlock Holmes.” You roll your eyes, taking his sarcasm.

“I never had the chance to read those books.” He mused for a moment, as he shut his door and walked around you heading to the forest area. You stayed near the door.

“I have the collection if you’d like to borrow it and read them.” You explain. “They are annotated though, so you’ll have to put up with my notes.” You explain.

“That would be lovely, dear.” Alastor says stepping on the grass and you watch as he takes off his coat and hangs it on a coat rack that appeared suddenly. He turns to you. “Aren’t you coming?”

“I-I guess?” You say, more like a question. You jog over to him and start walking next to him. “Are you killing me in your forest because I complained about acid rain?”

“Oh, no. Not you at least.” Alastor chuckles. “I want to show you something.” You look up at him skeptically.

“Hey Alastor, can you take smaller steps?” You ask having to jog to keep up with him. He looks down and hums seeing how you were almost running next to him.

“Good to know that if I had to catch you I could do so without breaking a sweat.” He says, as he walks slower and taking smaller steps, allowing you to actually walk, instead of run.

“Har har.” You say deadpanned and roll your eyes. You walk into a clearing that has a cabin in the middle. The whole forest felt like it was shrouded in the twilight of fall when lightening bugs gently floated around and the sky was a perpetual shade of blue, purple and pink. You finally looked up and around, seeing the trees, the bugs, the animals, the sky. Tears formed in your eyes. “Alastor, this is beautiful. It looks just like-“ You stop, your throat constricting as emotion overtakes you. You feel Alastor’s clawed hand rest on your shoulder.

“Just like earth?” He finishes, speaking softer than you had ever heard. You nod and look at him, watching him take everything in and then looking down at you.

“Come, let me show you something else.” He says, walking away and heading to the cabin. You walk in and suddenly feel at home. The decor is a little dated and you feel transported to the 1920’s, but it’s all homey. There’s a kitchen, a living room, a lounge and a hall way leading to what you assumed to be a bed room. You walk through the living room, taking it in but trying not to pry at the photos Alastor had in frames along the mantel of the fire place, you see at the back door there is almost like a deck, with a more modern porch swing.

“The porch swing is a nice addition.” You mention, smiling a bit at the modern accessory in what felt like a time capsule.

Alastor chuckles as he sets his microphone down and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. He joins you next to the window. “You haven’t seen the best part.” He murmurs, unusually quiet and reserved. You don’t mention the change in demeanor though, wanting to savor the quiet and this almost more authentic view of the Radio Demon.

“What’s the best-“ You stop when you hear it. The start of a pitter patter of rain on the roof, that builds and when you look outside, it’s raining. “Is that?” You blink a few times.

“It is. Safe for you to touch as well. You won’t get hurt.” He smiles a genuine looking smile as he goes over to the record player and starts playing music. Your hand touches the door, feeling the coolness of the water slide down the glass pane. You can’t stop yourself as Alastor fiddles with the record player, you open the door, quickly closing it so no rain would get in the cabin and rush outside off the deck. Twirling in the grass as the rain poured down soaking you.

“What are you doing?” Alastor yelled from the door, watching you like you had gone mad.

“Dancing in the rain!” You yelled back, a smile feeling permanent on your face.

“You’ll catch a cold, get back inside!” He says, looking up at the sky and then back at you.

“No! Come join me! It’s amazing! This is exactly what I remember.” You say holding you hand out to Alastor. His smile looks more like a grimace as he takes you in looking like a wet dog. He looks back inside and waves his hand at something and you see towels appear and the record player is louder so you can hear it outside. He takes off his shoes and socks and places them neatly at the door but far enough away that when you come in, water or mud won’t get on them.

He walks out getting drenched almost immediately as you run up to him and grab his hand and pull him on the grass. You take both his hands and start trying to spin around in a circle with him, as you see his eyebrow raise. You stop and look at him, a little disappointed when he doesn’t spin with you and you start to let go of his hand, until his hand tightens and pulls you to him.

“We can dance in the rain, but we will be actually be dancing.” He says as he proceeds to guide you through a dance that was popular when Alastor was alive, morphing into an odd mash up of a swing dance and you dancing like you were at a rave. You both settled down and were now just slow dancing as the song had turned a bit slower. You watched as Alastor’s eyes were closed as his face angled up to the sky. You made a spit second decision, and rested your head on his chest, really it was like the start of his abdomen but it was as tall as you could reach. You didn’t see his head snap down to you and watch as you seemingly relaxed in his arms, drunk off the warmth he gave and the cool from the rain still coming down. His hand moved up, and grabbed your chin, encouraging you to look at him. As you did, you saw his eyes widen and his cheeks turn bright red.

“What’s wrong?” You ask quietly.

“I’ve never… done anything like this before.” He says quietly, and it breaks the fogginess you felt before.

“You don’t have to be scared. It’s just me.” You say, as if it’s the most simple thing in the world.

“Just you? Darling, just you is enough to have me go to war.” Alastor murmurs and then his eyes widen again, shocked. You realize that he is just blurting things out and there is no filter. You smile.

“Well, I’m honored that the Radio Demon would want to be in my corner.” You say as your hand reaches up to touch his cheek, stopping just a few centimeters away, allowing him to close the gap if he wanted to. He leans into your touch shaking his head.

“Not the Radio Demon, dear. Just Alastor.” He says, looking at you with a vulnerability you had never seen before. Your eyes widen and you smile.

“Even better.”

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor altruist #alastor/reader #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfic #alastor fanfiction

[lxvebun]

flurry of colours

synopsis: asking the genshin boyfriends what color they see you as

content: Alhaitham/Kazuha/Wriothesley x gender neutral reader. Fluff! Use of nickname darling/dove. Wrio is pretty short I wasn't entirely sure how to write him😭. English is not my first language so i'm sorry for any mistakes♡

D*rk content blogs do not interact (*a)

Alhaitham

"It's not your problem if Kaveh's struggling with his color schemes, darling" he replies quickly, not even bothering to look up from the page in his book.

"Archons, Haitham, it's not like that. Just look at me and imagine what color I radiate :)

he sighs a little, closing the book but keeping his fingers between the pages. Even if he thinks it's a bit of a silly question, he does take a moment to let his eyes trace over you, shamelessly letting them linger on your lips too. for a second you think he's actually going to answer your question but then you see him failing to suppress a smirk and his gaze meets yours with an expression you can only describe as Are you serious?

"Humor me Alhaitham"

Alright, let me think.. he completely closes his book this time, placing it in front of him on his desk and rests his head on his hand

"Colors can actually invoke a lot of thoughts and impressions. Most people associate red with warmth, and passion, but also with danger or fear depending on the context. A lot of people view black as a masking color be it clothes to hide certain parts of yourself or the shadows in your nightmares, but you can also see it as a protective color as it doesn't reflect. Blue is usually related to the sea, the lighter tones with sunny mornings walking along the shore, darker tones of blue can relate to the deep cold unknown depth that's hidden from prying eyes......if I had to describe you a color..it would be green. Not necessarily because of the associations with it, wisdom, calmness, and hope. which do apply to you don't get me wrong, but green is my favorite color, and you're my favorite person. Simple as that. Now, care to read with me for a bit?

*he's so annoying but he does it so well. Bites him*

Kazuha and wrio under the cut♡

Kazuha

kazuha has been a bit gloomy as of lately. His usual flowery words have lost their petals, His leatherbound notebook has not made an appearance in a while, neither have the little poems he writes for you to wake up to, and his fingers are clean, not covered with his usual, and at this point, you believed to be permanent, ink stains. It's clear he's been going through the infamous writers block. something that most artist go through and also get out of but it's nonetheless an infuriating part of being an creative individual. But since Kazuha has made you his muse as he told you many many times before, who are you to not try and help inspire your lovely boyfriend.

It takes you a while of bringing him to random locations for sunset walks or stargazing and asking him random questions until one finally hits the spot. His eyes immediately lighting up as he turns to you with such a warm expression of love and adoration you're pretty sure your heart skipped a beat

"That's a very beautiful question, dove"

He takes a moment to think about it, eyes lovingly tracing over every little detail of you, the backlight of the sun, the glimmer of the waves shining in your eyes

"I don't think describing you as one color does you justice. You shift hues as softly and gently as the day shifts into night, and the sun makes place for the moon in the sky. But if I do have to say just one, I see hints of purple in you, but that could also be because the color reminds me of my hometown and everytime I look at you, my soul feels at home" He answers with a new found excitement in his voice

"Actually, maybe I can use this for a poem-"

*i'm projecting can you tell?*

Wriothesley

You often come down into the fortress to spend some time with him on his break. With both of you living on different levels of Fontaine, you'll take any chance you can get to be around him and even when it's not officially his break time, he could never say no to you....or tea time

That's why you're here now sitting on the edge of his desk as he hastily discared the paperwork to make room for the teapot and biscuits. As quickly as the tea flows, the conversation passes from deep and meaningful, romantic ones, to terrible jokes and banter as both of you just talk about whatever comes to mind.

So he doesn't raise an eyebrow when you ask him what colors remind him of you. it's quite endearing how he just goes along with whatever silly questions or requests you throw at him without making you feel embarrassed about it

"Probably between a pearlescent white and a warm honey yellow."

"Interesting answer...why?"

"the colours remind me of the sun and the moon, and living at the bottom of the ocean here in the fortress we don't have either of those of course. You're the closest thing I have to feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin or experiencing calm atmosphere of the moonlight. And to be honest I prefer you over the real thing♡"

Hes so cute *cries*

Thank you for reading angels!♡

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #wriothesely x reader #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham x reader #kazuha x reader #genshin impact x gn reader #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #alhaitham x gender neutral reader #kazuha x gender neutral reader #genshin fluff

[leclsrc]

wait and see ✴︎ cl16

genre: enemies to lovers, fluff, angst barely, other drivers appear

word count: 2.5k

The grid recounts the evolution, nature, and many ups and downs of your and Charles' vague relationship.

auds here... req'd, this was p fun to write i hope u guys like it! :) short bec if it was any longer it wouldnt have been as nice to read i think? anyway... i love u guys. title from this.

Lando takes a seat. “Is this the thingy for…? Yeah? Okay. What am I supposed to do again?”

“Just describe the two of them.”

“Easy. She was always pissing him off.” He rubs his chin, lost in thought. “But… in a good way?”

—

“I told you a hundred times I didn’t want this to be the soundbite you published.” Charles chases after you, his footsteps quickening like a lost puppy as you wrestle your way into the media pen. “A hundred times, and you said okay, and you still published it. Che succede?”

You turn, crossing your arms over your torso. “Look. I said yes, but when I looked it over, nothing else you said was really worth it. It was all just repetitions of the same PR bullshit that makes you look good on camera.”

He rakes a hand through his hair, exhaling with frustration, watching his biting comment on Iñaki rack up hundreds of thousands of views. “This was not a good idea!” He repeats, the same sentiment he’s been telling you in the half-hour he’s known of this video’s publicity.

“But it happened.” You adjust your mic and gesture to Lando, who’s awkwardly waiting for the cameras to roll so you can start the post-FP2 interview and he can talk about his shit car. “I’m busy, so deal with it. Your fans will appreciate you not riding Ferrari’s dick all the time.”

Charles opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it, shoving his way back outside and into the motorhome so he can cooperate in damage control. He doesn’t admit it—to you, to Carlos, to anyone—but the PR that comes of it is more good than it is bad in the end. He doesn’t admit it because it means admitting you’re right, and God if that’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

—

“They were always butting heads,” George says, laughing as he soaks in the memories of it. “Always fighting over something. Anything. Whatever there was that could be disagreed on—they’d be disagreeing.”

—

It started harmlessly enough. Seb walked in with two swatches of color—a blue and a purple—and addressed the room with a light tone, asking what color would best suit the tablecloths at his wedding. And then, as it always did with you and Charles, chaos ensued.

“Blue suits green better.” You wave the blue in his face. “You’re busy thinking of red all the time so you don’t understand color theory.”

“It’s not about coordination! It’s about creating a highlight!” He gestures with his hands, aggressively gesticulating to try and get his point across. “Highlight!”

“Oh, bullshit! Blue!”

“Purple!”

“Are you crazy?!”

Across the room, Seb and George watch in mild horror at the two figures caught in a needlessly intense argument over colors at a wedding that isn’t even theirs.

An AlphaTauri engineer comes in to refill his coffee for the third time, finds the two of you still fighting and is genuinely stupefied. He turns to the two onlookers, asks, “Bridezilla, huh? Happened to me once, too. I swear the grooms always try to weasel their way in to seem more involved but their choices never make sense.”

“Oh, no. They, uh, they’re not together.” George clarifies quickly.

“They’re not?!” The engineer and Seb ask at the same time.

They all watch the argument, bemused, but secretly they all wonder just how correct George is.

—

“We have a saying in Spanish. Del amor al odio hay un paso. Neither of them will understand it—it’s in Spanish, obviously—but I think that applies to them. One minute you think they hate each other, and the next…” Carlos lets himself taper into silence, smiling softly.

—

Being around Charles feels like karmic retribution, a constant eternal push and pull. But it makes the both of you better, even if neither of you admit it in the end. You can’t really grasp why, or how it started—it might take ages if you do so much as try—but you’re content with letting things happen the way they do.

Or maybe you’re not. “You ruined my fucking broadcast, dickhead!”

You toss your earpiece at his chest, body welling up with annoyance. Your segment was being casted live until Charles insisted he take up your airtime to do whatever-the-fuck, you honestly don’t care. And yeah, sure, he’s way more relevant, but the less airtime you get, the less easily you get the exposure you need.

“It happened one time.” He sounds amused, and it patronizes you, sets you on fire. He clutches your earpiece to his chest and hands it back to you.

“Fuck you.” You tug it toward yourself, and suddenly you’re closer, noses almost touching. You step back, but it’s not enough. “You have no idea how much that mattered to me.”

His eyes flit toward your lips, your bodies melting together. “If it really did…” he says, inhaling, “you would’ve just ignored me.” And damn, he’s right.

Charles does not like you. He just knows you well. But then one might argue—isn’t that the same thing?

—

“They have trouble not calling the shots, is the thing,” Lewis offers. “So put them in a team, in a room together, and boom.”

—

“…We didn’t agree on this script.” You underline the problematic lines and toss it onto Charles’ lap from where you stand in front of the sofa. “You want your fans to hate you?”

“The questions were clumsy. I asked you to reword them, but you didn’t.”

“You didn’t ask, to be clear. You demanded.” You click your tongue.

Lewis is in the middle of posting on Roscoe’s Instagram account and manually making typos, but he looks up, interest piqued by the increasingly heated conversation.

“I asked,” Charles insists stubbornly. “Plus, this is a Ferrari segment. You get hired to write on Ferrari, you follow Ferrari.” He points to the yellow logo on his shirt. Ferrari, he mouths. Lewis stifles a chuckle at the sarcastic exchange.

“Jesus.” You reread the script. “Fine. I’ll reword this and this.”

“And that.” He points, tapping the paper.

“Only if you edit this and this. Oh, God, and this.”

“Fine. Wait, that?”

“Are you serious? It’s the corniest statement ever. Edit that or I edit nothing.”

“Okay, bossy.”

Lewis exits Instagram in favor of texting Seb to ask if you two are dating. The response he receives is equally unhelpful: Nobody knows mate.

—

“You know, for all the disagreeing they did, they actually agreed on so much of the same stuff. If they stopped fighting for two seconds they would agree on most things.” Alex muses. “But they never did, so. Or maybe a few times.”

—

Media is a tricky thing. It’s either on your side, or it isn’t.

And this weekend, Charles has drawn the short straw, subjected to bouts of backhanded journalists and tweets for his strategy during quali. You know this especially well—you’re media, for Christ’s sake—and you’ve seen your colleagues hound Charles for how he chose to tackle the session.

Alex is in the middle of a FaceTime call with Lily when he hears it. “Wait—I think they’re talking,” he says to his girlfriend when he hears you approach him, carefully maneuvering himself into optimal eavesdropping position.

“Is this the right thing to do?” Lily’s voice comes through like static.

“I know it’s wrong,” Alex confesses. “But—”

“No, I meant I can’t hear properly. Move the phone closer, you dick.”

So he does, and the two of them listen intently to your talk. You go first, a few shuffling footsteps and an adjustment of your media pass, then. “Will’s been all over you today.”

“Yeah,” comes Charles’ voice, tired if anything. “I, uh… I just hope I can understand where I went wrong and, uh. Well, uh.”

“No, I…” There’s heavy silence. “I think you did the right thing. You didn’t get pole, but it was a good strategy. Better than what was being proposed, anyway. I think that would’ve landed you at the back of the grid, to be honest.”

You both laugh. “Thanks,” he croaks.

“You did great. Don’t, um… don’t let them tell you otherwise. I’m proud of you.”

Alex never tells anybody what he heard. But it inspires many long-winded conversations with Lily about the nature of your relationship. Each time, though, they never arrive to a solid answer.

—

“Hey, listen. I always knew something was there with those two. They had the kind of dynamic you only find once in, like, a million instances.” Daniel says firmly. “But I also kept thinking… poor Charlotte.”

—

You’re half-sure Pierre was the one who bought you all shots. Or a quarter-sure. Okay, you’re not sure at all. Your mind’s cloudy, your inhibitions lowered, tongue loose and laugh contagious. Around the table everyone is laughing, some others have gotten up to dance, but you, Daniel, Lewis, and Charles are all conversing about work, albeit while drunk.

“Is… tequila… plant-based?” Lewis grimaces as he throws another shot back and you all laugh mindlessly.

“Danny,” you say, tapping his shoulder. “Any plans once you’re out of the paddock next season?”

“Ah,” he hums. “Self-discovery and a shit ton of shrooms.”

You all cheers to the epiphany, shots once again entering your system. “And a party again tomorrow!” Daniel adds half-jokingly, much to your delight. Charles, right beside you, throws an arm over your shoulder as he laughs. You’re unfazed.

Daniel’s gaze lingers on his arm a little too long, especially because your own hand reaches upward to wrap around his wrist, to make sure he doesn’t pull away. But you’re both drunk, he reasons. And plus, you can’t usually stand each other’s guts.

“I’ll pass, mate, if it happens,” Charles says, his tone clearly inebriated.

“You’re no fun,” you say lightly, laughing and turning to him. Your eyes are on the other’s, dark, lips almost touching as if you’ve forgotten Daniel and Lewis are even around (though the latter is as good as dead, honestly.)

“Invite Charlotte instead,” Daniel says with a smile, to try and test your reactions. “How long, now? Three months?”

You clear your throat, looking away with a faux smile.

“Oh. We’re not doing so well, to be honest.” Charles smiles, tight-lipped. He hopes Daniel doesn’t ask why. He can’t think of a lie quickly enough to cover how Charlotte told him I love you, Charles, but this is over. I hope you end up with her someday.

—

Seb takes some time to think about it. “Those two always fought. Everyone said that, didn’t they? All the time, disagreeing.” He hums. “I could tell very early, though, that they were also the only two who could truly understand the other. Figuratively, obviously—but as a result, also literally.”

“Elaborate?”

“When you understand someone that well, inside and out, you end up understanding everything they say.” Seb smiles. “That was them, I think.”

—

“It’s impossible to transcribe your interviews,” Will says to Charles. It’s that hour on the paddock where everyone’s waiting for the pre-race bustle to start, so small talk is what’s keeping them busy.

You’re reviewing a few clips from practice on your phone and Seb is chipping into the conversation, which has moved from Mick’s future to F1 into Sky Sports into this.

“What do you mean?” Charles asks.

“You’re always sliding in and out of your three languages!” The Englishman laughs. “I have to consult a native speaker of both Italian and French each time. And you’re always going I, I, I, or we, we, we… but hey, the fans dig it, innit?”

“I think I sound perfectly understandable.” Charles smiles. You’re still busy, unfocused on the conversation at present.

“Like, okay. Look at this.” Will retrieves his phone, opens his voice memos app, and plays one of the audio recordings there. It’s a scratchy one of Charles describing his quali session, and sure enough, even if he’s speaking straight English, the adrenaline and exhaustion have him sounding totally indecipherable.

We—we had gasjdhfhs and I, I, I… I think we need to rejshdhs and thijsjsh about the hsfhdh, yeah? And, and, uh, we ajhshajs. And

Will closes it. “Sebastian, can you tell me that said?”

He shrugs, amused. “Sorry, Charles. I genuinely can’t.”

“See?!” Will makes a voila motion. “Nobody understands this.”

“He said we had good traction and I think we need to recalibrate and think about the boxing strategy, yeah? And we need that mindset.” You’re still going over your phone, busy and not 100% invested. “You two just aren’t listening.”

Charles doesn’t take his eyes off you, or the smile off his face, the whole hour.

—

Pierre comes last, clearing his throat. He’s ready. He knows exactly what to say, so he says it. ���Those two are fucking soulmates.”

—

It’s three-thirty when somebody knocks on your hotel room.

But your body still feels like it’s five in the evening, your brain’s stuck at two in the afternoon, and your sleep schedule thinks it’s nine in the morning, so you’re not asleep but instead rewriting notes from the weekend prior.

You’re horribly disoriented when you grab your pepper spray and unlatch the door, and even more disoriented when you see Charles on the other side of it.

“Am I crazy?” He asks, breathless, like he’s been waiting for you all his life. Maybe he has.

“You’re at my hotel room at three a.m., so… a bit.” You rub sleepiness and jetlag out of your eyes. “Charles, what’s going on?”

“I love you.” There it is. “It sounds so stupid. But I love you. And it’s almost—I can’t bear it. I woke up this morning? You, on my mind. Lights go off after a race? You. I go to sleep? You. It’s always you. And I know, I know it’s—I know, with Charlotte, and—but it’s true. I, I, I—I think about you every minute. And usually this happens accidentally. Nous sommes tous des idiots quand il s’agit d’amour... moi y compris.

“But this was… I knew I was falling in love and I let it happen. And so I thought, why keep waiting? Why let it drag on and on and fight over and over when I can just come and tell you how much I—and maybe, hopefully, see if you feel the same?”

He pants, tired from his clearly rambled and unplanned confession.

“I love you, too,” you say, struck. Oh God.

“Can I kiss you, then?”

“It’s may,” you breathe. “May I kiss you.”

“You may,” he whispers.

“Right now?”

“Anytime.”

“So now.”

“It’s now or next Tuesday,” he jokes.

“Now is… the best. Now would do.”

“Now would do.” So you cross the threshold and let him scoop you into his arms so he can well and truly kiss you.

—

“Is that all?” The interviewer asks Pierre. “Just… those words? We need a bit more for the article on this event.”

“Oh, yeah.” He gets up, straightens his tie. “Don’t worry. You’ll hear the rest during my best man speech.”

Del amor al odio hay un paso – From love to hate, there is one step.

Nous sommes tous des idiots quand il s'agit d'amour... moi y compris – We are all fools in love... me included.

#f1 #leclsrc2000 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader

[medicmuttt]

Totality

hear me out. for all the self shippers. Sun and Moon asking you out during the eclipse.

You're all settled on the roof or somewhere outside, the three or at least you and Sun in control of the body, resting on a soft blanket borrowed from the daycare. It's cute, littered with clouds and moons, and so incredibly soft. You're tempted to take it for yourself. You won't, but the thought crosses your mind.. They're cuddling with you of course. You've gotten used to it at this point. Always so clingy to their favorite little human. Their blank optics somehow filled with wonder as they look on at the sky. You look on as well. Your eyes protected by cute space themed glasses. They don't need any of course but they got some fake ones just to match you. Maybe they stole Monty's for the day..

You can feel as their hands fidget. The Moon hasn't fully covered the Sun yet.. But he looks down at you, sun rays twitching, a cute quirk you've noticed. "S..Sunshine?" His voice is laced in a nervous static as he speaks up. You turn to him, giving them your full attention. That only seems to make it worse.. The gentle whirring of his fans laced with the soft creeks and squeaks of their internal mechanics. Your head tilts ever so slightly as the bot gets the courage to speak once more. "I.. I.. We've known each other for a while now a-and today is so so special.." He trails off. You can tell by the look in his eye his communicating with Moon. Likely yelling at him for tripping over his words so much. His wrings his big, intricate hands. Your brows furrow. "Moon and I have been wanting to ask you for a while." One hand suddenly goes behind his back, searching for something you can't quite see. "W-would you go out with us.. Be our little star? Our universe?" With that he pulls out a bouquet of paper flowers. All hand crafted with colorful construction paper. Blues, reds, oranges and purples.. even some made of star patterned paper.. You feel your chest leap at the sudden proposal but before you can speak he pipes up again. "Y-You mean everything to us Sunshine. I.. We know it isn't really.. Professional or conventional. But we promise to take care of you, to make everyday you're with us the best day possible."

Your heart is racing in your chest. Pounding against your rib cage like a drum. Face hot and flushed with blush. You smile at them, the cute shy one they love so much. Their fans seem to grow louder. They'd fallen for you.. hard. But the two couldn't help the anxiety that bubbled within their chest as they waited for you to respond. Moon was eerily quiet while Sun nearly panicked. "Oh Sun.. Moon.. I don't know what to say" They hadn't said something wrong had they? They weren't reading your signals wrong? "Of course I will. Oh I'd love nothing more then to be yours" Your voice had picked up a cheerful tone. It felt like a weight had been lifted from their shoulders. Sun found himself releasing a breath his didn't even need. Dropping the flowers he near tackled you. Pulling you flush into his lap with a squeal. "Oh sunshine! You have no idea how much this means to us!" He squeezed you. Burring his big face into your neck Unable to do much else you simply smiled. Chuckling to yourself and wrapping your arms around their surprisingly warm and soft body. His eyes flicked back up to the sky. The totality was almost here. The tight grip grew slack as he turned you around. You could feel as his hand made its way into yours giving it a excited squeeze. the three of you watching in silence as the moon slowly encompassed the sun. "We love you andromeda.." You leaned up to kiss their cheek. The plastic growing hot under you. A smile tugging at your lips. "I love you too."

I fixated idk if this is good okay bye.

#daycare attendent #fnaf #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sun #fnafsb #sundrop #fnaf au #fnaf moon #moondrop #within these plastic walls #daycare attendant #daycare attendant moon #daycare attendant sun #dca sun #dca fandom #fnaf dca #dca au

[gortashs-skidmark]

Tieflings DnD - variations for the fanfic writers and artists!! -

There’s a lot about tieflings on the internet. THESE ARE CANON, except for one thought i put in.

If you’re gonna do BG3 fanfics about Tieflings, please please please consider adding some spice with origin lore and CANON facts about their race :) it would be SO fun!

Pls I need more zevlor fanfic too.

UPDATE: I color coded a bit, and added some more facts, mostly political which explain some of our beloved tiefling's backgrounds. Orange; Canon Historical Events, Abilities, Bodily Facts, and Bloodlines. It means i think you should look into it.

Pink: I think it's cute. Red; Warning, Comment Purple; Headcanon (only one of them)

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; <3 ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

- Tieflings are prone to bad luck, because of the Curse of Aasimar.

- Loviatar, the goddess, is a Tiefling. For those weird people in Act 1 who like that fucking guy Abdirak.

- They’re arcanally gifted, most of them. Zariel Tieflings are much better melee fighters.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

- Tielfling Blood; is tainted from the hells so they could have human parents. Be descendants of demon, devils, evil deities, night hags, and succubus!

- i know y’all love aphrodisiac fanfics, succubus spittle is exactly what you need dawg. Someone make me a fanfic including succubus heritage.

- along with that, Tieflings are unable to breed with anyone except humans or other Tieflings. Literally. They can be Tiefling or human.

- Usually there is some tell to if they’re Zariel, Asmodeus, Mephistopheles by birth mark, or traits like cat eyes, or night hags bloodlines have red eyes without pupils or scelaras

EDIT: I thought the flaming pupils were cat-like slit eyes in the game, but Karlach does indeed have regular slits!

- Tieflings can be male, female, or without gender. It is a canon fact. A win for my gender struggling homies.

- They can have green, blue, purple, pink, yellow, red skin tones. With dark hair colors only like black, purple, dark red and blue. I don’t care for this, genes be gene-ing so have any color you want.

Mephestopheles is recorded as to having blue skin, pale blue whites and red eyes, soot black scales, with large wings in the 2nd Manual. BUT in a 3e version he is described having red skin, bat wings, being 9ft, with white eyes, and slick black hair. Both of these are present in Mephestophic Bloodlines in BG3. Raphael is the son, though cambion, is red.

Asmodeus rules the Nine Hells. Mephestopheles being his archduke, only rules the 8th layer. Asmodeus has a humanoid, and a scale-fiend version of himself. He's red, slim, 13ft tall, horned, vibrant red eyes, and a neatly trimmed beard. He is Lawful-Evil.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

The Blood War (where Karlach escaped) is described as a "philosophical war" and which kind of evil would rule. Asmodeus plays a part but didn't start it, it's rooted in ancient Hell conflicts. Asmodeus claimed it was a senselessly bloody conflict from a militia standpoint. He really hates it, he's not a fan of it. INFERNAL POLITICS ARE FUCKING COMPLICATED. look into it :)

Zevlor is a Hellrider or Rider of Elturel! a Cavalry unit for Elturel during the 14th and 15th century. They ride horseback, and use spears and bows. They're well reguarded!! Zevlor should have more pride in himself for his service, being a refugee isn't his fault, or The Descent.

In the late 1400's striving for Paladin Knighthood in the Order of Companion was a rank of Hell rider. Before and after the year 1494, you could be a Paladin and join freely.

The Order of Companions was an Elturel, of Western Heartland, theocratic realm of Paladin Knighthood. It's just a region of Paladins that are highly reguarded. They typically worship Tyr, Torm, Helm, and Aumanator.

They kept order in the high capital of Elturel, preserving local civilization from outer destruction. They're super Lawful Good.

Typically an Oath of Devotion or an Oath of the Crown.

"For a City Guard, they outmatched the armies of the Whole Realm" - Forgotten Wiki Realms

They guard general land, they aren't really police, and can escort as far as Waterdeep if privileged to. It is a job they hold for life. I FUYCKING LOVE HELLRIDERS.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

- Tieflings can have feathers! Although rare. They can have fur, scales, or be bald like humans. They can be any variation of sorts!

- Tieflings are technically minorities and don’t live in the highest neighborhoods. It gives them an even worse reputation.

- Most of the Tieflings with famous status, also give bad reps. Like Loviatar as mentioned.

- When Tieflings get nervous, experience anxiety, or are upset. They’re known to wrap their tails around their leg!! Super telling.

- They can use their tail like a monkey, very dexterous about it. It’s about 5-6ft long.

- Their ages, weight, height. All similar to humans. Idk how logical that is with 5 extra feet of meat behind them. Sometimes they can live longer, to about 120-150 years old.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

- Tieflings are as sensitive as humans, same hearing. They usually have dark vision. And their body temperatures can be colder or warmer than humans depending on their type of tainted blood. --Mephistopheles blood lines are from the frozen layer of hell, maybe their blood is colder.

- They don’t purr, sorry girlies. They’re closer to humans than Tabaxis or Driders.

- Tieflings don’t regrow horns unless they’re still young, though they do tend to file them down.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

- There are so many Tieflings bloodlines. I love the Babau Tieflings bc they’re already known as uncanny creatures-- Babau Tieflings are gaunt and skinny, darker skin, and a small horn coming from the back of their head.

- Marilith Tieflings are known to be seductive- more than they already are, and have dark hair. They have snake-like half-bodies and have grey tongues.

- Succubus Tieflings! They’re like the ones you see in bg3, often have a small set of wings.

- Tieflings can have so many fucking variations it makes me dizzy.

- Tieflings can have bat-like wing shaped ears, that perk up and shit. I know yall think about ear movements. <zevlor has this>

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Edit: Ya'll loved this :) I can do another on Tiefling politics if ya'll want. Or more bloodlines and fun facts if you want.

I have built another list of Canon facts about Driders and Kar'niss Headcanons if you monster fuckers are interested!!

Currently in the works; He Who Was Headcanons and Shadar'Kai canon facts and events.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 tiefling #bg3 zevlor #bg3 rolan #bg3 dammon #karlach #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanart

[formulaforza]

miss americana and the heartbreak prince

—08. It's So Sweet —word count: 5.2k —warnings: none :) love, mackie... um... yeah. yeahhhh. sorry sorry sorry if you still read this fic. surprise I guess! its NOT as dead as you thought it was. See you guys again in four months. hopefully sooner if there is a God.

Charles, teeth dug into his tongue so hard he can taste copper, manages to keep from slipping up for the remainder of his time in Georgia. He swallows it down, chokes on an I love you everytime she looks at him for days that feel like an eternity. 

The flight out to France that marks the end of his stay had spent weeks serving as a dreadful backmarker, but now it was one of solace, saving him from himself. He knows better than to spit out “I love you” two months in. He knows better, but he also knows. Simple as that. He just knows. 

He’s good at keeping it down during phone calls and voice memos and FaceTimes because there’s no fucking way he’s stupid enough to say it over the phone. Whenever he does finally deem the time to be right, it’ll be inches from her face, with all the time in the world ahead of them. Her smile will be there, just waiting to be kissed. 

It definitely will not be while she’s grading papers or reviewing a movie or putting purple refills in her pen, even though he finds himself thinking just how plain and simple he loves her when she’s doing those things. 

– – –

Charles spends the holidays with his family in France, coming pretty much directly from his time with Chris and her family in Georgia. 

They quiz him like there’s no tomorrow about all of it; on Chris, and her family and her city and her life. He thinks he does a half-decent job at keeping his cards close to his chest; hiding his tells and acting completely normal and regular and plain about it all. 

Well. He can be coy and secretive to everyone but his mom. Mother’s always know when their sons are in love, and Pascale has always been particularly apt at seeing straight through her boys and the bullshit they try to feed her. 

He’s helping with dinner dishes—working hard to get those extra points towards being the favorite son this weekend—when she confronts him about it. He knows he’s in trouble. He’s never been able to lie to her in a way that was even sort-of convincing. 

“So, Chris…” she hums, drying three two forks at once with a damp towel. “Is this going to be something?” She asks. Charles shrugs, squeezing more blue dish soap onto the plate in his other hand. “That’s too much,” she remarks. 

He ignores the comment, moves the scrubbing sponge over the plate in small circles. “It’s new, still.”

“But you like her?”

He chuckles. Of course he likes her. He wouldn’t be dating her, traveling to see her, introducing her to his family if he didn’t at least like her. That’d just be cruel. “I like her a lot,” he says. I like her the most, he bites his tongue. He rinses the soap from the plate. 

Pascale nods, soft smile on her lips when she takes the plate from his hand, drying it carefully. “Just like, is that right, Charles?”

He knows what she means, what she’s implying. They both know she’s right, too, but he can’t stand to admit it. He feels like if he does, if he actually speaks the words out loud, there’s no way he’s going to be able to keep it in anymore. It’ll be breaking the seal, and he can’t. Not yet. He doesn’t have it in him yet. “Maman,” he says, and his tone is laced with her answer, soft and sweet and pleading in a desperate way. 

She smiles, sets the plate down onto the counter gently. It still clatters against the marble. “I know,” she hums, hand finding his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze.

Charles spends New Year’s Eve in London. He’s with his brothers and his friends and like, all of their girlfriends. He’s been pathetically texting her the entire trip going on about i’ll buy your ticket if you want to come and it would be so much more fun with you here.

What Charles doesn’t know is that Chris is on her way, and that she’d been planning the surprise with Joris for three weeks. After a red eye flight from Atlanta that lands a little before two in the afternoon in London, Joris manages to sneak off from the group to meet her at the hotel and give her a key to his room. She hides out there for most of the afternoon while Joris tries to convince the group to head back to the hotel for a few hours without spoiling the surprise of why they should go back to the hotel in the middle of the day. 

When he finally gets them back to the hotel, he waits fifteen minutes to text her the all clear, to let her know that she can come and execute the surprise. 

It takes her an almost comical amount of time to find his room, considering it’s in the same hallway as everyone else’ rooms, and only ends up being three or four doors down from where she’d started. When she finally finds it, she’s hit with a sudden wave of anxiety. 

What if he doesn’t want me here? She worries. Her hands get clammy and she stands there in front of the door like a complete idiot just waiting for her body to do something, to do anything. Finally, she brings her fist to the door and knocks. 

Voices are muffled and heavy feet shuffle on the other side of the door before finally, after what feels like an eternity of loud bickering from the boys about who’s going to open the door, Chris is face to face with Charles, stupid, toothy grin on her face. “Oh,” he says. 

Behind him, the guys jeer in French, but neither of them are paying any attention. Chris can't stop laughing, standing there, staring at Charles in the doorway. He stares right back, his eyes a window into the gears that turn behind them, processing… processing… processing so incredibly slowly. “Are you gonna hug me, or just stare at me?” She finally asks, and he laughs, snapping into reality, pulling her into a tight hug. 

“What are you doing here?” He questions, pressing a hard kiss into her hair, and then he laughs even harder. “How did you get here?”

– – –

Chris isn’t there for more than a couple days—she has to be back at work as winter break winds to a close, and Charles has training camp in Italy at the end of the week. It’s a quick visit, but they make the most of it, and they do get their new year’s eve kiss. 

It’s been, like, a month and a half since Chris was last in Monaco, but it’s been just two and a half weeks since someone posted a TikTok of Charles and her walking around Monte Carlo together. That means, it’s been two weeks of Chris stumbling upon, and falling down rabbit holes of, Charles’ fan accounts desperately trying to put a face to the back of the head of the girl in the video. 

She’s less interested in are they going to figure out who I am and more interested in are they at least, like, close? The answer is no. No, they are not even kind-of close to connecting Chris with him. It’s all models and friends and people he follows on Instagram and even one ex-girlfriend, but definitely no American kindergarten teachers. 

The fire is only fed, though, when on New Year’s Eve, drunk on Moscow Mules and equipped with the world’s most fashionable LED glasses, Charles is posted showing off the look. Under his arm, equally as drunk off espresso martinis, is Chris, engaged in conversation with Joris beside her. 

It’s been two-thousand twenty-three for fifteen minutes, and Instagram explore pages across the world are already filled with pictures of the side of her head and Charles’ goofy heart-eyed glasses.

Chris is too drunk to know, much less care, but when she does find out about it, she won’t be bothered. She thinks that maybe she never will be a big deal—certainly not as big of one as he seems to think it is. Nothing is going to happen, she tells him so many times it doesn’t even sound like a sentence anymore. Who cares if everyone figures out who I am?

January isn’t much but settling into a routine. They’re both busy with a million and one different things—just a little peek into any sort of future they hope to have together—and it’s the end of the month before they see each other in person again. 

Every post he makes on social media—every video, photo, story, mention, and repost is run through a microscope, carefully dissected searching for a repeat like and commenter, for an unfamiliar woman’s voice or a hand or a coat or a head of hair. Names fly around in a tornado of guesses, and none of them are correct. 

It’s an easy routine to fall into; scheduled phone calls, FaceTime dates twice a week, and sneakily sent texts in the middle of the workday. Sometimes it feels like they aren’t all that far apart, like he could walk out the front door and get into his car and drive for fifteen minutes and be at her house, eat dinner at the same table, fall asleep at the same time, in the same bed. Other times, they can feel every step of the four-thousand, six-hundred, ninety-five miles that separate them, when it’s all pictures of dinner and goodmorning texts seen three hours later and delayed, laggy FaceTime calls. 

It’s on one of those calls, where her face is frozen mid-conversation, that she’s gushing about how excited she is for some school event at the end of the month, the Art show, she’d called it, and when—after sorting out the camera issue for the time being—he’d asked for clarification on what exactly an Art show is, she’d explained the whole event with a big, excited smile on her face. 

“Oh my gosh!” She’d laughed, pulling her legs underneath her. “Okay, so, it’s the coolest thing. Basically, the art department displays all of the art the students have made so far this year all throughout the year, and the kids get to show it off to all their family. They set up a book fair in the library, and they serve ice-cream in the cafeteria,” she explains, “All the teachers go, and they bring their families, too,” she nods. “It’s really cool. I like to see how proud the kids are of their work.”

He decides then, in that very moment, that he doesn’t want to hear about this in text messages and photos and Facetime calls. He wants to be there—feel her energy, her pride, her smile. It just pours out of his mouth, what if I came? And then, before she can even come up with a response, If that’s okay, obviously. If you even would like, want that, you know. 

She bites down on a smile. “I thought you wanted to keep things quiet?” she chuckles, “be all protective of me and stuff?” 

Charles shrugs. “I don’t think anyone would believe I’m at a primary school’s art-fair in the middle-of-nowhere America.”

“I mean, I don’t care,” she explains, tucking her bangs behind her ears. “But you do. I’d love it if you could be there.”

He smiles. “You’d love it?”

“I would!” She laughs, leaning forward, closer to the camera. “You’d better come for more than just a day though,” she continues, slumping back against the couch behind her, picking at the cuticles on her thumb, raising her brows when she quietly adds: “I can think of lots of other things I’d love to do with you.”

He shakes his head, dimples digging into his cheeks. “You’re a tease, Christyn,” he taunts, and her head shoots up from her cuticle. 

“You have such a dirty mind, Charlie!” she laughs, and his cheeks burn at the nickname, at the accusation. 

“Don’t call me that,” he mutters, and she only laughs harder, smiles bigger. 

“Why?” She teases, crossing her arms over her chest, cocking her head to the side playfully.  “Because it makes you blush?”

– – – 

There’s really only one of Chris’ students that Charles knows by name: Quinn. Or, as Chris usually refers to her, my sweet, sweet, little Quinnie. Quinnie is not at the art show. Chris goes on to explain that she and her family are  never at any of the school events—no open houses, no field trips, no choir recitals or art shows or parent teacher conferences. If it’s not a free event that takes place during school hours, neither Quinn or her siblings will be there, and their Mother will never be there because she’s always at work. 

So, no Quinn to win over. He does, however, meet what may be the cutest kid he’s ever been face-to-face with in Landry, a little girl with two long brown braids and a strawberry patterned dress on. Landry is the first of her students to find their teacher, and completely ignores him to tug Chris’ arm towards the little girl’s artwork hung in the hallway. 

“I’ll be right back,” she says hurriedly, over her shoulder, letting the little girl pull her away. Charles nods and flashes her a quick wink before she’s properly whisked away, leaving him with nothing better to do than shove his hands deep in his pockets and analyze the artwork of primary school students. 

When she finds him again, no Landry in tow, she links her arm through his, leaning her head against his shoulder. “She told me I have a cute boyfriend,” she says.

“No, she did not,” He laughs, but his ears blush pink. 

“She did,” she nods. “She said you were ‘oh my goodness he is soooooo cute,’” Chris repeats, in a sing-songy tone. “I said, ‘I know right! He’s the cutest.’”

“Whatever,” Charles mutters, running his other hand through his hair. “Where’s the ice-cream at, anyway?”

Two styrofoam bowls of vanilla ice-cream slices—one covered in rainbow sprinkles, the other with chocolate syrup and a maraschino cherry—later, and Chris and Charles are sitting at Chris’ desk in her classroom, him in the green spinning chair, her on the desk itself. 

Two boys, who Chris refers to after they leave the room as Nash and Wyatt, are bouncing off the walls with excitement when they turn the corner into Chris’ classroom, their faces lighting up when they find her there. “Miss Elliott!” One of them shouts, half-out of breath. “The book fair has posters of your brother!” He explains. 

“Yeah!” The other chimes in. “I see-ed it when my sister was getting a poster of,” he takes a big breath, “of, uh, a princess poster or something.”

“Yeah, and I get-ted this one!” The first kid adds, unrolling the paper in this hand to reveal a black and white Fortnite poster, demonstrating the dances from the game. “Cool right?” He asks, and Chris nods. 

“So cool!” She says, “where are you going to hang it?” 

Charles leans back in the chair, spinning slightly side to side, eating his ice-cream and just observing the interaction. 

“Um, probably in my bedroom.”

Chris nods again, “perfect place for it,” she agrees. 

– – – 

He’s in Georgia for three days; Friday to Sunday, and spends all of it with Chris, almost entirely at her house. The art show is on Friday night, but he finds himself playing sleepover host with Chris on Saturday when Reid appears with a backpack, a pillow, and a baby blanket Chris tells him not to refer to as a baby blanket. 

Chase is racing in Los Angeles this weekend, and left town on Tuesday, leaving Hannah alone on Mom duty. That would be all fine, if the weekend didn’t fall on the one weekend a month she works. Bill, Cindy, Chris, and Hannah’s mom have been helping to pick up the slack left in Chase’ absence. 

It all comes together to result in him sitting in the middle of the living room, on the floor, surrounded by every blanket and pillow in the entire house on a Saturday night—a four-year-old boy sitting across from him, hanging on his every word, and his girlfriend in the other room making popcorn. 

He’s been tasked with coming up with, and executing the plan for a super, super, cool boy-fort that Auntie Chris can come into, I guess. 

A fort that fits into that description is a lot easier in theory. In Practice, however, he’s faced with the nephew he desperately needs the approval of, and a pile of purple and pink and sparkly and fluffy blankets and pillows. 

It takes all four of the dining table chairs, a curtain rod from the screened-in porch, a fitted sheet, and a box fan, but the fort is quickly commissioned, and gets Reid’s stamp of approval when he moves his pillow, favorite blanket, and definitely not a baby-blanket, baby-blanket into the build. 

Chris is behind them momentarily, knocking on the seat of one of the dining chairs before Reid permits her to enter. She crawls in, laptop and big bowl of popcorn in either hand. Reid is sandwiched between the two of them, Cars blanket covering his little frame, eyes glued to the screen while buttery fingers bury themselves in the popcorn bowl. 

Reid is asleep about five minutes after the popcorn bowl is empty, Chris running her fingers through his short brown hair while soft little snores leave his lips. Her head rests on his pillow, just above his head, and she watches the movie. Charles watches her, arm propped up at the elbow, holding his head up. She’s so soft. So sweet. It ties him up in knots. 

He feels like a child when she catches him staring, her eyes glancing over to him and making unexpected contact. His cheeks burn and his eyes dart away, back to the screen, to the movie. She giggles softly, barely loud enough for him to hear over his sudden mortification.  “Beautiful fort you’ve built here,” she says, and he looks back at her, meets her eyes properly this time. 

“Thank you,” he chuckles. “I’m thinking maybe I will make it my new career after racing.” Charles nods. Chris nods. A smile dances its way across her lips, turning the corners up gently. It makes him smile, too. “Charles Leclerc: Professional fort builder.”

“Oh,” She chuckles. “I can hear it now. You’ll be a household name.”When Charles wakes up, credits are rolling on the laptop screen and Chris’ hand is moving softly over his shoulder. He’s the bridge of his nose and picking the sleep out of his eyes and trying to get his bearings. All he’s sorted out so far is that Chris is here, he’s fucking boiling, and there’s a sleeping kid between them. He squints his eyes—like the dim light from the black credit screen is too bright for him—until she comes into focus. She points to the exit of the fort. “Bed,” she mouths.

“Well,” Chris shrugs, bringing a forkful of salad to her mouth. “I think you’ve won Reid over.”

Charles laughs on her phone screen. He’s in Italy… or Monaco… or… she’s not really sure, to be honest. It’s hard to keep track sometimes, when he’s always somewhere new. He’s in bed, wherever he is, the lamp from her kitchen casting the only light in his dark room. “Is that right?”

“Oh yeah,” she nods. “I had the pleasure of  reminding him you weren’t here this afternoon. He wasn’t happy with me.” She remembers it well, his declaration that Charles and Me are going to play games today, and remembers better the little, defeated oh, right after she had to remind him Charles had left the day before. 

Charles chuckles, shaking his head and rolling his eyes playfully. “I told him goodbye!”

“I know!” She says, taking another bite, her hand covering her mouth while she talks around the lettuce. “He thought you meant goodbye for the day,” she explains, swallowing. “Not goodbye for a while.”

Charles frowns. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize!” Chris laughs, poking her fork around her bowl. “I love that he likes you so much, it’s adorable,” she hums. “He’s absolutely devastated you won’t be at his birthday party, though.”

Charles scoffs, his mouth dramatically falling open. “No way. You didn't tell me it was his birthday!”

“Because it’s not for like, two weeks!” She defense, laughing. “I wasn’t even thinking about it.”

“When is it?”

She cocks her head to the side, already knowing what he’s about to say, and unscrews the top of her water bottle. “His birthday’s the sixteenth, but the party is the eighteenth.”

“I’ll be there.”

“No you won’t. You have testing.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yeah,” she insists. “On Monday you have to be in Bahrain.”

“Monday is not Saturday.”

Chris doesn’t tell anyone outside of Chase and Hannah that Charles is flying in, and they definitely don’t tell Reid about it, just in case it falls through for any of the million reasons it could possibly fall through because of. 

It was a last minute-trip, after all, and it seems like every second of Charles’ time is accounted for right now, so  Chris is prepared at any moment to get a text or a call apologetically explaining that he got pulled into something else. That call never comes, and she picks him up from the airport late Friday night, just in time to bicker in the middle of a liquor store about wine. 

“Absolutely not, baby.” He says, shaking his head, a truly horrified look on his face. 

“You don’t even drink wine!” She insists, holding a three-liter box of Franzia. “This is perfectly fine.”

His eyes go wide, brows raising like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “It’s in a box.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s for a fifth birthday party.”

“It’s not for the five-year-old,” he argues, picking two bottles of overpriced chardonnay from the shelf. “We’ll get these.”

– – – 

Much to the dismay of the other, they show up to the party the next afternoon with one box and one bottle. 

Reid is upstairs playing with some kid that Chris is related to somehow, she’s sure, so their arrival goes unnoticed by the birthday boy. Instead, Chris is heaving the box of wine onto the kitchen island, greeting a visibly stressed Hannah with a hug. Charles follows closely behind, setting his bottle down next to her box, following the hug train to Hannah. 

“Look great, as always, Hannah,” He says, and Hannah laughs. 

“I’m a mess, the house is a mess. Reid,” she looks to Chris, “Lord have mercy on me, your nephew has dressed himself.”

Chris scowls, and then shrugs. Charles laughs. “He can be Chandler’s nephew, today,” she says. 

“He’s still your godson, though,” Hannah reminds. 

“Oh, don’t I know it!”

Charles takes Chris’ coat with his own, hands them both up in the mud room that’s just off the kitchen. He hears Hannah calling for Reid while he does it, telling him to come down and say hello to your auntie. Auntie Chris. He loves the way Reid says it—Annie Chris—or, when he really wants to stir some shit up, which Charles has come to learn is just about all of the time, Reid will call her Miss Elliott. 

Everyone hears him before they see him, little feet making heavy noises as they hurry down the stairs so quickly he might as well have just jumped off the landing and tuck’n’rolled his way into the kitchen. He’s bouncing on his feet, talking to Chris animatedly with his back turned to Charles when he appears in the mud-room doorway. Immediately, Chris is glancing up to him and covering Reid’s eyes with her hands, turning him to face Charles. “I have a surprise for you, Reidy.”

“What?” He squirms. “What is it?”

“More like who is it?” Hannah says, and Reid gasps. 

“Chucky?” He asks, and Chris is grinning at Charles, adjusting her hands over the boy’s eyes so one hand covers them both. With the other hand, she pokes Reid’s side right where he’s ticklish and makes him giggle. 

“Who?” She asks, his belly laugh making her laugh, too. 

“Sharles!” Reid exclaims, breathless from laughing so hard. “Sha-rle,” He laughs out, enunciating the poorly mocked accent.

“Wrong,” Chris says, and then takes her hand off his eyes to reveal Charles. 

Reid is slamming into Charles’ legs before he can even squat down to give the kid a proper hug, settling for just hugging his legs. “You comed!” He cheers. 

“Come on, Mate!” Charles says, ruffling the little boy’s hair. “You didn’t think I would miss such an important birthday?”

Chris watches the whole interaction with a giddy smile on her face. Hannah watches, too, while she stirs a crock pot full of nacho cheese. Reid fills Charles in on everything that’s happened to him since Charles left, and is already asking if Charles wants to go play catch outside with the football he’s gotten from his dad earlier that week, on his actual birthday. When Hannah slides behind Chris, between her body and the cabinets, muttering a quick behind you and grabbing a ladle from a drawer, she gives Chris’ shoulder a soft squeeze. 

– – – 

Chris is MIA when Bill and Cindy turn up, arms full of food and gifts for their only grandchild, but Charles is in the backyard, standing around a smoking fire pit with Chase and Reid and other people he remembers meeting from the wedding, but who’s names he wouldn’t be able to remember if there was a gun held to his temple. 

Bill and Cindy wander out shortly after they arrive, looking for the birthday boy, and Charles handles the introductions all by himself—a handshake to Dad, a compliment to Mom, and hugs for both of them. He knows how to charm. Knows he’s going to be working at it for a while, probably. He’s more than willing to put in the hours. 

“I didn’t know you were comin’, son,” Bill says, and Charles is nodding, hands in his jacket pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Yeah, it was a kind of… last minute choice.”

“Aw,” Cindy hums. “What a sweetheart. How long are you in town for?”

“Just a couple days,” he explains. “Chris is off work this week, but I have to get to Bahrain in a couple days. Get used to the timezone and everything.”

“Ah,” Bill nods. “Season’s starting up again, that right?”

“Eh,” he shrugs. “It never stops, it feels like,” and Bill nods. 

“Don’t I know it, boy.”

“Is Chrissy planning on coming out to any of your races?” Cindy asks, linking her arm through Bill’s, leaning against him around the fire. “I know she told us that y’all are keeping it pretty hush-hush for now.”

“Eventually, I hope she can,” he says. “I don’t want to have her come if she doesn’t feel comfortable.”

Cindy nods, smiling to herself. “Smart answer, honey,” she says, and Bill laughs. “You’re a good egg.” Charles chuckles softly, if only because he doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s been called a lot of things over the years, but good egg might be a new one. 

Just then, Chris is pushing open the sliding door on the back deck, stepping out with her coat on, the hood pulled up over her head, her hands hidden in the sleeves. “Well, speak of the Devil,” Bill says, greeting his daughter with a tight hug. 

“Uh oh,” Chris laughs, following suit with a hug for her mom, too. “Y’all are talking about me?”

He’s come to learn that her accent is never anywhere as strong as it is when she's around family. He’s familiar with the pattern of it, and does the same thing after long breaks away from speaking English or Italian. It takes a while to settle back into translating your thoughts. He thinks it’s probably pretty similar, even if she’s not translating from another language. He thinks it’s cute, when the southern twang gets extra prominent. It’s cute, and it’s sweet, and she sounds like a movie character sometimes. 

She slots into her comfortable position at Charles’ side, and his arm is tossing itself over her shoulder before he even realizes it’s happening. It’s habit, almost, to keep her close. “Always,” he says. 

– – –

They’re cute and annoyingly couple-ey all night. He doesn’t care if she’s related to or friends with almost everyone here, he’s never not amazed at just how easily she can find home in any conversation. Sometimes he wonders if he looks as awestruck about it as he feels, watching her put on this masterclass with everyone she talks to—from passing, brief conversations about how good Hannah’s food is and how old Reid is getting, to the long, sit-down chats about work and her life and their lives. It’s so crystal clear that she makes everyone feel important—the most important person in the room—and he;s even starting to remember names. 

There’s a lot of names to remember. 

There’s nobody that feels quite as important to Chris as Charles does, though, he’s sure of it. In fact, he’s not sure there’s another person on Earth that could manage to make a social event into something so… recharging for him. She just radiates energy, truly. It’s in the atmosphere, just being in her proximity, just having an arm around her or their fingers intertwined or the smell of her perfume on his clothes is enough. 

He loves her so horribly that he’s almost sick with it. He’s biting his tongue all night. Hell, he’s even trying to talk himself out of the now months old revelation. 

Like, she drinks wine from a fucking box. A box. Of wine. And she sees absolutely no problem with it. She wants to drag him around to every person, to engage in every conversation. She changed her perfume or her shampoo or her laundry detergent or something, because she smells different than the last time he was with her. She drives like an elderly woman—Jesus fucking Christ, she takes the speed limit so seriously it’s hard to sit in the passenger seat and let it happen. She cried three times on the way from Atlanta. Three times, because she saw some roadkill that wasn't even identifiable, and couldn’t stop thinking about it.  She’s covered in glitter, like, all the time. And so is her stuff. It’s on her face and her hands and her clothes and every surface of her house. Glitter and spelling tests and like, six variations of the same travel coffee mug. She listens to country music as if it’s the only genre of music that exists, and she listens to it all the time. He doesn’t love her. He doesn’t. If he did, he wouldn't have been able to keep it in for so long. 

He doesn’t love her, and then she laughs and he can feel it in his fucking gut, feels the urge to laugh even when he doesn’t get the joke, even when he misses entirely what is making her so happy. He wants to laugh because she’s laughing and her laugh makes the world a better place and he loves her so bad it hurts.

last chapter masterlist next chapter

#ma&thbp #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x oc #cl16 #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc smut #f1 edit #f1 fandom #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 #f1 2023 #f1 2024 #formula one x reader #formula one #formula one x oc #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x oc #f1 x female reader #charles leclerc x female reader #blah blah blah #hoping for ten notes lmfao

[kvtie444]

*.✧BREAK IT OFF

a/n: sorry i love pinkpantheress

warnings: mentions of sex, wearing, drinking, angst

summary: matt is too afraid to start a real relationship with reader after being together secretly for months.

・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

He was the last person I ever wanted to see here—Matt. Our eyes locked across the kitchen, purple LED lights illuminating his chiseled features. We held eye contact as he downed the rest of his drink in a red solo cup, my circle of friends continuing the conversation while I felt my stomach drop. I needed air. Shit. Quickly turning on my heels, I walked for the back door, pushed it open, and stepped outside, the cool air hitting me, the music now muffled. There were only about three other people out here. I leaned against the railing, letting my hands dangle freely. The door opened again, and I kept my eyes glued to the sky.

"Fancy seeing you here," his voice cut through the silence. I felt my stomach drop even further. I turned around and saw Matt, immediately looking away. "I'm not doing this again," I mumbled.

Matt and I had a complicated relationship. Behind closed doors, he told me how much he needed me, making me feel like the only girl in the world, and we hooked up. But as soon as we were in front of other people, he switched up, turning into a complete dick. It was like he was a completely different person. He had been hooking up with other girls and lying about it behind my back, but if I even mentioned another boy, it turned into a huge drama. The breaking point was when he picked me up, and I found a pair of panties in the back—panties that weren't mine. We argued, and I made the decision to ghost him completely. Blocked calls and texts followed, accompanied by his apologies – 'I'm sorry, baby,' 'Let me make it up to you' – all of which I chose to ignore.

"Come on, Y/N, you can't seriously be mad at me still," he replied, his creaking steps getting closer. I stayed silent and ignored him. "If anything, I should be mad at you for blocking me," he muttered. I turned my head to him and scoffed, brows furrowed. "Don't," I scolded. He stuck his tongue in his cheek and looked away before meeting my gaze with his icy blue eyes, shooting daggers. "Talk to me. What's going on?" he whispered, stepping closer and putting his hands on my sides, running them up and down for comfort. His touch always made the hairs on my arms stand, and I couldn't allow myself get used to it, especially knowing where he's been. I gently pushed his hands away, feeling tears brim at my eyes. I wanted to scream at him, but at the same time, kiss his lips until they're bruised.

"Hey, what's going on? Speak to me," he reassured, looking down at me. "I'm fine," I mumbled. He tilted his head at me. "Come on, baby, you can tell me," he said, always good at pretending to care. "Do you like me?" I croakily spoke up. His eyes scanned my face before nodding. "I want to hear you say it," I continued, tears about to spill. There was a silence for a second. "Fucking hell," I muttered, smiling at the ridiculousness of the situation. A single tear rolled down my face before he spoke up, "You know I don't do relationships, Y/N/N." "Then stop treating me like your girlfriend behind everyone else's back," I said, my tone louder and more aggressive, more tears starting to pour. He kissed his teeth, looking to the side, his jawline effortlessly flexing. I couldn't read his expression. Fuck this.

I pushed past him and walked to the door, the loud music now fully audible again. He wasn't even coming after me. I hated how he acted in front of everyone else. I missed the person I thought he was. I wanted to go back to us being alone, in his room, and actually being happy.

As I walked through the house, I received some concerned looks until one of my friends grabbed my shoulder. "Are you okay?" they asked, tilting their head at me. "I'm fine," I shrugged their hand off and continued walking until I reached the front door. I went on my phone, booked an Uber, and as I waited, I looked around— he hadn't even tried to come after me. I wiped my eyes and took a breath, collecting myself. Fuck him.

・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

tag list !!

@iloveneilperry @bernardenjoyer @daddyslilchickenfingers @mbbsgf @sturnvilmed @s1urnioloslvr @mattsbratt @mangoposts @christinarowie332 @recklesssturniolo @bluesturniolo333 @flowerxbunnie @kenzieiskoolaid @pepsiskiess @poopydroopt @byechristopher @solarsturniolo @m6ttsturniolo @lustfulslxt @stardustmf444 @thankyounextt @glossyfx @bellasturniolo @justurniolos @cl0esblogg @strumbolisworld @strniolosworld @chrisloyalgf @aliyahsbody @spideylovin @justangelheree @sturnioloenthusiast @nickmillersn1gf @soursturniolo@bernardenjoyer

#Spotify #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #imagine #angst #chris sturniolo x reader #fluff #smut

[princesstaeille]

Ob(li)vious

summary: taeyong is a really sweet guy, fun-loving, and a treat to be around. he gets along with everyone, everyone who isn’t you. you’re determined to change that.

pairing(s): taeyong x f!reader

genre(s): office!au, fluff, angst

warning(s): miscommunication, self-esteem issues (pls let me know if there are more)

wc: 3.7k

notes: this one goes out to all my rbf girlies ;-;. also inspired by this post. if you enjoyed reading, pls like/reblog and comment! thank you xxx

Taeyong looks away from his computer and at the stack of papers that landed on his desk with a startling thwack. His gaze trails from the documents to the woman who stares down at him firmly, jaw set, and lips pinched into a tight line.

“I finished the report for you since you hadn’t gotten around to it yet.” You say. “It’s due tomorrow, in case you forgot.”

You tell Taeyong this in the most nonchalant tone you can muster, ignoring the warm sensation in your face that almost feels like burning and the overall spiking body temperature that makes you wonder if someone decided to turn on the heat. You want to play it cool. Be the friendly, outgoing coworker who completes favors for others without prompting and brings a smile to another’s face, much like Taeyong himself. You want to give him that same kind of feeling that he gives to everyone else so badly, but you can’t help but narrow your eyes at him when he begins to…shake?

What? Why is he shaking?

“S-sorry, I must’ve forgotten.”

Sorry? That isn’t what you want to hear. You want to hear him thank you and gaze at you with gratitude sparkling in his eyes and that same sweet little smile he wears when he jokes with others in the break room. But you get an apology instead and no eye contact, and why is he shaking?!

Taeyong’s trembling only seems to worsen, and he looks at you wide with those big brown boba eyes. His mouth opens and shuts as he searches for a reply. “I-I guess I had too much coffee this morning, haha,” he eventually stutters and tries to smile, but all that results is a flimsy grimace.

Shoot. You didn’t mean to say that out loud, much less shout at him. But your gaze hardens as you watch his hands tremble, and you scoff, crossing your arms tightly around yourself as you return to your desk.

Stupid coffee.

“Uh oh, someone’s upset.”

You look up at Jihyo as she sets her lunch down beside you. Joy sits across from the two of you and nods in agreement. They look at you expectantly.

Heaving a sigh, you lift your head out of your arms and sit up completely. “It’s,” you pause and scan the cafeteria for wandering ears before looking back at Jihyo and Joy, “it’s Bubble Tea.”

“Again?” Joy asks and rolls her eyes, “I told you to just talk to him.”

You glare at her suggestion. “You say that like it’s so easy, but every time I try, he acts as if he’s seen a hideous troll and starts quivering in his boots.”

Jihyo snorts and takes a bite into her sandwich while watching you and Joy bicker. She notices how the scowl on your lips stretches, and your brows grow close. She wonders for a second whether she should separate the two of you before you can get any hits on each other. Then it dawns on her.

“Your face is the problem!”

“Excuse you?!”

Joy cackles.

Jihyo clears her throat and shakes her head. “Not like you’re ugly. You’re just…stern.”

“Mean.” Joy teases, and you glare at her once more.

“Your strong will physically shows itself. You have an assertive face.” Jihyo says proudly.

“You have RBF.” Joy clarifies.

“Okay…what should I do then?”

Joy perks up and claps her hands excitedly. “Dye your hair. Purple. Or blue.”

“Maybe change up your style. Wear something cute.” Jihyo suggests.

A frown settles on your lips as you study your current outfit. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing now?”

“It’s just so…serious. Like you mean business.”

“We work in an office.”

“And?”

You shake your head and steal a chip from Jihyo’s lunch, popping it into your mouth and ignoring her offended gasp. “I don’t think I’ll do that…it’s too much. I want him to like me, not me with purple hair and a new wardrobe.”

Both of them nod understandingly. “Of course,” Jihyo begins, “no point in chasing after someone who doesn’t want you as is.”

“Exactly. Don’t settle for a man who can’t handle your ‘assertive’ facial expressions! Bubble Tea’ll come around if he knows what’s good for him.” Joy winks.

The next day passes quicker than expected, and you already find yourself parting ways with Jihyo and Joy as you walk back to the main office. There are still a few minutes left of lunch, which explains why you see some of your coworkers huddled around Taeyong’s desk.

You hear a few murmurs and giggles that interrupt them and slowly approach the group to see what the fuss is about. 

“So she’s completely oblivious. Just humming to herself as she gets ready to ski. Meanwhile, a massive grizzly bear,” Taeyong pauses and spreads his arms wide, “is just chasing her down, and she has no clue.” 

Everyone laughs in disbelief, and they match Taeyong’s wide-eyed look. 

You observe quietly, basking in the warm, carefree atmosphere from a few feet away. Then you remember a scene from the drama you watched last night, the one where the girl tells the guy a joke that’s entirely too cheesy. Still, he laughs anyway and looks down at her endearingly. Your heart skips a beat at the thought of the same happening to you.

So, you clear your throat and gain everyone’s attention. “Good thing it wasn’t a polar bear,” you say with a smile, “otherwise we’d be hearing this story on the news, haha.”

Crickets.

The smile on your lips falters when you’re met with silence and your coworkers’ looks that call you crazy. Guess they didn’t find it as funny as you did. You glance at Taeyong to gauge his reaction, but he acts like you’re not there, visibly tense and avoiding your gaze.

So, you go back to your desk.

Silence greets you as you walk through your apartment door, cold and lonely as always. You kick off your shoes and leave them strewn messily by the door, throwing your work bag down somewhere near them before making a tired stumble to the kitchen. 

It’s like muscle memory. Reach into the freezer and grab a meal (doesn’t matter which), rip off the cardboard seal and slit (or aggressively stab) the plastic film, and throw it in the mic for five minutes while you wrestle your way out of your white button-up and black high-waisted pants that are a bit too tight but make your legs look nice. 

You turn the TV to channel five, RV News with anchorwoman Bae Joohyun, and sit on the sofa with the piping hot tray in your lap, struggling to maneuver it so it won’t burn your thighs. You eat and stare at the raven-haired anchorwoman speaking about another corner store robbery gone wrong in that gentle honey voice of hers. She drones on about how the perpetrator used a water gun to intimidate the cashier. Still, you’re hardly listening as you wonder how someone can look so flawless, even on your grainy and broken 1986 Panasonic TV. Even the static fuzz that manages to peek through barely obstructs RV News anchorwoman Bae Joohyun’s ethereal beauty, and you wonder if she’s wearing a wig, hair so perfect with not a strand out of place. You wonder where she bought that lip tint as your teeth snag onto your own.

 Your dinner goes cold, but you don’t notice when you lock eyes with the Kokubu Yurie poster that hangs above your bed. You wonder, as you admire her soft gaze and stylish flare in that red, oversized blazer, you wonder if a sweet song and magical electric guitar riff is what’ll get Taeyong to look at you and finally sweep you off your feet like in all those cheesy dramas you love to watch.

The food in your mouth turns to a sandpapery mush. You sit and wonder if you could cook—if you could make a hot meal, fresh from the oven and not a grocery shelf—if the smell of a home-cooked meal made with love is enough to lead Taeyong to you. 

You wonder if you were more like all the leads in your favorite romances—timid, passive, unassuming—if you had a special twinkle in your eye or softer hair or a prettier smile, if that’s what it takes to enchant him like all the others. The food goes down your throat like gravel. You lose your appetite.

With a heavy sigh, you trudge your way through your bedtime routine and lie down, dreaming of a world where Taeyong doesn’t look at you like a deer in headlights.

Apprehensive eyes stare back at you as you study your appearance from your rearview mirror. Actually, those eyes stare at the bow clipped in your hair that you rummaged through your closet for; you weren’t even sure you had it. It’s a light peach bow, petite, with a white pearl at its center. It was cute enough, you decided at 5 AM when you were really contemplating buying box dye, but it was late and cold and you didn’t feel like getting robbed at water gunpoint, so you had to settle.

Your eyes flit to your lips, which are covered in a shimmery, sheer pink gloss you also found in your closet. You have to tell yourself multiple times not to chew on your lips, but at least they taste like strawberries.

You will away the uncertainty your reflection carries and sternly tell the knot in your stomach to unravel itself. Maybe this isn’t your usual look, but there’s nothing wrong with trying something new. You have nothing to lose, you think with firm resolve. But your fingers still tremble slightly as they smooth out the wrinkles in your outfit and reach for the car handle when you finally force yourself to walk into work.

Once you’re inside, you make a beeline for the break room. You can’t cook, but you can make a mean cup of tea, which has to count for something. The sweet scent of orange and honey wafts into the air once you lift the lid from the cup after steeping, and, with a satisfied smile, you march over to Taeyong’s desk.

You set the cup down and then straighten up. Your proud smile leaves you. You don’t want to be too obvious. “This should help with your shaking,” you state, then awkwardly add, “it’s my favorite.”

Taeyong’s eyes switch between you and the steaming tea beside him, wide with surprise. “Oh..! Thanks..?” He gingerly picks up the cup and takes a cautious sip.

You don’t mean to stare in anticipation, watching his every move, from how his fingers curl around the cup to how his tongue darts out to lick up any stray drops of tea. For a split second, you think you might’ve seen the corners of his mouth twitch upward, but you mistake it for a tremor. 

Taeyong pales at the sight of your clenched fist.

“Drink it all.” You demand, pointing firmly at the cup in his hands.

“Yes—yes, ma’am.” 

You ignore the crack in his voice as you stalk back to your desk. 

The day goes as usual: you finish some paperwork, send out a few emails, and take a few not-so-subtle glances at Taeyong over your bulky computer screen. You’re shocked when you make eye contact a few times, though he always looks away as soon as you do, eyes blown wide like a little doe. But you note that he finished the tea. All of it.

Soon, 7 PM rolls around, and you’re ready to clock out. RV News anchorwoman Bae Joohyun is waiting for you on channel five. You gather all your belongings and sling your work bag over your shoulder with a small sigh. The lights in the office are dim; most people have already left for home, but you stayed a bit longer to tie up some loose ends. You think you’re the only one still in the office until you notice a warm light coming from one of the desks across from you. 

Taeyong’s desk.

Biting the inside of your cheek only does so much to keep you from imagining this as a perfect moment from a romance drama starring you. You could stay and offer to help, get closer to the guy you’ve been after all this time, and finally have a chat, maybe exchange numbers! Or, you could go home and snuggle up in bed where Kokubu Yurie, your stuffed animals, and RV News anchorwoman Bae Joohyun wait listlessly to hear you complain about events that are unlikely to occur between you and your office crush, effectively saving you from any embarrassment and ultimately leaving you wondering ‘what if?’

“Hey, um…” you clear your throat as you approach Taeyong’s desk. “Need any help?”

His brown eyes look up at you briefly before returning to the hefty stack of papers before him, and he quickly shakes his head. “Oh, no! I–I got it, you don’t need to—to waste your time—”

Taeyong shuts up when an annoyed huff leaves your lips as you reach over to grab half the stack of papers. 

“I’m doing this half.” You say in a tone that leaves no room for argument, and all Taeyong can do is nod dumbly.

It’s mindless work, and the two of you complete it in silence, slowly whittling down the stack. You barely even notice how you sit beside each other, only a shoulder apart. 

“Hey.” You nudge Taeyong’s shin with the tip of your shoe. “Do you have a sticky note? One of the pages is missing.” You frown.

He doesn’t look up from his stack when he wordlessly hands you a stack of sticky notes. Cinnamoroll-themed sticky notes.

At first, you’re confused. Are…are these his? Did someone give them to him, like a child, or did he buy them with his own money? Your mouth gapes a little, but you're speechless. You draw a blank while the white, chubby puppy stares back at you.

“This…this is so cute.” You laugh, using your hand to cover the smile that spreads across your face. But then you notice the pen, the matching pen. “Oh my god, it writes in blue glitter ink…”

Taeyong glances up from the paper he’s scanning when he sees your shoulders shake from the corner of his eye. He initially thinks you’re crying, and his eyes fill with panic. But then he catches a glimpse of your upturned lips, and his breath hitches.

“...woah.”

“Hm?”

Taeyong finds himself smiling a bit, too. “I just…I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that before.”

You stare back at him with a bemused smile and tilt your head. Never seen you do what before? You stop writing on the sticky note when you realize what he means. He’s never seen you smile before or laugh. He’s never seen you express joy. Your smile quickly drops.

What did he think you were? A soulless monster?

A stern glare replaces any softness left in your gaze as you stare down Taeyong’s paling form.

You both go back to working in silence.

It’s close to 9 PM when you and Taeyong finish the paperwork. You stand up from your seat and get in a much-needed shoulder stretch, dreaming of your soft pillow waiting for you at home. Your eyes wander over to Taeyong, who quietly gathers his things and walks toward the elevator. You follow not too far behind.

There’s still an awkward silence that hovers as the two of you enter the elevator, but you don’t mind it much. You spent a whole two hours with Taeyong, just the two of you. Sure, you were completing some tedious and, quite frankly, pointless paperwork that no one else would read. Still, it’s the fact that you both were in a room alone together. In the dark. At night. Together.

You squeal, jump, and dance around your mind like a little schoolgirl, rocking back and forth on your heels. You don’t notice that, in reality, you’re burning a hole into the walls with the intensity of your glare.

And now, you think dreamily, you’re on the elevator together, heading home. Would you hold hands? Would he offer to drive you to your apartment? Would you, maybe…kiss?

All these questions run through your mind one after the other, and you suppress the urge to squeal aloud. You lean over and peer at Taeyong with a small smile when you notice…that he’s huddled in the corner opposite of you. His eyes are glued to the wall beside him as if it’s the most marvelous thing in the world, and he refuses to look at you.

So, no kiss.

“Do you really find me that unattractive?” You note how he immediately flinches at the sound of your voice, and something inside you breaks.

“...what?”

“You won’t even look at me. Am I that ugly?”

The question prompts Taeyong to reluctantly acknowledge your presence. His brows furrow.

A humorless laugh escapes you as you shift from foot to foot. “I’ve…I’ve been trying to get your attention.” You speak with an exasperated sigh and nervous swallow, “I really like you and thought I was being pretty obvious, but you always cower in fear whenever I walk into the room.” You laugh again weakly, this time at how desperate you sound.

Taeyong resembles a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing as he searches for a reply. “I—I thought you hated me.”

 “Is that why you thought I couldn’t laugh or smile?” You ask defensively.

“Not around me, no.”

“...oh.

I don’t. Hate you, I mean. I really don’t.”

The silence returns, more palpable now, and you can’t help but feel a little stupid. The elevator ding! interrupts your thoughts of self-pity, signaling that you’ve reached the first floor.

The doors slowly open, and Taeyong moves to leave first, but he stops in the doorway and, without glancing back, quietly wishes you “good night.”

You catch your reflection in the closing elevator doors. Your eyes drift to the bow in your hair and the gloss on your lips, and you deflate with a sigh.

Crabby, red eyes glare back at you from your rearview mirror. This time, there’s no petite, light peach bow in your hair for your eyes to fiddle with. You kept the pink gloss, though. You look cute wearing it.

 With your jaw set and lips pinched into a tight line, your so-called ‘RBF’ is so strong that you intimidate yourself a little. At least your scowl tastes like strawberries.

When you walk into the office, you decide you won’t bother with Taeyong anymore. You sit down at your desk and get to work. It’s pointless to keep up with this childish crush, you tell yourself. You also didn’t see him at his desk and wouldn’t be surprised if he quit because of you, not that you cared.

You reach for your cup of tea and let the sweet smell waft into your nose, humming in delight as you take a sip.

Wait.

You didn’t make this.

Taeyong looks away just as your eyes flit up to look at him. He coughs and frowns as if remembering something, then meets your gaze with a sheepish smile.

“Thought I’d return the favor,” he says with a slight shrug. “Also, you’re right. This flavor’s pretty good.”

Once again, you’re speechless. You have to remember to swallow the tea in your mouth before letting your jaw drop because Taeyong, the same guy who tried merging with the elevator wall out of his fear of you, is smiling at you. Is speaking to you without shaking.

And his smile only grows at the sight of your dumbfounded expression. He leaves you there, dazed, and walks away with a chuckle.

Jihyo takes a bite from her salad and chews slowly, eyes locked on you in deep concentration. She watches as you quietly hum to yourself. It's probably another city pop song. She notes there’s something off about you, but she can’t quite place it. Her gaze hardens, and she peers at you a bit closer.

“…are you wearing lip gloss?”

You look up from your lunch and nod, a faint smile on your shimmery, pink lips.

“Alright, what’s going on?” Jihyo throws her hands up in resignation.

You glance between her and Joy with questioning eyes. “What?”

“Don’t play coy with us.” Joy shakes her head and points her chopsticks at you. “Your attitude has completely changed between this morning and now. Just a few hours ago, you looked dead-set on murder, and now you’ve got this dumb grin on your face.”

You scoff and look away from them, waving off their suspicions. “Pfft. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You try forcing your lips into a straight line.

“You’re not doing a good job of hiding it.”

“Be quiet.”

Jihyo rests her elbows on the table and folds her hands together, a grave look on her face as she leans in. “She told Bubble Tea.”

“Ugh, finally.” Joy groans in relief. “So you’re dating now?”

“I genuinely have no clue what you’re talking about.” You deny but refuse to look either woman in the eye. Instead, you glance at your wrist and gasp. “Seems we’ve run out of time, ladies. See you tomorrow.” You rush your words while throwing away your trash and dash for the stairs.

“You’re not even wearing a watch!” Joy accuses.

“They grow up so fast.” You faintly hear Jihyo sigh.

They clamber after you, yelling teases and congratulations that earn them a couple of weird looks, but you don’t bother to stop. They follow you all the way back to your desk even though they work on the other side of the building.

“What’d you do, scream at him?” Joy asks. “You think that’s his type of thing?”

“Would you hush?” You push her playfully, eyes nervously glancing around the room, hoping no one else heard that.

“I’m so proud of you.” Jihyo wipes away an invisible tear. “I knew you could do it.”

You sigh and shake your head. “Nothing like that happened. We just…talked.”

“Like I told you to do in the first place?”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you say and sit down, your shoulders sagging slightly at the thought. You prepare to return to work and reach for a file but freeze. There’s a sticky note on your desk. A Cinnamoroll-themed sticky note.

Gingerly bringing it up to your eyes, you, Jihyo, and Joy read what’s written in blue glitter ink. 

It’s a phone number. 

Let’s get to know each other better :)

- L. TY

thank you so much for reading! please leave a like and a comment. reblogs are appreciated too!

#nct #nct 127 #kpop boys #nct fanfic #fanfic #nct scenarios #nct fiction #nct fic #nct taeyong #lee taeyong #taeyong #taeyong scenarios #taeyong drabbles #taeyong x reader #taeyong x you #nct angst #nct fluff #kpop imagines #nct imagines #kpop drabbles #kpop scenarios #kpop #writers on tumblr #writing #writeblr

[kalopsia-if]

DEMO ➶ Last updated September 9th, 2023

➶Kalopsia is a 17+ fantasy thriller interactive fiction series written in Twine. Play as a merperson, struggling to keep the rage from consuming you as you seek the path of vengeance for your only child. Fight your way back to what once was yours, and lead the battle between land and water.

This game will be completely free from start to finish!! Nothing in-game will ever have to be bought to view. It is also in development, things will change (A LOT) and you'll always be updated when I decide to do so.

You defied, you swore, and you tried your absolute hardest to give the benefit of the doubt to humankind. Growing up hearing about how you needed to ‘stay away from pirates’ made your self-preservation dwindle, never believing that a species could seriously be bad.

You ignored that they were hunting merpeople, and you ignored that they do anything to get ahold of your precious little scales, fins, and intuition. There’s always a bad apple, you thought.

And you continued telling yourself that, even through the trials and tribulations of trying to befriend a human. Even through all the nasty remarks, all the threats, and the cages, and you even repeated it when they tried harming the dear animals you hold close to you.

You tried,

and you tried,

and you tried!

And that all goes to waste when the human you fell in love life becomes the human you introduced your family to, who then becomes the human who made you forget that they were all evil... turns on you and steals the one thing you treasure.

Your CHILD.

Let the wrath consume you into a siren.

Design your own mermaid, with names, scale colors, fin placements, and more.

Build stronger bonds with the companions you meet along the way, each of whom has their own unique story to tell.

Try to end a hunting-companies rein one and for all.

Fight your way out of captivity and plan a rescue mission that will be talked about in all four corners of the world

Day-off interludes!

And much more!!

Please note that some of these characters are ones you can build relationships with, whether it be platonic or romantic (romance is not necessary in this story). But these are NOT the only significant characters that will have a play in the story.

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

THE TRAITOR Atticus/Adeline Ovesen

The famed ‘Treasure King’, a persona you had no knowledge of until they up and left with your child. Dirty blonde hair tied up into a ponytail with a single braid dangling to their chest, it almost seems to blend in with their fair complexion. You wished they were dull, like those brown eyes of theirs, but they weren’t. They constantly interrupted conversations, always trying to fix you because you weren’t perfection. They have greed unlike any other, one that tears about anything in its way.

THE CRAFTER Llyr/Coradelia Attawater

The spectacle you’re doomed to meet along your path of vengeance. Long and flowing white hair, their silver eyes pulled you in without a second thought. The bralette of pearls they were along their chest contrasts beautifully with the blue scales that run up and down their arms and abdomen. Coming from the Arctic oceans, they possess a porcelain tone that matches the fins protruding from their elbows. They have an envious personality, one that matches the dragon-shaped fin at the bottom of their blue tail.

THE ENCHANTER Neptune Oceana

The merperson who hides behind makeshift seaweed glasses and swears to help you with all the magic they’ve got. Often switching between short-cropped and long purple hair, they’re one of the only merpeople to be born with gills on their ribs. Silver scales shower their abdomen, even M!Enchanter. Their purple hair matches the varients of purple on their betta-shaped tail, dorsal fins, and ear fins. Enchanter is one of the people you can count out through and through, even if they have a past of their own.

YOUR CHILD Morgan Waterford

The light of your life and the one you live for. She came into your life unexpectedly and has forever stayed there with the biggest place in your heart, with bright smiles and a cheery attitude, she’ll never fail to make your day better. Only being 8 years old, Morgan has a natural curiosity that she adopted from you.. something that gets her in danger far to much then you’re comfortable with.

!! formating inspired by the lovely IF Uroboros

#twine game #twine if #wip if #if wip #if #interactive fiction #interactive novel #if game #twine #kalopsia if #masterpost #wip

[nancy-reads]

am I the one you think about?

pairing: fred weasley x reader

summary: you're struggling to move all the boxes into your new shop in diagon alley. good thing that you have such a lovely redhead neighbor to help you....after you nearly kill him, of course.

warnings: slight angst and a cliffhanger

authors note: there will be a part two! i promise this has a happy ending i love these two too much. also this is mostly unedited because i really want to post it like right now

CROSS-POSTED TO AO3

As soon as you apparated to your new shop, you knew you should have taken your friends up on their offers to help you move in. The bricks were uneven, the stairs were steep, and you had what felt like a million boxes to move into the shop and the flat above it. Magic would speed up the process, but you could only lift so many at a time. 

You’d dropped your third box when you tripped on the stairs and nearly broke your arm. Rubbing your arm and cursing yourself for your stupidity, you weren’t paying attention as you walked outside to retrieve more boxes.

“Wingardium Leviosa!” you cast, anger coloring your tone. Two boxes shot up into the air, and before you could stop them, they hit the man walking past right in the face.

You clapped your hand to your face and lowered your wand, immediately causing the heavy boxes to fall right on top of him. 

“Shit!” you cursed as you ran over and squatted next to him. “I’m so sorry! Are you alright?”

You cursed yourself. Of course he’s not alright. You just hit him in the face with a heavy box. Twice. 

“Christ,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “You really know how to make an impression.”

Heat flooded your cheeks. Of course, he was attractive too. Fiery red hair, a strong jawline, and freckles all around his face. It looked like he was tall too. You couldn’t really tell since he was mostly on the ground, but he looked strong. 

“I am so sorry,” you repeated. “I have some bruising salves and if anything hurts more I can probably fix it, I mean I am a healer-” you cut yourself off. “Are you okay?”

“I’m alright, I think it's just my pride that’s bruised,” he said, smirking as he moved into a seated position. You cringed as you saw the blue and purple mark that was already developing on his forehead. 

“Are you sure you don’t want anything to fix that bruise? It looks pretty nasty.”

“Just your pretty face should be fine.”

You felt like your face was on fire as you grabbed the salve. Still, he was cute…

“I don’t know,” you teased as you began applying the ointment to his face. “Delusions like that might indicate some sort of brain damage.”

His smile widened. “Does that mean you’re a hallucination? Because that would be cruel.”

You rolled your eyes as you finished. “Seriously though, I am so sorry,”

“Seriously though, it’s fine,” he mocked with a deadpan expression. “I’m Fred, by the way. My brother and I run that shop over there.” 

Fred stood as he pointed to the massive orange shop labeled Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. 

“Really, I couldn’t tell from the massive statue of your face on the front.”

He smirked. “Can’t miss it,” he paused for a second. “And you never told me your name.”

You introduced yourself, and Fred smiled. “Pretty name.”

“Uh…thanks,” you stuttered. It felt like the flush on your face would never go away. 

It was silent for a moment before Fred asked, “Do you need any help bringing those boxes up?”

You immediately shook your head. “No, no I’ve got it. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Are you sure?” he smirked. “It seemed like you were struggling a little bit before.”

You glared at him. “I was perfectly fine until you got in the way.”

“Got in the way!” He gasped in mock-anger. “I was simply walking the pavement when someone hit me with like ten flying boxes!”

“It was not ten, you liar,” you couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face as you continued to banter with him. It was just so fun. 

“Wow,” he tutted. “Barely known me five minutes and you’re already calling me a liar.”

“I’ve always been a good judge of character.”

Unbeknownst to you, Fred had already taken his wand out of his pocket and was beginning to edge toward the boxes. He waved his wand, and two boxes rose into the air as if they were feathers. 

Of course, he has to be good at magic too.

“No. You are gonna go home and make sure that you don’t get hit by any more stray boxes,” you demanded, trying to sound as authoritative as possible. 

Fred’s smile grew as he lowered the boxes (much more gracefully than you ever have) and placed his hands up in surrender. “How about we make a deal?”

You cocked your head. “What kind of deal?”

He clasped his hands and stepped closer to you. “How about I help you with these boxes-”

“No.”

“Let me finish, I swear did no one teach you that patience is a virtue?” There’s a smiling lilt to his voice that makes you want to melt into a puddle.

“Fortune favors the bold.”

“Anyway,” he continues, smiling still as he rolls his eyes. “I’ll help you with these boxes, and in return, you’ll come and visit me in my shop tomorrow.”

You paused, pretending to think for a moment. Of course, you were going to do it. More time with cute ginger shop boy who was definitely taller than you and looked like he had some very strong arms? How could you say no?

“I suppose I could fit it into my schedule,” you said, daring to elbow him in the side as you both walked toward the boxes. 

The rest of the afternoon was filled with more laughs than you thought possible. Fred was so funny, you supposed it made sense that he ran a joke shop. It felt like both of you were laughing every single second. 

And the best part was when you found out how strong his arms really were. 

Fred had just been telling you about one of his Hogwarts escapades when he and his brother used an age potion to try and enter the Triwizard Tournament. 

“So you really grew long white beards?” you couldn’t stop giggling as you followed Fred down the stairs. 

Fred threw a smile your way as he reached the bottom of the steps. “Yup. We nearly started fighting each other too. Would have if not for- woah!”

In your incessant laughter, you hadn’t been paying much attention to your very steep stairs and found yourself falling…

…straight into Fred’s very strong arms. 

It was silent for a second as you stared into each other’s eyes. His arms held you tightly as if you weighed nothing at all. You could feel heat creeping up your neck.

Fred paused, looking like he was thinking hard about something. 

“You know, I guess you could say that you fell for me,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

You smacked his (heavily muscled) arm. “That was disgusting.”

“Sorry darling, I couldn’t resist.”

Was it possible to die from joy and embarrassment at the same time? It had to be. 

You told him more about your shop as you floated the last few boxes upstairs. You were opening an apothecary with potions, ointments, and other helpful tools for healing so that people didn’t have to go to St. Mungos every time they had a problem. You were also thinking about offering small healing services once you had more staff. 

“Thats so cool!” Fred grinned. “I think we’ll probably end up with some similar customers.”

You snorted. “Yeah, I’ll get all the victims of your schemes.”

“I just sell the stuff,” he objected. “What my customers do is their own business.”

You gave him an unimpressed look. “Sure Fred. You tell yourself that.”

He gave you an innocent smile as both of you looked outside to realize that you had just brought the last boxes in. You stood there awkwardly for a moment. 

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” you said. “I did make a promise to see your shop.”

“That you did,” Fred replied. “I better see you. I didn’t carry all these boxes for nothing.”

“That excited to see me, huh?”

“Yes, actually,” his smile was genuine. “I can’t wait to see your reaction to all my ‘schemes’ as you call them.”

Heat spread through your cheeks. “I’m excited to see you too.”

*

The next day was torture. Showing up at Fred’s shop at eight in the morning would have been the definition of creepy, so you forced yourself to set up your shop and unpack most of your boxes. 

You were quite proud of the work you had done for the last few hours. Twinkling lights were strewn around your shop, and magical plants wrapped around the shelves. All in all, the glass potion bottles and herbs would fit right in. 

You finally allowed yourself to head upstairs and choose an outfit. It took far longer than it should have, considering that Fred saw you yesterday in what was quite possibly the ugliest outfit you owned. 

Then you messed with your hair and your makeup. You knew it was kind of stupid, considering how flirty he had been yesterday, but you wanted to feel confident. And looking good was probably the only way you were going to get there.

Finally, after spending far too long on your appearance, you stepped out the door of your shop. Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was the brightest thing on the street, and your eye was immediately drawn to the massive statue of Fred at the front, the orange coloring, and the smiles and laughter that surrounded the building. Even just looking at it made you want to smile. 

As you walked briskly toward the building, you could feel your heart beginning to race. You bit your lip, trying to hide the smile that was emerging, because really, you should not have a crush this big. You'd met the man once, for Merlin’s sake. 

Your smile immediately dropped when you actually got to the shop. 

Because Fred was standing there, his smile wide but different than yesterday. It wasn’t filled with the same laughter and joy. He wasn’t looking at you. He was looking at someone else. He was looking at another girl. Another girl who leaned in a kissed him. And he kissed back. 

And you turned on your heel and fled back to your shop.

#sorry #fred weasley x reader #x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x y/n #harry potter #fanfic #writing

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

With Friends Like These

Fizz awoke with a yawn, the man giving an a huge stretch, limbs shooting out as he turned over.

"Morning ba-" He paused mid morning greeting, the Imp finding himself alone in Asmodeus' massive bed.

Sitting up, the Imp looked about, wondering where his big blue and purple lover had run off too.

"FUCKING HELL!"

He jumped, hearing Ozzie's distinct voice scream from the other room.

The Imp, after a moment, got up, zipping off to find Ozzie in his office, the man rather aggressively growling into his phone.

"Do you know who the FUCK I am!?"

The Imp, not wanting to approach him empty handed, quickly zipped off, snatching up some coffee before he zipped into the Office.

"MoOorning Babe~" He purred, presenting him with Coffee. "Some asshole giving you trouble?"

Ozzie, seeing his love zip into the room, sighed, rubbing his face.

"Hey baby." He greeted, his tone clearly wary. "I didn't uh, wake you did I?" He asked, the Sin genuinely concerned.

Fizz smiled, zipping up to kiss the man's cheek.

"Nah babe, I was already awake." He assured, sipping his coffee. "Is... everything alright babe?" He asked, giving the mess of papers on his desk a glance.

Ozzie sighed, rubbing his face.

"Yeah Froggy, I'm alright." He sighed, the man rubbing his brow as she stared at a piece of paper.

"What's up?" Fizz asked, the man releasing a frustrated sigh.

Ozzie sighed, rubbing his face. "I've got a dozen orders for materials on five rings that are over due and I'm struggling to contact each supplier to make sure the shipments are actually handled."

Ozzie grumbled, scribbling something on a page.

"Don't ya have someone for that?" Fizz asked absent-mindedly, guzzling coffee.

Ozzie sighed, rubbing his face. "Yeah... I did." The man told him sombrely, rubbing his face.

Fizzarolli cringed, rubbing his neck. "Ooooh. sorry babe, didn't mean too..."

Ozzie chuckled, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

"It's cool babe, but, well..." He sighed, gripping him in his massive hand, kissing the man's cheek.

Fizz cringed, remembering the night before, standing there for a minute, glancing at the stacks of paper before him.

"... Ozzie, can you tell me about Niko, what was he like?" He asked, looking at him from the corner of his eye.

Ozzie, pausing his scribbles, froze, the man putting down his pen.

Sitting back in his massive chair, the man sighed, rubbing his face.

"Well... In a lot of ways, he was like you."

That instantly caught his attention, the Imp staring at the Sin.

"When I first met him, I was... Different." He hummed, looking over his office "I was a lot more arrogant back then. Bold, as i liked to call myself, but really i was just an ass."

They both chared a giggle. "Back in the day, I thought I was the king of all Sins, minus Luficer, who ya know is the king of all Sins."

He finished almost playfully, resting on an elbow, fizz sat on his desk.

Fizz smiled, seeing how open his lover was, and not in the lewd way.

"... Niko... where should I begin on Niko?" Ozzie hummed, rubbing his chin. "Well, I first met him in the RnD division."

"I had a whole department dedicated to developing toys and such, that was back when toys were booming."

"Lot of good ideas came out back then, i thought mine were amongst them, but well, let's say I had ideas that didn't always work out." He shuckled, sighing softly. "Not that I'd admit as much."

He chuckled, looking to the side.

"I can remember it like it was yesterday. I came waltzing into the office, proudly calling to RnD with my latest crazy idea." He hummed, staring off in the air. "And back then they chose what project they'd do, so I was just waiting for someone to jump at the chance to work on my miracle toy."

The sin chuckled sloftly, sighing as though in a fond memory. "But nobody stepped forwards... Nobody was stupid enough to try the impossible and risk failing me."

"All except some little Imp. Barely a teen, and yet he took on a job nobody else would. And did so with gusto."

Ozzie spoke warmly, leaning on a forearm.

"He stepped up, and in less then 48 hours, the man had a working prototype of a product that should have been impossible."

He hummed, glancing at a small statuette of Himself holding a large Heart shaped sex toy, the exact dimensions better left off of Tumblr.

"He had to make quite a few adjustments, yet he presented me with exactly what I wanted." He smiled warmly, glancing at Fizz, reaching out to scratch the base of his jesters hat.

"I've had a lot of assistants over the millenia." He chuckled, humming as he twirled his finger over the man's jester hat. "But Niko? Niko was... he was something else."

Fizz watched the man, noting how warm the man's smile was, the Sin resting on an elbow as he seemed lost in thought.

"Hell has always been ahead of the curve, ya know. It helps when we've got powerful magic and all the smartest sinner end up down here."

"And yeah, I was on the curb, but Niko... He was ahead of the curb."

He hummed, smiling softly as he picked up the Imp, holding him to his massive chest.

"He showed me the potential of automation, not to say I didn't have an interest. But Niko man, Hell, half of the factory was designed by him." he smiled softly, humming as he glanced to the side, seeing a 1:1 scale model of the tower.

"Man showed me the real results of automation, and trust me, there were results. Hell, most toys were made by hand before, Niko practically pioneering the factory line on Lust." He hummed, holding Fizz close.

"I was always interested in the newest tech, tinkering and making it work to my will, but with Niko's help, I brought production up to the modern age." He hummed, holding the man close.

". . . Niko meant a lot to you, didn't he?" Fizz asked softly, looking up the man, thinking over the interaction he last had with the man.

Ozzie didn't say anything for a long time before the man sighed, leaning forwards and kissing the man's head.

"Yeah... Niko was a damn good friend, and an even better assistant."

He sighed, rubbing his face.

Fizz sat there for a moment, rubbing his face.

". . . I'm sorry." Fizz sighed, holding himself close, the Imp feeling guilty that he'd inadvertently caused their break up.

"Oh baby." Ozzie cooed, spinning him around holding him up to his massive face.

"Fizzy, baby, I don't regret what I said for a second. I love you baby, your my world." He cooed, kissing the Imp, rubbing a thumb to the Imps squishy cheek. "I don't regret what I did for a second. Not a second Fizz. You mean the world to me."

He sat there for a minute, looking to the side.

"I just... I just wish I'd handled the situation with Niko better." He sighed, nursling his Jester Imp lover. "Niko... he deserved better then... then what I said."

An awkward energy hung in the air as the two sat in silence, Ozzie holding the Imp close as he slumped back in his chair.

Fizz sat there for a minute, before silently sighing, the Imp leaning up, giving the Imp a passionate kiss.

"Keep it up babe, I know you can figure it out." He hummed zipping out of his grasp, sure to plant an extra kiss to his cheek as he zipped out of the room.

---

Fizz had to call in several favours, paying off one of his Ozzie men to find Niko's residents, the Imp finding his home in one of Lusts more influential districts.

After a brief Limo ride, telling Ozzie he was off to but something, he found himself in an impressive residentiql building, knocking on a door with a prominent 69 on the door.

There was silence for a while before he knocked again, this time getting some grumbling quickly followed by yelling from the other side of the door.

Niko slid the door open, several chains keeping it secure as he glanced through the gap.

He looked tired, bags beneath his eyes as the Imp stared at the man for several moments, the Imp glaring at him, his breath reeking of alcohol before slamming the door.

The sounds of several locks being undone ringing through the door before he finally opened the door.

Niko stood in the doorway, holding it open as he tiredly held the door open.

"What do you want?" He asked coldly, shielding his eyes as he walked in, Niko quickly walking over and slumping onto his couch.

Fizz took a minute to inspect his apartment.

Inspecting the various artworks, he found most, if not all involved Asmodeus in some regard, the most prominent being a painting of the man in a rather suggestive pose across the penthouses largest wall, seemingly blowing a kiss to the viewer.

Niko, slumped on his massive couch, the thing looking like it came straight out of Ozzie penthouse, hummed, rubbing his face.

Fizz fixed his collar, scratching his cheek as they sat across from each other.

Fizz hummed, glancing around the surprisingly humble penthouse.

". . . Come back." Fizz spoke softly, the man not looking the Imp in the eyes.

There was a long moment of Silence before Niko asked coldly.

"What the Hell did you just say?"

Fizz sat there for a moment before sighing softly.

"Look, I get you feel abandoned, but Ozzie, He... Ozzie, he misses you." He spoke softly, reaching out to the Imp, resting a hand on his knee. "He needs you." Fizz spoke softly.

Niko stared at him for a long time before looking away.

"No. He doesn't." He spoke shortly, the man looking to the side. Niko clenching his jaw. "He has you after all. That's all he needs."

Fizzarolli stared at him for several moments before sighing.

"Look, I get it. Your hurt. You feel abandoned. I know..." Fizz rubbed his robotic limb, sighing softly to himself as he felt the metalic limbs. "I know what it is to feel abandoned."

"But Ozzie didn't abandon you Niko." He tried to assure him, Niko showing no reaction as he leaned towards him. "He... He fucked up, i know. But he misses you Niko. He honestly does. He might not say it in so many words, but I know the man, and he regrets what happened that night."

Fizz leaned forwards, sighing softly.

"I've been where you are right now. You need to tell him how you feel or you'll regret it for the rest of your life!"

Niko sat there for a long time, not saying anything, before releasing a deep sigh.

"Look, Fizz-" he quickly cleared his throat. "Fizzarolli. It's nice your trying to help and all that, but well."

He reached over, grabbing a bottle, grumbling as he realises it was empty.

"Put simply, this ain't your call." He sighed, tossing the empty bottle aside. "And I don't need help from a Fucking clown."

Fizz stared at him for a long minute before standing up.

"Your right. It wasn't my call." Fizz hummed, looking at the man.

"... 'wasn't?" Niko asked, looking up at the man.

"Yes. Because now, I'm making it my call."

Leaning over the coffee table, he knocked the bottles to the side, looking at the man.

"I'm giving you a week. 7 days Niko. Then I'm telling Ozzie how you feel. And while you may be able to hide from me, Ozzie won't let you off so easy."

The man stood up, turning and walking away, stopping at the door for a moment, turning to look at him. "1 week Niko."

Niko fumbled over himself, tripping on a bottle as he tried to stop him.

Fizz just shutting the door, heading back to Ozzie.

---

Fizzarolli had no intention of telling Ozzie the truth, not really. The Imp just wanting to see the man act on his emotions, instead of waiting for outside forced to force his hand.

But the mote he thought about it, he realised he was those outside forces, the Imp wondering if he was any better then Mammon.

He felt guilty of course, almsot ashamed of forcing his hand, the clown honestly considering calling it off several times, though every time he saw his beloveds gloomy expression, no doubt lingering on thoughts of Niko, his resolve was reinvigorated.

He honestly fully expected the Imp to call his bluff, Niko seemed the sort to dig in his feet and Fizz didnt have the resolve to fully hold out, expecting his plan to fall through.

So when Niko showed up one busy morning, the man walking into Ozzie's office like he owned the place, dressed in a more casual attire, Fizz was over the moon.

The man shared a cold glare with the Imp, Niko clearly unimpressed with the man, before walking up to Ozzie's desk.

It took a moment for the Sin to realise he was there, Ozzie's eyes bulging, the Sin jumping up as he realised Niko was present.

"Niko!" He practically cheered, the man all smiles as he steps around the table. "It's so good to see you! What do I owe the pleasure?"

Niko breathed deep before sighing, the man looking away from the man.

"I figured I'd hand this off." He spoke curtly, holding out a notebook. Ozzie's expression dimmed as he reached out, taking the notebook.

"What's this?" He asked, clearly disappointed by the revelation.

Niko swallowed the lump in his throat, the Imp not meeting the sin's gaze.

"It's an itemised list. Names and locations of every supplier and their resources in the 7 rings. Figured you could use it." He finished curtly.

A silence hung in the air for several moments, Ozzie anxiously stepping about as he stared down at the Imp.

"Is... Is that all?" He asked, hope bleeding through in the question.

Niko opened his mouth, Fizz leaning in, hopeful, expecting him to say something. Hoping he'd say it. Damn, he'd be happy if he said anything.

But instead he just turned away, shaking his head. "This was a mistake." The man quickly turning, storming off.

Fizz immediately shot into action, the man zipping up to the man, landing besides him.

"Wait Niko, please!" He gripped his arms, pleading with him. "You can do this!"

Niko, doing his best to hold in his emotions, biting his lower lip. "This was a mistake, I shouldn't have come here."

He growled, emotions seeping into his voice.

"Come on, you can tell him." He tried to assure, doing his best to be supportive.

"I don't have to tell him shit!" Niko snapped back, slapping his hands away.

"Tell me what?" Ozzie's voice suddenly cut in, the both of them freezing in place.

Niko went rigid, eyes wide in fear.

"Nothing." He spoke up after several tense moments. "It's nothing Asmodeus, I was just-"

"Stop that!" Ozzie snapped, man suddenly breathing heavy.

Niko, froze, the Imp looking towards the sin.

"Stop acting like everything we've been through, our friendship, means nothing..." The Sin spoke, emotions suddenly thick in his voice. "Your my friend Niko. Probably my best friend. I've considered you it for a long time... please don't act like none of that matters."

Fizz would look to the man, sad to see his beloved so upset, but turning back to Niko, he'd be taken off guard as anger quickly flared.

"Like none of it matters!?" He snarled, looking up to the man for the first time.

"LIKE IT DOESNT FUCKING MATTER!?!?!?!" He yowled.

"I'm not the one who said you don't matter!" He yelled, turning to the man. "I'm not the one who chose soem fucking IMP over you! Now am I!?"

He was angry.

In fact, Niko could barely think he was so angry.

"NO! You abandoned everything we did!" He yelled, throat restricting, eyes burning as tears formed. "You abandoned ME!"

He stood there, panting hard as tears grew in his eyes, the man taking a shuddering breath.

"You abandoned me." He spoke, barely keeping it together. "You meant everything to me."

Hot tears were already streaming down his face, the man barely keeping it together.

"I would have done anything for you. I worshipped you. FUCK, I loved you!!!"

He cried, a sob racking his form.

"... I loved you..."

He held his face, sobbing into his hands for several minutes.

"I... I had no idea." Ozzie spoke up after several minutes.

"Yeah, I know!" Niko snapped. "I know you didn't know cause I told you years ago I loved 'somebody'. Said I was over the moon for him, practically fucking described you to a T, and you know what you told me?! You told me that shit didn't fly on Lust. So yeah, that killed any illusions I ever had I could end up with you."

"And ya know the worse part!? I didn't care!" He sobbed glaring at the man. "I didn't care because I still had you, and that'd all I needed, but now...!?... now I've got nothing."

Niko wiped his face, turning to glare at the man.

"'Sides, you expect me to believe you'd ever get with some nobody like me?" He grumbled, wiping his nose, turning away from the Man.

"Niko." Ozzie began, clearly trying to defend himself, stumbling over his words as he tried to explain himself.

"Save it." Niko sniffled, the man furiously wiping his nose. "You act all buddy buddy but you didn't even tell me you and Fizz were a thing."

He wiped his eyes, glancing at him. "That's how close we are, huh?!" He growled, tears forming as he snapped.

"You know what, they're fucking right, you are a fucking hypocrite. And a lier. And! And..."

He turned, tears building in his eyes.

"And I hate that I still love you!"

He was barely keeping himself composed, sobbing softly as he held his head in his hands.

Fizz and Ozzie stood there, the two of them completely unsure of what to do as the man had an emotional breakdown.

Fizz was... well, he wasn't sure what to think.

On one hand he wanted him to be honest and tell him about his feelings, which he did...

But he didn't want it to be so confrontational. He wanted him to... well, to be honest with both himself and Ozzie.

"Niko." He began softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. To which Niko slapped him away, snarling at him.

"Don't fucking touch me! You dont get to pity me, not when you got the guy. You don't have the right!" He snapped, tears streaming from his eyes.

Fizz stepped back, shocked at the outbreak.

It was as he stood there, breathing heavily, that Ozzie stepped forwards.

The man moved towards the Imp slowly, Niko still sobbing, hunched over as tears streamed from his face.

"Niko." The Sin spoke firmly, standing over the Imp.

Niko, still in tears, sobbed softly, hunched over, clinging to himself.

"Niko." He spoke again, voice firm.

The Imp wiped his eyes, turning his head to snap at him. "What?!"

Leaning down, the man placed his massive hand against the Imps face. "I'm sorry Niko."

Pushing his hand away, the Imp scowling, gritting his teeth. "Fuck you!" He snapped.

But Ozzie didn't flinch, the man bringing his hand up to cup his tiny body.

"Just stop!" He snapped, but this time his voice was full of emotion, tears streaming down his face yet again.

But Ozzie didn't, instead the man held him, hands cupping his form, pulling the Imp to his massive chest.

"STOP!" Niko sobbed, trying to push his hand away, the Imp still in tears as the Sin held him.

But Ozzie didn't, instead he just held the man even as he cried and squirmed in his grasp.

The Sin slowly pulled him closer, Niko sobbing, angrily trying to push him away, but the Sin didn't respond, simply pulling the Imp close.

The Imp cried, and whined and sobbed as the man pulled the Imp close.

Niko fought it, squirming and writhing, pushing the Sin away as he pulled him to his chest.

"I'm sorry." The sin spoke softly as the man fought and pushed, tears streaming from his eyes as the man resisted.

"No. No. Fucking stop!" He cried, almost pleading. "You can't do this shit!" He cried, pushing the Sin away, only for the muscular embodiment of Sin to pull him closer, holding the Imp to his chest.

"You can't do this!" Niko sobbed, Ozzie pulling the Imp close, the man breaking down, trying to squirm out of his grip, but failing as Ozzie pulled him to his chest, holding the Imp close.

Niko was a sobbing mess, the man smacking his hand against his chest, demanding him to release him as he violently sobbed, trying to escape his grasp, but as he pulled and pushed, he rapidly lose steam, the man crying as he pressed against his firm chest.

"Leave me... please... stop!" He pleaded, sobbing into the man's chest, a great wet spot appearing on his shoulder as he held the Imp close.

"I'm so sorry." Ozzie spoke softly, holding him close. "I'm so sorry I didn't realise."

The Imp cried, sobbing and battering his fist against the man, trying anf failing to escape his grasp, sobbing violently as he smacked his fist into the Sin's chest.

"Just... stop..." the Imp sobbed before he collapsed against the Sin's chest, the Imp crying as he gradually lost his steam.

Niko would collapse against his chest, crying as he gripped his coat, the man having a full on breakdown as he sobbed and cried into his chest.

Ozzie... Ozzie felt awful. His best friend. The one Imp he could always count on had been in love with him for over a decade and he hadn't realised it. Well, really, he hadn't realised cause he hadn't cared too.

Niko was right, he caused this.

Ozzie pulled him close, holding him carefully, the man wanting to show he cared. Yet as the man collapsed against him, Ozzie simply sighed, an expression of shame crossing his face, the sin almost in tears.

Taking a shuddering breath, Ozzie cupped his face as he fell unconscious, Niko utterly exhausted, passing out in his grasp.

"I'm so sorry Niko." He spoke softly, tears stinging his eyes.

Fizz was shocked.

He'd never seen the Sin tear up before, the Jester half believing it wasn't possible, yet here he was.

Ozzie turned to the Imp, reaching out to him. Fizz smiling despite the circumstances, zipped towards him, resting atop his shoulders as then carried the Imp to his bed.

The Sin carried the Imps to the bed, Fiss watching the man with a sympathetic expression, watching the man as the Sin got into bed, pulling the both of them close.

"What's next?" Fizz asked softly, looking to the now unconscious Imp.

Ozzie, wiping the tears from his eyes, took a deep breath.

"I don't know If he'll forgive me. Hell, I'm not sure if he should forgive me, or if I even need to be forgiven." He sighed, rubbing his face.

"I just... I need to show him I care. He... he deserves to know I care about him."

He sighed softly, gently rubbing just below Niko's horns, just as he would to Fizzarolli, Fizz noticing this, not feeling jealous, but realising just how much he cared for this Imp.

"Babe." He began, kissing his cheek. "I love you. Just... be honest with Niko. That's all I ask."

Ozzie froze for a second, smiling at the man.

Pulling him in they shared a passionate kiss.

"I love you froggie." He purred, Ozzie giggling, nuzzling the man.

"Love you too my hunk of burning sin." Fizz giggled back.

The two curled up, embracing each other, getting comfortable as he turned to the unconscious Imp.

"I hope we can work it out. I... I like Niko. I hope it works it out." Fizz hummed, a sense of guilt buzzing through him.

Ozzie just nodded, pulling him close. "Me too... Fizzi-pop." he sighed softly, the Sin looking down at the now unconscious Imp. "Me too..."

This is a sequel to my 'what about me?' Headcanon, I hope you like it.

#helluva boss #headcanon #helluva boss headcanon #x reader #helluva boss x reader #asmodeus #helluva boss asmodeus #asmodeus x reader x fizzarolli #asmodeus x reader #asmo

[ashxketchum]

MY DEPRESSION HAS BEEN CURED MY SKIN IS CLEAR MY CROPS ARE FLOURISHING ALL BECAUSE OF THIS ONE IMAGE THIS IS THE YEAR OF ADVENTURE PANDERING LETS FUCKIN GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Let's break this down one by one ~

This is such a good Sora fit I don't even know how to explain how very much OG Sora this is, the pink tones of the overall sporty outfit perfectly capture all levels of her personality. To top it off she's sharing flower themed cream sandwiches with Piyomon AAAHHH the subtle reference okay merch team you can take a w. Not to mention Sora is perfectly matching with Taichi and the fruit in her sandwich is orange stoooopppp itttt!!!!!

TAICHI OMG who is dressing this boy because that's the most he's ever jocked as a 11 year old. The sweatshirt, cargo pants, matching wristband and the sense to put his goggles down, he is winning the sporty casual fashion show for sure. And of course him and Agumon are enjoying some chicken popcorn, love how they weren't even subtle with the packaging art we all know Japan's favourite fried chicken brand anyway 🤣

Yamato. YAMATO. Y A M A T O. You're 11 can you tone down the cool guy heartthrob behaviour for a minute because I am losing my mind THE DOGTAG CHAIN IM GONNA SCREEAAAMMM ACTUALLY I AM SCREAAAMING AAAAHHHHHHH. He looks so good, there is absolutely no wrong element in his entire outfit, everything is perfectly paired up, a fashionista is among us. The little thumbs up over the onigiri that Gabumon is offering him?? Is he telling Gabumon that he's okay with having one and Gabumon can have the rest because that's the sweet, protective, kind, caring baby he is at heart???🥹🥹🥹The blue and green gradient in the background tho?? Mimato math is mathing bestiesss 🤣

Takeru is just a lil guy, but such a perfect lil guy!!! I like how his outfit has the similar green shade as his anime outfit but they still chose to gave him a new beanie instead which doesn't really match the colour tone of the rest of the fit but it's Takeru so we know that he can pull any hat off and that's what he does!!! Him and Patamon sharing burgers, okay mood, but why is he looking so surprised? I need to know what happened, did he spill some sauce on his overalls? Was the burger too hot to bite? WHAT HAPPENED TAKERU????? 😢

Jou, I see you paired up the plaid pants with a nice long, muted, warm toned jacket BUT I SEE THAT PURPLE SHIRT POKING IN FROM INSIDE and excuse me sir but why that purple with the plaid 😭 I need to see a version where Jou isn't wearing the jacket so I can make an informed rating on this outfit but may I add that in the full merch pic he has paired this look with green and white sneakers...I cannot defend you I am sorry Jou, please try brown loafers next time 😭 But outfit aside, Jou eating a taiyaki with Gomamon is lowkey funny I just know that Gomamon cracked a Marching Fishes joke at least once.

Koushiro...I will not go into detail but I will say it's cute that you have a sweater with a little K on it, it's also very cute that there is a splash of orange in your outfit, who's attention are you vying for it isn't subtle at all bby boy and I am grateful you matched your shoes to your sweater even if the socks are definitely a choice and that blue with orange is also definitely another choice. Good to see your are making choices. I like that him and Tentomon are sharing dango, it's always nice to see Koushiro's fondness towards Japanese traditional snacks hinted at in some way.

MIMI. QUEEN. SLAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY!!!! YOU NEVER EVER MISS MY SWEET BEAUTIFUL BABY GIRL. The pastel tones matched with the grey stockings for contrast, that beret and the fuzzy hem boots, you just know she shops at Takashimaya and Isetan and anything below it will just not do 👏🏻 Plus Sora and Mimi are wearing the same tones, which probably means that they pre-planned the outfits together, cuties!!! Also Crepe is such a Mimi™️ choice of dessert but I always get teary eyes when I see Palmon mimic Mimi's gestures, there is just so much love and admiration between them for each other, pure childish wonder 💚 And the crepe even has a cutesy character face on it, which kinda looks like Monzaemon, though I can't be sure but if it is then another win for a subtle reference. Not to mention both Yamato and Mimi look like they've dressed in a more cool and elegant style than the rest like they might be on their way to a date THE MIMAT MATH IS MATHING YALLL!!!

Hikari looks super cute, I think there isn't much official art of her in casual clothing for OG stuff so it's nice to see her in a more cutesy fit suited to her age. The hairband matching the cardigan is such a nice touch!! I can't recall any other casual outfit for OG design Hikari except the War Game and Memorial Party dress, so I think this would be the first time we see Hikari with a hairband and it just looks adorable. Of course she is sharing an ice cream with Tailmon, it's kinda their brand now but like Takeru she's making a surprised expression, perhaps she wasn't expecting Tailmon to offer her a bite of her ice cream?

To conclude, this is probably the best OG artwork we've gotten since Idk maybe the Rainy Day stationery series. This will be sold in advance at the Kamio Store booth at Anime Japan 2024. No other details were mentioned, but the event booth sale feels like a pre-sale before the goods become available more widely at other outlets, hopefully, at some stores that international fans have access too as well.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

Ayushi out.

#digimon #digimon adventure #taichi yagami #yamato ishida #sora takenouchi #mimi tachikawa #koushiro izumi #jou kido #takeru takaishi #hikari yagami #agumon #gabumon #piyomon #palmon #gomamon #tentomon #patamon #tailmon #digimon news #digimon merch #ayushitposting

[mrdrwrites]

Pairings: Oliver Quick x fem!reader

Summary: you go to a party and get drunk, Oliver picks you up and takes you home but refuses to have sex with you whilst you’re drunk so you get upset, he calms you down and makes a promise for when you are sober

CW: SFW, drinking, dirty talk (barely)

WC: 1.2k

Warning: i am dyslexic so don't expect all words to be spelled correctly, also i don't autocapitalise my words

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

purple and green strobes light up the dimly lit basement, people mesh together in a blurred blob of grey. the party is in full swing, music loud and sweaty bodies grinding and dancing on each other. i was off my head. completely drunk. after downing many shots, winning multiple rounds of beer pong and successfully out drinking my friends i could barely see straight. my best friend Kai slings an arm around my shoulder from where i’m sitting in the corner of the room, her dark skin beautifully contrasting my own pale complexion.

‘you enjoying the party babe?’ she shouts over the music, giving me a squeeze.

‘most fun i’ve had in weeks,’ i yell back, my words slurring together.

Kai and her boyfriend Felix had organised the party, a final farewell gig after we had finished exams. Kai had been begging me for weeks to come out partying with her but i had declined each time opting to stay home with my boyfriend Oliver.

‘where’s Fifi?’ i question, using our silly nickname for her boyfriend.

‘probably somewhere with Farleigh and Venetia,’ she replies, taking a sip of her brightly coloured drink.

as the words leave her lips Felix can be seen making his way through the sea of sweaty bodies toward Kai and i. when he is beside Kai he ducks down and gives her a chaste kiss on the lips, slipping his hand down her back and onto her ass in the process.

‘ey,’ she warns, breaking the kiss, ‘behave.’

‘i am,’ he smirks, dipping his head back down and kissing her once more.

‘i’m here Fifi. stop stealing my girl,’ i stand and almost fall but he grabs my elbow and steadies me.

‘don’t call me Fifi,’ he warns, moving his hand from my elbow when i am standing on my own, ‘are you okay y/n? you look… rough.’

i scoff, ‘yes Fifi, i’m,’ i hiccup, ‘great.’

‘right,’ he stretches out the ‘i’ and rolls his eyes.

‘i am,’ i turn to Kai, ‘tell him Kai.’

‘babe you are off your head. have some water.’

‘i’m fine,’ i assure the both of them but i soon need to sit down as the room begins to spin.

i get huddled up in the seat and my eyes begin to shut. before they close i see Felix pull his phone out of his pocket but i think nothing of it.

what feels like two seconds later i am being shaken awake, the music has now stopped and the room is still lowly lit. Oliver stands in front of me. my Oliver. his blue eyes filled with worry, brown hair a mess, he’s wearing a suit. he looks delicious.

‘y/n, baby, are you okay?’ he asks, panic sounding in his voice.

‘Oliver, you’re here,’ i smile but it soon fades, ‘why are you here?’

‘dinner finished early, Felix texted me. you passed out my love,’ panic is still evident in his tone but it has lessened significantly.

‘i missed you,’ i shoot forward and crush him in a hug.

‘i missed you too,’ he stumbles a little when i collide into him but he steadies himself quickly, ‘lets go home baby.’

i nod my head and he picks me up, manoeuvring me so i’m situated comfortably, and carries me to his car.

when we get home it’s as if all the alcohol i had consumed during the party had come back into my system for a round two. my head was spinning and i was stumbling when i walked with Oliver to the front door.

‘go to bed baby, i’ll be there in a minute,’ he takes my shoes off of my feet, kisses my head and leaves me to go into the kitchen.

i don’t listen to him however, opting instead to pulling the pink dress off of my body, my bra and thong following it quickly. i make my way towards the kitchen when Oliver is stood in front of the open fridge.

‘Oliver,’ i call out his name, ‘can you help me please?’

‘yeah baby what’s up?’ he turns to me, his eyes immediately widening when he sees the lack of clothing on my body.

‘i need you Oliver,’ i continue walking towards him.

‘baby we can’t, you’ve been drinking,’ he averts his gaze from my breasts and looks into my eyes.

‘please Oliver. touch me,’ i can feel my stomach swirling with need, ‘you look so good in your suit. i want you to do things to me.’

when i reach him he has side stepped away from the fridge and shut it.

‘i’m craving you Oliver. i need you to fuck me,’ i all but beg, placing my hand on his shoulder.

‘go to bed y/n,’ he brushes me off, not even looking at me.

i feel my stomach drop. he doesn’t want me. my eyes get glassy and i turn from him, hugging my arms around my body. i go up to our bedroom and crawl into bed. i silently cry til i hear him open the door, i pretend to be asleep. he moves over to the dresser drawers across from the bed and begins taking off his suit, neatly folding them and putting them on top of the dresser no doubt to put them in the washing machine tomorrow. he comes over to my side of the bed and i flinch when she gives me a kiss on the forehead.

‘you’re still awake?’ he crouches in front of me, boxers are the only thing he wears.

i don’t open my eyes, still faking sleep.

‘baby,’ he murmurs, dragging a finger down my cheek, ‘i know you’re awake.’

i open my eyes and look at him, the only light coming from the lamp beside him. he studies my face and gives me a light frown.

‘you’ve been crying,’ he sounds disappointed.

at his tone a few more tears escape my eyes, his lips part and he wipes the tears away with the pad of his thumb.

‘why are you crying baby?’

‘you don’t want me,’ i choke out, closing my eyes and moving my head away from his hand.

‘i do want you, i want you so bad my love,’ he assures, ‘it just doesn’t feel right having sex with you when you’re drunk. that’s all. do you understand?’ i open my eyes as his hand cups my jaw to tilt my head up so i am looking at him.

i nod my head, the alcohol still fogging my thoughts. he gives me a slow kiss on the lips and releases my jaw from his hand, moving to his side of the bed and sliding in. he grabs me and pulls my body into his own. i curl up to him and he presses a kiss to the top of my head.

‘i love you y/n,’ he whispers into my hair, his hands fiddling with the ends.

‘i love you too Oliver,’ i reply, my eyes suddenly feeling heavy.

‘i’ll tell you what,’ he pulls away from my head and i look up at him, ‘as soon as you’re fully sober, we can do every dirty little thought in that pretty head of yours.’

i don’t respond to him, instead pulling him into a kiss.

i love Oliver Quick.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

PART TWO HERE

ofc i had to include @lovandr as Felix’s girlfriend 🙏🙏

#syds stuff #oliver quick #syd writes #oliver quick fluff #oliver quick fanfic #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick saltburn #felix catton fanfic #felix catton fic #felix catton x reader #felix catton #venetia catton #farleigh start #saltburn hyperfixation #sir james catton #elspeth catton #saltburn fic #saltburn #writers on tumblr #writing #writers and poets #writeblr #writerscommunity #fluff #i love oliver quick #feral #smash #i want him #i need him #i am going insane

[shoccolatine]

purple.

⚘pairing: rafayel x gn!reader ⚘summary: for the first time, rafayel asks for your help with his latest painting. ⚘tags: sfw, oneshot, 2nd person POV, gender-neutral reader, fluff, mutual understanding, a lot of metaphors, blushy rafayel bc boy can BLUSH ⚘word count: 943 ⚘a/n: hi!! i started playing l&ds two weeks ago and i am HOOKED. rafayel is my favourite, and so i was inspired to try writing his voice! this is my first l&ds writing so thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy~!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As usual, the door to Rafayel's home studio is unlocked. You push it open and slip inside, removing your shoes. The heat of your bare feet sticks against the surprisingly cool hardwood floor as you move into the room.

Rafayel is actually where you expect him to be for once, headfirst in a painting you haven't seen before. You sigh and get ready to settle in for a while, knowing how absorbed he gets when inspiration hits. He probably didn't even hear you come in. So it catches you off guard when he actually speaks first.

"Hey. Come over here," he says as he slides a thick, wet stroke of paint onto the canvas, never looking away.

You oblige without fuss, mainly because his tone is so airy and earnest that you feel being mischievous right now would go over his head. You stop next to him.

"What do you think?" He asks, still gazing at his work.

You puff air out your nose. "You're asking for my thoughts? That's a new one."

He finally looks at you then, his expression just as light and floaty as his voice had been. It's not a side of Rafayel that you're used to, but it's one you find most interesting—the one where he's so deep in artistic expression that he himself has become one with his canvas. An abstract impression of its own creator. A secluded forest monk reaching a state of nirvana like sunlight's warmth on his face.

You don't see it often, since he paints in solitude and you get him out of the house more than he bargained for, but it's the rare intrigue of it that makes this Rafayel all the more special.

"Just tell me," he says simply.

You finally take a good look at the artwork perched on the easel.

It's gorgeous and colourful, his trademark thick strokes, playful yet meticulous and reminiscent of sea foam, present a scene that is at once novel and familiar. It's significantly warmer than most of his other paintings, liberally using more reds and purples alongside his usual blues, as if plucked directly from a sunset.

Knowing Rafayel, if he could do just that, he would.

And yet, as lovely as it is, you can't help but feel like something's... off. The canvas is nicely underpainted, but the centre is dreadfully blank. The painting has no focal point.

"It's missing something," you point out. He hums a thoughtful "mhm" in reply, as if those were the exact words he was waiting to hear.

Suddenly, he turns the paintbrush on you. You realize, a bit delayed, that he's holding it out as an offering.

"I want you to add something to it."

"Huh? Me?" He doesn't respond right away, so you continue. "What would you want me to do?"

Rafayel shakes his head, but there's a gentle smile on his lips. "If I told you what to do, then I might as well just do it myself."

His smile remains as silence grows between the two of you, a silent invitation beckoning a leap of faith. You break his gaze to turn back to the canvas, the gaping void in the centre like an eye of the storm, pulling you in and yet blowing you in every direction. What could you possibly add to this piece that Rafayel couldn't?

"I thought you hated people messing with your work. This is a trick, isn't it?"

He shakes his head again, his soft messy purple curls tickling his lashes. "Kinda a lame trick. And annoying. I put a lot of hard work into this already, only for it to go to waste like that..." he says, and the pouty Rafayel you're more accustomed to is back. "Besides, you're not 'people'. You're you."

"And what exactly does that mean?"

"It means you know what this painting needs. You'll treat it well. You know my vision for it more than anyone else because, well... my vision is you." His voice trails down to a whisper.

You look at the painting once more, with new eyes. This painting... is you?

"Rafayel..." you say, unable to say much else.

He takes your hesitation gently, holding it like a hand and guiding it along, taking the reins and allowing you to find your footing again. "It looks different from my other pieces, right? I'm sure you noticed. That's because you make me different. Not like I've changed for you or anything, but more like... I've changed because of you. You know?"

"Um...? Not really," you reply sincerely.

He taps his chin thoughtfully. "You're red where I'm blue. And together, we make purple." He breathes out a laugh. "It sounds so simple when I put it like that. It's not that simple at all. Nothing about you is simple. You're annoying and loud and strong and everything I'm not, and yet somehow we blend together so well that I don't know how I was able to be content with being blue for so long. I want to be blue, and red, and purple. But only your shade of red will do."

He pauses, his ears a dark shade of the exact colour he speaks of. His eyes are pleading, as if saying 'understand me as I understand you', and before he can open his mouth to spout more abstract nonsense, you dip the brush in red—a perfect match to the hue blooming in his face. You are in this colour as much as he is.

"I think I know what to do now," you say, and your red splatters over his blue, mingling purple like summer plums, sweet and sour and bursting.

#love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace #rafayel #rafayel x reader #fics #i love him soso much......