#I would not have survived without you all | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

not-neverland06 · 2 days

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How About a Nuke?

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V

The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: I just want to thank you all for the love, support, and wonderful messages you’ve been sending me because of this series. Summary: You’ll never survive if you don’t learn to depend on yourself. But this world is harsher and crueler than you’re prepared for. Still, you can’t let that hold you back, you need to try and live without Cooper.

He shot up at the sound of a gunshot. It echoed through the trees, closer than he was comfortable with. Instinctively, he reached out to shake her awake, prepared to tell her to grab her shit and run. His hand hit nothing but air and he sighed when he remembered the way she’d stalked off.

He threw his bag over his shoulder and made his way towards her. He couldn’t see much until he rounded the tree, her bag was gone and so was she. Another shot rang out through the forest. He sighed and made his way back towards the fire. He grabbed a lit stick and used it to illuminate the forest floor to get a better look at the footprints around the area.

As far as he could tell no one else had passed through here while he’d been sleeping. So where the fuck was she? Another shot went off followed by the sound of her scream. “Fuck,” he ripped the gun out of his holster and followed the tracks as best he could.

The closer he got, the more it sounded like two wild animals fighting. She was cussing up a storm, screaming at whoever was trying to grab her. He still hadn’t managed to get a good luck at where she was. It seemed darker in this section of the forest, like it was purposefully trying to keep him from her.

There was the thud of a body hitting the ground and then someone was running. He could hear them trampling through the undergrowth going right past him. Someone was whimpering in pain and he instantly thought of her on the ground bleeding out. Without much aim he shot in the general direction of whoever had run off, he heard a yelp but they didn’t stop.

“You alright sweetheart?” He heard more than saw anything as she scrambled to her feet and ran off into the forest. “It’s only me!” He gave her a minute to realize she’d run from the wrong person before he figured that she knew exactly who she was running from. She must have still been pissed at him for what he'd said earlier. Rolling his eyes he tracked her limping gait through the steps in the mud.

“Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck,” you whimpered, teeth digging painfully into your lip while you peeled your clothes away from the wound on your side. You slowed down, unable to stay on your feet with how quickly the blood was oozing out of the hole near your ribs. You slumped over, letting yourself fall against a tree and stripped off the top half of your clothes.

Your fingers pressed weakly against the hole and you let out a choked sob. Dammit, hurt like a fucking bitch. With shaking hands you dug blindly through the bag at your side. You’d lost most of your supplies in the fight but you were hoping the stimpak Cooper had given you earlier was still in here.

You weren’t sure exactly how these worked but he’d told you it would heal nearly everything. Though, he’d said if a wound was bad enough even a stimpak couldn’t bring you back from the edge. You were praying that this would work, but after the past few days you didn’t have much faith in your luck.

The injector shook in your hands and you knew if you didn’t use it soon you weren’t going to make it. Taking in a deep breath you slid the needle into the skin, as close to the wound as you could get it. You could feel holes on your back and front, you were grateful at least that you didn’t have to worry about trying to dig a bullet out.

You pressed down and let yourself sink back against the tree as medicine rushed through you. You ripped the injector once it felt like you’d gotten everything.

With nothing to occupy them your hands fell limply to the ground. You needed to get up, try and reorient yourself and make it to Filly. But you were so tired. You barely noticed the way the wound continued to pulse, the slow dribble of blood leaking onto your hands. All you could see were the stars, so many more than you were used to.

With no one left to pollute them, they were boundless. You let out a weak sigh and your eyes drifted shut. You thought of Cooper before it all went black. The way he was before, the way you were before.

It was too dark to really track much but he was sure he was getting close. He could hear her whimpering in pain and figured she’d slow down soon enough. She shuffled around like a wounded animal, graceless and stumbling.

He tried and justified this to himself, he needed her to deal with Ma June. Honestly, though, he knew he didn’t. He could just give up, set up camp again and wait for morning to come. She’s the one who decided she didn’t need him anymore. No fucking reason to keep going after her. She’d dug her own grave, it was time to let her lie in it.

Still, he kept going. He ignored the nagging voice that pushed him to stop and turn back around. He pushed anything down that wasn’t useful in the moment.

She should stop soon, she was just putting herself in more danger by continuing on like this. But, he figured she was pissed off and just didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of needing his help. She had always been stubborn to a fault, he guesses even that hasn’t changed.

Though, if she wanted to make it out here she was going to need tougher skin. It didn’t matter if what he said was true or not. You can’t afford attachments out here.

The sooner she learned that the better.

There was a loud cry of pain and then he heard the sound of her keeling over against a tree. He grinned, ready to pounce on the opportunity to get on her about being so fucking stupid. “See, this is why you shouldn’t run!” He called out.

Something lit up the path ahead and he ducked behind a tree instinctively. He peered around the trunk and marked the direction the torches were coming from. They weren’t close enough to be a problem, not yet at least. If he was lucky it would just be some travelers. He might even be able to get some supplies off of them. If he wasn’t, it would be raiders.

Seeing as she seemed to be his own personal jinx, he figured they only had a few minutes until the raiders were on them. She wouldn’t be much use to him bleeding out. He strode over to her curled up form, she had a hand wrapped around her stomach and in the dark he could barely make out the blue of her uniform. “Come on, let’s go.” He nudged her with his boot but she didn’t move. She didn’t even make a sound. “Come on,” he tried again, kicking harder this time while he watched the torchlight get closer.

Angry, he knelt down and rolled her over. But the face staring up at him wasn’t hers, it was some fucking raider. Must have been whoever she was fighting with. Shit, that meant he’d shot her. Cooper rubbed his forehead in irritation. Nothing could ever be easy with her could it?

Footsteps sounded closer and Cooper knew his time had run out. Whoever this woman on the ground belonged to had come to collect. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

Cooper’s hand moved to his holster and he looked up at them, a grin on his face, “Gentlemen.”

“Grab her legs. Come on, hurry up, don’t have all day!” Hands wrapped around your ankles and you jolted awake. You kicked out, eyes blind to anything but the memory of the raiders from before. The old woman at your feet jumped away from your weak attack and frowned down at you.

“Well, shit, she’s alive.”

An old man walked out from behind you. “What the fuck are you talking about?” He crouched down, groaning as his knees cracked in protest. He leaned towards you and you flinched back, eyes wide as you watched him reach out to you. His hand hovered your face and you braced yourself for an attack. He only poked you, though, frowning when you winced away from the prodding of your bruises. “I’ll be damned, she is.”

The old woman sighed and threw a bag over her shoulders. You watched in horror as she tucked a pack of surgical tools into the pocket of her large skirt. Were these people about to carve into you?

What the fuck was wrong with this goddamn place?

The old man held out his arm and she limped over to him, taking it and walking away from you. You glanced around, still confused on what the hell was going on. “Hey!” You croaked. Your hand wrapped around your waist, prodding the wound. You were shocked to find it healed over, only a dull ache left in its place. “Hey!” You shouted again.

The woman turned around and glared at you. “What?” She screeched and you winced at the way it echoed through the trees.

“Where’s Filly?”

She shared a look with the old man and they both stared at you like you were crazy. “Right behind you,” they walked off without another word, seeming sorely disappointed that they hadn’t been able to dig into you.

You groped blindly through the dirt and grass around you until your fingers felt the handle of your bag. You curled your hand into a weak fist and tugged it towards you. You felt completely drained. But you couldn’t stay here, not unless you wanted to be turned into someone’s next meal.

You groaned and forced yourself to your feet, head swimming with pain and nausea. You zipped your suit back up and winced at how it stuck to your skin. Your blood still hadn’t dried completely, you looked down and grimaced at the crimson stains covering you. No wonder it hadn’t dried, it looked like someone had dunked a bucket of red paint over you. How the hell were you still standing?

You’re not sure what’s worse right now, that you’re not surprised you got shot or that you can’t figure out whether he shot you on purpose or not.

He’d made it clear what exactly you were to him. A hole to fill, as he’d so eloquently told you. And you’re pretty sure you’d made it clear that you weren’t interested in filling that role for him ever again. At least you hoped you did, last night was an adrenaline fueled blur and you weren’t positive you were remembering everything properly.

You can barely recall that raider jumping you, you just know you’d shot your gun off and made a run for it. The bullet hole hadn’t even caught up to you until you were about half a mile away. Maybe Cooper had shot you on purpose. It’s not like you contributed much and you doubted he really needed your help in Filly.

Made you wonder why he bothered keeping you around for as long as he did.

You could hear it now, Filly, you’re not sure how you didn’t before. You couldn’t see it yet, but you could hear people calling out their wares and haggling about prices. You hurried as much as you could, one leg dragging behind you slightly. You’re not sure when that got hurt, but you could barely work your right hip properly.

Little houses were popping up around you. They were sparse and resembled shacks more than anything, but it was just another sign that you’re one step closer to not having to worry about getting shot at every five minutes.

In front of one of the nicer homes was a clothesline. You slowly approached, eyes on the clean clothes that were beckoning you closer. You kept your hand on the handle of your gun just in case the owner of the home spotted you. What you really didn’t need was getting killed over a shirt.

You glanced around, not seeing anyone watching you. Your gaze went back to the clothes and you frowned. If there was one thing Cooper taught you it was that no one asked in this world, they took. You ripped the clothes off the line and ducked behind a tree to change.

Even with the blood still caked onto your skin, you felt cleaner than you had the whole time you’d been up here. Getting rid of that ridiculous suit was good for a few things. You’d blend in better with the people here in a tank top and ratty old brown pants. And you almost felt like you were getting rid of the memories attached to that suit.

It was as close as you could get without grating your skin off at least.

You dumped your old outfit behind the house and near their clothesline. A transaction of sorts. They could have your blood soaked clothes and you could have their clean ones. Not a fair trade, but better than anything else they’d find up here.

It didn’t take long to find the entrance to Filly, once you did you found yourself nearly cowering at the sight of all the people bustling through. Sure, it wasn’t a lot compared to California. But you’d been traveling with no one but Cooper for the past week through a barren desert. Not counting the raiders as human, you’d almost forgotten that other people existed.

A man jumped at you and shoved a skewer of meat in your face. “Dogmeat, get your dogmeat!” You grimaced and backed away from him. So, not as civilized as you’d hoped, but you’d take what you could get.

The biggest one nodded towards him, “Grab him.”

He grinned and shook his head, “I wouldn’t.”

The boy on the far left had his head blown off before he could even try and charge at him. He ripped the shotgun off his back and shot the other two in quick succession. He didn’t bother with them, seeing if they lived or died. He kicked at the woman at his feet again and she winced in pain.

“The woman you fought. Where is she?”

She shook her head and curled further into herself. He sighed and grabbed her chin, wrenching it up to his and letting her get a good look at his disfigured face. She tried to shrink away from him but he tsked and shook her so hard he could hear what few remaining teeth she had rattle.

“I don’t know,” she cried out, batting uselessly at his hands.

“I really think you do.”

He reached down, groping over her torso and digging his fingers into the bullet hole on her side. She cried out in agony, writhing like an animal caught in a snare. “Filly, she was heading for Filly!”

He grinned and dropped her to the ground, her head thudding loudly against the large tree root. “Thank you kindly, ma’am.”

She looked up at him in fear, “You’ll let me go?”

He tilted his head, looking her over and taking in the sight of blood on her clothes. “Well, you did attack my friend,” he lifted his gun and she cowered away from him. “I don’t take well to others damaging what’s mine.”

Her brain splattered against the trunk and he stepped over her twitching body to follow the light he noticed further down the forest. He didn’t often find himself exploring these woods at night, he figured he was close enough to Filly but he needed her to confirm it.

For a moment he lets himself doubt that she was really abandoning him in the middle of the night. Maybe she’d gotten up for a piss and been caught off guard. He dismisses the idea when he remembers that she’d taken her bag with her when she’d gone.

He doesn’t let himself linger on it too long, pissed off that it’s bothering him at all.

He’d seen the hope starting to form in her eyes when she’d look at him. She was getting a little loose with what she was calling him too. A little while longer together and he’s sure he’d be hearing his name again. Saying what he had was a favor to them both. Better to cut that off before anything came of it.

Stupid fucking girl, he shouldn’t even be thinking about this anymore. He shouldn’t be looking for her, either. The confirmation that she’d left him was enough. Their time together was done, it should have ended a long time ago. He’s pretty sure he liked it better when he just thought she was a two-timing slut.

Hate was easier than whatever the fuck this was.

He spotted smoke through the trees and then the raiders camp. They were laughing at something and ripping into a roast that looked suspiciously like a human leg. He pulled his gun out and snuck behind them. He just needed a distraction, he’d be over this once he helped himself to their meals and their bedrolls.

“What?”

“Caps,” the girl’s voice was distorted by whatever metal oddity she had connected to her throat. She glanced at you, completely uninterested once she’d realized you didn’t have any payment for her. Not that you really understood the payment required.

Who’d decided bottle caps were a good currency?

“Well, do you know where I could get them?” She nodded towards a building adjacent to her stall and you frowned.

The store she pointed to you clearly advertised, WE BUY TEETH. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Or,” you glanced at her with hope, “you go to that alley over there and get on your knees. You could probably get five caps off someone if you suck good enough.”

You glared at her and started walking away from her stall in anger. “I’d get more for my fucking teeth!” You shouted over your shoulder. She shrugged and went back to fiddling with the metal tools on her table.

You stood in the middle of the marketplace, desperately trying to figure out where you should go. You almost missed Cooper right now, he might be a dick but at least he understood how this place worked.

You felt an intense ache of betrayal and longing and immediately dismissed any thoughts of Cooper. He could go and get himself shot for all you cared. You loved him, and would have loved him no matter how he looked. It didn’t matter that he was changed, disfigured, you didn’t give a shit about any of that. You just wanted him. And all he cared about was having a pretty body warming his bed.

You would do this without him.

You glared against the bright sunlight, scanning each storefront and trying to find something that could help you. You’d already tried to talk to Ma June but she hadn’t been as pleasant as you had been hoping. She wasn’t looking for workers and apparently not charity cases either.

You didn’t think you were a charity case but apparently having all your fingers and teeth made you an outsider here. You needed to get out of this sun, you didn’t want these clothes to start stinking with sweat so soon. You were trying to keep them as clean as possible for as long as you could.

You spotted the bar and decided to try your luck there. Maybe you could be a waitress or something. If they still had whores they had to at least have servers here.

Right?

Maybe you were a fucking charity case. You shook off the thought and ducked inside. You were never going to get far on your own if you kept doubting yourself. You might be a bit naive to how this world works but you’re a fast learner, you’ll catch on soon enough.

You still wished someone was here to help you.

He sat down on a log, ripping a piece of meat off the skewer and sinking back into his seat. He ate his food and picked at his teeth, bored while he surveyed the damage he’d done to the camp. She wasn’t exactly a heavy conversationalist, but at least she was something.

It was startling just how quiet and still the night felt without her sitting across the fire with him. He loathed to admit it, but her company had at least provided him with some entertainment if nothing else. Now everything felt too quiet, too lonely.

He sighed and shook his head, this was stupid. Two hundred years he’s been on his own. A few nights with her wasn’t going to change who he was. It wasn’t going to fix him and magically turn him into her Prince Charming again.

Unbidden he thought of her face when he’d grabbed her from those raiders in the old neighborhood. It’s the first time anyone’s ever looked relieved to see him since he’d changed. He’d had to pry her off of him and even then she seemed like she barely wanted to let him go.

He hadn’t made anyone feel safe in a very long time and he worried a bit for her sanity if she thought he was trustworthy. He was only doing more harm trying to go after her. But something in him couldn’t let go. It was like the love you used to share had been warped alongside him.

He didn’t like the idea of anyone else getting their hands on her. She was his to fuck with and torment, anyone else would push too much. He felt confident, despite tonight’s incident, that he knew how to poke her without going too far.

Once he was full he shoved a freshly killed raider off their bedroll and settled down to sleep. He figured he’d have better luck recognizing where he was once the sun came up.

The next morning he went through the raiders’ pockets and bags, lucky enough to find some Radaway among their junk. Maybe he was right, maybe she was a bad luck charm. Maybe he was being stupid last night, thinking about what they used to be. There’s no point in dwelling in the past, he can never go back to that and neither can she.

Still, he could leave her alone. Give her a chance to make it on her own without him there to torment her.

He considered it for about two seconds before he dismissed the thought. You’d both had a deal and she had rescinded on that deal. He didn’t take to kindly to people screwing him over, he’d just have to teach her not to fuck with him.

He tossed his bag over his shoulder and made his way out of the raider’s camp. He had a better idea of where he was now. It wouldn’t be much further until he reached Filly and found her again. He was intent on making sure she stayed with him this time.

He’d leash her if he had to.

“There’s nothing I could do for a few caps?”

“I could think of something darlin’,” a man hollered at you from across the makeshift bar. The building was in pretty good shape, though the alcohol looked questionable. The owner seemed nice enough, a wrinkled old man whose hands shook too hard for him to pour a drink without spilling it.

“Don’t need any help.” The old man muttered under his breath, tottering over to the other side of the room to pour another cup. He ended up knocking it into the man’s lap and cussing as the alcohol poured across the floor.

“Right,” you muttered. You let your head fall in your hands, rubbing your face in frustration while you tried to think of what to do. You’d made a deal with yourself that if you couldn’t find work by the end of the day, you would sell your teeth.

You were hoping it wouldn’t come to that, but with the way your stomach was rumbling and how everyone seemed to keep turning you away it was seeming more and more likely. You slumped over the bar, trying to think of a solution or another idea.

You’d been propositioned by enough men to know you could make plenty of caps in the back alley behind the bar. But everytime you even remotely considered it, you felt yourself shrinking up. Your adrenaline would spike like you were readying yourself for a fight.

You figured it would be a while before you could even safely consider that. “You seem a might rundown, hun.”

You didn’t bother lifting your head. You knew it was the man who’d been staring at you since you walked in. You could smell him even with your head down. You did your best to ignore him but he didn’t seem to take too kindly to that.

“Hey,” he shoved at your shoulder and the impact was enough to force your head up. “Are you fucking deaf?”

”No,” you muttered through gritted teeth. Your hand hovered behind your back, itching for the gun tucked in your pants. “I’m not fucking interested.”

He lifted his hand and muttered, “Bitch,” a loud smack followed and echoed through the bar. Your head whipped to the side so hard you worried it might fly off. You clutched your cheek, spitting blood onto the wood of the counter.

Your hand was already on your gun when you heard the sound of a hammer being pulled back. “Oh,” you turned, shocked to find Cooper standing behind the man. His gun was leveled with the man’s face and he shook his head in disappointment. “I really wish you hadn’t done that.”

Men stood up from their tables and drew their guns, pointing all of them at Cooper. You’d seen the signs with the anti-ghoul symbols but you didn’t think they’d really follow through. Apparently it was the only law they obeyed around here.

Cooper smiled as the men cocked their guns, eyes alight with a challenge. Then they landed on you and he frowned again. He raised his hands in surrender and tucked his gun back in his holster. He darted forward and grabbed you. He yanked you into his chest and you stumbled over your feet, scowling at him. He leaned next to your ear, gravelly voice sending chills down your back, “We’re leaving.”

He didn’t leave you much choice, dragging you despite the way you tried to fight against him. “The lady stays,” the man who’d hit you ordered. His friends took a step forward, blocking Cooper from the exit. He chuckled and glanced over at the man.

“That was a mistake, friend.” Before you knew what was happening he was shoving you to the ground and shots were going off. Not willing to get shot again, you crawled on all fours towards the door. The sound of bullets whizzing over your head had you ducking every now and again, trying to protect yourself as much as you could.

You could hear Cooper taunting them, and after every remark another body would hit the floor. You yelped and jumped back when one fell in front of you. A bullet embedded itself in the floor beside you, the wood splintering and exploding upward, just barely missing your face.

You crawled over the dead bodies and threw yourself out the door, trying to outrun the sound of gunfire. But it was too late. The rest of Filly had heard the fight and those that were stupid enough to stay were starting to draw the fight out into the marketplace.

It was almost like a game, ducking under bullets and the spray of blood. Whatever Cooper was shooting them with was making them light up like the Fourth of July. By the time you’d managed to hide yourself behind a building, you looked like you’d been hosed down with blood. So much for keeping the clothes clean.

Your head thudded against the side of the building and you clenched your eyes shut, breathing heavily through your open mouth. You could feel your heart pounding against your chest. But you didn’t feel like you were going to have a heart attack this time, maybe you were starting to adapt to all this.

Feet scrambled across the sand and someone threw themselves down next to you. You tensed and opened your eyes, you didn’t relax much when you realized it was Cooper. He grinned at you and glanced over his shoulder, checking no one had seen him.

The other’s didn’t seem to care that the man that had started the fight was no longer a part of it. You’re pretty sure they just needed an excuse to shoot each other. Cooper popped his gun open and reloaded the chamber.

He glanced at your blood soaked form and scoffed, “You look like you’re doing well.”

You refused to look at him, “Yeah, no thanks to you.”

He didn’t take well to the way you were avoiding him. He darted forward, fingers digging into your chin and forcing you to look at him. “Sweetheart, who left who?”

You ripped your face out of his hand and glared at him. “Don’t try and pretend like you didn’t leave me a long time before I woke up. You wrote me off copper. You assumed the worst about me and you gave up.”

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something when a noise behind you interrupted him. He gave you a long look and got to his feet. “If you’re not here when I come back, I’ll shoot you. Understand me?”

You looked at him for a long moment, body tensed with rage before you nodded your head. “Understood.”

SERIES TAGLIST: @pixelatedprofilepic @o0mellowdramatic0o @bisasterbisexual @julianmarie @v3nix @coolrobloxkid28 @sunnexaltation @fiftyshadesofokay @ktdragonborn @ambivertdreamer @one-of-thewalkingdead @hellolettuce444 @ghcstvibess @qardasngan @foreverwing223 @leo4242564 @1-800shootmeplease @awkwardly-bucky @fallout-girl219 @the-faceless-bride @milk-ducts @dramaticpandabear @ladiadia @rockerchick05 @raviolisenpai @cupid-club @alastorsw1f3 @sarapaprikas-blog @sgt-barnesveins @weakling-grace

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout x reader #fallout tv series #cooper howard #the ghoul

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 days

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Would I be the asshole if I refused to pay my phone bill?

📱🧾♿️ <- To recognize my post for later :)

The title is probably already a bit of a red flag, but I genuinely didn’t know how else to word it…

For context: I am a disabled, chronically and mentally ill trans guy who recently turned 20. I haven’t left home yet for a lot of reasons, some being that my parents promised to let me live rent-free so long as I was in college (which I am, just not currently for the summer) as well as the fact that they really haven’t raised me to be very independent and rely solely on them (which is honestly a whole other can of worms), but primarily because of my disability. It isn’t safe for me to live on my own, as I faint commonly, cannot stand up for more than maybe fifteen minutes at a time roughly, and sometimes am unable to eat for long periods of time due to debilitating nausea which leads to weakness. I also have severe chronic pain in my limbs and gut, something I’ve had most of my life, while my chronic illness I’ve only had for about a year and a half now and am still struggling to adjust to.

Because of my disability, I also can’t work a traditional job. I offer art commissions online, because I’m very passionate about art and it’s one of the few things I’m good at, and I haul in a decent amount, but certainly not enough to live off of. I make enough to set aside some good savings (I’m currently saving for a wheelchair, as that might grant me more freedom and the potential to get a job at least for the summer) while also indulging myself in buying the occasional fatty treat (I’m very underweight so that’s not an issue, and I was raised essentially in an almond mom household all my life, so this form of eating is really the only sense of control I have over my life, as I’m fully dependent on my parents elsewise).

The issue has come upon relatively recently. I feel like a huge entitled brat for it as well, and if others believe the same, I sincerely don’t blame you.

My mom sat me down the other day and said that she expected me to start paying at least one bill. She offered my cheapest bill (which would be for my phone; my parents bought it, and it’s theirs, they’re just letting me use it as my own.. I don’t own a whole lot of “my” items myself) and asked what I thought about that. I was fully honest with her: if I had a steady stream of income, I wouldn’t hesitate to offer to pay for all of my bills, but with the way it stands, I just don’t make enough month-to-month to regularly afford the bill. I also do my commissions through my phone, so if I could afford the bill, my phone would be turned off, and I’d be unable to continue.

My mom got very upset and started talking to me like a child (though she really has every right to, honestly, and I know that). She went on a very long rant about teaching me responsibility, and how I can’t rely on my parents forever, and that I need to grow up at some point… All things that I fully agree with. I sincerely want to! I want nothing more than to be fully independent. But the way it stands, my parents cover my entire medical bills and they pay for my meds… And I just don’t make enough to survive on my own, and I can just barely afford a meal or two from a sandwich shop I enjoy twice a month to keep my sanity in check because I’m usually bedbound.

I tried explaining to her that I would if I could, sincerely, and that I’m not trying to be a leech or lazy, but she wasn’t having it. She just scolded me and said that if I can afford to eat out every month, then I can afford the phone bill. But again, with the way things are, I don’t think I’d be able to do it every month without tapping into my savings, which again, is for my wheelchair so I can regain some sense of freedom for myself. I’m seriously debating just telling her no straight out, but I don’t know what the aftermath might look like…

So, sincerely: Am I in the wrong here? Should I just swallow my protests and cough up the money somehow? I really don’t know and would love an outside perspective.

#aita #am i the asshole

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theoihalioistuff · 2 days

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Do you have any information on misconceptions about Hades & Persephone? I'm not well read but all the portrayals of them as a #goals power couple doesn't seem quite right to me (also am I losing my mind or did Persephone get girlbossified?) I could be totally wrong of course! There's a lot to learn in the world. Hope your day is good ^-^

Hi Anon! Sorry for taking so long to reply, (I'm in the middle of exam season and have tons of work to do T~T)

There's a lot to unpack here, as this is basically the most popular greek myth nowadays and one of the most affected by misinformation and people spreading their headcannons as facts. Broadly, in every surviving account their marriage is a forced abduction, where Persephone is very much unwilling. For example in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter (our earliest and most complete source): she cries out in fear for help as she's seized and dragged away under the earth "So he, that Son of Cronos, of many names, who is Ruler of Many and Host of Many, was bearing her away by leave of Zeus on his immortal chariot — his own brother’s child and all unwilling", is mournful and despondent until she gladdens at the news of being brought back to the surface and reunited with her mother, is "grieved to tell the tale" of her abduction, and finally is not so much tricked as force-fed the pommegranate "I sprang up at once for joy; but he secretly put in my mouth sweet food, a pomegranate seed, and forced me to taste against my will."

On the other hand, it's true that their marriage is one of the few where they are presented as standing on equal footing and ruling jointly (compared to, for example, Zeus and Hera, where she's generally very much subordinate to him), to the point where Persephone frequently eclipses her husband as sovereign in myth (sending forth the dead in the Odyssey, recieving Herakles when he goes to the underworld, permitting the return of Sisyphos and Alkestis, etc.) and it's widely theorised that Persephone predates Hades in her role as ruler of the underworld. Also in several parts of Magna Graecia their marriage seems to have displaced Zeus and Hera's as the ideal model in cult.

I get the appeal many feel for the myth (though also frankly sometimes get a bit tired of it), but regarding original sources I would certainly hesitate to call a kidnapping and a forced marriage a #goals power couple. As for Persephone getting "girlbossified", I completely agree and find it really disappointing how in most so called "feminist retellings" the only sort of shallow "empowerment" she gets is "fiercely stricking a pose and looking cunty in black next to her bad-boy misunderstood sweetie of a goth/millionaire fifty-shades-of-grey husband."

All that aside, for a great retelling that in my opinion successfully presents Hades and Persephone as a compelling love story and skillfully avoids the pitfalls where most other retellings fall short, I can't recommend @a-gnosis comics enough. They're really well researched, original, beautifully drawn and peopled with actually well written characters (non-perfect, endearing, interesting, etc.) instead of 2D caricatures. She balances a delightful romance without ignoring and addressing the beats of the original myth (as much as possible anyway, no easy feat in my opinion), and all her comics are free to read on her tumblr, deviantart and comicsfury. I really recommend them to anyone interested!

#greek mythology #greek myths #greek gods #tagamemnon #hellenic deities #hades #persephone #ask

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tinalbion · 1 day

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'𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐝' ||

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: The Ghoul x fem!Reader

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄! Minors, DO NOT interact! Smut with plot, oral (male receiving), blowjob, vaginal fingering, cowgirl, penetration, creampie murder, canon typical language

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 8k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: I saw someone mention that they think the Ghoul hasn't had sex in 200 years, (their personal headcanon) they figure he would be a little bit rusty. So this is what stemmed from that post, which isn't exactly too on point but it's something! This is for you!

It had been hell in the Wastelands as you struggled to survive, but you were always a tough one and managed to make it on your own, though using that experience you gained only made you stronger, smarter, and less likely to be taken off guard. Well, you had thought so, but life managed to always try to surprise you.

The Ghoul came and changed all of that.

You happened to run into him by complete accident as you were scrounging for scraps, anything you could sell or trade in, and there he was, walking by without a care in the world as he readjusted the saddle bag on his shoulder. You saw him, but he didn't see you, or so you thought.

It was funny how most ghouls on the surface had all but withered away and turned feral, but this one seemed to have a purpose, your eyes focused on him for a good long while as he was searching for…something. You weren't sure what exactly, but you still watched him to pass the time, especially since he was one of the most interesting people you'd seen out here in a very long while.

He stopped and looked straight at you like he knew you were there the entire time, and your heartbeat quickened. What would he do? Would he rob you for what you had? Shoot you for fun? No, he didn't do any of that, he just stared for a long moment, tilted his head as the brim of his hat covered his stare, and then went on his merry way.

That was the first time you saw him.

The second time you'd met him wasn't too long after. You were making your way around once again, in search of jobs, and you'd frequent local bars, or what passed as bars nowadays, and you'd been drinking a cheap bottle of probably piss, and he had walked in. The entire room went silent save for a few who could have cared less about a Ghoul's presence. Not a lot of folks cared for them, saw them as less than people, but you didn't have an issue, just with the ones who posed a threat.

He sauntered up to the bar, slapped a folded piece of paper down, then took a seat. The jingle of his spurs echoed in your head as he sat there, his intimidating aura radiated off of him to the point you were too afraid to look anywhere but stare at your drink. he must have sensed your unease and he shifted, staring at you, his eyes glared toward you in sunken sockets, his prominent brow furrowed.

There was talk amongst the bar again, more hushed than it had been, but it was there all the same. You heard the stranger's voice speak up this time, but you focused so hard on anything but him that it seemed to be muffled talk with the bartender. Your eyes flickered over to look at his hands, which rested on the counter, gloves covered his hands as he remained as calm as ever while he tapped his digits against the defaced wood.

“Well, sweetheart, maybe you could point me in the direction of someone who has a damn sense of what they're sayin’ to me, ‘cause I'm havin’ a difficult time finding anyone who doesn't seem to be hidin’ something.”

You turned to look at him in surprise and stared for a moment. “What?” You asked.

He scoffed. “I said, you seen this fella?” He slid the paper toward you, it was now unfolded with a sketch of a man you think you saw a few nights ago in this same dive.

You nodded and looked up at him for the first time, staring into his eyes, and they pierced yours, stunning you for a moment. “Yeah, saw him here, was talking in the corner with a few other men, but I didn't stick around long. They were being loud and bragging about some bounty they were taking on,” you explained.

The Ghoul listened, took in your words, and then craned his neck back toward the bartender. “See, now I come in here askin’ so nicely for some information, and here you are hurtin’ my feelings.”

The bartender shot you an annoyed glare and then stared back at him. “Look, I don't want any trouble in my bar, and I get a bunch of people in and out of here, ain't nothing special about some bounty hunter, we get loads of you guys.”

The Ghoul didn't like that response from the man, so he leaned further onto the counter and slid the empty glass toward him. “Top me off, and I'll be on my way.”

You turned away from the Ghoul and tried not to get more involved than you already were. You had a feeling that once he left, the bartender would cut you off, shoot you probably, who knows. So you scooted out of your stool and threw your caps onto the counter, then turned away to make your way out. Once you left through the doors, that's when you heard the sound of a gun go off, and you were thankful you got out of there when you did.

Where you'd go next, you weren't sure, but sticking around the area would be an awful idea, so you decided to get as far away from the dive as possible. As soon as your feet touched the ground, the door swung open.

“Leavin’ before you could miss all the fun?” His voice called out to you, his boots heavy on the wooden stairs as he walked down toward you, and the jingle of his spurs echoed behind him.

“Figured it wouldn't be smart being inside where I could get shot, as much as I'd like to stick around, getting injured ain't fun.”

“You know more than you're lettin’ on, sweetheart, and I ain't in the mood to play games. Where can I find him?”

You figured you had nothing to gain or lose on this man, this bounty wasn't in your interest nor was being around the fool, so you figured you'd give him what he wanted. “Overheard him saying something about a hideout in the middle of the Mojave, said it's fortified with turrets, but I don't know how true that is.”

The Ghoul stared at you, obviously suspicious of your willingness to hand over the information, but he didn't argue. It almost seemed as if he were debating what to do with you from then on, but if your information proved to be wrong, he figured he could just find you again and shoot you.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked off, once again making his way across the desert to find his bounty. You figured that would be the last you’d ever seen of him, or at least you had hoped so considering he kind of scared the hell out of you. Truthfully, not many people did anymore, you’d seen a lot in the wastelands that you wish you hadn’t been exposed to mostly for your own well-being. But not much scared you or disturbed you anymore, though something about the Ghoul gnawed at you, it was a fight or flight response at best.

Of course, that was not the last you saw of the Ghoul.

The third time, you had a bad feeling that he was thinking the worst. Maybe he figured you were following him around the wastelands, that you coveted whatever he had, but it didn’t even cross his mind. When his eyes landed on you in a settlement trading post miles from where you’d last seen him, questioning some poor sucker who looked like he was trying to pull a fast one on the bounty hunter, and you had just kept on walking. He wouldn’t notice you, you were sure of it.

“Well if it isn’t my little informant from that shithole dive in the Mojave,” he said loud enough for you to hear.

You paused and looked over your shoulder, smiling nervously. “Oh, it’s you. You uh, find that guy you were looking for?” You asked him, trying to remain calm.

He cocked his head and wore a smirk. “Course I did, and your information was well worth it, glad I didn’t have to hunt you down, too.”

That was the closest to a ‘thank you’ as you’d ever get, you’d take it. “Anytime,” you hummed with a small two-fingered salute and turned back around, trying to get out of the vicinity.

The Ghoul released the man that he had gripped by his shirt and pointed harshly at him. “You keep your ass right there, I’ll be back for you. We ain’t finished yet.” He turned to walk in your direction and caught up with incredible speed. “Where you goin’, sweetheart? You seem pressed to leave whenever I show up.”

If this was his form of flirting, you weren’t sure, but you did seem to want to leave quickly whenever you saw him. “Oh, no sir, it’s just I’ve heard about your reputation and I’d rather not mix myself up with any of that,” you said straightforwardly.

This made the Ghoul chuckle to himself as he stepped in front of you, not allowing you to advance any further away from him. “You either one lucky gal or possibly a lucky charm,” he mused with a mischievous smile. “You work in bounties at all?”

Your eyes shifted from his to the ground, thinking of your response. “I thought about it, but I don’t have that sort of…command a bounty hunter has. I got different skills, though.”

“And what kind is that?”

You cleared your throat and looked up at him. “I mean no offense, but why are you asking?”

This made him chuckle again and he couldn’t help but try to size you up as you seemed so on the defensive. “Just friendly conversation is all.” That was obviously a lie, but he was definitely curious about you and how you just seemed to be there whenever he was.

Now this made you laugh and you nodded. “Sure, I suppose even someone with your reputation could be seen as friendly,” you quipped. “But I am just… a nobody. I just do what I can to get by.”

The Ghoul wasn’t sure how to read into your answer, but there was something to you. “Well, Miss Nobody,” he began as he grabbed the folded piece of paper from his pocket, “since your observance was so spot on last time, why not go round two for two? You seen this lowlife?”

You grabbed the paper from his hand and unfolded it, then grimaced at the photo. “Unfortunately I have, but this one is a bit more of a pain in the ass to get to. Runs with the Triggermen, they have a lot of solid hookups, so I wouldn’t just expect to go in guns blazing and think it ends there. But I saw him sniffing around Filly some time ago, probably doing more chem running.”

Again, he stared at you curiously. “You sure do know a lot of stuff for bein’ a nobody,” he pointed out with a low voice.

“If you’ve been around for as long as I have, you get to know quite a lot of you seem unassuming and blend into the background.”

“Around as long as you, huh?” He was mildly curious and almost amused by the wording.

You just nodded and looked around the area, and you noticed that a lot of the people seemed uneasy by the Ghoul’s presence, and you figured it wasn’t due to the fact it was because of what he was but who he was. “Look, again, you can’t just walk right in. If you’re looking for him, isolating him and taking him out alone is the best option for you. Not like you don’t know what you’re doing, I just don’t want you to end up dealing with more of those idiots.”

“What, lookin’ out for little ol’ me, Miss Nobody?” He asked with a sarcastic bite to his tone. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m not worried,” you said matter-of-factly, as if it was the furthest thing from your mind. You wanted to call him out on how ridiculous that sounded to you, but you knew better, so you kept your mouth shut and just offered the man a sigh. “Good luck though.”

And once again, you were walking away from the bounty hunter in one piece, still with a feeling of dread lingering in the back of your head while you faced your back toward him, trying to get as much distance from him and the trouble he would bring.

Yet there you were only days later, laying in your makeshift bed in a rundown shack you took over, and you were thinking about him for some unknown reason. Why, you had no idea and wouldn’t even try to linger on the idea, you just figured it was curiosity if he'd gotten ahold of the bounty he was in search of. But there had been other moments of weakness you had that had him at the center of your attention, and it came over you when you'd people-watch, which was a good habit to have for someone like you. Your eyes would wander, curious if you’d see him again as you ate the questionable food you bought from a vendor, your thoughts miles away.

Because you’d been so distracted, you hadn’t heard the footsteps you’d grown familiar with approach you from behind, the jingle of the spurs rang out. Your eyes had been glued to the scene below as you sat on a higher ledge, legs dangling off the edge while you chewed the tough iguana meat on a stick. There was a sudden ominous feeling beside you, so you happened to look up and see the Ghoul leaning against the railing you sat between.

“Oh, it’s you,” you said, your tone a bit more enthused than you initially thought.

He looked down at you and gave you that devious smirk he was so keen on wearing. “If it ain’t my lucky little rabbit’s foot,” he teased. “Once again, your word has proven useful. You sure are an interesting specimen ‘round these parts.”

You focused your attention back out toward the crowds of people, smiling at the compliment. “Oh, it’s nothing, really.” You brushed it off, not wanting to be indebted to the bounty hunter, even in words.

“Quiet modest, ain’t ya?” He commented. “No matter, Lucky Girl, took down the entire faction of the Triggermen with your help.”

You looked up at him in surprise. “You what?!” You were stunned that he just casually dropped such news, it was a huge deal considering a lot of the chem running was definitely put to a halt transiently. “I knew you were a kick ass bounty hunter, but this is… Unheard of.”

“Hell, I ain't gonna lie to you, although you don't go tellin’ anyone I said this, but you're one hell of an informant. Wouldn't mind havin’ you around.”

“I don't think having me around would make things easier,” you pointed out. “Getting shot at is something I'm not fond of, plus I'd only get in the way, trust me.”

“What if we made a little deal, then? You get protection, a cut of the money maybe in exchange for information?”

“That's… generous of a bounty hunter of your stature…” you pointed out, unsure of this decision. There had to have been some hidden agenda behind it, there was no way someone like him willingly traveled with companions because they gave him a bit of an advantage.

“It's not an offer I extend to many, especially since you seem much more reserved than most.” Whether this was a compliment or not was to be determined, but you did live up to that notion. “I just feel that you're a lucky rabbit who I can't allow others to exploit.”

“So you wanna exploit me first,” you said with an unsure smile.

This made the man’s smile grow even wider, he liked the way you could talk to him without cowering like most others did. You spoke your mind. “Now I wouldn't call it exploiting, I'd rather call it a business proposal.”

“What's stopping you from killing me when my luck runs out, then?”

Now this was a question for the ages, one he couldn't quite answer as honestly as the others. But it was a valid point regardless. “I'm sure I'll find a use for you, ain't worried about that.”

“Forgive me if I'm not jumping at the opportunity,” you replied with a chuckle. “Honestly I don't really have much going on as it is, so if you can manage to have me around, then I suppose I could help you out.”

Why did you accept? That was something you hadn’t really put too much thought into, you barely knew this man except for the rumors and stories you heard about him through word of mouth. How could you accept this so easily? You pushed the nagging thought in the back of your mind and just settled on survival, this is why you did a lot of dubious jobs in the wastelands.

You held out your hand and offered for him to shake it as your eyes met his.

With a moment of hesitation, he reached out his hand and shook yours, the difference in your textures had sparked something against your skin, and you shivered. It wasn’t an indication of disgust, but you felt an odd sensation that tingled up your spine.

“Guess we have a deal, then,” the Ghoul replied with a smile.

“I suppose we do,” you agreed.

Many months had gone by, and you two had become unstoppable with your knack for getting information and his knack for taking down even the biggest bounties. It was the talk amongst the raiders, the mercenaries, and the other bounty hunters. Many opposed you and wanted you out of the picture considering you made the Ghoul all the more dangerous than he already was, but you were untouchable when he was around. He knew what he had in his presence and he knew many would covet it, so he became possessive, a trait you didn’t think anyone, let alone this man, would convey toward you.

You couldn’t leave his sight for very long in fear of being hunted down, but you didn’t mind having the company. It beat being alone so much, and you were living in comfort, or in your case, as comfortable as it could get. The Ghoul never stayed in one place for too long, and it was a lifestyle you'd been accustomed to, so it wasn’t too farfetched. Whatever chem that he would inhale regularly from turning feral had come in abundance ever since you came along, so he decided that his lucky rabbit’s foot wasn’t going anywhere, but that was a front overall.

Deep down, despite the way he lived his life here after the bombs dropped, there was an emptiness, and he tried to fight the desire to fill that void for the longest time. Running into you piqued his curiosity and offered him an outward motivation more than anything, but slowly over time, he began to truly enjoy your company. He’d never admit it to you or anyone else, but the way he fought for you to keep you safe spoke louder than anything he could verbally say.

It had been almost a year traveling in the Ghoul’s company when you found yourselves in a quiet time between bounties. You’d just gotten your weapons upgraded and some better clothes that didn’t have as many holes and tears in them, it had been a good haul you and the Ghoul pulled in with this contract.

You both sat beside a fire you’d built and drank the slightly cold bottle of Nuka-Cherry you managed to get ahold of from part of someone's collection, you wouldn't soon forget the heartbreak in their eyes when the Ghoul offered for you to raid their collections after tying them up and bringing in their bounty.

The Ghoul stared at you from across the fire, watching you carefully as you lay on the ground, staring up at a book you managed to find in an old shop. It helped pass the time between jobs, but you seemed a bit distracted as you read the same paragraph over and over again. You also had a good sense of when he was staring at you, so without looking away from the page, you smiled.

“If you got something to say, I suggest you say it before I reread the same page again,” you teased, then turned your head to face him.

He didn't budge, he remained fixated on you as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His eyes focused on you but he hadn't said much since you arrived in the small rundown shack.

You waved your hand at him and looked as if you were waiting for him to speak. “Radroach got your tongue?” You laughed and went back to your book, but that's when he decided to speak up.

“Nah, just curious.”

“About…?”

“You.”

You scoffed. “Me? Nothing to be curious about, really.”

The Ghoul stared at you, wondering if you'd let your mysteriousness slip. “Course there's somethin’ to be curious about. Haven't told me nothin’ about you since we joined up.”

“I could say the same about you,” you pointed out, deflecting. “Didn't think we had to sit in a circle and share icebreakers.”

He scoffed and shook his head at your words, but he didn't seem at all annoyed by your jokes. “Well, suppose we all have things to hide.” He looked away from you and surveyed the perimeter, making sure you two were still alone.

You turned your head to look at him and then pushed yourself up, spun to face him, and sat with your legs crossed as you placed the book off to the side. “Okay, then, what do you wanna know, like how I could have lost a limb when I was eight because I ran out into the road and wanted to get onto a trolley? Or what about-”

The Ghoul let out a sigh, one you had grown to know very well, but it only made you laugh. “Okay, fine, fine. What do you…wanna know?”

His eyes, the most human-looking eyes you’d ever seen on a ghoul, stared into what felt like your soul as he sat back and thought of a question. “What happened to your family?”

You swallowed and let out a sigh of your own, but you figured one day someone would ask, so you braced yourself for whenever it came. “We lived in Shady Sands, it was nice, I loved it, I remember being really happy. Till we suffered the bombing. It took out my parents and my brother. My brother saved my life, if it weren’t for him, I’d be dead.”

The Ghoul didn’t give condolences, he didn’t feel awkward now that something heavy had come up in conversation, but there was understanding in his eyes now that he had some understanding of who you were.

“I do what I can to survive because they wanted me to, so I mean… I know I’ve done some things people would consider horrendous, but I’m not that person anymore who shies away from it. They’d understand, I think.” You stared off at the flickering embers of the fire, and the pain swept through as you thought of them, your family. You didn’t like to do it, you were sure they wouldn’t recognize you anymore, that you weren’t the person you used to be. But times changed, and people changed.

The Ghoul cleared his throat and gestured toward the horizon. “Radstorm rollin’ in, we should get inside the shack,” he huffed and stood from his seat on the ground, then kicked out the flames of the fire. He gathered his things while you did the same, packing up your things and stuffing them in your pack, and you hid inside while you fortified the area as best as you could.

The storm wouldn’t bother him much but he knew that you weren’t immune to what he could withstand, so he ushered you inside and made sure that there wasn’t anything cracked or damaged that could allow any of the radiation to filter through.

“Should be good till it passes,” he grumbled as he looked out the partially boarded-up window. “Shouldn’t be too bad for you, smoothie,” he teased, knowing you would appreciate the nickname that most ghouls called humans.

But you didn’t laugh or joke back in return, your mind was elsewhere as you stared through the board in the window, the rolling green clouds pushed through and made their way toward you.

He walked up beside you and contemplated what was to get your attention, so he placed a gloved hand carefully on your elbow, which caused you to turn and look at him in confusion. “You good?”

You nodded even though you weren’t sure if you had been alright or not, but he wouldn't understand, he wouldn't want you, you figured. A small smile tugged the corner of your lips and you shrugged. “I'm alright.”

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter,” he warned as his eyes narrowed and he knew you well enough now to read your body language, he could see it all over you. “My lucky rabbit ain't too happy, I can tell.”

“You don't gotta worry about me,” you assured with a small wave of your hand, dismissing the thought completely.

His hand was now on your arm, resting there comfortably while it tightened its grip slightly, and this was only the second time he'd ever put his hands on you in such a tender way. You'd thought about the first time it ever happened, and you thought for a long time about it, how good it felt. You'd wanted more, but you knew that would be crossing the line.

“Sure I do, you always looked out for me despite not knowin’ a damn thing, you just blindly followed me. I ain't used to that kind of loyalty, but I ain't gonna take it for granted neither,” the Ghoul explained. “Now, tell me what's wrong.”

You sighed and continued to stare out the window. “If I did then you'd leave, cowboy, trust me.”

Once again, he scoffed, mainly at the cheesy nickname you gave him, but also the ridiculous notion that he'd let you out of his sight. “Ain't gonna happen, bunny,” he shot back, using the nickname you hated but secretly loved hearing him say.

“If I say it, you can't get upset.” The rumble of the storm neared closer, the colors turned darker in hue and flashed a bright green, illuminating your skin through the cracks of the window. “Promise?”

The Ghoul nodded and stared down at you, waiting for your ‘profound confession’ that you were too afraid to say aloud.

“I've been… lonely for quite some time while on the move, and sometimes it's just a feeling I get, but… When you touched my arm, it felt nice.” You swallowed, your mouth dry from the nerves. “I know it's a lot and I wouldn't suggest it with anyone else, but, we've known each other for a year now, and if you had any… urges, a craving of intimacy or anything, I could…help.”

The Ghoul was in shock by your statement and had no idea how to react, so he remained standing beside you in complete silence as he stared down at you. You refused to meet his gaze and couldn't look him in the eyes after that, afraid that he'd belittle you or cut you off altogether.

“It was an idea, a stupid one at that, but it doesn't have to change anything between us, we can drop it and pretend it never happened. No harm, no foul.”

And still, he continued to remain there, rooted to the spot as he played your words over again in his head. Finally, there was something that clicked in his head. “You're sayin’ that… you'd want to get… intimate… with me?” There had been offers given to him through the years, and there had been times when things were rough, but having you here right now telling him you had more than just a quick fuck in mind was not what he was expecting to hear. What was going on in his head, you wanted to know.

You finally turned to him, your expressions carried the shame, the embarrassment, all of the feelings you'd been suffering through during his silence. “That's what I'm saying. It's just like our proposal of helping each other out, it's just another version of that, if it's easier to look at it that way.”

The truth was he hadn't been intimate in a long, long time. It wasn't something that came naturally to him anymore, it was but a distant memory of the time he had back on this earth before everything was destroyed. But you offering something like that, you of all people, it was a deliciously tempting offer that he maybe shouldn't refuse.

“A proposal,” he reiterated as his hand slid up your forearm slightly, his eyes flickered down to your face to gauge your reaction.

You smiled warmly at his attempt, and maybe it was an odd offer, but it seemed he was considering it. “We don't have to–”

“I ain't done this in… a very long time, bunny. I ain't the kind of ghoul who can supply that lovey feelin’ you're lookin’ for.”

“It doesn't have to be that, exactly. Besides, you already offer me protection, this would be just… an added bonus.”

He thought about it, truly thought about it, and the rumbling outside was drowned out by one thing that pushed forth in his mind: you.

“I ain't sure how–”

“I could help,” you offered with a soft tone, wondering if he'd allow such a thing as you took a small step closer. “Again, we don't have to do anything, it was just something that passed my mind. No harm done.”

The Ghoul's hand pulled at your arm, which made you look up at him, questioning his intentions as his gaze went from hard and stoic to softened and tender. It was a strange look to see on his face, but you welcomed it nonetheless. You stepped closer to him, filling the gap between your bodies as you lingered for a moment, but he closed that space and looked down at you in a new light. He tried to channel that human side of himself when he was known as Cooper Howard. It was an old name, an ancient person that hadn't existed in years, but he was buried deep down within him. He had his moments of weakness, which belonged to the man he used to be, but maybe if you were here to remind him what it felt like… how could he refuse?

“You ain't gonna tell a soul about this…” It wasn't a question, it was a warning.

“Of course not, cowboy, our little secret,” you assured him with a smile.

That’s all it took to allow him to delve into that buried side within him, his hand lifted and gently placed it on your shoulder, then slowly skated down to your collarbone. He caressed the softness of your skin, allowing himself to become acquainted with your body slowly but surely, all while trying to remember how to make this enjoyable for the both of you. It was a learning curve, but the way you'd already begun responding to his touch only urged him to continue.

You began to shrug out of your jacket which left you in your semi decent tank top, which clung to your body and accentuated your natural curves and dips. The Ghoul couldn't help but watch you eagerly, getting lost in the way you were taking things slow on his behalf as his hands slid around your waist. You wouldn't pressure him, or rush him, you'd allow him to do what he wanted as he explored what made you tick and what turned you on.

Soon, he had guided you toward the floor where you laid out your blanket in an attempt to make it as comfortable as possible. Per his request, he had you lay back while he hovered over you, his hands easily removing the rest of your clothing –with your assistance, of course.

Seeing you there in just a bra and underwear was a lot for him to take in, but he swallowed that image of you and couldn't find the strength to take his eyes off of you. “Damn, sweetheart…” He muttered as he grabbed you, squeezed you, and did what he could to lose himself in you. He wasn't sure what to start with first, so he looked to you for guidance.

With a smile, you grabbed his hand and pulled him closer to you, looking into his eyes while you smiled softly. “Is it okay if I help?” You asked softly.

The Ghoul didn't speak, he just nodded in response and hovered closer toward you, but when you captured his lips between yours, it was a surprise to be sure. He pushed himself firmly against you, keeping himself propped up with his arm while he placed the other around your neck, his fingers softly stroking your jaw as you kissed. His tongue pushed past your lips and swirled around in your mouth, but that smile he wore just made you feel all the more turned on by him. While you kissed him, your hand guided his toward your inner thighs, allowing him to feel how you'd already soaked through your underwear.

He was impressed by how turned on you'd been and he'd done close to nothing, so to feel his handiwork, he slipped two of his fingers beneath the hem and slipped them through your slick. “Fuck, darlin’, you're so wet…”

He wasn't sure if you'd want him to touch you more between your legs, but your hand was already guiding him to push those fingers inside of you, curling into your cunt.

“Oh fuck, cowboy,” you sighed against his mouth, your eyes closed while you felt your body tense from the touch. It had been ages since you felt this good, and he'd barely begun.

While he dipped his fingers deep within you, he could feel himself growing painfully hard, and he thanked whomever above for the fact he still had his equipment to work with because soon he'd need to bury himself inside of you. He wasn't sure what was taking over right now, but the way you moaned out and moved your hips in tandem with his hand was a lot to handle for him. He'd want more, needed more.

“Want me to keep goin’...?”

“Yeah, like that,” you begged while your hand began to rub circles against your clit, helping yourself get to that point where all you could feel was the growing sensation that burned in your lower belly. It had been ages since you had someone pay attention to you like this, but the way he moved his hands seemed that he hadn't been prepared for something like this.

“Hey, cowboy, want me to… show you some attention?” You offered softly, smiling up at him as you pushed yourself up, leaning on your elbows.

He slowed his actions and slowly curled his fingers inside of you, watching as your face fell and you lost your thoughts, only focusing on his ers. fingers inside of you. His hollowed eyes stared at you and considered your offer. Was he ready for something like this? He was silent while he tilted his head, looking over your body as you lay there before him.

Wordlessly, he sat back and shifted his weight on his legs, allowing you the space you needed to do what you needed to do. He didn’t say a word as he watched you fumble with his gun belts, but it was entertaining to watch as you seemed more nervous than he was, yet internally, he felt the urge to panic. But he wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction, not even you. He pulled off his other glove slowly, watching your eyes as you stared intently at the action, and he was curious if you liked his hands and how your gaze would be so fixated on them.

“C’mon then,” he said as he slowly shrugged out of the weathered duster jacket, “you gonna give me some attention or were you just talkin’ big?” He always poked at you, toyed with you, and loved seeing how you reacted. Most times you paid him no mind, you just knew he was a big talker with the actions to back it up, but now, you were the one who could show him just what he needed.

When you leaned forward to go for his pants, you took notice of the body language he displayed; how his body tensed up whenever you’d touch him, how his breathing became almost nonexistent whenever you leaned in close, or how it seemed that he was too nervous to even lay a hand on you. It was fine though, you were helping each other out and that’s all you hoped you could do, so you didn’t leave him in suspense as you allowed him to spring free from his pants. You weren’t sure what you were expecting when you first started, but it definitely wasn’t this, and you wouldn’t complain. A smile crept on your lips as you stared at him, your face lowered ever so slightly between his legs, wanting any sign of consent or objection. When all he did was stare, your tongue darted out to moisten your lips while your hand slowly grasped him.

He tried not to let the feeling catch him off guard, but to be touched like that after so long, hell, he was in heaven. His breath caught and he sucked in a deep breath while your mouth slowly lowered onto him, the warmth and wetness that traveled down his length sent shivers up his spine while he tried not to groan out loud. Slowly you lowered and raised your mouth on him, your hand following closely as you stroked him. He lurched forward for the first few deep plunges you made, but after that, he was almost putty in your hands while he leaned his head back and allowed himself to indulge in the way you were making him feel. His hand instinctively traveled to the back of your neck, then slid through your hair as he grabbed a handful of it. He wanted you to go faster, to bring him over that edge of the high he was chasing, but was that the right thing to do?

As if you understood what he was feeling, you picked up your pace and went faster, your mouth and tongue worked expertly together, until after a bit you pulled your mouth off with a slight pop, and you noticed how the Ghoul convulsed at the loss of your mouth. You weren’t sure how this would play out, but all you could think of was how much you wanted to feel him split you open.

“Can I ride you?”

This was a question he hadn’t expected. “I beg your pardon?”

“I want to ride you, you know, sit in your lap and do it like that, is that okay?”

Oh, that’s what you wanted, damn, he was so out of touch with this and didn’t mean to look foolish, but with simulated confidence, he shot you a smirk and patted his half-bared thigh, beckoning you to him. “Then c’mere pretty thing,” he huffed.

Smiling, you crawled over to him and straddled his lap, your eyes never leaving his while you grabbed his cock and steadied it. You both watched each other as you lowered yourself onto him, and you couldn’t recall who made the loudest moan, you or him. The feeling of him stretching you out after being so empty for so long was a feeling you wanted to hang onto, it was the way you slid onto him with slight difficulty that caused you to bite your lip a bit harder than anticipated.

Feeling the way your walls clung to him, pulled him deep inside of you while you sunk deeper into his lap, you were afraid to move in case he was in over his head, but you reached out for his hands and placed them on your breasts. Soft words of encouragement like, ‘Touch me, please,’ and ‘Go harder, I’m begging you,’ had helped him enormously. You guided his hands across your body by showing him what you liked and what you wanted him to do, so he took that as his cue and allowed his fingers to skate across your supple skin. The difference of texture against you had lit a fire beneath your skin, feeling how rough and calloused he was as his fingers grabbed you firmly at your hips, his nails digging slightly into you.

He sucked in a breath of air again and groaned out. “Fuck, you feel damn good,” he murmured while he allowed you to fuck yourself on him. He got the feeling of your rhythm, the way you bounced on him as you lifted yourself, then fell back onto him as he pushed himself deep within you. You could feel the intense pressure of him pushing himself against your cervix, but the sting of being stretched was still prominent, and that’s all you could focus on.

You cried out when he finally stopped you from moving and held you in place firmly, both hands planted on your hips while he thrust into you as the heels of his boots dug into the ground beneath him. “Oh my god,” you whimpered out, your hands placed on his ravaged chest, trying to keep your balance while he helped you out.

The coil in your belly was tightening so much that you thought you’d explode, but you curled forward against him as you reached between your bodies and began to rub yourself, to which he marveled at the noises that came from your mouth. So he opted to push your hand aside and tried to replicate the movements you made against your clit, sloppy but small, tight circles with the pad of his thumb. If this was ecstasy, you never wanted to come back to the harsh reality of the wastelands again, you could get used to being here night after night with him like this, you loved the fantasy you began to build in your mind.

“I ain’t gonna last like this,” the Ghoul warned between ragged breaths, one hand on your breast that popped out from your bra while the other was still holding onto your hip. His thrusts became inconsistent, signaling that he was close.

“Please, cum for me, oh shit-” It was difficult to string together a full sentence, your thoughts were muddled while all you could focus on was that bliss that filled your body.

You wished you could have gone longer, but you were hit with a powerful wave as your orgasm washed over you, and that tightly wound coil snapped inside of you. Your body hunched forward against the Ghoul’s chest while your hands lay flat against his abdomen, trying your best to catch your breath while his hips jerked, and with several more hard thrusts, he let himself go and pushed himself deep inside of you, holding his cock in place as he released what he’d been holding in. His bourbon-colored eyes held your gaze as you both sat in silence save for the heavy breathing, your hearts pounding within your chests as you remained stuck together, the glistening of your skin from the sweat that caused your hair to cling to your face… It was charming, beautiful even, to him.

When you finally had the energy to shift off of his lap, you pushed yourself onto the blanket as you lay beside him as he hiked up his pants, barely putting any effort into moving himself as he allowed himself to lay back, partially laying on the destroyed wood floor, halfway on your blanket. You both didn’t say much after that, but you kept looking over at him, your eyes drinking in the sight of him while it seemed he was lost deep in thought.

Maybe he regretted what you two did, but you knew you never would, you two had an understanding of one another. One that many others probably wouldn’t understand, but it didn’t matter if they did, you were content with having this for yourself, just a small slice of heaven you could recall when you wanted to escape the harshness of reality. This wasn’t about love, no, it couldn’t be, this was just something to take the edge off for you both.

The Ghoul had been looking at you while you spaced off, your eyes fluttered close and then snapped back open. You were exhausted, but you were forcing yourself to remain alert. The storm could pass any moment now, or become worse, you needed to-

“Hey, you should get some sleep,” the Ghoul instructed as he sat up, looking down at you while he rested his arms on his knees.

You grunted in protest. “What if we need to move because of the storm?”

He just scoffed at your response. “You’ll be fine, little bunny, just rest. We got a while till it clears, we ain’t gonna be caught off guard.” He leaned back a bit to stretch his limbs, allowing that calmness to wash over him.

You wanted to fight him on it, but you were just too tired, you could feel how heavy your eyes were becoming, so you yawned and sighed instead. “Alright, fine, but if anything happens… wake me.” He nodded in response, but you reached out and gently touched his arm, pulling his attention back to you. “Whatever this was, I had a good time tonight, so thank you, cowboy.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Sure, didn’t know what the hell I was doin’ after so long, but thanks for not callin’ me out too harshly on it.”

You shrugged and decided to pull some of your clothes back on despite feeling the dampness from the sweat, or the stickiness from your shared orgasms. “Ain’t no shame in it, cowboy, so long as you had fun…” you smirked as you balled up your jacket and placed it under your head. “Plus it seemed you caught on eventually.” Your voice faded slightly while your eyes closed, but you were still listening to him breathing, your body closer toward his to feel that sense of comfort you grew to appreciate from him.

After a moment, your breathing slowed, and your chest rose and fell gently while the Ghoul stared at you, admiring you in the sickly glow of green that illuminated your silhouette from outside. He smiled a little to himself while he twisted around to reach for his coat, then gently draped it over your body. He was surprised at himself for acting the way he was, but you weren’t awake to see this side of him, the side he hid from everyone and most days himself. While you slept, he kept watch as best as he could until he felt the same firm grip of sleep that slowly took hold, and as he leaned back against the softness of your shared blanket, his smile grew.

He wasn’t sure what the future held for either of you, but after tonight, the Ghoul had a strange feeling that things would be more interesting between you both, but for now, he’d bask in the feeling that this evening brought.

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pomefioredove · 2 days

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hi hi there! I'm not sure if I'm doing this correctly, but can I request vil comforting the reader through a breakup? (totally not self indulgent comfort) I love your writing so much and you write vil so well. Thank you!

anon this isn't related to any exes but I have a bunch of highly specific reaction images in my gallery to use when I describe a person (usually a man) I personally think vil schoenheit would hate

summary: vil has always hated your ex type of post: short fic characters: vil additional info: implied romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, hurt/comfort

There are very few things Vil Schoenheit is ever wrong about.

Even when he wants to be.

There are a million and one ways he could have said I told you so.

He might have even given himself a little pat on the back if the timing was better, but this was about you, not him and his excellent judge of character.

He never liked that person.

Thus, when you had turned up at his door not too long ago, looking like a kicked puppy, that was his very first guess.

And now, he dabs at the corners of your eyes with a silk handkerchief, trying to salvage the lovely makeup look he'd recommended earlier while you talk.

Another cascade of tears fall down your cheeks as you describe the nature of the emergency. He winces.

"Oh, dear. Please tell me you dumped them,"

You shake your head.

One part of Vil is aghast. The other is offended. Not only on your behalf, but at the simple fact that anyone could break up with someone he held in such high regard.

Are they ignorant? Stupid?

How could anyone be so foolish as to let you get away...?

"It's for the better," Vil says, tilting your chin up to prevent any more tears from falling down your pretty cheeks.

You sniffle. "I know you never liked them, but..."

"This isn't about that," he says it plainly, even though it's half a lie. "This is about the fact that you had ever entertained such a character. They're not worth a second of your time, do you hear me?"

You're quiet for a moment, not sure how to respond to his sudden attempt at boosting your confidence.

"It's just complicated,"

"Relationships tend to be. Hold still for me, dear," he picks a stray eyelash off your cheek.

Vil doesn't believe in things like wishing on eyelashes, but even as he blows it off the tip of his finger, he's thinking of you.

"You will survive," he turns back to you, smiling slightly. "Even with your terrible taste in partners."

"If you had it your way, you'd interview every person I liked,"

He rolls his eyes. "Tsk. You say that like it's a bad thing,"

Even now, you can't help a small, weak laugh. There was something rather impressive about the way he could lift your spirits without even trying.

The same thought seems to occur to him, and he smiles, delicately wiping away another tear with the tip of his finger.

"I just don't think I'll meet anyone up to the Vil standard,"

"Good thing you don't have to," he smiles, almost teasingly. "I'm right here, after all."

Another eyelash is wiped away along with the tear, though this time, as he blows it away, he makes a wish.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #queued #(I wish twst had its en release when I was going through my last breakup I just know vil would have saved me)

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anonymous-yandere-writer · 2 days

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You know I was reading your platonic yandere Malleus story and I thought what if the punishment made the Reader realize how actually suffocating it is to be around Malleus and servants constantly? It's kind of inverse of Malleus, who was always didn't like being alone whereas his child realize how liberating it is to be free from royalty and royal expectations. The child, of course, struggled with cooking and cleaning at first, but slowly got the hang of it and realized this is the most fun and freeing they ever had.

Reader when Malleus tells them that their punishment is over and they can interact with him, the servants and act like a royal now:

Y'know, I like this idea. It gives the story a bit more ~angst~ and I think the yandere tab here on tumblr could use even more of that. Thank you for the asks!

Anon-Yan 💌‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Platonic Yandere Malleus

Part 2

Your punishment itself lasted months, almost years, but Malleus could only bear to keep you in that rickety old tower for so long.

Until he decided to take you out make you "prove" to him that you changed.

You didn't really have to prove to him much, all had to do was give a half-hearted "Sorry" and he would've forgiven you.

Though it wasn't like you didn't change during your time up in the tower. You'd like to think you actually changed quite a bit.

Given that you're not some Manipulative little shit anymore, the servants would also agree.

Due to your time in the Tower you grew to be very self-dependent. You learned how to cook, clean, solve your problems all by yourself. Without the help of your "Loving Father".

You also got alot quieter, having spent the previous months in isolation. You basically unlearned any and all social skills that you had previously built.

While Malleus expected you to change, that being the whole point of him doing this, he didn't expect such a big change in personality.

He thought you were going to remain his precious little baby, who cried and hugged their father. Begging him for forgiveness.

His little baby that thrived off of his attention. Going so far as to become a little troublemaker for it.

Instead you're....this

Don't get him wrong, he still loves you. But where is his precious baby? Now instead of following him around like a lost puppy constantly you stay in your room for hours on end, barely making it out to have supper with him and the rest of the family before slipping away and back into your room again.

What are you even doing in there for so long? He doesn't get it.

He also learns that you've shooed off any and all servants that come to attend to you. While it is good progress for you being a good royal and not needing servants, Malleus doesn't know if he can handle you growing up so fast.

Or at all for that matter.

"Dear, I'm worried about you. You've been hauling yourself up in this dark and dreary room of yours for the past month! And not once have you come out to spend some bonding time with me and the rest of the family. Was I too harsh punishing you? If I was please tell me! If you're upset or angry at me for what I did please just say something, anything!"

Malleus gets desperate when he realizes that you aren't a baby anymore. You don't need him to survive anymore. The fact alone makes him want to cry.

But then again wasn't that how this all started? With you acting like a bratty two year old and needing to be taught how to be both an adult and a royal.

So why then..why are these feelings so conflicting?

Yes, he got what he wanted. You're acting like an actual royal now.

However you barely even speak to him. Your own father!

He can't wrap his head around his own emotions, it isn't until you come up to him and announce your plan of leaving the castle to go venture the world all on your own does he finally snap.

He doesn't even listen to your reasoning he just grabs you by your wrist yet again and take you to your 'new bedroom.'

A room right next his, only accessible to him.

This is the only way he can keep you in line.

This is the only way he can make sure the Draconia name is upheld.

This is the only way he can keep you at his side.

Forever.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this, my child, but one day you'll understand. You'll finally see things the way I do. But until then I'll just have to keep you here and give you all the love I could ever give."

"Sweet dreams, little one."

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remember-that-one-blog · 1 day

Text

Waiting for You

A/N: This is a little shorter than I normally do, but it felt right. Enjoy, lovelies!

Rhys x reader

word count: 1.3k

Warnings: none

You woke drenched in sweat. The remnants of the nightmare lingered behind your eyelids. You couldn’t bring yourself to think of it. You saw a flash every time you blinked. You couldn’t shake the jitteriness you felt. You didn’t have to look at the clock to know sunrise was hours away. Throwing the covers off your body, you stood and tugged a robe on while you slid your slippers on. You made my way downstairs to the kitchen. There already at the table was Mor. She caught your eye as you made your way down the last few steps.

“Couldn’t sleep?” You shook my head.

“You either?” She mirrored my earlier action. She slid a warm mug of tea toward you. She answered your question before you could ask. “I heard you tossing and turning. I figured you’d be down here soon.” She knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes. You couldn’t believe how lucky you got with her, with them. Your family.

“How are you holding up?” You raked a hand through your hair. You didn’t want to think about it. That’s what your nightmare was about.

“I’m barely holding on, Mor. It’s been weeks.” She nodded silently. It’s been months since any of us had heard from him. Your mate. “I don’t feel anything at the end of our bond either. I don’t know how he survived when I had to do that.”

“He was about like you. Barely hanging on, but he knew he had to put his people first. Just like you’re doing.” You took a deep breath. Being High Lady of the Night Court was everything you didn’t know you wanted. You loved it, loved your people, but dammit if you didn’t want to hide away until Rhys was back. Or we found him. You didn’t know what to do anymore.

“What happened that day? You were right with him.” You let out a breath as you contemplated your next words. How do you tell them you failed them? Failed your mate? It was quiet for so long Mor didn’t think you were going to answer.

“It was so quick.” She looked at you while you looked at the mug of tea between your hands. You thought back to that day. Your nightmare. “We were trying to contain that rogue. He was quick, not as quick as Rhys but quick enough to surprise us. Rhys lunged and then there was a flash and they were gone. I wasn’t quick enough.” You whispered the last part so quietly you weren't sure it even left your lips.

“Don’t you dare.” The tears in your eyes that threatened to spill stayed at bay, teetering on your lids. “You couldn’t have known, neither did he. You did everything you could and so did Rhys. He’ll come home.” You just nodded as the tears silently slid down your face. He had to come home.

It had been weeks since that night with Mor. You were still waking up to watching Rhys disappear. In your nightmare it was always the same. Every. Time. His end of your bond still felt silent. You couldn’t feel him or hear him. You missed him. You missed his smirk. You missed his smart ass comments. You missed his laugh. You miss it all. You missed all of him. You would send your thoughts down the bond even though you knew there wouldn’t be a reply. You would try. You would always try.

“Are you listening?” You startled as you saw Amren, Azriel, Cassian, and Mor looking at you. Amren was waiting for your reply.

“I wasn’t. I’m sorry.” Amren sighed.

“You know what, we can handle this. You go home, get some rest, girl.” Without another word to the others, you stood up making your way out of Amren’s apartment.

Sighing you looked out at the Rainbow. You loved this place. You adored your home. It just didn’t feel like home without Rhys. You sighed as you let your mind wander. In those weeks he had been gone you hadn’t felt like yourself and you knew why. You had kept your scent concealed since you figured it out. The others just assumed it was because you hadn’t been yourself since Rhys disappeared, wanting to keep to yourself. Keep your sadness to yourself. It just didn’t feel right having them know when Rhys couldn’t. You made your way to the townhouse. Oh, how you wanted your mate back.

You sighed as you entered the townhouse. You kicked your shoes off and hung your jacket up. You were so lost in your thoughts you didn’t notice the man sitting in the living area as you made your way toward the stairs.

“Seems to me you need to pay more attention to your surroundings, darling. Anyone could sneak right up on you.” You whipped your head around to see Rhys a little worse for wear sitting on the couch. You couldn’t decide what you wanted to do more, run to him or drop to your knees. The latter won as you sunk to the carpet unable to hold yourself up anymore. Rhys was instantly up and kneeling in front of you. You felt his hands cup your cheeks. You looked into those violet eyes of your mate.

“You’re alive.” His smile damn near broke you.

“I am. I had to come back to you, my love. I will always come back to you.” You held your mate’s face in your hands. He was here. He was in front of you. It wasn’t until this moment you could feel him on the other end of the bond. You felt him stroke the walls of your mind asking in. You immediately let him in. You felt him as he held you in every way he could.

“My darling, mate. I have missed you these weeks.”

“I’ve missed you. What happened? Where were you?” He sighed as he took you in. He was going to answer your question, but he wanted to look at his beautiful, beautiful mate first.

“Under the Mountain.” Your eyes widened. “It was some fae, who are now dead, and who figured out too late to never take the High Lord of the Night Court. They managed to put the wards back up that Amarantha had in place. No one will ever be able to do it again.That was why I couldn’t reach you, or you, me.” You stroked his cheeks with your thumbs. You hated those who took him back down there. That gods awful place. He was here, in your home. Right in front of you. He looked exhausted, you could feel it. You moved to stand, Rhys right behind you, moving his hands from your face to your waist.

“Let’s get you washed up, my love. I know you’re exhausted.” The soft smile he gave you nearly broke your heart.

“Always looking after me.”

“I always will.” You were so caught up in having him back, you didn’t realize you let your other guard down as well. You watched as Rhys’s brows furrowed. He took a deep breath trying to figure out what was different.

“Love, what-” That's when it hit him. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “Darling…”

You smiled at the High Lord. He was speechless for once in his five hundred years. He looked down to your still flat stomach and then to your eyes for confirmation. You gave him a small smile and nodded. Tears sprang to your eyes and his. He let out a strangled laugh. He kneeled in front of you, placing a hand on either side of your belly. He placed a kiss right below your belly button. You couldn’t smile harder if you tried as the words left his mouth.

“Hello, little one, we’ve been waiting for you.”

#rhys x reader #rhysand x reader #azriel x you #cassian x reader #rhys acotar #acotar #cassian acotar #azriel acotar #acomaf #mor x reader

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becauseimanicequeen · 2 days

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Why in the world would you like toxic characters? Why are you so proud of that? What is it even to be proud of? What's wrong with you?

Well, my dear Anon. If you only knew how many times I've asked myself those very same questions…

And the answers always come down to: It’s fiction.

And even though fiction is a vital part of life (just like any other art form) and you can learn a lot from it (you have no idea how many toxic people I’ve been able to avoid, before they even found out my name, thanks to my love for toxic characters and seeing their red flags), fiction is also just fiction.

The characters aren’t real, even though they can seem like it. Just because I love a character that's toxic as fuck doesn't mean I would condone real people who behave that way.

Also, I’m not hurting anyone with my obsession with toxic characters. It’s not like I'm forcing anyone to think like me (and for the love of all things holy, don't do that!).

Besides having a healthy obsession with the toxic characters I love, I’m not very emotional (for lack of a better word) about what I watch. I can be intrigued by toxic characters without either excusing their behavior and actions or hating them (because there’s enough hate in the world for me to do that shit). I can watch taboo topics and other shit that most people find triggering and not be triggered (even though I see the taboo topics for what they are). I can watch problematic stuff and see beyond it to what’s really being said (even though I see the problematic stuff for what it is).

But that’s just me. And I would never force my perspectives on anyone else because I know the majority isn’t like me (which is a good thing, btw).

So, if you don’t vibe with my shit, block me. I don’t mind.

Trust me. I’ll survive. You’ll survive. The world won’t fall apart. We’ll both be okay. Just block me.

Because I will keep loving my favorite toxic fatherfuckers. I won't excuse their behavior and actions. But I will love them.

And the only one who can stop me is ME. But I don’t want to because I love all the shades of toxic bitches and red flags.

Like Boston from Only Friends.

And Todd from Not Me.

And Chalothon from The Sign.

And Ray from Only Friends.

And So from House of Stars.

And Yai from Big Dragon.

And Way from Pit Babe.

And Boeing from Only Friends.

And let's not forget Vegas from KinnPorsche!

And Yoden Ryoji from Dangerous Drugs of Sex.

And Yong Jie from HIStory 4: Close to You.

And Rio from The Novelist.

And Ritsu from To the End of the World With You.

And definitely Ming from My Stand-In!

I love them all because I have issues. But so do all of them, which is precisely why I love them.

Thank you for your ask.

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emthimofnight · 2 days

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We have heights, we have voices....now we need a run down on the Siblings personality! Then the trilogy will be complete...and then I can (affectionately) release Stellar from my 6 star basement of adorableness.

HAHAHA OKAY!! I will do as you ask for the safe return of my baby girl 🙏

Void

Confident, calculating, and unnerving.

Rarely without a smile on his face.

Has the energy of an apex predator. Unflinchingly comfortable in spite of any danger, having never known what it feels like to be prey.

Strongest out of his siblings and the leader of their little trio.

Manipulative and power hungry.

His creators have no real control over him. They've created a monster.

Views life as a game and himself as the main character. Doesn't recognize other people as actual people, only as pawns for him to play with. If they don't play the game they way he likes, he breaks them.

Taller than both Sonic and Shadow. Doesn't view either of them as parents, only genetic donors.

He sees Shadow in particular as his prototype.

Only acknowledges other people as important if they have great power or something that he recognizes as stand-out.

Has never known defeat nor fear. Both of these things have the power to shatter his world view.

His siblings are afraid of him for good reason.

Who is to say what his sexuality is??? Probably power-sexual. 😂 He would only ever be attracted to someone based off of strength or what they could offer him.

Andromeda

Short-tempered, snide, and bitter.

A gloomy person over all, almost always in a perpetual state of scowling.

The emotional core of the failed experiment trio. Does her best to keep Void and Polarity from killing each other.

Deeply envious of Stellar and her happy relationship with Sonic and Shadow. Wonders why she wasn't found and whisked away to a better life.

Awful self-esteem. Knows she is unhappy with her life in Cosmic Labs, but doesn't see any way out. At least she has a place she belongs if she stays inside the box that was made for her.

Cares for both Void and Polarity, but doubts if Void returns that sentiment. She and Polarity are close, getting along well when they are alone.

Pressured by their creators to get Void to behave. Since they cannot punish him, Andromeda and Polarity are often punished in his stead.

Secretly craves love, affection, and praise. Despite this, she chooses to fight Stellar whenever they encounter one another instead of accepting her offerings of sisterhood.

If she had to pick between Void or Polarity, she'd pick Polarity.

She is a lesbian!

Polarity

Hot-headed, resentful, and explosive.

The weakest of the siblings (including Stellar) and he knows it. Only outdoes them in speed.

Has an extremely tumultuous relationship with Void. He is constantly trying to prove himself to their creators, but is outshone by his elder brother.

Despite this, he trains harder than either of his siblings, and is often covered in bandages from overworking himself.

Takes the most after Sonic despite everything, and is a fun-loving, quick-witted, and gentle person at his core. If isolated and given enough time to open up, he is actually very sweet.

Only ever confides in Andromeda, and cares about her deeply. He will often step in and take punishments in her stead.

A closeted nerd. Has a stash of old comic books that were given to him by a generous lab worker that he has read cover to cover countless times. He could quote any scene from memory.

Often speaks out against Void and his methods. Void has gotten very good a tuning him out on missions.

Lowest chaos energy reading of all Project Stellar experiments, but cannot be beat in willpower and determination. Notable for his inability to ever give up.

Has constant dark circles around his eyes from lack of sleep and stress. Rarely ever rests.

He is bisexual!

Original post with Stellar's failed lab sibs if they had survived:

#answered asks #lore dump #sibling au #fankid au #void the hedgehog #andromeda the hedgehog #polarity the hedgehog #stellar the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sonadow #shadonic #sonadow fankid #sonadow fanchild #sth #sonic #to everyone thinking void would be a good big brother....... sorry #maybe in an au where Shadow found all four of them

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pursuitseternal · 3 hours

Text

“Your body’s already given you away:” life-saving, body heat smut for “Bites in the Night”

Spawn!Astarion x F!Reader |E| 4K

🎨by @zuzanamariana, @qveenofthorns on Twt— NSFW full version under the cut

Summary: Storms come quickly in the Mountain Pass, and they are brutally cold. What if your only chance for survival was in the hands of your well-fed Vampire love…

CW: oral sex, near deaths experience, fighting hypothermia, Astarion is bad at feelings, PiV, possessive, protective Astarion, a rescue mission that wishes they hadn’t found them the next morning.

Ao3 link |Series ao3 link| Masterlist

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Night falls fast in the Mountain Pass, the thin air makes you struggle a bit harder to breathe… that, or it’s the way Astarion licks your folds clean of your mixture of cum after your rigorous coupling… Some hunting and foraging mission… you laugh at yourself. He lifts his head, lapping the blood on his chin from where he’s fed from you, cleaning himself of all that mess you made together.

“The camp might go hungry, darling… but I assuredly have not,” he flashes that wicked smirk as he moves to hover over your half-dressed body as you lay on the ground.

“You’ve never been a selfless one,” you tease, wiping your thumb to clean one last spot of blood from the side of his cheek.

“We only said we would try to find something to eat…” he runs a finger through the trail of blood on your neck that still dries and sucks his fingers clean. “I have found something to eat… and it was oh so delicious.” His voice is pure velvety seduction, and you’re sure you would risk anything in this cool Mountain Pass if he asked to take you again, one more time under the bright stars.

But as you open your eyes, you don’t see stars… you see a flash of light…. A rumble of thunder follows in the distance. “Shit,” you panic, shoving him off of you as you scramble to pull your breeches back on and fix your tunic and jacket. “We are a long way from camp… we need to beat the storm.”

Astarion only lays completely naked on the ground, smirking up at you. “The way your heart just pounds when you’re afraid is truly delightful, you know,” he taunts you, seemingly unwilling to leave. His hand reaches for yours as if to pull you back down for more of his attention, but you bat it away.

“No games, my vampire. Mountain storms are no laughing matter, not that you would know, city boy…”

He raises a defensive, ostentatious finger at you and waves it. “I’ll have you know, I didn’t always…”

A burst of light, a crack of thunder silences even his sass. A few drops of rain start to fall, and you just shake your head at your careless, foolish vampire as he tries to scramble into all his clothes. Picking up the packs of supplies, you start down the trail of the mountain, his feet hastening behind you as you make turn after turn.

Rain falls harder and harder until you can barely see. All that keeps you together is his vice-like grip on your elbow to keep you sure footed, a trait you characteristically lack without him. “We have to get out of the rain!” you scream at him, right for his pointy ear, as lighting illuminates the mountain path around you.

“Any brilliant ideas?” he belts back at you.

“You’re the elf, the vampire… what do your sharp eyes see?”

“Oh, same as yours, I imagine,” he snipes in reply. “Lots of fucking rain.” Suddenly he feels you shaking in his hand… You’re shivering and chattering, lips blue as the rain pours over your whole body. “What in the hells?” he asks himself more than you. “You… can’t be…” he watches your eyes rolling back in your head as your body collapses. “Oh for fucks sake, why can’t you also be undead for these sorts of things?” He teases exasperatedly to the silence, but only because his heart aches, his soul made heavy as he throws you over his shoulder and makes his way to the mountain side.

There’s a quick burst of lighting, just enough to reveal the mouth of a cave, and Astarion hopes it’s warm and dry and safe. He manages to fumble his way into the dark, every sense inside him scans for danger, but he hears nothing and smells nothing. He carefully sets your shivering body down. Sticks scattered around the cave floor are easy for him to collect; a simple spell casts enough fire to get a little warmth started. The storm rages just outside the shallow cave… and the light is enough for him to scan your face, your eyes shut and lips trembling and blue from the mountain chill and rain.

“Godsdammit, wake up,” he shakes you. His hands pull you against his chest. But both your bodies are soaked. His mind whirs, every instinct for survival kicking in. He searches through the pack; a single blanket near the bottom isn’t soaked. His hands work quickly over your own nearly-corpse-cold body to pull off your wet clothes from your numb limbs. Carefully he cradles your head, pulling you closer to the fire and wrapping you in the one dry thing he’s found.

Gods… this must be how I look… he stares at your ephemeral beauty, your skin devoid of color, chilling to the touch. The only differences are the slow rush of chattering breath in your lungs and the slightly faster beat of your heart than his own. Not that he’s counting every pulse that rushes in your carotid to make sure you’re still alive.

For your own sake. Not his…. He shakes his head in further denial.

But still, you shiver, moaning and mumbling to yourself, and not in that cute way you do when you sleep heavily in your mortal sleep as he watches you in his bedroll. This is… sickly… frail. Your skin is cold, even to him.

But if you are cold to his touch… he must be warmer. He pulls off his own wet clothes. Trying to dry his skin off as much as possible, he lays under the blanket beside you, covering your back with his flesh, and pressing you closer to the fire. Thank whatever gods were listening that he fed on you and fed so well before.. giving him just enough bloom of life in his undead body to share your body heat back with you.

“What good is a living, beating heart if you give up now?” He hisses vehemently to himself, taking your right arm, he rubs it, getting the blood to flow to warm your fingers, colder than he is in undeath. Huffing his mildly warm breath on his palms, he does the same with the other arm. Then he raises up the blanket, repeating that attentive rubbing and shaking with your legs. The scent of your coupling at the apex of your thighs makes his stomach turn. What in the hells had he been thinking…. Making you both stay out so far from camp…

That sharp slice of guilt gets pushed down quickly as he touches your thigh and rubs. Then your other leg. They both twitch, your breath starts to come a bit more pronounced.

Quickly, he throws two more large branches on the fire and slides under the blanket, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He slinks one hand under your nose to make certain you’re breathing. “For fucks sake,” he snarls. “You had better not die, don’t be selfish, darling…”

That’s when your eyes finally open, hearing that edge of sass in his voice. “Ast…ar…” your voice shakes as your teeth chatter still.

“Shh, back from the grips of death,” he smirks a bit cocky, “at least that’s one of us,” he gives that high-pitched, inane giggle. You struggle to sit up, but that arm just braces you back to the ground…

…not unlike the moment you met this Vampire. But your mind struggles to make sense of reality, the memories of that wreckage and the warm sun… the chill that still creeps over your bones.

You shiver hard, and he only holds you closer to his body, scooting you closer to the fire. “Please don’t insist on being stupid. Just hold still. We had the good sense to let me feed so much from… all those parts of you…” he feels you shiver at the memory of his tongue on your neck and between your thighs, “it’s given me enough of your blood in my veins to correct your foolishness.”

“My f-f-foolishness?” you fight the stutter on your tongue. You lie there, looking up at him as he lifts that haughty, grinning face to hover over yours. Head resting on his palm, elbow bent right beside your ear, he traces that lukewarm touch over the top of your arm.

“You’re in no condition to debate me, darling,” he smirks down at you. “Maybe you should save your strength and just let me try to warm you up for once.” He shakes his head, a disparaging grin as he raises up even higher, keeping those taunting, crimson eyes focused on the way his fingers run up and down your skin. “They say rubbing helps….” He flashes you that fanged grin and leans his face into yours. “Anywhere in particular you really want me to warm you up?”

You shiver still under his hand that is drawing your blood to pound a little warmer, a little more lively. “Fuck you,” you snipe back at him, managing not to chatter your teeth for once.

“Oh, you’re not ready for that again, my dear.” His voice is warmer than the fire, and makes your skin prickle more than the feeling that slowly returns to your body. If you weren’t still blue in the lips and weak in the hands, you’d be torn between slapping that conceited grin or kissing those irritating and attractively curling lips. “Now hush,” he furrows his brows as if he can chastise your thoughts, “and let me make you feel hot… all… over.”

“I hate you,” you hiss, his hands indeed dragging a lukewarm touch over your collarbone to trace around your upper body. He manages to touch you everywhere but your breasts, and even still your nipples seem to harden even more.

He tuts his tongue at you, leering now with an increasingly predatory gleam. “No, you don’t…” he gives a low, deep throated laugh, the likes of which you hear rarely, only in these moments when you feel totally played under his fingertips, that little edge of danger flitting behind his eyes. That wandering, teasing touch wanders lower, still touching you with a little hint of warmth and friction, but never anywhere you crave for it to brush.

“I… notice I’m naked…” you say as he brushes his fingers over your smooth skin.

“A necessity,” he grunts, feeling you shift your back against him more deliberately. “Wet clothes would only make it harder for you to thaw.”

“…and I notice you’re naked too…”

“Well,” he hems, his hand pausing right on the crest of your hip, “skin to skin is the best method of sharing heat, and given how little I am warmed even after your delicious blood today…”

“Seems like one of us is doing well for thems-s-selves,” you shiver hard one more time, your ass brushing against his belly, but he lacks that familiar prod of his erection against the backs of your thighs. Uncharacteristically soft.

He scoots back the moment he feels you brush him there… a tell-tale clearing of his throat as his hand starts to rub your side… your collarbone… harder and faster. “Ahhh,” he sighs dramatically, starting to press his lips to your pulse point, “there’s that merry dancing of your heart, darling. And all it took was a crooked touch…” he smirks down at you, “…easy…” He purrs in that same voice he uses to gloat when he cracks open a chest of loot.

Only the loot now is your life.

You do in fact sense the tingling beginning to fade, the numbness thawing in your hands and feet. You reach to catch his hand in yours. The shock of your cold touch makes him jump slightly for once. And you smirk a bit at the reversal, your moment of revenge. Pressing those magical lengths of his fingers to your lips, you breathe across the top of them. “A good thing you’re just so skilled with these, my rogue, even if, given the circumstances, you were more nervous today…”

“Nervous?” he scoffs at the words, letting you hold his hand to your lips again. “I am never nervous, darling. I knew you’d come around, knew you’d wake back up with the right tender care.” Those crimson eyes flicker as he inhales sharply, determinedly reaching his hand from your soft lips to grip your chin and turn your smirking face up into his.

But you just snicker softly, sliding your back until you’re flush against him. “Nervous,” you insist, another deliberate grind of your backside against his lower body, still stirring to life. “When have you ever held me naked in your arms and not been…”

“Alright, hush you,” his eyes narrow, a bit intimidating and playful at once, as he moves that grip on your chin to close your mouth. “Some way of thanking your saviour…” he smirks, tip twisting to that rakish angle. “It was cold…”

You nod your head, matching his gaze with an insolent one.

“…I was distracted, focused on keeping that pretty little heart of yours beating…”

“Uh huh…” you nod again, lifting your head a bit to close that distance on his defensive, impish half-smile.

“How dare you,” he hisses dramatically. “I am a vampire, forever young, seduction incarnate. I need but a drop of blood to make myself harder and as beautiful as marble sculptures.”

You grind against his hips, that cock of his still only semi-hard, cradled by those perfect balls of his.

“Seems like you could use a top off of my blood then…” you taunt with another grind of your ass cheek.

“Please…” he snips with a suck of his teeth. “I’m doing you a favor, I know how insatiable you are when I’m that excited. And you were in no state for rigorous activity.”

Another rub of your rear against his, your hand reaches to grip into that perfect arch of his own ass. Your voice sounds rough with need and edged with sultry mockery: “Alright, Mister Seduction Incarnate… ”

“Tut tut, you can’t tell me you disagree.” He brushes his lips to your ear, his breath cool again, your own pulse strong enough to thrum behind his voice as he rasps that familiar line: “Your body’s already given you away…. Warming up so quickly under my touch, coming back to life for your undead lover…”

Now it’s your turn to suck your teeth and act condescending. “Tch, you’re not that hot you know.”

“Now that your blood has receded I suppose my touch is cooler again, my heart beating so slow once more…” you feel his legs hook yours, slipping between your thighs, one rakish devil of a knee pushing your legs apart. “Unless you meant my ruinous good looks, in which case,” he pushes you into the dirt, the blanket and the campfire no longer the only things making your body warmed all over. “Good thing you’re not so freezing any more so I can prove it to you otherwise.”

He presses his mouth to your ear, his lips sucking the shell of your ear, fangs dragging over the soft lobe at the bottom. “All that grinding you did… you tease… that’s the thanks I get for saving your life.”

“I needed friction…” you pout, a little bratty in your tone.

He presses harder, his pelvis against yours. “Likely story from someone who thinks themselves oh so charming…” Bucking harder, you feel that revealing twitch against your mound. “Show me how lively you are now, darling, and I’m sure we can both warm up wonderfully.”

You arch your back into the dirt of the cave, a blush barely starting to bloom over your cheeks as he looks down at you, like you’re something precious and delicious all at once. That silken touch traces your rosy cheek, and for all his bravado and taunting, you see a light of relief in the deep crimson of his eyes. But before you can let it sink in how much he just might care for you… he dives for your neck and bites again.

For as sudden as his teeth break your sin, his lips and tongue caress you, delicate laps and tender little suckles. Just enough to bring an edge of warmth back in his hands that roams your collarbone and wanders down to clutch around your breast. The moment your blood hits his veins, you feel that hardness thicken.

You grin as he lifts that scarlet smile from your neck. “Seems like someone is happy to see me alive,” you taunt, raising your hips to rub against his increasing erection that prods up to your navel.

Astarion chuckles, that well practiced smile masking his thoughts as he slowly, agonizingly drags his length forward… and back… over your mound. Fingers tease your nipples, softly plucking them to little hard pebbles. “A little gratitude wouldn’t go amiss,” he rasps down at you, watching you grow pinker under his caresses with an eagerness that draws his face that much sharper.

“Say it…” you sigh as he continues to hump that mass of curls between your thighs so slowly. “Admit it.” Your voice is insistent, your hands grip into that perfect roundness of his ass.

“I’ll admit,” he gives that peeved little sigh, “you were trouble to carry over my shoulders in the rain. A miracle I didn’t drop you.” Nails dig slightly into your breast. “

“Insufferable,” you sigh, baiting him as your own hand slips between where he hovers over you to catch those perfectly rounded, smooth and velvety balls of his. “Admit you were… nervous.”

“I’m more nervous now that you’ve got those in your grip, darling,” he gives a pleasured, breathless laugh as you toy with them slowly.

“So you were a little nervous before, when I was nearly lifeless in your arms?” you push him with your words, a slightly rougher tug on his balls to emphasize your point.

He grabs for your wrist and pulls your hand to rest on his chest, an adoring little kiss on your palm before he puts it where his heart would be beating. For a moment he gives you a wordless answer, it’s small and subtle: just a softening of those taunting creases at the corner of his eyes as they go tender and wide. It’s just a hint of what had been raging inside, the inner tempest of his fear siphoning off to a single tear that remains unshed in the corner of his blood-red eyes.

A flash of his fangs in his smile, and it’s gone, that worry. He doesn’t even let you dwell on it, not as he grinds suddenly harder against your folds, angling perfectly to drag that rock hard, velvety length over your clit until…

…you gasp, suddenly filled to the brim as he slides his way inside. As if he would be unnoticed.

He laughs deep in his chest as you arch, receiving the welcome intrusion. Gripping the back of your knees, he splays you wide, that blanket long shrugged off now, leaving just your skin to glow in the firelight and the fading flashes of lighting from the cave mouth. “Well… it seems something has made you all hot and bothered, darling…” he purrs down at you, raising your right leg even higher as he makes slow, deliberate thrusts into your slick.

“Yeah, you did to make sure I didn’t slip away permanently on you…” you try to make light of your own near-death.

That softness returns for a moment. “Can you blame me?” he barely makes enough sound to be heard, something quieter, more secretive than a whisper. Then he shakes his head, returning to smirking and pounding harder into you, arm wrapped tightly around your leg to keep your folds close to him. “Or rather, can you thank me?” That haughty, velvet tone returns.

You reach a hand for his smirking, arrogant, gorgeous face, your lips softly smiling as he stills for a moment as you brush his cheek. “Thank you,” is all your whisper.

Floodgates burst, he lowers that leg and covers you with his body. Arms snug around your shoulders, legs pressed beneath yours to push your thighs high and wide for him. An embrace of lust… of a little death, where every inch of his body is aimed to possess you. Protect you.

He won’t say it outloud, his mouth too busy deeply diving into yours, dancing his tongue and consuming your every breath before it leaves your lips. Every slap of his body into yours makes your teeth rattle and your neck tight. Or maybe that’s the way he has one hand clawed into your hair at the nape of your neck, two fingers pressed into your pulse point. As if he’s just making triple sure your heart beats, alive still and always for him.

A wave of pleasure crashes into you, you didn’t even recognize where it began, barely feeling where it ends. It seems constant, a simultaneous rending and refilling of your body under his taught frame as he fucks you. His lips suck yours, as if he needs to know you breathe. His hand claws your left breast, as if he needs to feel the thumping of your living heart beneath it. Fangs grit, hips erratic, he drives into you harder and faster. A burst of wet, a groan in your mouth, and you finally feel him stilling and shuddering as he fills you with his seed. His full weight presses you into the cave floor, a smile of relief spreads on his lips as he nuzzles into the top of your breasts, squashed as they are under his shoulders.

“Warmer?” he grumbles, half into his trance already. “After all that hard work of mine, I sure hope so…” His sleepy voice warms your heart more than even his body could blushed with life from feeding.

“Mmhmm,” I all you manage to say against the tufted top of his white curls as you nod off too.

Before you know it, you’re waking up again to the sounds of birdsong outside the cave, the scent of faded fire in your nose, that meager pile of logs long gutted out. His mussy, unkempt hair tickles your face as you realize he’s still tranced on top of you. That when you hear soft laughter from the mouth of the cave.

Your companions… your rescue party, come to lend a hand… until they find you with more than a hand at your service.

“Hmm,” Gale’s blustering and flustered voice brings you soundly out of your sleep. “Seems a rescue mission wasn’t necessary after all…”

“And here we thought we’d play the hero,” Wyll’s good-humored laugh is tinged just a bit judgy.

Astarion grumbles as he comes too as well, naked body still blanketing yours beneath your single cover.

“No, no,” Shadowheart’s chortle irks you as you feel Astarion shift enough to raise his sleepy head… and reveal your bare breasts that had served as his pillow, “seems like the Vampire remembered that skin to skin is the best way to exchange body heat. Not that he has any, mind you…”

“They’re just jealous I saved your life, darling,” his voice crackles still with sleep even as he shifts to cover you naked body from their view with his own.

“Yes, I’m sure they totally buy the fact that you’re warming me with your corpse-cold body….” You taunt him with that sharp sarcasm of yours and run your hands under the blanket to squeeze his ass. “Even with your good looks, you’re not that convincing.” You kiss him, a simple caress he eagerly accepts and quickly turns deeper and ravenous as he groans between your lips….

…and the rest of your companions groan too as they leave you two to it.

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k0yaz · 1 day

Note

UGGHHHH hear me out on toxic Yuri with acheron or Topaz like for Topaz it might be a little hard to see but basically she entered the IPC for her own survival. in a voiceline she said "my survival mattered more than my freedom" and as sad as that sounds, imagine her sweetheart (non binary idk preferably female) is back on her planet and her family was killed by the IPC and she can't stand the sight of Topaz anymore because in their eyes Topaz is a traitor for joining the IPC and they're this sad gay couple anyone would cry and throw up at the sight of like this big sloppy mess.

For acheron, I think we can have like acheron travelling and reader crashing into her no matter whag planet who are at each other's throats all the time (one-sided because Ion think acheron would gaf) but reader hates acheron and acheron doesn't go slicey slicey on reader because she wants to keep them around. idk maybe she gets amusement seeing their hateful eyes.

This isn't even toxic Yuri but I BEG YOU WHAHHWHWHHA

ignore this if your uncomfortable lol

I can’t.

Pairing(s): acheron x fem!reader

CW: mostly js hating and stuff, potential hate love relationship idk im just bullshitting warnings to fill this space, oh and Acheron lowkey scares reader by almost going slicey slicey but she doesn’t even notice it lol

A/N: someone get her google maps anyway I love acheron sm swawswwjsjsjs

Your muscles tensed up as a familiar face entered your view, her deadpan eyes locking onto you the moment she saw you. Using your free hand, you drew your hand to your eyes, attempting to shield the side of your head and avert your gaze from the Galaxy Ranger.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

The woman you despise deeply, the one you couldn’t escape no matter where you went.

Who else would it be? None other than Acheron herself.

Without hesitation, you found yourself furiously making your way to her, and your face scrunched up at the sight of her. Acheron stared back at you, her gaze hollow and emotionless as if she was waiting for you to say something. God. That stupid, unfeeling look ticked you off so damn much.

“What the hell are you doing here? Did you get lost looking for your hotel room again?”

You snapped at her, face flushed from how irritated you were upon seeing her again.

Acheron only let out a sigh in response, closing her eyes briefly before resting a hand on her hip.

“I was just minding my own business. I don’t understand what got you so irritated. Do you seriously hate me so much that you have to yell at me when you see me?”

Her tone was nonchalant and insouciant, which pissed you off even more. Why wasn’t she bothered at all? Why wasn’t she matching your energy and at your throat too? The fact that she didn’t exactly care about how much you hated her just made your blood boil, it made you feel so small and petty every damn time. Without thinking, you spat at her again, this time your words more harsh as if they had been laced with poison.

“Well why do you have to be everywhere, huh?! Every time I hope to get away from you I can’t! So why? Are you following me or some shit?!” you almost near yelled, brows furrowing and your eyelids lowering slightly.

You slam a fist onto Acheron’s shoulder, jabbing it slightly as you stare down.

You shouldn’t haves done that.

Your eyes widened, and you felt your stomach tighten as your breath caught in your throat. Your eyes trailed down to the end of her hair, heart pounding in your chest from fear as you saw a small fade of white at the tips.

It was barely there, almost not at all, yet you saw it. No doubt.

That alone made you remember, no matter how much you hated her, she was still an emanator of nihility. She could slice you apart and turn you into nothing but a memory if she wanted to.

However when you looked up, you ended up jumping back and away a good 4 feet from her stunned at what you saw.

Was Acheron- smiling a bit?

Your scornful gaze was still glued to your face as you stared her down, confused as to why she smiled for a moment and why she didn’t just kill you on the spot.

“I don’t hate you, hope you know that. But it’s…slightly entertaining to see your expression.”

She paused, taking a moment to think up of something else she wanted to say.

“And I’d prefer to keep you around, honestly.”

Acheron remarked, turning her back to you as she walked away and out of your sight. You still stared off into the distance with a puzzled expression, before running your hand through your hair and closing your eyes.

What- just happened?

traitor.

Pairing(s): topaz x fem!reader

CW: tragic lovers obviously, reader losing her shit, topaz gets fucking slapped lol idk what else to put here I hope yall know on sfw works there’s usually no warnings, um screaming crying throwing up idk gay ppl wowowow

A/N: meowmoew

“I’m sorry I-“

“stop. Just…stop. Okay..?”

You snapped, bringing your hand to crease your forehead and lowering your fingers down to the bridge of your nose near the corners of your eyes. Topaz could only stare back at you with a dejected expression while averting her gaze shamefully.

“It was for my survival…my love, please. I didn’t mean-“

You cut her off again, fighting back the tears that pricked at the corner of your eyes. You choked back a sob as you spoke in a pained voice.

“And yet you still joined the IPC? Did you even think to consider how I would feel?”

A quiet sob escaped your lips as your breath hitched and got in your throat. Within moments tears were flowing down your face, crying uncontrollably with your teeth pressed together and small hiccups spilling out as you buried your face into your hands.

“…you didn’t have to see the bodies of your family, knowing that your lover is the reason for it.”

Topaz could only watch, heartbroken by your sorrow—and it was all because of her. She reached out, attempting to place a hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t touch me! You fucking traitor!”

You yelled, breathing heavily from your sobbing, along with your nose being tinted red and the dried tear cracks down your face being run over by new tears.

Your hands balled up into fists as Topaz stared down at the ground shamefully, dragging her bottom lip between her teeth as to not cry herself.

“(Name). Please. Let me explain.”

She breathed out, trying to keep her own composure. She stepped forward, placing her hands on either side of your head, her thumb brushing along your cheek.

“You have to understand…my survival mattered more than my freedom-“

A slap echoed throughout the vicinity all of a sudden. Topaz stumbled back, the hand that was placed on your cheek now shifted over to her own, grasping her reddening skin. Her eyes widened for several seconds as she processed what happened, breathing quickening slightly. Her own beloved just slapped her.

It was obvious now. You didn’t want anything to do with her anymore.

Topaz quickly recovered from the slap and sighed, her cheek still a blistering red. She stepped forward, cupping your face again and placing her forehead against yours. She grasped your head firmly, fingers tightening as she tried fighting back her own tears.

“I get it. I’m a traitor. But I’m not a traitor when it comes to us, just know that before you go. I still love you.”

She sighed, pressing herself against you more until your noses were touching, and closing her eyes. You could only gasp from the sobs clawing at your throat in response, barely able to form a coherent sentence until Topaz walked away.

You fell to your knees when she was gone, being able to do nothing but cry. And just like that. The love of your life was gone. You wanted nothing to do with her. The pangs of regret ate away at you as you wanted nothing more than to just forgive her and lay in her arms as you mourned your family.

You still loved her. So much.

But you just couldn’t.

You couldn’t be with a traitor.

A/N: AGAGAGAGSGA UR AN ANGEL FOR SEEING MY POST COMPLAINING ABOUT NOT GETTING WLW OR HSR RAHAHAHAHBDBDBDBD

anyway I have my final tomorrow goodbye yall I’m going back to the dead

@qwnelisa

#acheron x reader #acheron #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr #hsr acheron #hsr acheron x reader #acheron honkai star rail #honkai star rail acheron #hsr topaz #topaz #honkai star rail topaz #topaz x reader #topaz and numby #topaz hsr #honkai starrail

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llyfrenfys · 1 day

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Xenophobia in Celtic nations' independence movements: A guide to the red flags

This is something I've wanted to write about for a long time - I want to go over this in more detail when I can. But for now a short guide to the most egregious red flags is warranted imo.

'Celtic nations' refers to the modern regions where Celtic languages are still spoken, namely Ireland, Wales, Scotland, Isle of Man, Cornwall and Brittany. Its important to know that these places are called Celtic not because of who lives there, but because of the languages which have survived there. Its a common error to think 'Celtic nations'= Celtic people. In my field (Celtic Studies) Celtic is generally only applied as a descriptor in the sense of language family.

Because of the popular misinformation 'Celtic nation' = 'Celtic' population, xenophobia rears its ugly head in multiple corners of the various Celtic nations' independence movements. Left unchecked, this xenophobia develops into outright racism. Which is why it's important to recognise these red flags when you see them.

'Acceptable Targets':

The reason why some of the xenophobia goes unchecked (and develops into worse kinds) is because a lot of xenophobia in the Celtic nations is aimed at 'acceptable' targets - which no-one bats an eye about when this rhetoric is deployed. But were it deployed against any other nationalities, it would immediately obvious that it isn't acceptable. Now, I will preface this with that there's nuance with these nationalities and there's something to be said about whether some of it is 'punching up'. However, because of how accepted it is to be casually xenophobic against these privileged groups, it is signalled through that that it's okay to be xenophobic in general to less privileged groups. I feel its important to address the first rung on the ladder before tackling any higher up.

Without beating around the bush, I'm talking about the English (and French. But I know more about the English so that's where my focus will be).

Yes, pro-independence anti-English memes and jokes can be funny. Most of them do stay on the side of punching up and many raise important points on the effects of English imperialism on the Celtic languages. However, there's a fine line between punching up and voluntarily using and wielding xenophobic arguments and rhetoric to get one up on the English. This, in my view, only paves the way for worse kinds of xenophobia and to me is a canary in the coal mine situation. But I also cannot talk about this without also making it clear that it is possible to recognise that sometimes a line is crossed without validating English persecution complexes à la 'you can't even say you're English these days' or similar nonsense. Both things can be true at once: Casual xenophobia against the English does exist, however, its existence should not be used to validate English persecution complexes. On the contrary, we should fight that also.

The reason why this canary in the coal mine has gone unnoticed is because of the reluctance to actually point out xenophobia against the English in pro-independence movements due to fear of accidentally validating the claims Englishness as a concept is under threat or due of fear of ostracism from Celtic nationalist movements. There is little danger of actually validating the former sentiment, however, because of a crucial fact. The people in the Celtic nations being casually xenophobic and the English with persecution complexes have one massive trait in common: they're both xenophobic in incredibly similar ways. If it's hard to tell apart an English nationalist from one in a Celtic nation if you were to swap the target of their ire, congratulations, your movement has a xenophobia problem /s.

English nationalist: We should tighten controls on our borders to keep all those foreigners and immigrants out. Make England English again.

(Xenophobic) Celtic nationalist: We should fight for our independence so we can tighten controls on our borders to keep all those foreigners and immigrants out. Make [insert Celtic nation] [nationish] again.

Many Celtic nationalists will also present ahistorical facts or manipulated versions of history in order to seem more valid or legitimate. It's a massive red flag when someone's grasp of history seems more emotional than grounded in historical fact. Using Welsh history as an example, I've seen this type of Celtic nationalist blatantly lie about historical figures, literally deface ancient castles in Wales based on a poor grasp (and respect for) history and conflate modern English and Welsh identity with ancient entities which do not map neatly 1:1. The ahistory presented by individuals or groups fancying themselves as leaders in their respective movements are unquestioningly accepted by others in the Celtic nationalist movements. This creates a manufactured mythology, belief in which confers in-group status and out-group status. A mythology which reinforces beliefs already present in the movement - such as the right to be casually xenophobic as long as it's against the 'right people' and as long as it is done in the name of protecting or advocating for their nation.

It was never going to stop at English people:

Once casual xenophobia is established as being tolerated, expected or even encouraged in the various independence movements, it enables xenophobes to be bolder in their rhetoric. Because casual xenophobia against 'deserving' nations like England is dismissed as 'just banter' and not taken seriously, it sends a signal to everyone in that movement that xenophobia is okay if its used against the 'right groups. While it may roll like water off a duck's back to the average English person, other, more vulnerable people do not fare so well.

To use an actual example I've seen out in the wild, some people will claim that you can't be considered Welsh unless you were born in Wales. Many people won't question this or interrogate the implications. Firstly, this comes back to how Celtic nationalists can often sound exactly the same as English nationalists (blood and soil nationalism is common to English and Celtic nationalisms). Secondly, this rhetoric also simulataneously invalidates several ostensibly Welsh people, such as Saunders Lewis (born in Liverpool) and Jan Morris (born in Somerset). In most cases, anyone who lives in X country / is a citizen of X country can or should be able to describe themselves as Xish.

The perennial anxiety of Celtic nationalists is that because most of the Celtic nations (excepting the Republic of Ireland) are constituent parts of a state (either the UK or France) and not independent entities in their own right, there is no control over borders and there is no system by which someone can be made a Welsh, or Breton or Cornish etc. citizen - and thus no way to control [nation]ness via those means. When Celtic nationalists agitate for independence, it's important to interrogate their motivations. If they are motivated primarily by a desire to control who is considered Xish and who isn't, that's a red flag.

English nationalists have this citizenship problem too, since England is not an independent nation, but a country within the UK. However, most English nationalists overlap heavily with British nationalists in general, so most agitation for 'sovereignty' gets channelled into British nationalism. This is one of the key differences between English and Celtic nationalists - the former is usually very fond of the United Kingdom, the latter detests it and wants to secede. This leaves Celtic nationalism in a tight spot - there is a desire for self determination which is currently impossible to achieve or enforce. And that makes a lot of Celtic nationalists anxious. And that anxiety leads to feeling like they need to prove their commitment to the cause by performing xenophobia, which validates their in-group status while simultaneously establishes the out-group.

A person born in England but who lives in Wales, perhaps speaks Welsh or considers themself Welsh will, in general, be mostly unharmed by 'you have to be born in Wales to be Welsh' rhetoric. But you know who might be? So many immigrants who consider themselves Welsh who make Wales a great place to be. Immigrants in Wales (especially nonwhite immigrants) may feel excluded by such rhetoric. It's almost on par with "where are you really from" sentiments. And this is an entirely self-defeating kind of rhetoric for Celtic nationalists to take up. Here we have thousands upon thousands of people who willingly want to live and work in Celtic nations - many of whom will also learn the language - undoing centuries of English and French propaganda that diminished the worth of Celtic nations and their languages* - and Celtic nationalists want to exclude these people from claiming the nationality of their adopted nations because... they didn't happen to be born here. Got it.

Xenophobia, once established, cannot be contained:

Xenophobia ripples outwards. Once it is established it is okay to be xenophobic to certain groups, other groups begin to be included in the xenophobia. This then has the potential to expand into outright racism. In Ireland, for example, there's significant amounts of antiblack racism present in the nationalist movement. Very recently, due to the actions of the UK government over the Rwanda Plan, the Republic of Ireland has gotten frustrated at the amount of immigrants attempting to reach their shores after abandoning attempts to claim asylum in the UK (out of fear of being sent to Rwanda). There's a "we don't do that here" attitude in many Celtic nationalist movements with regards to English imperialism, xenophobia, racism and anti-immigration. But not only do we do that here - it's worryingly integral to some people's visions for their nation's independence! You end up with complacency because many will take a literal no true Scotsman approach to Celtic nationalism and pretend that such people aren't really part of the movement. The problem is, is that they are here and regularly hijack otherwise unproblematic movements.

There are many routes through which Celtic nationalists can get radicalised into becoming massively xenophobic in order to fight for their respective nation's independence. All of them stem from real, legitimate problems in each nation whose cause has been misidentified.

One way is through opposition to second homes. On all counts, a noble goal and a very legitimate problem which I myself am invested in fighting. But the ways in which this problem is addressed often veer into questionable territory. If the focus is on "how dare those people from over there come over here" instead of "how dare a very small group of people monopolise housing for holiday lets at the expense of locals" there's a problem. The problem isn't people not from [place] holidaying there, it's the people who monopolise housing for their own profit which reduces housing available for locals and destroys community. In Aberystwyth I've heard some appalling sentiments against people from the Midlands - borderline if not outright classism around their appearances, mannerisms and accents. Sneering at random families visiting the beach isn't going to help anything and only exposes thinly veiled bigotry in whoever is making such remarks.

As already mentioned, another way radicalisation into xenophobic Celtic nationalism can occur is through mythologised 'history' which has been manipulated to suit the needs of the person or people making the claim. Lately, I've been seeing a rise in Welsh 'history' groups rife with disinformation and outright misrepresentation of historical events which are so designed to keep people angry about historical injustices against Wales. There are plenty of real historical injustices which can be talked about - but the 'history' presented in these groups is often fabricated or twisted to make things worse than they were or are stripped of nuance which perhaps paints certain historical figures less favourably than the authors would have liked. Not to mention superimposing modern nationalism onto ancient peoples is also just accepted as fine to do. Here is a screenshot of a Welsh 'history' group shared in a Welsh learning group I'm in. I can and will do a deeper dive into this topic in particular when I can. For now I'll mention the most important things to notice:

As mentioned in one of my other posts on this topic - the term 'native' is frequently misused in a Celtic context. Here, it sets up the basic in-group/out-group dynamic from the start and creates a setting in which members of the group are privy to the 'real' history while others are not. A brief glance at posts in this group makes that quite clear. The flag in the image is a representation of Y Groes Naid - supposedly a piece of the True Cross kept at Aberconwy. Now, there are ways to depict this cross which aren't so dogwhistley - so I'm immediately suspicious this image was chosen on purpose. Right down to the fact there's plausible deniability if anyone tries to point out how much the flag looks like the white supremacist Celtic Cross symbol, since it's Y Groes Naid, right?

I will wrap this up with that as a Celticist, I see far too many people uncritically supporting certain Celtic nationalist movements simply because they are pro-independence. Turning a blind eye to 'acceptable' xenophobia and choosing to believe ahistorical versions of history because it better suits their politics. This must be resisted - we can advocate for the independence of Celtic nations which desire it without relying upon these means. It can be done, I promise. But the path to that means dismantling systems of oppression which exist within Celtic nationalist movements. Awareness of the problem in the first place is a good place to start.

Reblogs and comments are welcome on this post to raise awareness of the issue and actually talk about these things.

Diolch am darllen!

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brittle-doughie · 13 hours

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Imagine Lotus dragon cookie and Longan dragon cookie fighting over Y/N for their love and to pick which side they are on.(Since we had this one update which revolved around Lotus planning to defeat Longan).

Also, can i be 🏔️ (Mountain) Anon?

The Wishful or the Regal (Lotus Dragon vs. Longan Dragon Cookie)

Stuck in the middle of a feud between dragons was not one of the best places to be in, especially if a number of dragons choose to oppose each other. It seemed like you were spared from a fate many cookies before you had fallen victim to.

Given this was all Longan’s doing, you expectedly went to Lotus Dragon Cookie’s palace for refuge. Not surprising for the Blue Dragon, but it still made them happy that you went to them anyway.

You were kept in their personal quarters, in their embrace as the both of you lay on your side. You were only a mere Cookie, yet you had this effect Lotus Dragon that made them want to keep you safe at all times…

Cookies are fragile, so you’re kept in the quarters nearly all the time. Not even the other cookies were allowed to come hear the door, Lotus must always accompany you when you left the room.

Your absence was picked up on immediately by the other dragons, Longan Dragon Cookie especially. Pitaya was too reckless to be housing you, leaving only the obvious choice standing right in front of Longan.

Longan Dragon wasted no time in lambasting Lotus on having you cooped up in their place, if the cookies were on Lotus’ land, then you had to be there as well. Longan made sure that you’d survive the encounter earlier, so your disappearance was most unusual.

Lotus..refused to answer Longan, but they wouldn’t hand you over even if they had you, Lotus knew very well what Longan had been planned for you.

They don’t care about you, they only wanted to use your Life Powder for their benefit and given your…”ability”, it would be potent and give Longan great power.

Longan has had enough of Lotus’ nonsense, your demise was not in Longan’s grand plan. Despite only being a cookie, Longan knew that there was something special about you….

They planned to keep you in their palace, away from everyone else. Not even Lychee was allowed to come close to you without Longan’s direct permission. Yes, your Life Powder was incredibly strong, but Longan will gather only but a portion of it from you, leaving you unharmed.

So Lotus Dragon should watch their mouth before they claim that Longan didn’t care about you again. They’re not afraid to inflict punishment for Lotus’ out of line speech….

#cookie run x you #cookie run x reader #cr x reader #cookie run #cookie run ovenbreak #crob x you #crob x reader #cr ovenbreak #lotus dragon cookie x reader #longan dragon cookie x reader

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gavisuntiedboot · 11 hours

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We Can't Be Friends (but I'd like to just pretend)

Pedri x Reader

Part 1

Warnings: None

Word count: 8.7k

A/N: After a lot of consideration, I have decided to start posting my Pedri series. I think that I can get a lot of interaction with these, and I think it is a good way to feed my soul and get eyes on what is happening in Palestine. So please, if you enjoy this series, consider helping out Palestine. Even if it's just with a click (second link!)

(Also if there are any continuity errors pls pls pls lmk)

Operation Olive Branch is an org working to help raise money to evacuate people from Gaza. I have decided to highlight Anwar and his family, who need to raise $35,000 in order to survive. Please donate what you can:

I will continue to highlight this family on all my posts until they reach their goal inshAllah.

Synopsis: Moving to a new country can be a pain in the ass. So can starting a new job when your position is completely different to what you thought. But nothing is going to stop you from achieving your goal of being the next Law Roach. Not the language barrier, your aching feet on the wonky streets, and definitely not your annoying, full of himself client. Because everything is going to stay professional, right?

~~~

"Bryce, can you please pay attention? God, I hate Americans."

The slow and thick laughter flowed through the line, peppered with static and cutting off whenever a particularly loud vehicle rolled past.

"Self-hating much? You are also American."

"I'm Texan, sweetheart. We are basically our own breed. Now can you help me?" You were finally able to flag down a taxi, stepping in carefully to make sure you didn't flash the driver. The stark white of the flowy skirt contrasted heavily with your bright orange cowboy boots, worn to match the white "TEXAS" baby tee with orange lettering. Your bangles clinked happily against your wrist as the door closed, hair mused by the late September wind. It was a comfort-from-home turned fashion statement, a way to stay close to your roots but show everyone at the office you were the type of girl that people saved on their "cool y2k outfit inspo" Pinterest boards. At least, girls back home would.

"How the hell did you move to a foreign country without learning the language?"

"Because I was supposed to be in PARIS, remember? I didn't minor in French just for mierde and giggles."

"Yeah, yeah, and then Paris decided to self destruct. I've heard the story. Just put me on speaker already."

Through the phone, Bryce's Spanish flows fluently as she instructs the driver to deliver you at your new place of work. Style Di Fortuna was one of the best styling firms in Europe, if not the world. Located a mere two streets from the Passeig De Gracia, there was nowhere better for a young woman to start her career in the fashion world. Except you weren't supposed to be here.

The plan had been perfect. After 4 years working your fingers bloody at UT Austin, you finally turned the bright orange tassel and accepted your B.A. in fashion. You were able to say "couture" with the perfect amount of phlegm to be taken seriously by the French snobs you had interned with, the ones who were supposed to be your colleagues after you graduated. The dreams of smoky cafes, bike rides through the city, and the lights of Paris fashion week were often the only things that helped you push through your professor telling you that you sewed like a blind sloth.

But then the French did what they do best: went on strike. For months. And after the long periods of no productivity and the destruction of half the inventory, you got the concise email that you would need to find employment elsewhere. About a week before you moved to France. So in a blind panic, you applied to every job you could think of within Europe, desperate to not have your first year post grad be spent at the soup kitchen or bagging groceries. You finally heard back from one of your contacts, another alumni from your school who said they could get you a job in Spain, but it was a little far from the type of fashion you wanted to do.

A "yes please I'm begging" email and 24 hours later, you had a job with SDF. Hey, fashion is fashion, and if you have to start by styling TikTokers in sparkly mini dresses before you could get to the good stuff, so be it. There were dues to be paid after all. So you grabbed your already packed bags and changed your ticket from Paris to Barcelona.

"I can speak Spanish. I lived in Texas for 21 years. Just not... Spain Spanish." You said quietly, rummaging through your bag for the ID that had been mailed to you the week prior.

"Right, and my white ass took it in school and he seemed to understand me just fine. So you, Miss Texican, need to stop with the perpetual fear that people will think you're stupid. Be confident and just speak. The company is Italian, anyways. Most of them will probably speak English, and if not, they'll think you're exotic and sexy."

"Mhm I'm sure."

"You're going to do great, okay? Just be yourself. You had like ten billion friends at home. It's almost impossible not to like you. You got it girl - go hook 'em."

Laughter bubbled out of you at her cheesy pep talk, feeling lighter already. She was right - even if you had gotten this job on the fly, your portfolio was super impressive, and people had no trouble liking you. So what was there to be worried about. After bidding her goodbye and having the courage to thank the driver in Spanish, you stepped out of the cab to the front steps of the new building. It was much taller than the surrounding, standing out like a sore thumb amongst the lower buildings and pale stone. Making your way up to the 16th floor, you were quickly ushered past bolts of bright fabric, racks of shoes worth millions, and some very stressed (yet very stylish) other employees.

"So excited that you're going to be joining our team! It is going to be so helpful having some international input to make sure we are not pigeon-holing our clients into fashion that is not received well globally. You will be reporting directly to Katerina, and she will report to me. Your colleagues are mostly male given the nature of the division. But Tania, Silvia, and Maria should be a good support as you move into the role. We also have Juliana who is between here and the Milan office. So it isn't a complete boy's club."

Huh?

After years in fashion, one thing you definitely knew was that it often was not a "boy's club". Sure, all the suits and big investors were often old and withered men, but most of the creative side of the business had been run by almost fully female teams (and the exceedingly rare stylish man).

"I'm sorry, the nature of the team? What do you mean?" You asked, trying to keep smiling while running after her towards a more and more barren part of the office.

"Sorry, was it not included in your offer letter? You're working in our athletics division. We are horribly understaffed in that department, especially now that we have taken on all the Adidas athletes in Spain. My word there are a lot of them. Bellingham alone needs three team members for every event."

No no no no no. This cannot be happening. You had come in prepared to style a lot of things: prom dresses, lingerie, even the scraps of fabrics that were rented out by the local burlesque show. But sports???

Now don't get it twisted, this isn't some "I'm a girl and I don't know anything about sports!" kind of thing. On the contrary. You were at every football game rocking the longhorns, cheering on your friends as they crushed it at basketball, and even tried watching a formula 1 race (there was a three car crash and you fainted) - you were totally hip with sports. Although you were not a fan of stretch materials or athleisure, you were willing to bite the bullet as a first step. The issue was the hidden undertones of your job. It was the fact that you would be working with, from what you could surmise, a lot of male athletes.

Bryce was right - it did feel like you had ten billion friends back home. Everywhere you went, you spoke to strangers with ease, and people warmed quickly, conversation flowing and bonds forming. But that's the issue: everyone seemed to warm to you, and so it meant a lot of male attention. And despite your best efforts, you always made a "too flirty" comment to someone's crush or "inappropriately smiling" at someone's boyfriend. And so as fast as they liked you, suddenly you were public enemy #1, and the drama became all-consuming.

No one seemed to understand. There was constant advice to just brush it off, to ignore the people who brought pain to your life. But you couldn't help it, laying in bed, stomach in knots, questioning why no one could see that you were just trying to be kind to everyone around you. The cycle of worrying had created a very isolating experience.

"Tania! Where are the other girls? I want to introduce you to the newest member of the team."

A girl with blown out black hair turns around, double nose piercings taking a back seat to a piercing charcoal stare. She was in high waisted jeans and a leopard print button up, the first two unbuttoned to show off the black strap of her bra. Her neck was adorned with a simple gold cross necklace, and she flashed a cordial smile as she stuck out a hand.

"I love your shoes." You said sweetly as you exchanged a shake, eager to make your first friend at work (and maybe in all of Spain).

"Oh, thank you. Dolce and Gabanna - they're friends of the firm. Your shoes are..." She gave a glance to the cowboy boots you had on, "muy naranja" (very orange).

You crossed your legs, self confidence waning after she addressed you like you had traffic cones on your legs. You were introduced to Silvia (a tall girl with short blonde hair and vintage Adidas Sambas paired with boxer shorts) and Maria (dark blue hair slicked back to show off her Italian football jersey). All of them oozed the coolest essence, and you were excited to get to know them.

"Alright, girls, not too much chattering. Barca arrives in 15 minutes, and there is not a single jersey in sight. Lets go! Rápidamente!"

A gasp spread across the room, accompanied with a groan from Roberto in the back, and there was suddenly a mad dash. Stretch fabrics in a hundred different colors were flying across the room, and it seemed like no one could move fast enough.

"I'm sorry to ask but... what is a barca?"

Silvia's sambas squeaked loudly as she came to a halt, whipping her neck towards you. Her eyebrows knitted together, looking at you like you had just said Jesus was a goat.

"Who is Barca? You cannot be serious. Please don't say anything like that when they walk in the door. Just stand out of the way and do some googling. We will fill you in when the team leaves."

You stepped back towards the mannequins, trying not get trampled by the other employees. A quick search on Instagram gave you the basics. Soccer (or well, football now) team that was super famous. SDF was tagged in their post from their TV series premier, so you came to the conclusion that they were long time clients. You were so consumed with your search that you didn't notice the gaggle of young men enter the constricted space until you heard a chorus of voices chant "Bon Dia, Pedri!"

You glance up, trying to see the man that the girls were addressing, but he was covered by a crowd, which was comprised of Tania, Silvia, and girls from the other departments of the building (you could have sworn that red head worked at the café in the lobby).

"Bon dia, ladies."

The giggles that came as response were far too exaggerated for just politeness, and before you could roll your eyes, you heard the gag from beside you and turned to who was ultimately Maria.

"Don't mind the girls. They aren't usually like this, but their brain turns to mush around the magician."

"The magician?"

Almost as if planned, the swarm of girls parted in that moment, a pair of sickly sweet molasses eyes meeting yours, holding your gaze in something that felt warm and almost intimate. His stubbled cheeks spread into an infectious smile, and suddenly a gorgeous man in a hideous pair of jeans was giving you a subtle wave across the room.

"Pedri "The Magician" Gonzalez, current reigning golden boy at FC Barcelona. Who knew God could pack so much talent and trouble into such a small package? Anyways, the other girls in the office are obsessed with him. They all think they're going to be the special little snowflake to pull him away from the line of Instagram models waiting to jump in bed."

As you listened intently to Maria's rant about the sports star, the two of you couldn't keep your eyes away. As Tania and Silvia went back and forth, talking his brain into oatmeal, he couldn't stop himself from asking, "Who is the new girl?"

Pedri Gonzalez was many things: a generational talent, a laid back 20 year old, and (though less known) a shit-stirrer. These monthly team visits to SDF ranked very highly on his list of favorite activities. He was able to sit with his teammates as they watched some of the hottest girls in Europe fall over themselves just for a kind word or a prolonged glance. He just wished the boys would have seen the way they moved when he came in for personal sessions whenever there was a new Adidas campaign. Not even the king was served so wonderfully.

As the team bus parked outside the building, he lazily draped one arm over Gavi's shoulders, ripping his attention away from his phone screen.

"You know she does have a life outside of answering your texts, Gavi."

There was no attempt to hide or deny, just a continued scowl coupled with scrunched brows.

"She was really weird during the drive home the other day. After Martin was a little bitch on the field, she hasn't been the same. I think there's something wrong, but I don't want to push her away. I just want her to be happy."

"Ay, you'll have lots of time to make her happy after you confess your undying love in her passenger seat and kill her boyfriend." Pedri quipped back, taking a few careful steps off the bus and rushing into the building, the squeals of his name from adoring fans fading into the background.

"Okay, maybe not the best idea I've ever had, but now you do have work with Adidas and Springfield and all the other brands that want a piece of Pedri Potter." The nickname earned Gavi a light smack on the back of the head. "So in the end, I did you a favor."

The boys make their way upstairs, greeted at the elevator by Pedri's fan club.

"Bon dia, ladies."

"Bon dia, Pedri. We missed you."

Gavi tried to tone down the look of confusion that painted his features, watching these two girls trail behind his teammate in a way that was anything but professional. But there was a natural air to Pedri that had women swooning whenever he uttered a sentence, so Gavi supposed this situation would be no different than the one he had seen before in the club, at the beach, in the grocery store - basically anywhere Pedri went. He said a silent thank you to the powers that be that their types were vastly different.

The girls vying for his attention were promptly shooed away, with only the two who were actually part of their styling team remaining. Pedri scanned the room, making a mental note of who he would be looking up on the SDF Instagram once he was done for the day. He was a humble young man, but he wasn't self depreciating. He knew the number of women that wanted him was rising into 6-figure range, and he was not one to deprive himself of a pleasure that wasn't closely regulated by the staff over at Camp Nou. He loved entertaining the occasional tryst with an influencer or model or bottle service girl - whoever caught his eye for the evening. The world was his field, and boy was he ready to sow.

His newest playthings were his regular stylists. Since he was going to be spending a lot more time at the firm, he decided to at least enjoy himself a little bit. He dropped casual compliments, noticed the changes they made to their appearance, let them talk his ears off about how well he did in the previous match. Whatever they wanted he would provide. Why not? He was young and single. If they were to delude themselves into thinking he was going to settle down and take a wife at this stage of his career, then really they had no one but themselves to blame.

Tania and Silvia were nothing if not wholly entertaining. They always bounced around the office together, blonde and black hair making them look like a salt and pepper shaker set. Today, they dedicated themselves to dressing Pedri in the vintage Barca jerseys that were being photographed, leaving the rest of the squad to be dealt with by Maria, Roberto, and the bright spot in the corner of the office that caught Pedri's eye.

"Who is the new girl?"

He knew the question was going to cause the bile to rise in the throats of the two girls in front of him, who were already milliseconds away from killing each other if it meant he would take the survivor to dinner. But there was something about the flash of color that had caught his eye, hair falling in front of a pretty face that was glued to a screen and trying to stay out of the way.

"What new girl?" The response came from Tania, the more jealous of the pair by a mile. Pedri had often caught her stalking his account, his brother's account, and the account of every girl DeuxMoi "spotted" him with during the international breaks.

"Her. In the corner. She's new, right? That's someone I would remember seeing." He raised his head to get a better look at her, taking in the tight shirt and bright colors, watching her jewelry sway along as Maria (his least favorite in the office by far) called her over to help dress the rest of the team. The girls whipped around, taking in the same view that Pedri was.

"La naranja?!" Tania asked, disgust evident in her louder-than-appropriate tone. At the use of what was quickly becoming your office nickname, you looked towards the sound of the commotion, seeing Pedri staring intently at you once again. And while the depth of his gaze threatened to ignite a warmth somewhere within your chest, it was Tania's furious expression that had your heart racing in fear. You hadn't even been at work for an hour - what could you have possible done to have invoked such a murderous glare?

"I didn't think foreign girls were your type." Silvia said, much calmer but tone still icy.

"Maybe I just like the color orange." He replied smoothly, whipping off his shirt to slip into the one from 1980 that he would be modeling for the Barca site. The sight of bare skin was enough to make his playthings forget their rage, being replaced by lustful stares and lingering touches as they "adjusted" the fabric over his pecs about 20 times over.

"I think orange is a hideous color on girls." Tania couldn't help but mutter and she fixed his collar, putting in a couple pins so it wouldn't move as he walked to the photographer.

"I think the ugliest color on a girl is jealousy green." Pedri's eyes met hers in a silent warning. She was officially nothing more than one of his stylists. He was a busy man, and the last thing he needed was for his distractions to become a new stressor. He was notorious for being quick to cut girls off for the most superficial reasons, and Tania was not eager to be one of those deprived of his affections. She smiled sweetly, biting the inside of her cheek.

"Oh, of course. Especially when there is obviously nothing to be jealous of. Go welcome her on her first day - if she can even understand a thing you're saying. I don't think the American school system teaches Canarian." She left Pedri in that moment, calling sweetly to Ferran to come get dressed.

"Ay, Gavi, I knew you were short, but they can't even find pants that fit you now?"

The sudden voice behind you made you jump, causing a yelp from Gavi, who had been stabbed with a stray pin due to your scare. Your head whipped around, meeting that same smile that was brighter up close.

"Perdon, Naranja. Didn't mean to startle you."

Your eyebrows came together, a small frown on your features.

"I don't know what Tania told you, but that's not my name."

"I didn't think it was, but it's quite fitting, don't you think? A cute nickname for a cute girl."

The complement caught you off guard, and your mouth dropped open, reply unable to form in your mind. Was he seriously flirting with you? After half the office just threw themselves at his feet?

"Thank you, but I would really prefer if you called me-"

"Your accent is strange. Where are you from?" Pedri cuts you off, giving you a once over and taking in your figure, focusing intently on the writing across your chest.

"Texas. Can't you read?" You asked, growing more annoyed by the minute. Maria would be back any second to grab the boy who you were hemming, now identified as Gavi. You weren't eager to be seen as a slacker on day damn one.

"Houston?" He asked, accent preventing him from getting the "S" in the word quite right. "My brother used to live there for a bit."

"San Antonio, actually. But I went to school in Austin." As desperately as you wanted to make a good impression on your first day, something inside your chest wanted to make a good impression on Pedri, who was listening intently to the mini tour of Texas you were giving him.

"Is that close to Dallas? We are meant to play a game there in the summer. Maybe you can come along, show me around your city." He punctuated his sentence with a wink. You wanted to speak, tell him that Austin was actually several hours from Dallas, San Antonio even further. But your heartbeat was in your ears, and you could do nothing but nod along.

Pedri was not much better off. He had spoken to some of the most gorgeous women in Europe, maybe even the world in his mere 22 years on the planet, but something about the way you looked at him while speaking, eyes locked onto his, made his heart race in a way that was foreign but not unenjoyable.

"Hey! Hurry up - they need Gavi next. Or are you incapable of putting in a couple pins?" It was Silvia barking down at you, causing you to tear your gaze away from Pedri and back to Gavi's leg. Thankfully, the boy was typing away and didn't notice the break you had taken to chat with his teammate. "Pedri, stop distracting la naranja with your flirting and go get a pair of shoes from Maria."

You burned with embarrassment, the nickname turning from something affectionate to something sour, used to remind you of your outsider status as 'Cinderella' was reminded of her place by the coals.

"I was just being friendly." Pedri said, standing to follow her instructions.

"I think you have enough friends in the office." She bites back, shoving him lightly towards the wall of sneakers.

Your cheeks burn, embarrassment causing your hands to tremble as you continue hemming the trousers in front of you. Maria had gone out of her way to warn you that Pedri was off limits, and yet here you were again: persona non grata with your coworkers because some boy had taken an interest in you.

"You speak really good Spanish for someone from America." A quiet voice said from above you. Looking up, Gavi was gazing down at you, distracted by his phone every few seconds.

"I'm half Mexican, and most people in Texas speak Spanish anyways." You reply, trying to tone down the annoyance in your tone.

"Oh, I didn't know that. My friend- eh, physiotherapist also studied in America. She has this really cute accent when she says some of her words now." You watched his eyes glaze over in a way they probably shouldn't if he was just talking about his doctor.

"You don't have to make conversation with me, you know." You mutter back, scared that maybe this player was Maria's and you would sever the final connection you had left in the office inadvertently.

"Oh. I didn't mean to annoy you." The tone in his voice and his crestfallen expression made you feel like you had just kicked a puppy.

"Oh no! You're not. I just... It seems like I just pissed off the girls by talking to Pedri, and I don't want to make any other mistakes."

He laughed, eyes crinkling and head tilting back. "Pedri is a special case. When you flirt with everything that moves, someone is bound to be upset eventually."

The admission caused a pit to form in your stomach. Everything that moves? The romantic heat you felt earlier cooled into a slimy, sickening emotion. What kind of person toyed with people's feelings for fun? As you entertained the thought, you tapped Gavi on the leg, instructing him to hop off the stand and go get photographed. A shadow loomed over your form as you tidied pins from the floor of the workroom.

"So, I believe you were about to give me your address before we were so rudely interrupted." It was Pedri, returning with a grin, standing coolly with his hands in the pockets of his cargos. "Of if that's too personal, I'll settle for a phone number. Or an Instagram handle - I'm not picky."

"I can tell." You muttered back, unease still sitting in your chest. You avoided his gaze, chewing nervously on your bottom lip and directing your eyes to anything but Pedri.

"I'm sorry about Silvia. She can be... intense. And let me just go ahead and apologize for Tania as well, in advance. They're weirdly possessive over me for some reason." Pedri sounded sincere, eyes doing their best to catch yours and convey his message.

"Don't worry about it. I can see why you're so popular." You shuffled to collect stray pins off the floor. Pedri was not like any other guy you had ever been attracted to. Usually they were tall, lanky frat boy types, all blue eyes and khaki shorts. But the combination of beautiful brown eyes brushed by dark hair, chiseled jaw and plump lips, and strong arms that lifted a mannequin out of your way did weird things to your heart and your stomach.

"Can you now?" He was smirking. You could practically hear it in his voice, the amusement dripping from every syllable. He was obviously completely unbothered by your clear signs of distress.

"Yeah. Every girl I ever knew wanted to be the sugar baby of an athlete. Watch out or you'll get your bank account drained." Despite your best efforts to come across as cutting and sharp, he laughed at the statement. A full head thrown back and hands on his belly type of laugh.

"It's been a long time since I've spoken to a girl as funny as you." His eyes held yours, and the look was so captivating you simply couldn't avert your gaze. In that moment, it was also lost on you that you had, in fact, only made one joke. You responded with a half smile and heat radiating from you.

"Hey listen, a couple of the boys and I are going out tonight. You should come with us."

The invitation started to knock some sense back into you. Out? As in out out? Back home, going out usually meant getting shit-faced and riding a mechanical bull. It wasn't the best look to pull up to work the following morning looking like death and smelling like tequila. You were already on the way to holding the record for the worst first day in history.

"I don't know... I think Tania would put Nair in my shampoo if we were seen together when not contractually obligated."

You looked up shyly, and a part of you waited for him to insist, to feel somewhat special.

"Ah, I won't make you do anything you're uncomfortable with. Just DM me on Instagram if you change your mind. I'm not hard to find."

"Do you answer DMs from every girl that finds you?" You asked, rocking back and forth on your heels.

"No. But I'll be looking out for yours."

Another voice called out to Pedri, and he left you standing there slack-jawed. Who was this man? And what was so special about you to have piqued his interest? You asked these same questions of Bryce, who was now fully awake.

"Girl, the answer is obvious." She said through face time, words garbled by her teeth-brushing.

"Please don't say-"

"You're hot."

"That. Bryce, these girls in the office, they're stunners. 10s across the board. If he was going for looks, he wouldn't be going for me."

"I think you're over-thinking this whole thing. He just wants to talk to you for now," She paused to spit, "So talk! What's the worst that could happen?"

A shrill voice cried out 'Naranja!' and the trill of your new unwelcome work nickname was the signal that your lunch was over. You trudged back into the office, abandoning the warmth and sunshine for the cold front put up by Tania and Silvia. They bumped you every time they walked past, making comments about your clothing, your hair, the speed of your work, your taste level - everything. You stuck close to Maria, getting only two smug "I told you so's" before it was back to business. The boys left a disaster in their wake, with jerseys, trousers, socks, shoes, and all manners of accessories scattered about the workroom. Maria exchange stories of her childhood in Rome for your escapades in San Antonio and Austin, and the day passed with relative ease. Katerina click-clacks into the room an hour before your sweet release, huddling together everyone who worked with the team for a summary of what was accomplished.

"Great job team. I think Barca will be very happy with the photos, which will make me very happy. Now," Katerina handed out a series of files to everyone in the circle. "As some of you know, we have been fighting tooth and nail against Fordham Fashions for the new Adidas Rising Stars contract. Well, we have finally won! Here are the clients that we will be working with closely for individual Adidas campaigns, collaborations, and so on."

Opening the file, a familiar face grinned back from the first page.

"Everyone already knows Pedri, so we will move past him. Now, let us begin the style briefing for Bellingham..."

You stared for another moment at the bright grin on the page before turning it to take notes on everything Katerina was saying. The meeting wrapped 30 minutes later, with one final request from the boss.

"The new Predator boots have just come in from Adidas. We will be sending a pair to each of our athletes to allow them to adjust before we style and shoot in the coming weeks. And to avoid another, ehem, hair pulling incident, the new girl will be sending Pedri's. Sort the rest out among yourselves. See you tomorrow!"

The glares burned your skin before you even had the chance to process that the 'new girl' in question was you. Everyone scurried to the wall of blue shoe boxes as you looked over the brief again to find the man of the hour's shoe size. Pulling it out of the pile, you moved to a far corner of the workroom, but that did not seem to stop Tania from coming your way.

"So, you think Pedri likes you?"

The statement caught you off guard, hands slowing and your eyes widening at your coworker.

"Excuse me?"

"You think that now he's going to date you just because he laughed at one of your jokes? Because trust me, you're not his type."

You were prepared to rebut, tell her that she had completely misunderstood the situation, and you were just being nice to a client. But it died on your lips as the meaning of her words washed over you like an icy tidal wave, leaving you to pathetically whisper out,

"Why not?"

Her laugh trickled out lightly, delicate and beautiful and cutting all at once.

"Just look at you, Naranja. Anyways, this is a note from the agency that needs to be included in Pedri's box, so slip it in there, 'kay? See you tomorrow!"

Swallowing thickly, you didn't watch her walk away, staring at the table top to stop the flood of emotions that was clogging your throat. You knew you weren't ugly. Quite the opposite actually. It usually only took a coy glance and the bat of an eyelash for you to have people eating from the palm of your hand. But the self doubt started to eat away at you. What was wrong with the way you looked?

And then your eyes focused on the crisp white envelope on the table. The girly scrawl of Pedri was too... romantic to be a formal note. The green slime of jealousy seeped through every one of your veins. You took a quick look around the room, and finding no one, you carefully opened the envelope. Immediately a strong perfume assaulted your senses. The letter was a quick confession of love, and you couldn't help the increase in your heart rate. If your coworker was determined to hate you, then you should at least give her a reason.

Your childish antics came two fold. First, you tiptoed over to the cabinet with the stationary, grabbing a blank envelope and some corrector fluid. You carefully removed Tania's name from the bottom of the letter, writing in a little "S" with a heart beside it. You refolded the letter and placed it into the new perfume-less envelope. The letter found its home in the shoe box, and on your way out of the building, you dropped it off at the mail room. As you waited for your cab home, you typed five familiar letters into the Instagram search bar, and sent a message asking,

"Am I still invited out tonight?"

Pedri could not contain the Cheshire cat grin that lit up his face when he saw the DM from you. Scrolling quickly through your Instagram, he zoomed in on your pictures from the summer, swimsuits the same bright orange that had hugged your chest earlier that day. He responded quickly, telling you that you would be the highlight of the entire outing, and as he predicted, your phone number quickly followed.

"See, Gavi? I told you." He turned the screen to his teammate, who could not possibly be less interested. Being met with silence, he quickly snatched Gavi's phone from his hands, eliciting a protest.

"Gavi, this is an intervention. You need to stop this sad puppy behavior. After the sixth unanswered text, it's time to accept that she's not going to respond."

Pedri almost regretted it as soon as he said it, the sunken look painting Gavi's features being too much to bear. It was like taking a baby's favorite toy away.

"I just mean that she's probably busy, hermano. She'll respond when she can. Now, back to me."

Gavi rolled his eyes and leaned back against Pedri's couch. He displayed his most exasperated expression.

"Please, Pedri. Tell me again how you got a girl to swoon for you in a matter of minutes. It's always my favorite story."

Gavi barely missed the pillow chucked at his head, but pressed on anyways.

"Come on, Pedri. It's the same story every week. Find a cute girl, flirt, invite her out, sleep with her, and then block her on all your socials."

"Okay but this one is different. She's my first American."

Gavi gave him a look that told Pedri that maybe the joke should have been reserved for Ferran. Despite all the wisdom Pedri had imparted, Gavi hadn't listened. Instead of taking advantage of the swarm of women ready to show him heaven, he had gone and fallen in love with one of his coworkers. Sheesh. What a stupid idea. But he had never seen Gavi, or anyone really, care so much about a person. So he was being a good friend, just pretending that this love story wouldn't go down in flames (badum-tsss).

Pedri was not willing to be a hopeless lover boy. He killed himself on the pitch, and there was no way he wasn't going to enjoy life after the whistle blew.

"I just don't think it's an idea to start involving girls you're going to have to see again."

The statement cut straight through Pedri's daydream of what you would wear to the club that evening. Gavi may have been right. When messing with Instagram models, it was easy to avoid previous flings. A block online, a slip of their photo to Camp Nou security, and worst case scenario, when they came up to him at an event, he just put on his best confused face and asked, "Do I know you?"

But this was new territory. He had toyed around with Tania and Silvia for months now, but it never left the office. Inviting a girl who he would have to see again and again for work out was risky. But the risk-assessing brain cells were on vacation. All that was left were the party neurons, the ones that craved dopamine and finding out what your skin would feel like against his palms. So he pushed all of Gavi's valid objections into a dark corner of his brain. He opted instead to ask,

"So, are you coming out tonight as well?"

Gavi lifted his hoodie up to cover his face, using all his self control to not grab his phone from its place on the coffee table.

"I don't think so. I'm not in the mood to see Ferran or... anyone really. Just want to sit home and watch my show."

"Suit yourself then. I'll let you know how the night ends."

"I'm begging you not to."

You smoothed your hands over your dress one final time. You were pacing around your living room, eagerly waiting for Pedri to pick you up. Despite your best efforts to assure him that you could Uber yourself to the club, he refused, and you couldn't help the giddy feeling at the gentlemanly antics.

Staring at yourself in the mirror once again, you thought of the dates you had been on in your senior year of college. From darties on frat lawns to drive-thrus to fine dining, many guys had tried to win your favor. It wasn't that all of them sucked (even if the majority did). It was just that the guys back home in America were... boring. All of them were pretty self centered and shallow, nice to look at but nothing deeper. While a pretty boy was nice at 19, it was time to grow up and look for something more.

The buzzing of your phone knocked you out of the trance you were in. "Pedri from work" illuminated the screen as you rushed to answer.

"I was going to come in and knock on your door, but I can't get into your building."

You laughed lightly in response, apologizing about the door code while grabbing a jacket and heading downstairs. A low whistle greeted you, dark eyes tracing your figure with a look that you tried not to interpret for your own sanity. A shy smile played across your features as you allowed Pedri to open your car door, sweet talk you throughout the drive, and escort you in to what was more of a lounge than a club. Live musicians played just loud enough for ambiance, but not enough to completely drown out everyone chattering amongst themselves. The two of you walked up to a table of Greek Gods, which you assumed were his teammates.

Pedri introduced you to the group, making sure that his body was physically situated between you and Ferran. He was a good guy somewhere deep, deep down, buried under the anguish of his last girlfriend, who left him upon finding out about the pay reduction that came with moving from Manchester City to FCB. Pedri tried to stop him from taking out his rage on a coworker (and Gavi's crush), but he was hard headed and couldn't be swayed. Eventually he would calm down, and they could go back to being young and single and not bitter. Pedri's phone glowed with a notification from the boy on his mind.

[Gaviiii]: dude i foujd her outside my house just sitting in her car n cryng so im gonna take care of that

[Gaviiii]: dont tect me or call me im not gonna answer

The typos were normal, as it was hard for Gavi to avert his eyes for even one second when his most precious was in sight. Pedri shook off the text and turned his attention back to you, arm coming to rest around your waist in what was meant to be a comforting gesture.

You were not comforted. On the contrary, you were on the verge of throwing up. You were one of only two girls in a circle of incredibly attractive men, the other being someone's wife. You couldn't remember the names of any of them, except for Ferran, who you had been specifically warned about on the drive over. The devil really is a charmer. His short cropped hair showed the angels of his face beautifully, long lashes fanning against his cheeks. A few tattoos peaked out from under rolled up sleeved, and you had to remember that you were with his friend on a... what was this exactly? Pedri had never said anything more than that he wanted to be friends. But he asked you to go out with him, picked you up, gave you the pre-date compliments, and now was shielding you from other men. Were you on a date?

You tried your best to participate in small talk, listening to them go back and forth about football and training and life in general. The various accent were not kind to your brain that was barely used to the Canarian lilt to Pedri's speech.

"Are you okay?"

The whisper came softly in your ear, hot breath against you skin causing an eruption of little bumps. Pedri's arm had not left your waist, but now he was rubbing delicate circles into your skin.

"I'm fine. Just... a little overwhelmed? I feel sort of out of place."

"Don't worry, linda. No one can take their eyes off you."

The affirmation only increased your heart rate once again, the thump against your chest beating in rhythm with the base from the speakers. You were acutely aware of the warmth of his palm against your skin, radiating through the fabric of your dress. You loosened up as the evening progressed, participating in the conversation more confidently and laughing more freely. Slowly, the boys excused themselves from the gathering one by one, and soon it was only you and Pedri in the low light, talking about the most beautiful scenery you have ever seen.

He was lost in describing his home island, the clear waters and lush foliage that he called home. You leaned forward, enraptured by the passion that he spoke with about the places and people he loved. Slowly, you found yourself getting closer and closer, until there was only a few inches of space between you. The gold flecks interspersed in dark brown became clearer, and you struggled to breathe as you watched Pedri's gaze drift to your lips.

"I am getting the impression you want me to kiss you. Please correct me if that's not the case." Pedri breathed out slowly, more strained than you had previously thought. You don't know what you were thinking. Maybe you weren't thinking. You just acted on what felt right. Closing the distance, you joined Pedri's lips to yours, arms around his neck as you kissed with a hunger borderline inappropriate for the public.

You weren't usually this person. It was usually a couple dates before you would allow for a goodnight kiss, let alone the almost make-out you were currently engaged in. You pulled away from Pedri, the heavy breathing a commonality between the two of you. Maybe it was the being in Spain. Maybe it was that he was hot and young and famous. Maybe it was that of all the girls throwing themselves at him, including your coworkers, he picked you after an hour of conversation. Something told you to take a chance on what could be your love at first sight moment. So when Pedri leaned close and asked,

"Do you want to go back to your place?"

There was no answer but yes.

The following morning was filled with bliss. Pedri had woken up just as the first rays of sunlight were painting the stone. He kissed you on the cheek, whispering something akin to "see you around" before he left to training. You floated through your morning, making a coffee in a daze and dressing with a permanent smile. Bryce was still fast asleep, so you left her about 30 minutes worth of voice messages before you had the guts to step out and hail your own cab to work.

You walked into the office still riding the high from the night before. Your skin was ablaze, and every time you thought of the "activities", heat spread through you rapidly. Luckily the November chill kept you from sweating through your bones. Your bliss lasted for most of the morning, as you worked with Maria and a couple of people you had never met to create a mood board for an upcoming photoshoot. As you flipped through paint swatches, a piercing scream split the air, causing you to drop to the ground and cover your head.

"Why are you on the floor, Naranja?"

One of the boys looked at you with raised eyebrows, and a part of your brain registered that your new work nickname had trickled into other departments.

"Oh, sorry. I went to high school in America. Screams like that meant someone was getting jumped. Or shot."

Another scream rippled through the hallway as Maria helped you up.

"That was Silvia. Given recent history, your prediction about her being attacked might be correct."

The both of you scurried down the hall, the clicks of the other department workers followed behind you, eager for the newest and juiciest chisme. The sight before you made you stop dead in your tracks. Roberto was holding Tania by the waist, apparently the only thing that was keeping her away from Silvia, who was on the other side of the room crying and grabbing her head. There was a trail of silver thread between the two hysterical women. No, not thread - hair.

"She cut my hair! She came up behind me and cut my hair!"

"She's a traitor and, more importantly, a whore! I should've slit her throat."

Katerina had finished ushering everyone who didn't work there out of the room, and now she was standing in the middle of the room ready to mediate.

"You two have 5 minutes to explain what the hell happened and why I shouldn't fire you."

Tania had calmed, no longer straining against an iron grip and gaze filled with slightly less murderous intent. She released the clump of hair that she had in her hand onto the floor, revealing the absolute carnage that had taken place. Safe to say Silvia was going to be rocking a pixie cut for the next few weeks. Both of the girls remained silent. The prisoner's dilemma in real time. Katerina clicked her tongue after the moment of silence and simply said, "Roberto."

You could swear you saw a smile on his face briefly before he cleared his throat and began.

"Tania gave the new girl a note with her phone number in it to send to Pedri. Pedri texts the phone number, but instead of addressing it correctly, he says-"

"HEY SILVIA. THIS MORNING HE TEXTS MY NUMBER WITH HER NAME." Tania's outburst had everyone stand up, fearing that she was going to lunge. She remained in place, but no one sat back down.

"So you decided to attack her because he can't tell you two apart?"

"She must have done something to my note. She-"

"No." Katerina interrupted. "I have hear enough. Both of you are no longer working on any project Pedro Gonzalez is involved in."

Protests came from both of the girls, suddenly sullen and docile. They began to plead to be punished with anything else, but not exile from their favorite footballer. As they whimpered to your boss, who reminded them they were lucky to still be employed, it dawned on you. This morning. He texted who he thought was Silvia this morning. In response to a flirty message. After he left your bed. Maybe before he had even left the apartment.

There it was again. The nausea. The urge to projectile vomit. All because of Pedro Gonzalez. Fuck a nickname. He was a rich fuckboy that had played you like a fiddle. You held the tears back as you went back to fabric swatches, taking a moment to block him on Instagram.

"So, how does it feel to be Pedri's personal stylist now?" Katerina startled you, and the shock caused a delay in processing what she had just said.

"His what?"

"Well, now that those two are not allowed to be within 50 meters of him, it's only you and Maria working the Adidas contract. Especially now that Roberto is part of the Olympics team. So you get Pedri, and she gets Bellingham. Perfect, no?"

You nodded, swallowing hard to push the bile back down. This very unfortunate one night stand maybe have been the worst idea you have ever had. You walked through the rest of the day with disgust and rage flowing through you. You decided to brave the cold of the November afternoon and walk home, stopping by a bakery to get something with chocolate to keep the tidal wave of intense depression at bay.

How could this be happening? You weren't this girl. You weren't someone who let yourself be gullible and played. Hell, you had gone the last four years with all of Texas and parts of Mexico vying for your affection. But this little Spanish boy took advantage of the connection you felt, and he had barely left your bed before starting to text your coworker. Your phone buzzed with several messages in rapid succession.

[Pedro Gonzalez]: My agent just told me you were my own personal stylist

[Pedro Gonzalez]: that's good to hear.

[Pedro Gonzalez]: At least I'll have a friend at all these long and boring photoshoots

No mention of the night before. No "I had a good time". No question about your wellbeing. Nothing except his own self interest. How the situation would be good for him. Again. You felt awful as you pushed a teenage boy out of the way, barely making it into the bathroom before throwing your guts up. What the hell. How did you manage to fuck up so poorly so quickly? It was day damn one. And now you were throwing up in a bakery bathroom in Spain because of a man that's 5'9". You sat at a table, cake and coffee cooling in front of you. You didn't trust your legs or your stomach just yet, so you decided to type out a response instead.

Pedri was in overall low spirits. His injury had had another flare up, causing him to limp to the locker room. The email from his agent brightened his day, as he saw your name in the email. He shot a quick text your way, excited at the prospect of seeing you again, only to sour at the response.

[Naranja]: dont speak to me pedro

[Naranja]: we are not friends

[Naranja]: and we never will be

[You can no longer send messages to this user]

~~~

A/N: Here it is! The first part of the new series! Just some preemptive answers: I don't know what my posting schedule will look like and idk how many parts it's going to be. I hope you enjoy this first part. It might be a little rushed because I just wanted to set up the main story. Please let me know your thoughts in comments and asks! I'll try to reply to as many as I can. I love you all <3

Palestine: I will try to donate $1 for every comment that has a watermelon or an olive in it. I will keep y'all updated with how it goes.

Here are some more links to please please please look at while you're here.

Care for Gaza: an org that has been getting help and aid to people on the ground -> https://www.gofundme.com/f/careforgaza

Daily click that donates money to help Palestinians -> https://arab.org/click-to-help/palestine/

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 1 day

Text

The Distance

Note: well... this was unplanned and came out of nowhere. I wrote this in less than two hours so don't expect a masterpiece, but just a fun little story.

Warnings: 18+! smut and a faint hint of angst.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: You were desperate to meet your online boyfriend.

wordcount: 2,3k

Masterlist

You had been waiting for this day to come for years. For too many years actually, if you were honest. So many years that sometimes you even wondered if Sihtric was real.

But you knew he was real, because you facetimed each other daily. It was hard, being in a long distance relationship and living in different countries while struggling to make a decent living. You and Sihtric both just never had found the time or the money to make the big step to visit each other. Until one night you broke down and told Sihtric you didn't know how much longer you could continue this relationship without finally meeting him.

'I can't take it anymore,' you cried on the phone with your camera switched off while his was on.

You didn't want Sihtric to see you like that, all tired and empty because you had survived yet another rough day at work and came home to an empty apartment once again. All you wanted was to step into your home and be able to be wrapped into his arms, but it was only something you could dream and fantasise about. And you saw how Sihtric just sat with his head in his hands, his fingers compulsive raking through his curls while he listened to your sobs, his heart pounding out of his chest while his stomach turned.

'So… so you want to… break up?' he asked, the tremble in his voice betraying his heartbreak and shock.

'No,' you sniffled, 'not at all. I just need to see you. I need to know if this is all worth it. It's been seven years, Sihtric. Seven years and we never met. Are we wasting our lives?'

Sihtric sighed and sadly agreed. It had been absolutely ridiculous that you still hadn't been able to meet up. But Sihtric told you he couldn't take a week off at short notice just to make something of an emergency trip to finally see you, no matter how much he wanted to.

'I can come to you,' you eased his mind, 'you don't need to take any time off. You can just go to work during the day, I don't mind that at all. I have two weeks off after today, I can make it. I just really need to see you.'

'But what about the money?' he worried, 'we both know it's expensive-'

'I can make it,' you said again, 'I just have to see you.'

Sihtric offered to pay for your plane ticket, even if it would make him go nearly bankrupt, but you refused his gesture and made the rash decision to spend all your savings within a span of ten minutes. Your trip to Dunholme, the small village your internet boyfriend lived in, was booked not much later and you were to leave on Saturday morning, the day after tomorrow. You would land at Birmingham airport, and since Sihtric had the weekend off, he agreed to pick you up there.

And it all seemed so surreal, when you stepped into the plane with barely any money left in your account. You hoped this would be all worth it, you just had to know if he was worth it.

You had met Sihtric online through an online community seven years ago. You both shared the same interest in medieval history and quickly began to exchange knowledge in private messages. You only knew each other's usernames for the first half year of your online friendship, and Sihtric was baffled when you told him you were a young lady, and not some random old guy. And when Sihtric told you his age was close to yours, you were also pleasantly surprised, as you had expected to be talking to someone who was most likely in his sixties. But even before you gained all that knowledge about each other, there was already a connection established and soon conversations weren't just about history anymore, but about private matters and the regular daily life too. But once you knew each other's name, age and gender, conversations became even easier and more fun.

One afternoon Sihtric was bored and joked around that he wanted to facetime you, thinking you wouldn't be up for it, but when you answered the call and you both finally saw the face behind the username, you were immediately smitten with each other. Sihtric was so good looking that you were almost angry he never called you before. His hair was dark and short, shaved on the sides and his facial hair was minimal but well kept nonetheless. You loved his tattoos and his voice made you lightheaded and your knees weak. And his smile was absolutely to die for.

Luckily Sihtric felt the same about you, and he insisted on facetiming you almost every day ever since, which you didn't refuse. Naturally, it didn't take long before you were head over heels for each other and spent every free waking second of the day talking to each other. This went on for years and years, growing a bit older with each other online and helping each other through various stages in life; from grief to finding new jobs and to surprise each other by getting different haircuts unannounced. You had seen Sihtric with several haircuts over the years. After a few years of talking he decided to grow out his hair and one day suddenly appeared on your screen with half of his head shaved. You were mortified at first, but you quickly grew to love it. And a few years after that he once again grew out his hair and started to braid the top while leaving his dark curls hanging loose in the back, and you loved it.

And now, when you were one day from finally seeing him in real life, his hair was still at shoulder length but the sides were shaved again. He usually had his hair loose, looking a little feral with his wild hair at times, but when the weather became warmer he'd either braid it or just tie it back into a bun. And you loved it all, just like you had loved every haircut he had before. The only thing that was always consistent was his facial hair, and you told him if he'd ever shave that off you would never talk to him again, which he knew was a joke but still took that to heart.

But beside the good looks you both had, your connection was first and foremost based on a deeper level. Despite having never met in real life, you trusted each other wholly and loved each other so deeply it could not be explained. The physical attraction was just a huge bonus, one neither of you complained about. And after about a year since you first started talking, your phone calls, snaps and facetime calls started to become more risky and sexually charged.

And you'll never forget the first time you had phonesex. It hadn't been planned at all and it wasn't even a video call, it had just been a random phone call late at night while you were both in bed after a long day of work. Sihtric's voice had been so deep and smooth, it aroused you in a way you had never felt before and that's also what you suddenly blurted out on the phone.

'You don't know how aroused your voice is making me right now.'

'You're aroused?' Sihtric laughed softly, 'hm,' he then hummed, as if he knew the effect that would have on you.

'Stop it!' you giggled while your cheeks were warm.

'It's okay, darling,' he almost purred, making everything so much worse as you could just hear his sly smile through the phone, 'it's not like you've never aroused me before.'

'Well, what did you do to fix it?'

'I think you know,' Sihtric replied, his voice somehow lower and smoother than ever before, 'you think I've never moaned your name in my bed or in the shower?'

You became quiet for a moment. You stopped breathing for a second while the sound of your beating heart roared in your ears and you felt your cheeks heat up even more. Your mouth went dry and it was hard to swallow. You knew you were attracted to each other, but this had been something rather undiscussed before that very moment. You weren't sure how to proceed the conversation, as this was something so intimate yet so strange too as you were far away from each other, but it just all happened as if it was natural.

'You do that often?' you suddenly asked.

'More than you know,' Sihtric confessed, then paused for a moment. 'And if I was with you right now, darling,' he husked, 'I'd take care of that for you.'

'What would you do?' you knew the cheesy question would only make the call more risky.

You both had your eyes closed when Sihtric laughed almost darkly and quietly, and you heard he exhaled softly and licked his lips before he spoke again.

'You really wanna go there?' he half whispered, making you feel lightheaded.

'Mhm.'

'Well,' Sihtric smiled and kept his voice quiet and low, 'first I'd kiss your lips, but only faintly, because I like to tease, and then I'd slowly undress you until you're left in only your lingerie.'

Your breath hitched in your throat already, and he had only just started describing what he would do if he was with you at that moment. And you both mindlessly moved your free hand under the sheets and down your bodies, not telling each other while Sihtric continued talking.

'And after I have admired you for a moment, I'd kiss your jaw and neck,' he murmured as he slowly rubbed his palm over his hardening length, 'and I'll make sure to leave some markings, showing everyone that you belong to me and are mine only. Because you are mine only, aren't you, baby?'

'Yes,' you breathed while you sought friction with your own hand between your thighs, 'I'm yours only.'

'That's right,' Sihtric hummed, 'good girl. And then I'd slowly kiss down your neck to your shoulders. And I'd use my teeth to lower your bra strap while I'd gently massage your tits with my hands before I'd suck and kiss your nipples.'

'Fuck,' you accidentally sighed, which Sihtric heard loud and clear.

'You'd like that?' he asked and bit down on his lip while he shoved his hand down his boxers.

'Yeah,' you whispered, 'don't stop… please.'

Sihtric smiled and hummed, and you both didn't need to say anything for you both already knew you were already half pleasing yourselves in the dark.

'And then I'd kiss my way further down your body, slowly, darling,' he husked, 'because I like to take my time. Then I'd lower your panties and take them off, and I'd kiss your legs on my way back up, all the way to your inner thighs. And when you just can't take it anymore and beg me to touch you, then I'd throw your legs over my shoulders and finally kiss your sweet and soaked pussy before taking my time to eat you out until your legs are shaking and you're squirming in my arms.'

'God, please,' you moaned as you slid your own fingers inside you, 'please, Sihtric, I need you so bad, honey.'

'I know, baby,' he cooed as he touched himself, 'I need you too, darling, you have no idea how badly I need to feel you and taste you. How desperately I want to make sweet love to you but also completely ravage you. Fuck,' he exhaled sharply and chuckled, 'hm, fuck, darling. I'd fuck you so good you won't be able to think anymore, I promise. I'll make you forget about everything else so that the only thing you can think of is how good I make you feel.'

'I want to suck your cock so badly,' you whined, 'please…'

'I'll fuck your mouth, sweetheart, don't worry,' he said and started to moan, 'I'll give you everything you need, I promise. You'll never want or need anyone else anymore.'

'I want you,' you moaned as your climax approached, 'I need you.'

'I need you too,' Sihtric said hoarsely, 'I want to fuck you and fill you up entirely, making you all mine forever. And I'll have you over and over again the first time I'm with you, trust me,' he moaned, 'I'll make you cum on my cock while you scream my name until you can't fucking take it anymore.'

And with those words you both finished, your ragged breaths and heavy moans filling the dark and lonely room you were both in while you listened to each other on the phone as you gradually came down from your highs. At first you both just laughed, a little flustered at what had just happened but also feeling relieved that it had happened, and you felt closer than ever despite the distance. And that's also when you both first said it.

'I love you, sweetheart,' Sihtric whispered sleepily, 'forever.'

'I love you too, honey, forever,' you whispered, and not much later you both fell asleep while neither of you had ended the call.

You smiled and blushed at the pleasant memory as you stared out of the plane window, and you were only brought back to the present time when you heard the announcement that you would soon be landing at Birmingham airport. And that's when you also suddenly realised you were about to meet Sihtric for the first time ever.

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