#Gnome's prompt game

[thegnomelord]

Alright since 28 is taken Ill do the next best thing 29! Graves and his shadows with M reader, who is a colonel.

I need the wholesome and maybe a bit of the spice ya know. Thank you for soing Shadow company content, i am so starved.

Once again good soup!

Here you go dude, I'm not the best when it comes to writing for a group of people so idk how this turned out :/. Play the game HERE

Prompt: Hug from behind

CW: NSFW, subbot Graves, domtop Mreader, Shadow company fluff, hug from behind, fluff, groping, handjob, cumming in pants.

Being a colonel in the Shadow company and Grave's right hand man, you had a lot of responsibilities. From running drills to stitching up wounds to writing reports and drafting contracts when your magpie of a commander sees a new person he wants to recruit; you expected to deal with a lot of shit, but never in your wildest dreams did you expect to become the Shadow Company's emotional support Colonel.

Colonel Care Bear — it was their nickname for you. You'd made the mistake of being annoyed at the name which, of course, made the little fuckers double down on it. Nothing you did made them stop, even Graves joining in their fun and calling you that instead of your name with a smug grin.

You're not even sure when or why it had started.

It wasn't like you were overly paternal, you just took care of your soldiers. In whatever ways they needed you; The first time you'd needed to give emotional support had been after Jenkins had lost his battle buddy. Jenkins was still relatively young compared to the other Shadows, a rising star that Graves had snatched up, but on the flight back to base he'd been no better than a scared kitten, desperately trying to hold in his sobs. You hadn't said a word when you had pulled him close to you, letting him cry his heart out into your shoulder.

None of the others said a word either, and you didn't bring it up after your plane had landed. You'd expected it to be a one off experience but oh — you were so wrong.

Like feral cats learning to trust a human, the Shadows started approaching you, carefully at first, standing just at the edge of your personal space nervous fingers toying with the hem of their shirts and eyes flickering between you and anything else, until you grew annoyed and pulled them close to you, letting them cry or talk or just sit with their head on your shoulder for as long as they needed; a lighthouse in a dark sea.

Then Williams, who'd had one too many bad missions, had come into your office without a word and plopped himself into your lap while you were busy doing paperwork.

You were surprised, but not too much, with how often you'd found yourself with a Shadow near you you figured something like this was bound to happen. Though you hadn't expected it to be this forward. "Bad day?" You asked.

Williams just grunted into your neck, slightly nodding his head.

You shifted to still be able to write with him in your lap. "Want me to talk?"

You felt his hair scratch your neck when he shook his head, a negative grunt leaving his throat.

"Got it." You said and went back to your work, a hand on William's hip to keep him stable.

Safe to say you weren't amused when Graves had walked in and cracked the biggest bloody smirk when he saw you like that. You were even less amused when he'd whipped out his phone and took a photo of it. And you were ready to piss in Grave's beer after that photo had circulated through the entire Shadow Company, leading to many more similar incidents of a Shadow crawling into your lap when you weren't busy.

It really wasn't their fault your embrace just felt so good and comfortable, your arms perfectly sized and muscled to put weight in your hugs, shoulders just broad enough to make them feel small and safe.

Graves knew this because when he'd needed to confiscate Smith's phone after he'd caught him taking pictures of your ass (not that he blamed him, you had a nice ass but they needed to have some professionalism) Graves had found their simp chat.

It took him days to finish reading all the messages. I mean there were hundreds of texts gushing just over you, calendrer times for when which Shadow could go bother you for attention, not to mention the countless pictures they'd taken of you, from mundane to more suggestive when you were in the communal showers (Graves would die before he admitted he'd needed to rub one out at some of the pictures).

Safe to say that when he gave Smith his phone back Graves was. . .curious. He'd never approached you for comfort like the Shadows did, mostly because he knew he couldn't keep his thoughts pure after just a few minutes in your presence, his throat going dry whenever he feels you pat his shoulder when you pass in the hall.

"Care Bear!" Graves calls when he finds you on your way to your room, using that name just so he can see the irritated twitch of your brow.

"Yes commander?" You ask in that same tone of voice you use when you know he's up to something.

"Oh come on, no need for that." Graves grins, "Ah just need you to do something for me," He says, because he wouldn't be your commander if he was straightforward. "Follow along." He motions with his hand like a dog as he passes you.

Like a dog you follow, so close you cast a partial shadow over him. He leads you to a more secluded hallway, stopping abruptly and hearing you stop too. But you're not close enough, so with an annoyed sigh he says "Come closer."

You raise an eyebrow but do as he says, taking a few short steps closer until your chest is almost touching his back. Without a word Graves suddenly grabs your arms and wraps them around his waist, leaning back on his heels until his back is flush with your chest and you're supporting his weight.

You stall for a few moments just trying to convince your head that yes, your commander is doing that. "Really?" You ask.

He tilts his head to meet your eyes, casually resting his head on your shoulder. "Something the matter Colonel Care bear?" He smirks, reminding you of a very content cat.

You give him a blank look before rolling your eyes, "Could have just said you wanted a hug." You huff and move your arms to really hug him, your hands resting comfortably on his hips, your arms caging him in, the heat of your body seeping into his, your chest rumbling as you mutter your annoyance at the damn nickname.

"What fun would that be?" He says, eyes closing.

And, Hell, Graves gets it now.

He could get addicted this. Your scent and cologne clogs his nose, the heat of your body chasing away the lingering chill of the base. You support his weight so easily it's like he's floating on a firm cloud, forgetting about ranks and war and everything for a few blissful seconds. His mind wanders; wonders what it would feel to have your strong arms pin him every day, what it'd be like to be pinned down, the current gentle pressure turned bruising and demanding, bending him in half and shit— he's hard.

And of course you notice, wouldn't be his right hand if you couldn't read him like a book. "I'm getting the impression," You note, your grip increasing just a bit to keep him still, your other hand skirting down. "That you wanted something more than just a hug." You growl and squeeze your hand, groping the bulge in his jeans.

"Shit—" Graves sucks in a breath, legs scrambling for purchase but you hold him still, his weight still on you. "—I wasn't thinking of nothing." He says quickly, the pressure of your hand on his clothed cock too good.

"Uh huh," You hum, keeping a careful eye on his facial expressions as you experimentally move your hand; Short slow brushes of your thumb against his cockhead earn you little whimpers, unable to hide them with his head still resting on your shoulder. Firm squeezes of his entire bulge has his skin turning a nice shade of pink, his ear hot beneath your tongue as you nibble on it. His thighs part as you bully your hand lower, the strong pressure of your fingers against his balls as your palm grinds into his cockhead making him moan, the stuttered attempts at explaining himself dying out as a visible damp spot grows in his jeans.

"Faster-" Graves growls, his hands grabbing purchase in your hair, yanking your head down into a rough kiss, "-mhh, faster, fuck, man-"

You smirk against his lips. "Ask me nicely." You say, purposely pulling your hand away from where he needs it the most, ignoring his disgruntled sounds. "You son of a bitch-" Graves snarls, breathing rapidly in an attempt to get his frazzled brain to work before swallowing his pride. "Please," He says it like the word hurts him.

"Please what commander?" You wonder, undoing his belt and slipping your hand into his jeans, "Please touch my cock? Please get me off? Please fuck me till I can't walk?" You throw suggestions, applying just enough pressure on his twitching cock to leave him dumbly nodding his head.

"Yes, yes, yes- oh fuck- shit yes-" Phill pants, eyes closing and weakly thrusting his hips into your hand with what leverage he has, seeking out the pleasure that comes with your calloused hand stroking his sensitive flesh. "Fuck- just, ahh-" He breathes in through clenched teeth, "-just please."

"Alright, alright," You hum, increasing your pace, the glide of skin on skin eased by the precum he's leaking, swallowing his little moans and rough grunts as you kiss him. You can tell he's nearing his end with how he begins twitching even more in your hold, hips pushing into your hand sporadically, fat tears prickling his eyes. "Come on then Commander, cum already."

He does almost as soon as you tell him to, his moan swallowed down by your lips as he cums in his pants, your thumb rubbing insistently on his tip to milk him of all he's got, strong arm keeping him close to you.

"You did good commander." You coo gently as you pull your hand out of his pants, and without waiting for a response you push your cum covered fingers into his open mouth. "Real good," You smirk when Phill immediately sucks on your fingers, his brain melted into mush and incapable of rousing his pride to feel ashamed of how he moans at the taste of his own spend. "Such a good boy," Your praise does something to him, has his cock making a valiant attempt to get hard all over again.

The air leaves his lungs when you suddenly push your hips against his ass, making him feel your own hard cock trapped in your pants. "I took care of you," You begin, pulling your fingers from his mouth. "Are you prepared to take care of me?"

#Gnome's Prompt Game #cod mw2 #gnome correspondence #cod modern warfare #phillip graves x male reader #shadow company #shadow company x reader #top dom reader #x reader #top male reader #phillip graves smut

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All the Good Girls Go To Hell 19

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, power imbalance, injury, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You come home for the summer but your break is not as relaxing as you expect.

Character: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Note: Friday!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

"Is it berries?" Bucky asks as you cradle your head and the phone.

You shake your head, hunched over your knees, still sat on the cold tarmac. "There aren't any berries here," you sniffle, "just flowers."

"Oh, well, is it a flower?" He continues to guess.

His coolness, his light tone, it makes your own world seem less dire. You hear a car door, a noise that seems to echo speaker rustles. You sigh and tell him no again. He's been trying to guess this whole time and it's starting to get frustrating.

"Alright, game's over, doll. What was it?"

You look up as a shadow strides up the driveway. You get to your knees as Bucky comes closer. You lower the phone as you stare at him dumbly.

"How did you find me?" You blubber.

"You said you were with Naomi... I can track her phone. I bought it. Plus she always ends up with that kid," he shrugs as he offers his hand, "come on, let's get you off the ground."

"Why?" You stare at his thick fingers.

"Why what?"

"Why are you helping me?"

"Doll, let's not get into those feelings right now," he sighs, "please, you can't stay here. I can't leave a sweet thing like you out in the dark all night. Not like she did."

"Alright," you croak and take his hand. He hauls you up easily and lets you lean on him,.

"So, what was it?" He asks.

"What was what?" You murmur.

"The red thing."

"Oh, uh," you swing around and point, nearly toppling as he catches you, "the gnome's hat."

"Huh, never would've guessed," he clucks as he clings to you, "come on, doll, we really should get you out of here."

You let him lead you down the driveway. You feel very week as you let more of your weight lean on him. Your head lolls as your eyes threaten to close on their own. You open them as you approach the car and he opens the door. He sits you down in the seat and bends to get you in straight. His rough palms graze your knees and thighs before he pulls back, putting a hand on the roof.

"You good? Get your belt done up."

You nod and do as he says. He watches, looming over you, moonlight limning his figure.

"Good girl," he growls and his timbre sends a shiver through you, "I want you to stay awake for me, can you do that?"

"Yes, Bucky," you lean your head back and focus through the windshield, vision glazing.

"I know you can, baby," he caresses your shoulder and closes the car door. He gets in the driver's side as you hug yourself and chatter. "Cold?"

You nod and he reaches into the back seat. He pulls forward a grey hoodie and offers it to you. You take it and spread it across your shoulders. It smells like him. It's almost comforting.

"Right," he hits the button and the engine rolls over, "some music will help."

He turns on the stereo and flips to a pop station. You doubt it's his kind of music. He shifts into gear, giving you a long look before he pulls out.

"Doll, why don't you tell me what happened?" Bucky prompts as he keeps a hand on the bottom of the steering wheel, his other on the corner of your seat.

"I..." you sniff and take a deep breath, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Ah," he hums and nods, "did Naomi do something?"

You shrug and look out the window. He exhales as he slows at the stop sign.

"Did she hurt you?" His voice is gravelly.

"Not exactly," you lean into the door and cover your face with your hands, "it's not just what happened at the party... it's-- it's-- my mom. And Steve. And everyone!"

Your babbling. You can feel it but you can't stop it. The alcohol has you under its spell and fuels your distress. You just want to explode.

"Oh, your mother?"

"Yeah," you whine and pulls your hands away from your face, "her and Steve– and I can’t even go home–”

"Your mom and Steve?" He asks.

You snap your mouth shut. You shouldn't have told him that.

"Oh, doll," he coos, "I'm sorry."

His fingers stray down to your shoulder and he rubs it through the fabric of the hoodie. It's soothing despite everything. Gentle. You're tired. So tired. You just want to sleep. You lean back and yawn.

He squeezes your shoulder, "doll, stay awake. Remember what I said," he retracts his hand, "I'll get us home and you can lay down there, alright?"

You nod and peel your eyes open, "okay... thank you, Bucky."

"Anything for you," he says so quietly you barely hear him, "I'm gonna keep you safe."

🏡

The world sways around you. You can hardly lift your head. You open your eyes and see Bucky above you, feel his arms around you. He carries you throughthe shadows of the house.

You shift in his arms and he peeks down. "It's alright, doll, you tried."

You kep your head on his shoulder. You can hear his heartbeat. He's warm, he smells like cedar. You blink, eyelids sticking. He takes you into the guestroom and places you on the foot of the bed.

He makes you sit up, hands on your arms as he holds onto you, bending to look you in the face. You notice the fresh sheets, no longer the crisp white but patterned with dainty pink flowers. He brings a hand under your chin and makes you meet his gaze.

"I'll get you something to wear, doll, and some water," he explains.

You murmur and nod. He lets you go and reluctantly turns away. He stalks off as you lean over your lap, elbows on your thighs as you struggle not to fold.

"Here," he surprises you as he comes in again, "there's a shirt for you."

He hands you a tidy white tee shirt, one of his. You thank him through your sticky mouth. He goes to the night table and puts down the glass of water in his other hand.

"Make sure you drink that before you lay down," he says.

"I will," you whisper.

He goes again as you tug at the dress. You slip free of the tight sheath, tits falling out as you stand in nothing but your panties. You swoop the shirt over you and struggle to poke your head through. You grab the water and gulp it down, feeling it swish into your belly.

You put the glass back and turn to the bed. You teeter and fall onto the mattress, sprawled on your stomach.

You hear a subtle creak. Bucky's footfalls lightly glance over the floor and he sets a bucket next to your bed.

"Just in case," he touches your shoulder, "try not to roll onto your back."

"Got it," you utter sleepily and close your eyes, another yawn escaping you.

He drags his hand away and you feel him tug on your tee shirt, pulling the hem to cover the edge of your panties. He then drapes the blanket over you before retreating with a soft 'good night'. The light turns off and you're left in the dark, quickly succumbing to a drunken stupour.

🏡

You feel like you’re drowning in sludge. The morning blares over you from the window as you emerge from the deep pit of alcohol-laced sleep. You groan and stiffly bend your arm, pressing a palm to your forehead as it pulses. This is why you don’t drink, it’s not worth it.

Confusion comes after the onslaught of agony. You stare at the ceiling, taking in the room little by little. Your mind pieces together how you got there. The party, Naomi grabbing you, kissing you, running out… fractured memories that lead to that very moment.

You push yourself up with aching arms. You didn’t expect to be back here. You don’t know how to do this. After all he’s done, you feel like you owe Bucky. You can at least hear him out. He can’t be as bad as Naomi claims if he’s the only one trying to take care of you.

You get up, stopping to lean on the night table. Your hand trails onto the empty glass and you pick it up. It’s as good an excuse as any.

You go out into the hall, peering up and down. You pad along towards the kitchen, an eeriness follows you knowing that it’s only you and Bucky. You’re not surprised to find him waiting in the kitchen. He always seems to be a step ahead of you.

The smell of coffee draws a rumble from your stomach. You look sheepishly at your host and show the glass, going to the sink to rinse it. As you place it in the rack, he takes down a mug and fills it, sliding it towards you. He’s the first to speak.

“Morning,” he waits, watching you as you hook your fingers through the handle of the cup.

“Morning,” you eke out, too nervous to try the coffee. You inhale and make yourself look at him, “I’m sorry–”

“I should be sorry,” he says, “I shouldn’t have let you go with Naomi. I should’ve told the truth. Way before that. I shouldn’t have gone along with any of it.”

You stare at him. His blue eyes flicker as his cheek dimples, anxiety needling in his forehead. He gestures towards your hand on the cup.

“Please, have your coffee.”

You drag the mug to the edge and lift it. You drink with a long hum. Oh, it feels good. You pull the brim away from your lips and swallow thickly. You clear your throat and peek up at him again.

“So it’s all true?” You ask, hoarsely.

“I don’t know what she told you but…” he hesitates, “I’m not her father.”

“Yeah,” you agree crisply.

“I can show you,” he turns and reaches for his phone, “everything. Right here. This is what she sent me the first time she brought you over.”

He shows you the screen, holding his thumb down to keep the chat from rolling back up. You see Naomi’s name at the top of the chat and the bubbles back and forth. You read the received message by his thumb.

‘Bringing a friend. Please say you’re my dad, don’t wanna freak her out.’

You chew your lip. It doesn't disprove anything she told you. You frown and he starts to flick through the conversation.

“Look, just tell me the truth,” you demand, though your tone is less than intimidating.

He sighs and lowers the phone, “we have an arrangement. I support her and she… supports me. In a way.” He looks down ashamed, “I’m not going to make excuses. I could say I was lonely, newly divorced, stupid. It was convenient–”

“She was vulnerable,” you suggest.

He nods, “that’s true. But I never intended… when she brought you…” He pokes his tongue out and closes his eyes, “I’m trying to just explain but there’s so much. Thing’s fizzled out.

"When she got back from college, she was just angry all the time so I gave her space. I told her that we could end things but I would help her find a place, keep paying her tuition and she could make it up to me later. When she got a job.”

He backs up and leans on the counter. He crosses his arms and raises his head. He looks tired, drawn.

“She brought you over and you’re so nice and it was– is refreshing. To have someone look at you without hate. My ex-wife, she had the same look as Naomi got. I don’t know what I did,” he sniffs, “but I’m sure I deserved it. I guess I’m needy.”

“Alright,” you mutter, unsure what else to say. Two sides of the same story. They line up, to a point.

“I know I can’t ask you to trust me. If I was you, I’d be… I’d be confused, creeped out, everything. I really don’t know what to say or do at this point. I called you over and over thinking I could explain myself out of it but there’s no excuse. And then you answered and you were drunk and crying and I came without thinking. Because I know Naomi, she’s destructive and I thought maybe she got you into trouble.

“And then you mentioned your mom and well, that broke my heart. I really can’t believe that she’d kick you out. Her own child. Even Mimi’s parents weren’t that cruel.”

You blanch and take another swig of coffee, trying to set yourself straight. 

“They didn’t? Her parents didn’t kick her out?”

“No,” a stitch forms in his forehead, “no, I guess she stormed out after some argument. They suggested maybe she stay and go to school here but she didn’t like that. She was on Steve’s couch for a while and then ended up here. Wanda got a bit crowded.”

You try to hide your surprise. You put the cup back on the counter and stare into the depths. Naomi lied. Maybe not about everything but she made it seem much more sinister.

“Doll,” Bucky rasps, “you okay? You gonna be sick or something?”

You bat your lashes, fighting back tears. You’re lost. You don’t know who to believe but your best bet is the one who isn’t groping you for her friends or cornering you when you’re alone. Your lip quivers as you search for a response.

“I… I believe you,” you breathe.

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #dark steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #dark!steve rogers #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #all the good girls go to hell #au #marvel #mcu #avengers #captain america #winter soldier

[fredweasleysprostitute]

Like what you see // F.W

Summary: A summer beneath the heat allows you to bask in your pent-up feelings for Fred Weasley. But there's something holding you back. Is it really that wrong to fall for your best friends brother

Universe: Harry Potter

Rating: Mature

Warnings: a few spicy shots of Fred

Blue skies filled the air, clouds were nowhere to be seen. The flowers sought water as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were quick to replenish their soil, and the garden gnomes longed for shade as they huddled beneath a leafy tree. The blazing sun sent everyone into a heat stroke, but it was nothing like the effects of Fred Weasley.

You watched as he launched a quaffle through Ron's hoop, his muscles flexing as he did so. His forehead was lined up in a bead of sweat, while his large hands gripped the broomsticks, his smooth, toned abdomen perfectly glistening beneath the sun. He was quick to tug off his shirt when the game had first begun, leaving nothing to your imagination. It was rather annoying that one look from him was all you needed to send your heart rate sky high. You couldn't help but stare, his quidditch physique body was fucking perfect.

Faint laughter pulled you out from your daze as you finally turned around to find the culprits. Ginny and Hermione were giggling like mad at the sight of you. You felt your face grow warm, not doubting that you were a bright sade of pink.

"Ron's not gonna be real happy, Ginny teased, sipping on her glass of sweet tea.

Hermione began to laugh, "Seriously, y/n his older brother?"

"What in merlins name are you two on about?" You almost winced, you were a terrible liar.

"Don't be daft, y/n you were practically drooling" Ginny chimed, falling into another chim as your face turned blood red. You were positive you looked sunburnt by now.

"What's so funny?" Ron exclaimed, joining the three of you with his broom in his hand. The game was officially over, and the twins were sure to follow.

You sent daggers to Ginny's way.

"Probably your shitty plays," George mused, ruffling Ron's hair until it stood up from all ends. You noticed Hermione's cheeks like she wasn't exactly subtle either.

"I'll race you lot to the showers!" Another voice called out.

You froze right on the spot, your eyes darting everywhere but the sexy man before you. You cleared your throat, trying to return all of your senses back to your body. It was not working.

Ron's eyebrows thread together. He tilted his head to the side, asking you if you were alright. You nodded quickly, prompting him to continue his silent interrogation.

You felt his eyes burning holes into your forehead, praying to Merlin that Ginny would keep her face shut.

"Kids! Time for dinner!" Molly called, beckoning you all inside through the window.

You sucked in a breath when Fred stretched as Fred stretched, beginning to pull his shirt back on over his head. You felt your knees buckle.

Then suddenly, you were speeding through the tall grass, ignoring the confused looks that were bound to take place behind you.

Ron scratched his head as he watched you enter the burrow, growing more confused when his sister toppled over in laughter.

"What the bloody hell is going on?"

You found yourself, sighing finally content under the ruby sheets of Ginny's bed. Her walls were covered in posters, many of which featured the Chudley Cannons and the Holyhead Harpies. You also spotted The Cranberries and other muggle bands that Hermione introduced you too. There wasn't an inch of wall that was left bare.

Chatting with the girls had been going well. They seemed to have forgotten about the events of the afternoon, indulging in their shared bag of sweets while also discussing their plans for the upcoming Quidditch World Cup. But when three readheads had decided to join you, two of which being the identical twins, you felt your heart begin to race once more.

Ron took the seat next to you, slightly offering you one of his chocolate frogs. You took it gratefully, sending him a smile in thanks. You could always rely on your best friend.

Sitting quietly between them all, you kept to yourself as they made conversation. You knew that if you opened your mouth even just an inch all eyes would be on you. After the stunt you pulled, you were sure that you would be bombarded with questions. And you did not have a death wish.

You found your eyes studying Fred, who was animatedly chatting with his brother. As usual, he and George seemed very excited to share about one of their newest joke products. You admired the dips and curves of his features, tracing each one of his freckles with your eyes. His smile caused your heart to flutter, and your lips to curve upward as well.

You jumped slightly when his eyes met yours.

His smile turned into a lazy smirk, that of a child who knows just how much trouble they've caused. He didn't look away, keeping his warm gaze on you as though he was enjoying the effect he had. You would have turned away, but the fear, the fear that was bubbling up in your chest left you panicking in your place. You were although rather glad when George wacked Fred up the side of his head.

"Oi!" Fred groaned, turning to his twin brother. "What was that for you git?"

"Ronald here, was asking you a question," George teased. You didn't miss the suggestive eyebrow wiggle he sent you. He was obviously amused.

Ron repeated his question. "How do you plan on opening the shop?"

"We've got tricks up our sleeves Ronniekins. Don't you even worry about us"

You giggled as Fred ruffled Ron's shaggy hair. Hiding in your blush as you munched on another chocolate frog. But you didn't miss the grin that Fred had sent you.

And unbeknownst to you, neither did Ron.

It had been five days. Five days of just sitting by the pond and admiring his soaking wet hair. Five days of staying up late after bed, just to hear Fred strumming on his guitar from across the hall. Five days of Fred's merciless, taunting, beautiful honey brown gaze.

You thought you would be a goner by now. Practically dropping dead when you caught him exiting the bathroom with nothing but a towel around his waist.

But here you are, still living and breathing. Under the same roof as Fred Weasley.

You leaned your head into your palm, thinking hard before making your move on the chess board before you. You were seated uncomfortably on the living room floor, Ron on the other end while anxiously drumming his fingers against the coffee table.

"Queen to ES" you ordered, smiling proudly when you took out his knight. You looked up to bask in his downfall. But you were surprised, Ron didn't look defeated.

"You okay?" You chuckled, noticing the way he vigorously nodded his head. He, too was a shitty liar.

You sent him a knowing look as he manually moved his piece.

"You can be scary sometimes, did you know that?"

You only smiled, watching curiously as he turned around to examine his surroundings. He must have had a huge secret to tell.

"I know," he began, sending you a faint smirk.

You stared at him blankly, slowly tilting your head.

He rolled his eyes. "I mean, I know, I know about Fred."

Your eyes went wide, causing his smirk to grow. You felt as though your limbs had caught fire.

"Fred? What are you talking about, Ron?" You mumbled, ignoring his eyes as you reached to move your knight. Ron stopped you.

"It's okay," he smiled, casually sliding the game to the end of the table. He leaned forward on his elbows.

"If you think that I'm going to stop you, I won't," he continued, "although, it will always bewilder me that Fred, my brother, the boy who farted on the train in our first year, is the bloke you have chosen," He teased.

You spit out a laugh, thinking back on the found memory. 11 year old you would not believe that "Farting Fredrick" had become the most charming boy in all of Hogwarts. He was remembered as the boy who had vandalized the portraits and locked Filch in broom cupboards. But he was no longer the dork who would snuck bogey flavored beans into your Honeydukes bag and he had you falling hard.

"You know he fancies you too?" Ron chuckled, twirling his wand between his fingers. "I heard with George last night. He wouldn't shut up about you"

Peering out the window with wide eyes, you found a tall ginger sitting out in the yard. And that was all you needed to hear before racing out the door.

You took a deep breath in when you found him, having to remind yourself to stay calm in his presence. His hair was windswept, reminding you of the many times he would race down the corridors of the school. He seemed deep in thought, making the same twisted face that he would often do when he was designing new prank products. You absolutely adored it.

To your surprise, it wasn't very difficult to see Fred in a new light. It was as though you always thought him to be charming and handsome. Maybe these feelings were locked away somewhere. Or maybe you were just too terrified to let them free.

With a shaky breath, you marched over to his spot on the old, creaky bench.

Fred's eyes shot up, smiling when he found you. It was less cheeky then it usually was. You took that as a good sign.

"Why Hi, there," Fred chuckled, craning his head to get a better look at you, you often hid behind your hair, but he was quick to tuck it away. You felt your face heat immediately. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You felt a nervous laughter bubble in your chest. "You looked a little lonely."

"You sure you didn't just miss me?" Fred teased, shuffling closer to your side. "I am, of course quite the entertainer."

You rolled your eyes, opting to smile into the evening breeze.

"I have a secret." You mumbled, not daring to face him. "But I'll only tell you if you tell me a secret of your own."

You heard Fred laugh from beside you, feeling a sense of relief when he agreed.

If your theory was correct, and you were praying to Merlin that it was, Fred would confess everything that Ron had heard the night before. And it would be the end of the cat and mouse game.

"One," you began, trying to calm your racing heart. It didn't help that he was staring.

"Two," he continued biting back his smile.

"Three!"

"I can't stop thinking about you!"

"I've fancied you since my third year!"

You felt your eyes go wide, your mouth dropping open as your heart hammered against your chest. You weren't sure if you had heard him right. Since his third year?

And that was it for you two. It seemed as though you each seized the moment, pulling the other impossibility close as you closed the gap between you. It was passionate but soft, the way first kisses should be. And it felt good to finally know the feeling of his broad shoulders and large hands.

It was like he was chiselled by Godric himself.

He pulled back slightly, donning a dreamy smile as he mumbled against your lips, "we have an audience."

Your head whipped around, gasping as you found Ron, Ginny, Hermione and George gossiping through the window. You heard Ron scoff, shouting something along the lines of "if you hurt her I will bloody murder you!" Through the glass.

You giggled like a young school girl, turning to have Fred's breath clash with yours. You could finally admire his honey brown eyes from up close.

"Like what you see?" He smiled pressing a kiss to your flushed cheek.

"Don't worry" he chuckled "I do too"

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred wealsey fic #fred weasely x y/n

[taki-yaki]

prompt: Tav with a gun lol. Let’s say Tav got abducted from a sci-fi world, like from another sci-fi video game, which solves the ammo issue. Or she’s an artificer class from somewhere out there in wildspace, so she makes her own ammo and steampunk weapons. Whatever you choose.

Either way, Astarion is very interested in her weapons.

Making me think of all those glock mods for BG3 but I agree that Astarion would be 100% interested in an artificer artillerist Tav. Also with artificers usually focusing on intelligence, he would be interested in that compared to Gale.

Artificer Tav (or Glock Tav)

Astarion had never met an artificer such as you before. Sure he may have heard of some gnome who were artificers, but they usually specialised in either alchemy or armoury. 

He never took much interest in them anyway, besides all they would talk about is how their creations were made for non-destructive uses.

However, upon seeing your destructive artillery focus, it quickly gains his interest.

Someone who is intelligent and approves of using destructive force, rather than giving dull lectures about the meticulous details of the weave the magic as a whole, sounds like a LOT of fun to him.

Of course, the first thing he’d ask of you is to have a go at your eldritch cannon, but soon has to be confiscated from him, due to his recklessness with it. 

Instead, he’d try to give suggestions on how to improve your weaponry, “Maybe if you add a lick of poison to your bullets for an extra sting” “What do you mean it’ll cost too much?”.

Whilst tinkering with making small gadgets in your free time, he would observe you from afar, watching your hands skillfully craft each one. You would quickly pick up on this, by offering him to watch you work up close instead.

The tinkering side of your nature would lead to some problems in camp though, with collecting any pieces of scrap metal found on your adventures, old rusted cutlery? They can be repurposed into so many things. This would lead to an intervention at camp with the amount of ‘junk’ you have collected in such as short time.

Eventually, you would start creating small utilities to use in camp, such as a portable shower kit to compact carrying containers.

When you go to fight Cazador, the situation quickly turns into bringing a knife to a gunfight, however in this case you’re adequately equipped and prepared to fight him.

Obviously, you would defeat him, Buffy the Vampire Slayer style, “No weapon forged can stop me”, “That was then” pulling out your modified eldritch cannon and taking aim at Cazador, “This is now”, promptly launching him off the ritual platform.

After the tadpole is gone, you promise to make him a device that will allow him to walk in the sun once again. Stating that he’s better off trying science if all means of magic and gods have failed him so far. Naturally, it takes quite a few attempts to create a working solution, but once you do, he is forever grateful for your help and will go about boasting about how smart his partner is compared to the magic shows that wizards present.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion headcanons #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #made this one a little short and silly #when I got this prompt the buffy the vampire slayer scene was the first thing that came to my mind tbh

[parkkiablah]

Your writing is soooo good! I've loved everything you've done .

Could I give a prompt of Zevlor X Tiefling Tav ( purple Tielfing )

That after she's rescued the tieflings from moonrise and discovered that Zevlor is missing. There heart breaks as they think they now have forever missed the chance to tell him there true feelings 💔

But they take that anger and sadness and fight kethric and when they find zevlor and maybe bring him with them to finish the fight ( I wish we could bring him with us in game )

Anyway they get back to camp and Tav ignores everyone and looks for zevlor and when they find him they hug him and there tail wraps around his.

(Thank you so much for the request!! I hope you like it 🧡)

Lost Chance? (Zevlor x Tiefling Tav)

You sneaked into the prison area of Moonlight Towers, looking for the tiefling refugees here.

When you heard what happened it was out of question for you to get them out of here, they were your kind after all and you grew fond of them, sharing the same burden of judgement the people held against tieflings.

You still didn't believe that Zevlor just betrayed them. There had to be more to it than just that and you had to talk to him about it.

When you found the prison cells you were happy to finally have found them. Lia stood at the front of the cell, telling you to talk to the gnomes in the other cell as they seemed to plan something.

And so you did. It wasn't easy to find a way to talk to them without the prison guards starting to be suspicious of you but you managed. Wulbren had asked for something to break through the walls of the cell and you threw an heavy weapon you had with you inside the cell, careful not to be caught in the act.

You were sure you had to fight the guards around anyway so you thought it would be a good option to use as a distraction of what the gnomes and tieflings did in the cells.

The gnomes had quickly destroyed the wall in their cell, revealing a tunnel to the tiefling's cell and to a small boat.

They waited before they left, obviously unsure where to go.

Scanning the group of them you didn't notice Zevlor being with them. Was he not here?

"Is Zevlor not with you?", you asked them.

"They brought him somewhere else, no idea what kind of plan they had for him.", Cal responded.

You were stunned and shocked. It couldn't be. Did they torture him? Or kill him right away? Your mind was wandering on all the worst scenarios and you couldn't stop feeling helpless.

He couldn't be dead. It just couldn't be.

It would mean you missed your chance to tell him how you felt for him.

You didn't know him for a long time, yet you couldn't help feeling warm whenever you talked to him, feeling comfortable yet nervous, feeling your heart beat faster when he just looked at you. There was no way you could deny your feelings for him and right in that moment you felt lost.

Zevlor wasn't here and knowing how cruel the Absolute was it wouldn't be a surprise to you if they had killed him. And realizing that was like a hit in the stomach.

You missed your chance.

Or that's what you believed when you were fighting Ketheric. Your anger and frustration obviously showing and it made the fight on the roof of Moonrise towers a short one, when Ketheric disappeared into the Mindflayer colony.

Following him you noticed the amount of tunnels formed inside of the colony and finding the way towards Ketheric would probably take a while.

Stumbling through the many tunnels and finding one dead end after the other you walked into a room with some of the pods you had been in as well a while ago. The first one of them showed a Mindflayer while the next one was empty.

When your eyes saw the third one you couldn't believe your eyes for a second. Zevlor was stuck in there.

He was alive.

Your hands found the mechanism opening the pods in no time and you didn't care about the Mindflayers you had to fight. You would fight hundreds of them if you had to.

The fight was a short one, Zevlor fighting with you and his blade easily cutting through the enemies.

Still in disbelieve you watched as his blade cut through the last enemy. He turned around to you, blood covering his face aside his tired expression and yet you couldn't find him any less attractive than the last time you had seen him.

"Thank you. I really thought it was over for me.", he said, his face showing relief.

You tried holding back any emotions trying to run through your body, after all you still had to fight and defeat Ketheric.

"I'm glad we have found you. I was worried when I didn't see you with the others.", you said.

"The others.. what happened to them?"

His voice was heavy with guilt and you were curious to hear his part of the story once you got out of here.

"I saved all I could. Some where in prison here but they are safe."

"I have no right worrying about them but I can't thank you enough for saving them once again."

"Would you join me in the next fight? I could use your help.", you asked him and hoped he won't refuse. You couldn't stand the thought of him being out of your sight again.

"I don't think this is a good idea, the Absolute made me turn against my people once already and I don't want to find my blade in your back.", he said, his face showing worry and defeat.

"I trust you. Please join us.", you said. Your eyes were locked with his as he tried to find a way to say no to you. He looked at you for a few seconds before a sigh left his lips.

"I will do my best to assist you.", he finally replied and you were happy to have him with you in the upcoming fight.

Knowing him by your side made you feel at ease and even more so when you defeated Ketheric.

It was a lot to take in, yet you pushed most of the information to the back of your mind, your priority was to have a chance to talk to Zevlor outside of the Mindflayer colony you were still in.

Your camp was set up inside of Moonrise towers today as you successfully defeated all the enemies inside of here.

Aylin and Isobel were the first to approach you, Jaheira tried a moment later, yet you turned them down and told them you would talk later.

You just wanted to find Zevlor right now.

He was standing outside of the door to Moonrise towers, looking into the distance while he was obviously deep in thought with his back facing you.

"Zevlor.", you called out his name and he turned around. Thats when you collided with his chest, the impact made him take a step back or he would have fallen, your arms around his waist and your face burried in his chest.

You stood there for a moment when you felt his arms slowly close around you, pressing you closer to his body and his head resting against yours.

Your tail searched for his, wrapping around it slowly and you felt him do the same. Tails wrapped around each other many times, twisted together like you never wanted to let go of him.

Thats when you couldn't hold your emotions back anymore. You quietly sobbed into his chest and he held you even closer.

"I thought I had lost you.", you sobbed, having a hard time forming words with the sobs shaking through your body.

His hands caressed your back, trying to calm your shaking form and offer some comfort.

"I am here. You saved me again and I can't thank you enough for it.", he whispered into your ear.

He held you like that for a while, chest moving with his steady breathing that camled you down while your sobs became less frequent.

You loosened the embrace, wiping your face and hiding your face from him.

"Sorry, I shouldn't be such a mess right now."

His hands found your cheeks and lifted your face to look at him.

"No need to apologize. You can cry on my shoulder anytime you need.", he said quietly.

Your eyes wandered over his face, blood still clinging to his skin and his eyes full of worry. His thumbs wiped over your cheeks to remove the tears, who were still wet on your skin and you relaxed into the simple caress of his fingers.

"I really thought I had lost my chance to tell you..", you whispered and he looked at you like he was waiting for you to continue talking. "I love you, Zevlor. I know we didn't have much time together and we don't know each other well but I can't help feeling-"

He cut you off with his lips on yours. Your eyes were wide for a moment, trying to realize what is happening before you closed them and relaxed into the kiss. Lips softly moving against each other, his hands still cupping your face, holding you gently while your tails were still wrapped around each other.

"I feel the same.", he whispered when you had parted for a moment, only to find you press your lips onto his again.

#bg3 #bg3 zevlor #zevlor #zevlor x reader #zevlor x tav #tiefling tav #zevlor x tiefling tav

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

meet me for coffee at luke’s and celebrate 3.5k

iiiiihhh 3500! thank you all so so much! as chosen by all of you wonderful people, we will be celebrating this milestone as well, so let's have some fun! I've had one of those months where gilmore girls has been constantly going in the background, so naturally, this celebration is a cosy little gilmore girls theme ♡

this celebration will run from now till the 28th of april. anyone can participate and you can send in as many asks as you’d like, there is no limit.

navigation | masterlist | request guidelines

people are particularly stupid today - games! (cast your mutuals, fuck marry kill, would you rather…)

gnome-kicking says a lot about a man's character - tell me a random fact about yourself and I’ll say who I ship you with!

I’m fine. I’m just being dramatic. It’s what I do - i'll give you a cosy song that has your vibe!

And if eating cake is wrong, I don’t want to be right - send me a sfw request! (if you need some inspo, here are some prompts)

try a plum, they’re better then sex - send me a nsfw request! (if you need some inspo, here are some prompts)

I need coffee in an IV - request a moodboard! (it can be for a character, a prompt, song, colour or ask me to make one that fits the vibe of your blog) 

moots: @sw34terw34ther @midniteluv @bruisedboys @autumneverleigh @lone-nyctophile @chvoswxtch @luveline @wanturvideo @fightingdragonswithwho @starlit-moonlight @skullrock @appocalipse @lovetaints @wonderlandhatter @happyheidi @reidslovely @creelteeth @cosmal @prettyboyeddiemunson @gaelic-symphony @deeplywornletters @magicchai @fxllfaiiry @angelulls @fleurfairie @oncasette @ddejavvu

#3.5k celebration #milestone celebration #lea’s writing #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #peter parker x reader #joel miller x reader #matt murdock x reader #din djarin x reader #steve rogers x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #bucky barnes x reader #frank castle x reader #spencer reid x reader #the mandalorian x reader

[thebarontheabyss]

The characters decide to play DnD to pass the time. MC is the game master. What creatures do the characters play as? What are their classes? Are their personalities similar to those of the characters or are they completely different? Who survives the campaign and who doesn't?

Another day, another prompt that makes me want to write a full-on chapter about it instead of working on the actual game, lol

(BTW! Hijacking to announce the next part will drop sometime this week!)

Now, let's play DnD!

Death plays a character quite opposite to their real-life role - a human paladin sworn to protect and serve. They get excessively invested in the role, trying hard to make every decision morally righteous. Ironically, their character meets their demise due to their unwavering commitment to face danger head-on for the sake of others. Death experiences their first death, and they find it quite enlightening.

True to their nature, Lilith\Damian picked the role of a changeling bard, using charm and wit to navigate the game. They excel at deception and persuasion, often using their skills to steer the group out of trouble - or sometimes getting them into more of it.

Morgan\a is playing an elven sorcerer (as if they would pick anything else!) who focuses on powerful spells and arcane knowledge. They enjoy showcasing their magical prowess just as usual, sometimes to the detriment of the team's strategy. Pepper sits beside them and is thankful that, at least this time, their dangerous behavior is contained in a game.

Hastur, quiet and observant, plays a disciplined Tiefling monk. He's strategic in combat and often saves the group from dire situations. His character survives, often being the last line of defense for the team.

Shelly's choice contrasts sharply with her real-life persona. As a gnome barbarian, she charges headfirst into battle, much to everyone's amusement and surprise. She's kind of the game's MVP and is the most enthusiastic player by far.

Peisinoe embraces the role of a cleric, and picks Shar as her deity (she would get along with Shadowheart lol). Guess loss and darkness kind of speak to them in a way. They are having way more fun than they though they would.

Yaga, with her penchant for numbers and details, plays a meticulous dwarf artificer. She enjoys crafting solutions and gadgets for various challenges.

The Raven plays a cunning dragonborn rogue. They excel in stealth and thievery, often gathering crucial information for the group. BTW, if you ask them, they are an actual dragon - and proud of it.

He Without Name was assigned the role of an orc fighter by the others, and they often guide his actions in the game. But, he's surprisingly effective - often saying "Time... Smash..." when the battle starts.

#wip #hosted games #fiction #hosted game #interactive novel #choicescript #interactive fiction #choice of games #cog #thebarontheabyss #if #if wip #if game #the bar on the abyss #death tbota #hastur tbota #the devil tbota #tbota #the witch tbota #yaga tbota #tbota the raven #peisinoe tbota #shelly tbota #he without name tbota #answered #writing prompt #anon ask #dnd

[blorbologist]

Treat, Grog and the gnomes

Awww yeah, the besties! <3

--

“Can you teach us to play?”

Twangggggg.

Scanlan glances up, strings humming against his shock-still fingers. Takes stock of things. Pike is absolutely fucking wasted, leaning against Grog’s leg and swaying even when he’s steady as a stone pillar. Grog’s the one who asked, though, and he’s got the earnest, slow voice he has when he really means something and has been thinking about it a while.

“Sure,” he says too easily. Then, because he’s curious and just a smidge wary: “Why?”

“‘Cause you’re just so good,” Pike slurs.

Yeah. That’s not exactly news to a bard. He’d be dead if he wasn’t this good. 

Scanlan opens his mouth. Pike, drunk and loud, steamrolls over him: “How do you remember them all? All the songs? There’s so many, so many more than in the church, and you always nail them.”

Grog adds, “Or make ‘em better!”

“Yeah, yeah! And - and you just make people feel things. Without even trying! And. When you do…” She leans heavily into Grog’s knee, blinking up at Scanlan with a dopey grin. “Wow.”

“How do you do it?” Grog sits down on a chair that wails in protest, places Pike on the table with a hand to keep her from toppling over. “I just haveta hit things and they die. You’ve got all these lil’ threads and words to get right!”

Well, gods be damned. 

They’ve made him blush.

Scanlan clears his throat. “I - well! It’s a hard-earned skill, one I can do my very best to share.”

He pulls his lute from its spot on his lap, padding at the strings carefully. Squints at Grog’s massive, powerful fingers.

“... let’s start with Pike first,” he decides.

(Pro tip: do not let Pike handle any delicate instruments this drunk! How did she bend it in half?!)

🎃For my trick or treat ask game! [No longer taking prompts, thank you so much for the fun!] 🎃

#critical role #the legend of vox machina #tlovm #cr fanfic #scanlan shorthalt #grog strongjaw #pike trickfoot #they're FRIENDS your honor they LOVE EACHOTHER SO MUCH

[thegnomelord]

omg yes for the Ghost fic request you can do prompt 3 instead that would be great, thank you. some angst with a happy ending please

Sure thing dude, sorry this took so long, but a happy xmas to you lol My hyperfixation hyperfixated on this so it's a bit long and expositiony but I'm actually really happy with how this turned out :D Play the game HERE

Prompt: "Tell me how I’m supposed to un-love you, then. Tell me. Spare me.”

CW: NSFW, subbot Ghost, domtop Mreader, angst, misunderstandings, gentle sex, making up kinda, confessions, fwb turned lovers, idiots in love,

Simon's apartment is a picture of painful domesticity; your muddy boots sit neatly next to his by the door, two mugs set next to the coffee maker, two toothbrushes left on the sink only a foot away from different shower products that have long since mixed together into one giant pile, and a dozen more little things that tell anyone with a cursory glance — 'yeah, two people live here'.

When people wonder why you practically live together when you're just casual, you both just say it's convenient (and ignore how fake your answers sound).

After all; Why leave after he's ridden you to both of your completions when you can just settle on the couch and share a drink over a movie? Why should you waste money on a cab to get back to your own flat when you two can just tumble into bed? Why should Simon wake up to an empty and cold flat when he can do so in your arms, your steady heartbeat remind him you're both alive? Why leave in the morning and miss one of the few times Simon's fully relaxed when you can have a lazy morning, laying in bed and enjoying each other's company until the sun's high in the sky?

Why leave at all?

. . . Simon treasures every moment with you as much as he hates it, every second in your presence like a pretty hummingbird singing sweetly in his ear while it drills holes into his skull. Absolute Hell. Utter bliss.

He knows he doesn't deserve you. Knows you don't deserve to have a living corpse crawl back into your arms every night, nothing but a stranger with Simon's face. But you two have known each other so long it's impossible to let you go.

You met as toddlers when you'd nicked his toy, refusing to give it back until he agreed to play with you, and you've been stuck at the hip since. You two were each other's first kiss, fumbling behind the school bleachers, eager and sloppy like inexperienced lads are. First set of blooming hickeys along his collarbones, Simon's ma giving him a knowing look when she'd noticed it amongst the other bruises her no good husband had left on him. First fuck, quick and rough in a dark janitor closet during basic training, burning with need and heat. First—

. . . Simon doesn't know when the word 'Love' first registered in his brain. Maybe when you tore up heaven and hell looking for him. Maybe when you stuck by him when he did his best to scare you off, all rough words and teeth, unable to form one nice word when violence and revenge was all that was left in his head.

He doesn't know when he registered the word. Only that he looks at you whenever you do something mundane and thinks 'yeah. Love. That fits.'

But love has no place in. . . whatever this is. Hell, he's the one who'd set the ground rule when you two were young and dumb, reaffirming it after he'd come back as Ghost. And you'd never fought against it, agreeing to just be fucking casual, there's no way you want anything more than this. He doesn't want to cock it up, doesn't want to take more from you than he's already done, so he swallows all he feels and ignores how it burns his throat, going day by day like nothing's changed.

He wakes in your arms, deeply ingrained training waking him before dawn but the heat of your body keeps him rooted in place. Distantly he can still feel the cold tight confines of that coffin, of maggots wriggling on his skin, but memories of that nightmare float away before his traitorous mind can latch on to them. He lays in bed, head firmly on your chest so he can hear you, see you breathe. Morning comes too soon and you rouse awake, laying a sweet kiss on his forehead before getting out of bed to set the kettle on.

It's domestic.

It's painful.

. . .

You love how Simon looks. You especially love how he looks in his civies, freed of his armor and no longer needing to be guarded at all times, shoulders relaxed and mindlessly looking around as you talk while you browse the store. He's still gruff, and sarcastic, but you love that about him. You loved him long before he said not to tangle emotions in your meaningless bliss and long after he'd come back as Ghost, each unknown scar on his body taking a chip out of your heart.

And you respect his choice. You'll take what you can get and won't give it up even after your corpse has grown cold, hoping that will be enough to drown out the neediness of your heart. You lost him once and it had nearly killed you, you can't lose him again. . .

God, you're pathetic for him.

You meet miss Betty on your way back from the shop. She's your neighbor a few doors down, a sweet old lady who waters your plants when you and Simon are called back into action. You see her struggling with her bags so you hand your own to Simon so you can help her, "Hold this, please?"

"Only because you asked nicely." Simon huffs, but takes the bag without further complaint, walking behind you as you help miss Betty with her shopping, content to listen to you two talk about who knows what. It still amazes him how you've managed to charm all the neighbors Simon rarely spoke to.

"Oh, thank you deary." Miss Betty says as you put her shopping next to her door, holding onto your arm for support. "It's so nice to have a helpful person around here."

"It's not a problem ma'am." You say with a small smile, and fuck if Simon's heart doesn't beat a bit faster at the sight.

"You know," Miss Betty begins. "My grandson's been eyeing you up. And I can see why, you're such a strapping young man."

You feel Simon's gaze fall on you like a dagger, cold, hard, expectant. You try to think of what to say but your words fail you, because while you and Simon aren't in a relationship you can't picture yourself be with anyone else. "I-"

"Oh don't worry deary, I told him he was barking up the wrong tree." Miss Betty cuts you off by giggling like a school girl, "I wouldn't want to separate you two love birds."

The words burning on your tongue escape you before you can filter them. "Yeah, I doubt I could love anyone other than Simon." You clear your throat after, feeling his eyes on you.

Miss Betty just coos. "Oh, to be young and in love." Then she turns, waving her walking stick at Simon like he's an annoying pigeon that flew into her house. "You better treat him properly you big oaf, he's good for you."

Oh, Simon knows. Knows you're too good for him. But all he lets out is a small grunt, and you can't help the surprised laugh that escapes you.

You don't think of what you say next, so far away from a warzone your defenses are lowered. "No need to worry ma'am, he's the love of my life and I can assure you he treats me very well."

There's that word again, and the way it leaves your lips has Simon's heart skipping a beat. Fuck, Simon wants to hear you say it until he's deaf. Wants to hold your jaw closed so you don't speak again and stop making him feel this. Wants to pull you close and throw you out of the window at the same time. Wants— . . . he doesn't know what he wants.

"Oh, well I won't hold you up any more dears." Miss Betty says, patting you on the arm before shuffling back to her apartment with her shopping.

There's an uncomfortable silence between you two while you get back to Simon's flat, neither one of you sure what to say about the damn elephant in the room. You take the bags you'd given him, your back to him as you put them on the counter.

Acting like nothing's wrong. Nothing's changed.

But it has.

"An' you say my heart's rotten." Simon grunts, gruff and harsh, too many thoughts brewing in his head to properly say what he's thinking.

You turn to him, surprise obvious on your face. "What?"

"Lyin' to old ladies." His jaw is tense behind his face mask, which you note he hadn't taken off when the front door had closed, back to being guarded around you, something between Simon and Ghost. "Granted, it was convincing. What, did you take some creative writing lessons from Laswell?"

You stare at him for a few seconds, then you feel your jaw tense as well. "Christ, Simon, what are you on about?" You growl, stomping over to him.

His shoulders tense as you approach, but the scent of your cologne calms his body without his mind's input. "Can't love anyone but me?" He asks, something cold and slimy settling in your stomach when you realize he's repeating your words. "Love of your life am I?" Simon scoffs, the skin around his eyes moving in a sardonic smirk. "You're full of shite."

He doesn't know who he's trying to convince here.

You know you should brush it off, go along and say it was just a joke. Say anything that won't clue him in to your real feelings. Hell, not even saying a thing would be good.

But you just have to open your mouth.

"I wasn't lying about that Simon." You say suddenly, open, honest, your eyes meeting his.

Silence stretches long enough to have your nerves crackle with static, your body needing something instead of the nothing he gives you. Then Simon lets out a short, dry laugh, like your words are just a joke.

"Quit it." He huffs, doesn't meet your eyes because looking at you and entertaining the idea that he could have something more with you fucking hurts. "'m not up for your focking jokes." He grows, turning to leave,

Something inside you makes you move before your mind can comprehend it, grabbing his hand to stop him, "Simon I love you damn it!"

Your words are like a slap to the face for him. Simon freezes like a cornered deer, thousands of thoughts darkening his eyes, brows furrowed like he doesn't know whether to be angry or not. "But we—'

"—we agreed, I know. I fucking know." You hiss and damn it you can feel tears prickle your eyes like needles, "But I fucking love you, been in love with you for years and I know we agreed not to but—" You're babbling now, each word leaving your chest feeling raw like an open wound, the weight on your shoulders lessening but it only draws the noose tighter. "—just tell me how I'm supposed to un-love you, then. Tell me. Spare me."

Silence greets you as you stare into his eyes, that same static gnawing on your nerves the longer he just looks at you without a word, searching for something in your eyes he expects not to find.

But he does.

He spares you, pulls you by the clothes so his lips can crash onto yours, holding you close like you'll disappear. The kiss is sloppy and desperate just as it had been when you'd been hiding behind the school bleachers, all teeth and tongue and care.

Eventually the need for air breaks you two apart, but Simon refuses to let you go far. His rough hands hug you close as he rests his forehead against yours, pupils blown wide. ". . .love me, huh?" He says under his breath, as if he can't believe it.

"Yeah." You breathe out and wrap your own arms around him till there's not an inch of space between your chests, hearts beating fast like war drums but in such a rhythm you'd be fooled to think you share one. "Do you?"

Simon swallows, his throat dry, but the words slide smoothly off his tongue. "Yeah." He says, letting you pull him back into a kiss. It's sweeter this time, calmer, no longer rushing to feel the other. He melts against you, a low sound building in his throat as the sensations of you wrap his mind in silk, the taste, the feel, the scent, all of it making his mind fuzzy. All his now.

You lose track of time, stealing gulps of air between kisses as your minds drown in the other, your bodies moving on their own. You don't know how you end up in the bed but you do, your skin prickling with goosebumps as Simon's body presses against your own.

You part to catch your breath, Simon's head falling back on the pillow with your name leaving his lips like a prayer. He's underneath you, eyes hooded and short hair ruffled, and while usually he'd push you back and wrestle for control, this time he just melts into the sheets, lets you do as you want.

"Fuck-" Simon growls as you kiss down his neck, his blunt nails scratching your scalp as reward for the little hickeys you leave on his throat. Your hands roam across his body, leaving lingering trails of burning heat. "Love, please hurry up." He breathes out, cock already rock hard from just a few kisses and heavy touches.

"Right," You say, because that's all your brain can conjure up at the moment. Blindly reaching for the lube you trail kisses down his front, your lips tracing every scar along the way, his legs easily parting so you can settle between them. You can't help but look him over again, all relaxed and eager for you, chest rising and falling like he's a racehorse. "God you're fucking pretty."

A deep flush spreads from Simon's ears down to his hickey marked shoulders, a little smile tugging on the corner of his lip. "Just pretty?"

"Beautiful." You breathe out against his abdomen, rubbing your fingers together to warm the lube. "So handsome." You don't miss how his cock twitches, your lips following his happy trail. "Charming." You hum against the tip of his cock, tongue lolling out to lick at his slit. "Bloody bewitching." His hips buck into your mouth as your fingers slowly circle his puckered rim, putting just a bit of pressure at first. "Irresistible." His body yields, the tense muscles of his rim going lax and letting you slide a finger in.

A low and long groan escapes his chest, eyes fluttering shut as he savors the stretch, tight walls clenching in the rhythm of his breaths. "Read a dictionary, did you?" Simon smirks, heart warm and floaty at the way you wait for him to relax after the intrusion before you move, at the way you look at him when your exploring finger brushes his prostate and makes him moan. "Such a focking charmer."

"Just for you." You chuckle, lightly sucking on his cockhead to make him forget about the lingering pain, your ears pricked to hear every little groan and unabashed moan leaving his lips. "Can you handle two?" You ask, your second finger resting against his rim without trying to push in.

He growls like an animal and pushes his hips down on your hand, "You're sleeping on the couch if you don't hurry up." He warns at your question, his harsh glare softened by the heavy flush across his face and his hooded eyes.

"Not the dog house." You say in mock fear, swallowing his leaking cock a third of the way down in one go as you push your second finger in, your thumb rubbing the space between his balls and ass so his prostate is trapped on both ends.

"Shite-" Simon's hips twitch up, beads of precum painting your tongue as his legs spread open more. "-you wanker." His insult is light, head rolling back as he grounds his hips down in an attempt to chase after that spine numbing pleasure your fingers bring.

Pulling back enough to murmur "Love you too." against his tip you take him into your mouth again. You can't measure how good it feels to say those words honestly instead of sarcastically, your own arousal forgotten as you work him open on your fingers, the constant pressure on his prostate making a small stream of precum bead down your throat.

Simon floats in heaven for, he doesn't know how long, the pleasure making his brain melt through his dick, unable to stop the soft sounds escaping his throat. He cracks an eye open when the tightness in his stomach becomes apparent, barely able to stave off his orgasm when he sees his cock throbbing between your lips.

Your name comes out slurred as he tugs on your hair, "Need you. Now." A little bit of his usual demanding nature comes out, but even then it's born out of desperation to feel you rather than the need to be in control.

You let him pull you off his cock, placing gentle kisses on his thick thighs as you pull your fingers out of his stretched hole. "You have me."

You go to grab a condom but he stops you, too aroused to be embarrassed by his eagerness. "You don't- my physical, I'm clean. If you want, I mean-"

You furrow your brows, your chest tight with how big your heart feels. You could never hide how sick you'd feel at the thought of Simon being intimate with someone else, even when you'd never agreed to be exclusive. "We did physicals nearly three months ago, you haven't. . .?"

He shakes his head, "No," Suddenly he tenses up, his jaw tight like he's expecting bad news. "Have you?" His tone isn't judgmental, but you can hear the edge of hurt.

"No. No. No!" Quick to dispel his thoughts you lean over to kiss him like he's a bout of fresh air and you've been drowning for years. It's not too far from the truth. "You're the only one I've ever. . .done that with." You murmur against his lips, earning yourself another kiss as he pulls down by a hand on the back of your neck.

"Good." Simon tuts, proud, hiking one leg around your waist to pull you closer, your cocks rubbing together. "Fuck me already." He grumbles, his strong arms wrapped around your neck.

"Right, yeah." Despite how many times you've done this suddenly you feel like a fucking virgin, your hands trembling slightly as you lube up your cock. You press the tip against his slick hole, forcing you to bite your lip as you start to push your hips. "Just relax, yeah?"

"Yeah." Simon breathes out, feeling pressure of your cockhead against his hole. You both groan when your cockhead pops inside him, your lips on his making him forget about the lingering sting. "Shite, so good for me." Simon hums, looking at you with hooded eyes. Usually he relishes the sting and burn sex with you brings, but he's so loose and lubed the pain is barely a prickle at the back of his skull and he finds himself getting addicted to the unfiltered pressure and weight of your cock inside him.

"Simon," You say, clenching your teeth as you try to keep still so he can get used to you, holding his hips for dear life. "Can I- please I need."

"Focking move it," He nods his head, his head rolling back from the sensation of you moving inside him, your cock brushing against his walls as you push inside him inch by inch until you're fully inside him.

Your nerves a live wire from how tight and hot his hole is, forcing you to rest your head on the pillow next to his as you try to gather your self-control; you'll be damned if you cum before him.

"I'm good." Simon tugs on your scalp, your lips meeting in a lopsided kiss. You pull away to rest your forehead against his, his eyes blown wide and hooded, something about this position so intimate it melts your heart. "Hurry up, 'm not going to last long." He confesses, his walls clenching down on your length.

Words escape you so you just nod your head, slowly pulling your hips back before pushing back in, Simon meeting you half way so your cock can lay consistent pressure on his prostate. You two move like one, your senses full of sex and heat, your ears ringing with Simon's low moans and groans. Moving your hand down you stroke him in time with your thrusts, earning yourself even more moans. Usually Simon's so quiet in bed, but now he lets it all out so freely, low growls and huffs and small 'ah, ah, ah's breathed into your ear with every small movement of your hips.

Your pace picks up as your orgasm approaches, your cock bashing against his prostate with all the subtlety of a tank. "Shite-" Simon throws his head back to moan, leaving his throat open for your teeth to lay even more hickeys. "-I, fuck, yeah, that's the spot- just- I need-" His voice turns higher pitched and needy, his body moving with the force of your thrusts, powerful arms pulling you even closer so his teeth can clamp down on your shoulder.

Simon cums with a shout that's muffled into the meat of your shoulder, whole body shaking like a leaf in the wind as he paints both of your stomach's white with his cum, his hole clenching down and pulling you along with him. You cum inside him and moan, collapsing on top of him, completely exhausted.

The silence of the bedroom is broken up by your haggard breathing, both of your bodies sweaty and hot. You tilt your head just enough to catch the way Simon looks at you, like a content cat that knows he's safe, and shit if that doesn't melt your heart, nothing will.

"God, that was something else." You say to break the silence, trying to pull out when you feel yourself soften but your attempts are stopped quickly, Simon grumbling something under his breath as he hugs you closer. "What?" You ask.

He throws a light glare your way, but his eyelids droop with exhaustion. "Don't." He says, relaxing when you stop what you're doing. "Want to feel you." He says; it's the most intelligent thing his mind can conjure up right now.

A gentle smile tugs on your lips. "Right." You lean down to share another kiss with him, this one sweet and slow, his tongue gently liking your lips as a way to ask for entrance— why rush when you've got all the time in the world?

The exhaustion weighing on your bones and Simon saccharine kisses lull you to sleep soon enough, your body like a weighted blanket on top of him. "Love you," You mumble just before your eyes close.

Simon fights against his own fatigue for a few more minutes, relishing the feeling of being connected in such a primal way, with you in him and around him. He takes in your sleeping face with blurry eyes.

Yeah. Love. That fits.

#Gnome's Prompt Game #gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #trinkets from the hoard #male reader #top male reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #dom male reader #ghost x reader #cod modern warfare #cod x male reader #cod smut

[mumms-the-word]

Close

Day 9 of the BG3 Fic February Challenge

I am once again swapping today's SFW prompt for an NSFW prompt that I made...SFW. More or less.

I mean is there anything "safe for work" about being stuffed in a wardrobe with Halsin, let's be real

I digress. Read on, adventurous and friendly readers. And pretend that Last Light Inn has way more rooms than it actually does.

Check out my masterlist of BG3 fics here!

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9. Tav/Durge and LI are forced to share a confined space or bedroll together before they confess how they feel (NSFW #12)

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Last Light Inn was livelier than ever before, now that Ardynn and her team had saved all the prisoners from Moonrise Towers. It was a wonder they all had somewhere to stay, but the inn was large and had many rooms, not to mention plenty of space to camp just outside. So long as they stayed within Isobel’s moonshield dome, of course.

Ardynn had claimed a small table for her own, trying to plan for their next task in the morning. They were to visit the Thorm mausoleum, to seek, possibly to kill, a mysterious figure named Balthazar. Whatever was down there also held the secret to Ketheric’s immortality, so they should be prepared for anything when they entered. Too bad no one seemed to know what they ought to expect. Jaheira had only shaken her head when Ardynn asked earlier.

“I did not go that far inside,” she’d said. “Once Ketheric Thorm was sealed away, I left. After that…well…” She gestured out, toward the shadows beyond.

Ardynn tapped her fingers restlessly against the table, shifting pages of notes this way and that before glancing around the inn. She could see all her companions in various places. Karlach and Wyll lounged at the bar, opposite Rolan and his siblings. Gale sat in some far corner, nose in a book. Astarion and Shadowheart shared a table, looking catlike as they bent their heads together and whispered conspiratorially to each other. Gossiping, she assumed, perhaps about the Ironhand gnomes hardly a table away. Lae’zel was…Ardynn glanced out the window to her left. Ah, Lae’zel was outside, hacking at a target dummy. Training, as always. Which just left…

Halsin.

Ardynn paused, surveying the room again. No sign of the tall druid anywhere. She got up and peered into the bunk room where Art Cullagh lay sleeping. Not there either. She frowned, retreating back into the main room, crossing to where Jaheira was. Isobel had joined her at her table and they were sharing a light meal and soft conversation.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Ardynn said, smiling apologetically. “Have either of you seen Halsin? I was hoping to ask him something.”

“Ah, the Archdruid?” Jaheira asked. She waved her hand absently. “He is upstairs somewhere. The children were getting underfoot and he agreed to entertain them up there.”

“I believe they’re playing a game,” Isobel said. “I do hope he’s keeping them out of my room. I locked the door, but…” She shrugged.

A game? Ardynn glanced up at the balcony that wrapped around the entire main room, doors leading to other rooms. She didn’t immediately see Halsin, but she did spy one of the tiefling children scurrying from one room to the next, smothering their giggles in their hands.

“Thank you,” Ardynn said. “I’ll leave you to your dinner and...make sure the children aren’t invading your room, Isobel.”

She ascended the stairs up to the second floor, nearly running into one of the children, Mirkon, the moment she stepped onto the landing. 

“Oh! Sorry, miss!” He started to move around her and stopped. “Wait. Have you come to play with us, too?”

Ardynn crouched down to Mirkon’s level, giving him a smile. “That depends. What are we playing?”

“Everyone’s playing hide and seek! Only, we’ve changed the rules.” Mirkon giggled. “Mister Halsin is the one hiding, and the rest of us have to find him. We have to be very, very quiet about it though, because once we find him, we hide with him. Last one to find him loses.”

Ardynn tilted her head. It couldn’t be that hard to find Halsin, could it? He was as tall as a house. Yet, when she looked around the top floor, counting the children she saw hurrying quietly from one spot to the next (one of them peeked into a box that was certainly much too small to hold Halsin, to her amusement) she counted all the tiefling children that had made it to Last Light. Umi, Ide, Mirkon, and Mattis.

No Mol. Ardynn still hadn’t found Mol. She hoped she was all right.

So four children looking for one man and not succeeding. Either the children just weren’t very good at seeking, or Halsin had found a very clever hiding spot. She supposed he might also be cheating, but in the short time she had come to know him, he didn’t seem the type.

Mirkon looked around furtively before leaning in to whisper, “You don’t have any ideas about where he might be, do you?”

Ardynn made a show of thinking. “Hmm. Well, he must be somewhere on the second floor. And he must be somewhere that can hide a very big person.” She tapped her cheek, pretending to ponder. “Have you checked under every bed?”

Mirkon gasped. “He can fit under there? I have to go check now.” He immediately dashed away, disappearing into one of the other rooms. Ardynn smiled to herself and got back to her feet.

Never would she have thought she would have to track down Halsin…again. She walked around the landing, peering into each room as the children went in and out. She supposed he probably could be hiding under someone’s bed, but then the children would have found him by now. Something else then…

She stepped into one of the rooms, peering around at all the furniture. Her eyes landed on a particularly large wardrobe with double doors, nearly tall enough to reach from floor to low ceiling. One of the doors was ever so slightly ajar. A hint. Perhaps even an invitation.

She turned her gaze away, pretending to do a sweep of the room, looking anywhere but the wardrobe, but keeping her ears sharp. There. It was subtle, quiet, but she heard the telltale creak weight on of wood. Not from the floorboards—Last Light Inn was plenty full of creaking floorboards—but something close. The tenor was just slightly different.

Still pretending to look around, she moved slowly closer and closer to the wardrobe. Finally she paused in front of it, staring at the crack between the doors. She could see nothing from where she stood except darkness. Her heart started to race a little in her chest as she reached for one of the small iron handles—

Only to stop. Why was she so nervous? This was silly. Why was she playing the children’s games when she had plans to make? She hesitated, staring at the wardrobe door.

Behind her, the door to the room flew open with a bang and she whirled, hand nearly to her dagger before her mind caught up with her. It was one of the other kids, Mattis.

“What the—oh, it’s you. I was hoping it was Bear Man.” Mattis looked around the room a moment before shaking his head. “I could have sworn…” He peeked under the bed and then behind one of the curtains before leaving the room by another door, walking out onto the balcony outside.

Ardynn pressed a hand to her chest, closing her eyes and trying to calm her pounding heart. Honestly, she had been less frightened when she played hide and seek with Oliver and his terrifying shadow “parents.” This was getting ridiculous.

She opened her eyes to another creak of wood behind her, only to see out of the corner of her vision a bark-clad arm. Before she could react or even make a noise, the arm curled around her waist and pulled her backward, into the depths of the wardrobe, the door swinging shut and enclosing her in darkness.

She wriggled out of his grip, turning to face him, cheeks blazing hot. “Hal—“

He pressed his fingers to her lips, silencing her. There was a mischievous glimmer in his hazel eyes, but he shook his head, lifting one finger to his own lips. He pointed toward a thin line of light, the seam between the wardrobe doors.

Ardynn heard the sound of light, short footsteps. The footsteps of a child. She and Halsin bent their heads closer together, peering through the crack in the doors. Just outside, the lavender-skinned girl, Ide, stepped into view. She frowned, looking around the room. When her orange gaze swept toward the wardrobe, Ardynn’s breath hitched. Would she come check the wardrobe? What would she say if she found Halsin and Ardynn both inside?

“Mattis?” Ide asked.

“Out here!” came the distant reply from outside. Ide hurried across the room and out onto the balcony.

Ardynn breathed a small sigh of relief. They were safe—for now.

It was only then that she realized how close they were to one another. Her cheek was nearly pressed to his chest, his hand now on her shoulder rather than silencing her with his fingers. His body curved over hers, forced to hunch in the confined space of the wardrobe, his head bent toward her. When he gave his own sigh, his breath stirred her hair and tickled one ear. She had to suppress a shiver.

She forced herself as far back as possible inside the cramped space, but all it did was afford them a few inches between them.

He barely seemed to notice. He merely gave her a smile, as though none of this were remotely unusual. “I didn’t know you had joined the children’s game,” he said softly, keeping his voice low.

“I—I wasn’t—“ She stopped, a little baffled, and then shook her head. “Aren’t you a little big to be hiding in wardrobes?” she whispered.

He chuckled, his laughter warm and low. This close, she nearly felt it rumbling in his chest. “I confess I may have chosen my hiding spot a little poorly. Then again, few spots seemed suitable for a man of my size.” 

That was an understatement. This had to be the biggest wardrobe in Last Light, and he still had to fold himself down a little to fit inside. Ardynn, slight and short, had a much easier time fitting. Or she would have, had two thirds of the space not been taken up by a giant bear druid.

As if in response to her unspoken thoughts, he shifted, attempting to turn so that he was more fully facing her, only to find his broad shoulders wedged uncomfortably between the back wall of the wardrobe and one of the doors. He grunted softly and shifted again, freeing one arm but nearly pushing open the door. Ardynn hurried to catch hold of it and keep it closed, leaning forward right as his arm came up, his hand brushing against her side and bumping briefly against her breast.

He snatched his hand back quickly, causing his elbow to thunk against another wall of the wardrobe. “Ah—my apologies, I—“

“Shh! Do you want them to hear us?” She pretended not to notice his touch, though her cheeks were burning, peering once more through the crack in the door. He shifted, restless, before eventually raising his arm and pressing his hand to the far wall of the wardrobe, his arm extending over her shoulder.

“Perhaps I ought to wild-shape into a cat,” he whispered. She looked up to find him somehow even closer, his head bowed nearer hers. “But I fear that may be unfair to the children. I wouldn’t want them to mistake me for a cousin of His Majesty downstairs and think I’ve disappeared for good.”

“You would think they would know to look inside large wardrobes,” she whispered back, crossing her arms. But then she rethought that decision, since all it did was take up the scant space between them so that her forearms were nearly brushing his broad chest. She uncrossed them again, unsure where to put her hands. She settled for pressing them against her legs.

Gods but he was close. If she breathed deep enough her chest would brush his. And with his hand pressed to the wall behind her, his body looming over hers—not that he had much choice—the size difference between them just felt that much more intense. She felt as though she could curl up into a ball and snuggle herself into the curve of his body and no one would be able to find her until she emerged again.

If only.

It struck her suddenly that this was the closest she had ever been to Halsin. In battle they were often meters apart, him charging ahead as a bear or casting spells from afar while she took up a spot with high ground to rain arrows down over their enemies. At camp, his tent was pitched far away from everyone else. The closest they had been before now must have been at meal times and on the road, where she might have occasionally brushed arms with him as they walked or touched her knee with his as they sat cross-legged side by side around the fire.

She'd never before been close enough to feel his breath on her skin, or feel the heat of his body warming her own. She'd never been so close that she had to tilt her head further back just to gaze up at him. She'd never been so close that he took up the entire field of her vision.

She had to change the subject, or distract herself, fast. She cast about for ideas, trying to remember why she wanted to talk to him in the first place.

“I’m a little surprised to see you playing games,” she breathed. “We haven’t cured these lands just yet.”

She knew the subject of the shadow curse was all-encompassing for him, but as soon as she said it, she regretted it. At her reference to the shadow-cursed lands, his face turned grave, a shadow passing over his expression.

“The...children deserve a night to forget about the darkness every now and again,” he murmured, his gaze dropping away from her face. “I had hoped Thaniel would join us, but...he is not strong enough yet. He rests at our camp now, with Scratch and the owlbear to keep him company.”

His gaze grew distant, eyes trained on some spot just to her left, his thoughts moving on without her. As his eyebrows drew together to form a crease of worry, a pang of guilt gripped her chest. She shouldn't have brought it up. He didn’t say anything else for a long moment, his mind clearly on Thaniel, and she didn't know what to say to bring back the levity from before.

She reached out and took his hand, the one at his side, clasping it in both of hers and holding it between them. “We’re not going to leave him half-healed, Halsin,” she whispered. “I promise. Once we defeat Ketheric…Thaniel will be whole again. We’re going to see this through. I promise.”

He stared at her a moment, as if surprised. But then his expression softened. The hand pressed to the wall of the wardrobe moved, landing heavily on her shoulder. 

“I do not deserve you, you know,” he breathed. “I have asked so much of you, and you have already done more than I require. Thaniel has both halves of himself, thanks to you. I wish…I wish I did not have to ask more of you, but I…”

“Halsin.” His name ghosted from her lips, partly a sigh. She leaned imperceptibly closer, having to tilt her head up to keep his face in view. “I agreed to fix this shadow curse. That means curing Thaniel too. I’m not going to go back on that promise.”

His gaze searched hers in the darkness, his lips parted with words he seemed hesitant to say. She wished—foolishly wished, longed, even—that he would close what scant distance remained between them and just kiss her. She had dreamed about it for days, hoping that whatever barrier he kept between them might eventually crumble and he might see her as more than just an ally dedicated to a cause. She thought she saw some of that happening now. She couldn’t possibly be imagining the way his gaze dipped down to her lips or the tightening grip of his hand on her shoulder. Could she?

Just one kiss, she prayed silently. One secret kiss, tucked away in this cramped wardrobe, where it could stay forever, just so long as she could say she knew what it was to kiss Halsin just the once.

She felt him shift, felt her breath hitch in her chest, her lips parting in anticipation— 

The wardrobe doors flew open with the sound of a child’s delighted gasp and Ardynn flinched back, pressing herself as far from Halsin's body as she could get in that wardrobe. As light flooded in, nearly blinding Ardynn with its suddenness, she heard Ide’s voice.

“AHA! I found y—wait! Miss Ardynn, I didn’t know you were playing!”

#bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3ficfeb #my fic #oc #ardynn #ardynn harrow #halsin #in this house we write tropes #we also don't edit in this house #even though we probably should

[masterqwertster]

For the gentle prompts. With the results of most recent episode I got thinking about your Ashton gets turned into a kid scenario propmpt fills again. Could you do Orym or Chetney interacting with kid Ashton. Dealers choice. Please just pull at my heartstrings.

Gentle 30 Prompt Went with Chetney and 12 "Close your eyes."

“Hey, Ashton, c’mere a sec!” Chetney calls across Alma’s garden.

The kid pauses whatever adventure they’re playing out with Laudna and a pile of Orym’s old toys, a few new hasty toys by the MC himself, Sashimi, and the ratty Ashton doll, to trot over as quick as they can without re-bruising their legs.

“Alright, now close your eyes,” Chetney instructs Ashton once they’ve drawn close.

It’s a joy to see the not-yet-a-genasi’s face light up in anticipation as his eyes shut and his hands automatically come out to cradle a new toy. Just a few repetitions and the kid has it figured out, like any kid getting spoiled should. (Chetney wonders if Ashton will remember any of this when he’s restored to his correct age. …could be a shot for one really good prank…)

The old toymaker places his latest creation in waiting palms, eager to see what the new owner thinks.

Mismatched eyes blink open and take in the finely detailed snide figure in their hands. The carved elf is rotated around to be inspected from all angles.

“Who’s this supposed to be?” Ashton asks, openly curious, if a little baffled.

“Well, I noticed your adventures were missing a villain. So meet Drixlitch, destroyer of good toys! He’s just awful. Drixlitch hates quality wooden toys and thinks they should be replaced with metal!” Chetney has to pause to poke Ashton’s (soft) tummy for rolling their eyes at him. The kid should respect his neuroses. “Worse! He brainwashes kids to think the same thing and then puts them to work making metal toys for him! And he’s a pompous bitch too,” Chetney animatedly explains.

It’s fun to spin a(n embellished) story of Drixlitch’s villainy to Ashton, to see them so enthralled by his story-telling chops. …Chetney might keep spinning the toy’s backstory just to bask in that child’s wonder a little longer.

“Thanks, Chetney!” Ashton says, once the story has wound down.

And they hug the old gnome.

Kid’s pretty fucking strong for being a skinny little twig, Chetney has to admit. Must be that burgeoning titan blood. Definitely isn’t him getting frail in his old age, that’s for sure.

Ashton is off again in a flash, eager to show Laudna their new toy.

“Oh? And who’s this new fellow?” the undead witch gamely asks.

“He’s a villain! Chetney said his name is Dick Litch!” 

Chetney cackles at the wonders of youth while Imogen chokes on her tea and Laudna has to bite her lip as she listens to Ashton’s continued explanation.

Boy does Chetney love being a toymaker.

#MQ&A #gentle 30 prompt #MQfic #ashton greymoore #chetney pock o'pea #de-aged ashton

[pis3update]

All Topics Unlocker for Vault of Antiquity by Dandelion Sprout

"When visiting the Vault of Antiquity normally, the game randomly selects an occult topic from one of 5 possible options: Ghost, vampire, werewolf, fairy, and witch. However, the game file that determines the options, also have 6 other options that were deprecated during The Sims 3 Supernatural's development: Gnome, mummy, SimBot, imaginary friend, unicorn, and genie. This mod aims to apply a simple 1-line edit to make those options possible for the game to select. As a mod that restores cut content verbatim, there are some things to note: • There are no known crashes or glitches that'd be caused by the restored topics. • The game language must be set to en-US to get any text to show up. If another game language is used, the prompts and choices will be completely blank, though they can still be clicked on and progressed through. • Rewards for the restored topics that involve elixirs, moodlets, or teddy bears will work correctly, but ones that involve novel books will usually give nothing. • Only the genie topic was given proper text by the developers, with the other 5 having "placeholder SimbotLoreChoiceStage1 DO NOT TRANSLATE" format prompts, "placeholder SimbotLoreChoiceLogic1 DO NOT TRANSLATE" choices, and "placeholder SimbotLoreChoiceLogicSuccessTns1 DO NOT TRANSLATE" notifications. • If the text for choices get cut off, it is possible to hover over the choices to see the full text.

...continued on MTS."

More Info + Download @MTS.

#Dandelion Sprout #ts3cc #mod

[waltwhitmansbeard]

I know you already did that prompt, but I wonder how you would go at "Truth Serum/spell" with Scanlan? Having him forced to be truthful could be either hilarious or tragic (or both)

60. Truth Serum/spell you know what, i'm going to have this directly follow this drabble.

Pike decides she could be a dog for the rest of her life, so long as she was cute and promised a lot of scritches, and then she asks Vex which member of Vox Machina she'd kiss if she had to pick. Scanlan notices right away the flush up her neck, all the way to her pointed ears, even though she tries to maintain her effortless cool-girl composure. "How am I possibly supposed to pick, darling?" She winks roguishly.

"That's not an answer," Scanlan points out.

She shoots him a glare. "Mind your business, gnome."

"The game is called truth or drink. So either answer the questions or..." He gestures toward the glass in front of her.

She runs her tongue over her teeth, clearly gaming out the pros and cons of telling the truth. After an agonizing silence, she takes a shot of her liquor. The table groans and grumbles, but Scanlan's pretty sure he's the only one who notices Percy take a long swig of his own drink.

Vex slams her glass back down on the table. "Fine, Scanlan. Your turn."

He leans back in his chair. "Hit me."

"Mmm, don't tempt me. How about this: do you flirt with Pike because you're actually hoping for a relationship with her, or do you flirt with her because you believe you're not good enough for her, and every time she turns you down, you get to reinforce your own self-hatred?"

The table go deathly quiet. Keyleth's eyes are the size of dinner plates, and Percy's wine glass is frozen halfway between his mouth and the table. Scanlan's ears are ringing, every inch of his skin hot and tight, and his eyes do not leave Vex's face. If he looks away, he might have to see what Pike looks like right now, and there is no way in hell he's going to withstand that.

A dozen sentences start and die in his throat. It's not that he doesn't know what to say; he has nothing to say, no defense, no argument, nothing that isn't going to make him sound like a petulant child, or worse, like the exact person Vex has him pegged to be.

So he says nothing. He brings his ale up to his mouth, downs the entire thing, and carefully sets it back down on the table. Then he pushes his seat back, hops down, and walks away. He half-expects his friends to call out after him, to beg him to stop, but they don't. Whatever. He stomps up the stairs to the room he and Grog are sharing for the night, locks the door behind him. He lays atop the covers, fully clothed and staring up at the ceiling, and he does not sleep a wink all night.

#ask #Anonymous #critical role #critical role fic #cr fic #vox machina #vox machina fic #scanlan shorthalt #my fic

[starrysnowdrop]

PSA: For New Followers

I just had to block someone who stated that they didn’t want followers who “lewd lalas”, and I felt that I needed to get my thoughts out on the matter.

I don’t tend to write NSFW, and I’m not known to be any kind of spicy writer. I tend to blend fluffy wholesomeness with a good dose of angst, but not a lot of spice. Any spice is usually only heavily implied. (Though I do have two posts of NSFW headcanons for Yume and Yume x G’raha and one small prompt I wrote a long time ago, and that’s it). Plus, I’ll never post explicit NSFW gposes for any of my ships on any platform.

HOWEVER, Hali is my lala WoL OC and she’s in love with Aymeric, and they are in a romantic and sexual relationship post-EW. Even though I never intend to make any explicit NSFW content for them, Hali is an ADULT, and she’s not ace. I believe that lalas are people, just small in stature. No different from other fantasy races of small people from other media such as dwarves, gnomes, hobbits, etc. The lalafell seen throughout the game are absolutely NOT written as children either.

Does that mean I’m a “lala lewder” for writing Hali as an adult, who experiences sexual attraction, has sexual feelings, etc. even if it’s not explicit NSFW content?? Or the fact that I ship her with a non-lala npc?? I honestly don’t have the answer to that question.

But I do know that I felt some kind of way about seeing that statement a little while ago. I felt that even though I haven’t written anything explicit, I felt unwelcome, and I felt the need to block the person in question to be safe.

If this post somehow offends you, then feel free to unfollow me, block me, do what you need to do. Because I love Hali. I have never felt so strongly connected to any OC I’ve written before besides Yume, and I adore her ship with Aymeric that I’m currently developing. It makes me happy, and my close friends seem to love it as well. I’m not about to give that up for anyone.

So if that’s a deal breaker for you, then that’s fine with me. Let this be your warning that I write a fluffy, wholesome, yet angsty ship that comprises of two idiots in love who both think their love is unrequited.

#ooc #this has been a psa

[inmymagnetoera]

Hi! Got a fic prompt for you :)))

This might sound unusual (and I fully understand if u don't want to do it) but could you do a weight gain/chubby fic with either Charles or Erik? Or even both?

I was thinking of like the kids (be it the kids from the X-Men First Class era or Erik's kids or other characters) wanting to celebrate Christmas at the mansion or having someone dress up as Santa Claus and give out gifts. So either Charles or Erik has to be Santa Claus but neither of them can't/don't want to wear a fake belly. So one of them has to gain weight to look like a realistic Santa Claus while the other one can help them with reaching that goal.

Bonus: they both like/turned on by the weight gain (even if they deny it/don't want to admit it)

Bonus bonus: One of them likes to touch/grope/pinch/poke/etc. the person gaining weight.

Bonus bonus bonus: they decide to keep their new weight afterwards

Bonus bonus bonus bonus: sexy santa outfit for later ;)

Bonus bonus bonus bonus bonus: big man tiddies and bubble butts

Heyy, thanks for the request. I have to tell the truth, I was a little skeptical whether to do it or not at first because it was quite a new thing but it never hurts to try new things. I hope that what I have written fully satisfies you! (And if others want to submit a request, don't be shy!)

____________________

Santa has got it

"Absolutely not!" Erik said looking at the red hat with the white wad in his hands.

“Honey, someone has to do it.” Charles said, sighing and sitting down on the brown leather sofa in his study. He ran a hand over his face and thought of a solution. Damn. He couldn't even be mad at Erik's children, he never could of course but they had created a little problem for both of the adults.

Pietro had come running to them that same morning in what looked like a bright red sweater and pants.

"One of you will be Santa Claus." The eleven year old boy said handing his parents the clothes.

"I'm sorry?" Charles asked placing the cup of tea on the table.

"Lorna watched a cheesy old movie and Santa Claus was in it, now she's convinced that on December 25th he'll come in person to bring the presents. Wanda and I don't care, I mean, I'm practically an adult now." Charles kicked Erik's shin when he saw that the man was about to burst out laughing at the last part of his son's sentence.

"But Lorna cares and will be disappointed if you don't."

“Darling, it's nice that you want to do this for your sister but I think Lorna is old enough now to stop believing in Santa Claus.” Erik said as he ran a hand over his son's head and ruffled his silver hair.

"Ok." Pietro said turning to leave but stopping at the door.

"I hope you are ready to explain to her that the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, the Sandman, the unicorns, the gnomes, the fairies and everything she reads in her storybooks don't exist either."

The two men fell silent.

"Okay, we'll do it." Pietro looked at them and smiled.

“You are good dads.” He said running out the door.

"I won't wear a fake belly. No, I never will." Erik said shaking his head and bringing his husband back to the present.

"Well I won't either." Charles replied, pouring some whiskey into two glasses and handing one to Erik.

"The solution would be to gain a few kilos. Not too many obviously but enough to look soft." Charles laughed and leaned against the table.

"Idea. Chess game and whoever loses has to do it."

"I'll take the chessboard." Erik said, finishing the whiskey in one gulp.

After a long match and a lot of swearing from both sides, Erik emerged victorious.

“Do you want me to go get you something to eat, honey?"

“Oh, fuck you, Erik.” Charles said drinking straight from the bottle to soften the defeat.

There was just over three months left before Christmas and Charles, like the good man of science that he was, found out how to gain weight.

"I'll have to eat pasta and carbs every day. I hope this doesn't ruin the taste of spaghetti." He said as he made a salad for his husband and Erik cooked him some pasta in return.

"Don't worry darling, I'll give you a hand." He said kissing his cheek.

The three months that followed were fairly uneventful. Charles ate his carbohydrates as planned and Erik always helped him not to overdo it or risk feeling sick. The children didn't notice the first month but by the second, Lorna had started to have suspicions.

"Dad why are you bigger?" She asked one day when Charles picked her up.

"Your father needs to be a little more careful about what he eats, don't worry." He said trying to suppress his killer instinct at the sight of Erik laughing.

On December 23rd, Charles weighed himself for the last time and felt proud of himself: in three months he had managed to gain about ten kilograms. He looked in the mirror and looked at his new form. His love handles protruded slightly from the khakis he was wearing. his entire torso was bigger and he pushed a hand against his stomach to feel the fat. He was amazed at the change but not in a bad way. He had always been thin, even as a child he ate little and moved a lot and had always had a fast metabolism so seeing himself like that was a bit of a surprise. His arms also looked bigger as did his thighs and, whether he imagined it or not, he didn't know, his face looked plumper too.

"Hey honey, Wanda asked me to..." Erik entered the room but stopped short at the sight of his husband. Of course he had noticed the change in his lover's body but that particular situation, Charles in only trousers and socks in the center of their large room, sparked something in him.

"You are beautiful." Erik said in a whisper. He approached his husband and began to run his hands over Charles' body. He started from the chest and lightly squeezed the now slightly protruding pectorals and went down to the hips, closing his husband in his grip.

"I like you like this." Erik said kissing him.

"Love, the kids." Charles said trying to escape the hold.

"The kids are across the house with your sister. She'll keep them busy for the next couple of hours." He brought his hands behind Charles' back and moved down to his buttocks, pinching them slightly.

"Pervert." Charles teased, finally pulling away and going to close the door.

“So while the kids are gone, show me how much you like me like this.”

And Erik didn't have to be told twice.

On Christmas night, everyone gathered around the large kitchen table, Lorna almost jumped in the air at the sight of a Santa Claus with a long white beard and splendid blue eyes coming through the door.

"Oh Oh Oh! I heard someone was a good kid this year." Charles almost fell to the floor when Lorna jumped into his arms.

"It went very well." He finally said, still in his red suit and hat when the children had already gone to sleep.

"You've been an amazing Santa, Honey. You have a gift for that." Erik said as he got into his husband's lap. They remained silent as Charles ran his hand over Erik's back and Erik played with his white beard.

“Are you going to… lose weight?” Erik asked as Charles continued to cuddle him.

"You'll still like me if I decide to?" Erik laughed.

"Charles, I'd love you even if you had to stay dressed like this for the rest of the year. It's just that... you look healthier like this." Charles looked at him questioningly.

"I sometimes forget that your mother's love language is making food for the people she loves. Maybe that's why you find me more attractive this way."

"Maybe." He said pulling the other's white beard down and kissing his husband.

"I don't think I want to lose weight, anyway. I'll still try not to overdo it though. Oh and by the way, you have to promise me you won't pinch me in public again though."

Erik looked at him and laughed.

“You like it when I do that.”

"It's not true!" Charles replied embarrassed.

The look Erik gave him made him doubt that too.

#cherik #erik lehnsherr #charles xavier #x men #fanfic #pietro maximoff #wanda maximoff #lorna dane

[skelevenn]

Repostober 14 - Extra Life 2019

The big ridiculous scene that came out of fundraising for Extra Life, which I do along with my office every year. Mostly its peoples' DnD characters (including a few of mine) and a bunch of little sillier additions. This was the second, and final, of these huge scenes lol. I would make a big background and just leave a lot of space for placing characters, which people could pay to slot into. I would start drawing them on our annual stream, but it was obviously too big to finish in a couple-hour time slot, so the work would extend well into December, which was much less fun. Unfortunately none of my other art-related fundraising ideas have been as successful as this, but I just don't have it in me to do it again.

Big old breakdown of characters under the cut! (though I don't remember a lot of names lol)

Starting in the top left, on top of the cliff: Strahd, the titular character from the Curse of Strahd adventure

Two random little monkeys sneaking up on...

Mycall, a little mushroom boy I designed for the previous game I worked on, Crusaders of the Lost Idols.

Bottom left, older lady riding a horse is my grandma!

Big armored half-orc, trying to be stealthy (and convinced he's doing great) was a donor's DnD PC

some kind of elf PC sitting on a lot eatin snacks, with her raven familiar

A little hamster in a racing helmet, having stolen a snack

Sitting on the ground to the right of the half-orc is halfling Penelope, playing by Hope Lavelle. Shes having a teaparty with the tree!

In the foreground sitting on a rock, re-stringing her bow, an air genasi PC.

The dragonborn sitting on a rock roasting marshmellows on her collapsable pole is Orkira, played by Lauren Urban

Giant angel giraffe in the background... is what it is :shrug:

dainty unicorn in the trees!

tiny bb kitten sleeping in front of the fire

big spikey snapping turtle named "Fluffy," and a little trail of babies!

The centerpiece group by the fire is the office Curse of Strahd team, which I was a part of!

left, sadly playing the lute: Morgana, human Bard.

Sitting on the ground with the big book: Bignapor Gampus, gnome Druid.

middle on the log, getting his arm bandaged: Aeofardian, half-elf Rogue.

rightmost on the log, my character Tethys Shadebrooke, water genasi Cleric.

behind them all brooding under a tree: Veshok Wraithmantle, shadar-kai Elf Warlock.

Sitting on the ground at the end of the log wasn't actually a part of that group, but was a "constantly getting way too beat up" Monk PC, so he's sitting in line to see Tethys for healing lol.

ANGY unicorn. specifically donated for after the first unicorn... for contrast, I guess?

The moon is actually an egg a dragon is busting out of! That was the whole prompt, more or less.

very tiny, waaay in the back and added at the end without a donation: the crew for when I was DMing Curse of Strahd. I posted about them a few days ago and they're basically too tiny to make out here haha.

A rogue-styled version of a likeness of a very regular donator named Alan, "negotiating for a suspicious package"

Holding the mysterious package is one of my PCs: Penumbra, tiefling Wizard.

oh and finally, the little glowy bits all over the place are tiny fireflies... but they're also turtles.

#art #drawing #illustration #artists on tumblr #repostober #scene #environment #camping #forest #dungeons and dragons #DnD #TTRPG #oc #original character #tabletop character #dragon #unicorn #Strahd #Curse of Strahd #horse #tea party #campfire #fantasy #monochrome #black and white #group picture #giraffe #turtle