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sunrizef1 · 13 days

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Girl back home

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x wife!reader

Warnings: cursing (I think)

Authors note: this took forever, but now I can actually work on whiv now that I’ve finished this

Summary: Everyone keeps trying to set Logan up, but no one bothers to ask if he's already got a girl (surprise! he does!)

Word Count: 4.2k (jesus)

“What about her? she’s pretty,” Alex asks as he points at the five hundredth model to walk past the Williams garage that day.

If it hadn’t been his home race, Logan might have walked away an hour ago when Alex’s pointing started but instead, he stayed, choosing to endure Alex’s unrelenting matchmaking.

“No, Alex. I’ve already said no to about 50 other girls you’ve pointed out, what makes you think she’d be different,” Logan groans, his head leaning back to rest against the wall behind them.

Alex purses his lips, a frown on his face, “Why won’t you let me get you a girlfriend?”

Logan pauses to stare at the ceiling of the garage for a second before he turns his head to face the man next to him, “I don’t need a girlfriend.”

“Yeah sure man, I’ve seen you stare quietly at a wall by yourself more times than you’d probably admit. If that doesn’t scream “I need a girlfriend” then I don’t know what does,” Alex shrugs before turning back to face away from his friend, his hand coming back up to point at a pretty-faced blonde girl making her way past the garage, even smiling when she locks eyes with Logan, “Ooh what about her? She seems to like you!”

Logan just hums in response, his eyes closing as he leaves Alex to talk to himself.

In reality, Logan truly didn’t need a girlfriend. He had something even better, a wife. Who also happened to be you. You had met when you were kids and had been in love ever since. You liked to joke that it was love at first sight but every time you said it, Logan would wonder how much of a joke it really was.

You had been there for every step in his career, through the wins and the losses, through karting to Formula racing. So when he proposed after the end of the f3 season in 2020, no one close to you was really surprised.

You got married shortly after, neither one of you wanting a big, flashy wedding. Instead, the wedding was small but still nice, just some close friends and family in attendance. Even Oscar had been there and he made sure to reference the event to everyone who wouldn’t understand when around Logan. He loved to talk about the “party” Logan had in 2020 to the other drivers who, frankly, had no idea what he meant.

When he got his move to Formula One, you were over the moon for him. You didn’t worry about long-distance. You had made it work in the past and you both had total confidence in each other to make it work. You continued your degree in engineering and he continued his career in racing. You tried to make it to races when school would let you, which wasn’t often, and he was more than happy to fly you out when he could.

Logan genuinely loved you more than anything. With that being said, this meant that he did not have the time of day for anyone trying to set him up with the Instagram model of the week who had decided to visit a garage.

But at the same time, he also didn’t feel the pressure to share your marriage with anyone. He didn’t really know any of the other drivers very well and if they wanted to know more about him, they could ask. It’s just that no one ever did.

Except, it seems, when they wanted to set him up.

“Hey, Logan!” A British voice calls out to the American, whose head shoots up at the uncommon voice.

“What’s up, mate?” The blonde asks Lando, pocketing the phone where he had just been texting you to ask about your engineering final.

Lando grins and places a hand on the American's shoulder, raising his voice to be heard above the sounds of the paddock, “I was talking to Oscar and he mentioned something about your love life and something about you being lonely, I don’t really remember what he said but anyway, I’m talking to this girl and she has this friend who I think would be perfect for you.”

Logan’s face drops at the brunette's words, a frown replacing his smile, “I’m cool Lando, thanks though.”

Lando furrows his eyebrows, disbelief written on his features, “You sure, mate? She’s sooooo fine.”

Logan just nods his head in response, backing away from the McLaren driver slowly, “Yeah I’m sure Lando, you have fun thinking about your girlfriend’s friend though.”

Lando doesn’t seem to catch the diss as he just glances up and down at Logan before shaking his head and turning on his heel to head back to his garage. Logan sighs before taking his phone back out of his pocket to see another text from you. A grin breaks out on his face as he sees your name.

Logan hadn’t talked to very many of the drivers on the grid, often feeling on the outs of a lot of conversations. So he’s even more surprised to see Charles Leclerc making his way toward him at a club. A club he had only agreed to come to so he coule be Oscar's designated driver, by the way.

“Eyyy, it’s the American!” Charles says, the alcohol clearly present in his voice. The lights are too dimmed but if they were brighter, Logan would be able to see the lipstick smudges around his white collar.

“Hey, Charles,” Logan replies, scepticism laced in his voice. The Monegasque leans closer to him, the drink in his hand sloshing around in the cup.

“I have something to tell you,” Charles slurs a bit, leaning dangerously before a pretty brunette comes up and grabs him, based on her lipstick shade compared to Charles’ shirt, she had already been more than acquaintances with him before this conversation.

Logan glances at the pair before responding dryly, “Oh no.”

Charles grins before pointing back to where he had come from, a dark-haired girl sitting at the table, “That’s Natalie.”

“Navaeh,” the brunette pipes up to correct Charles as he nods in response.

“Yeah, Nivia. Anyway, she’s a friend of mine and she’s been eyeing you all night, thought you’d want her number.”

Logan rolls his eyes at the very clearly drunk couple in front of him, increasing his headache from the pounding EDM, “What an assumption there Charles. I’m actually good though.”

“What?” Charles asks, squinting to see the blonde under the club lights.

“No thanks,” Logan smiles tightly before moving to step around the couple and probably tell Oscar that either they were both leaving or Oscar was getting an Uber, “You guys have a good night though.”

The couple is already too busy sucking face to realize he’s left.

“I just don’t understand why they keep trying to set me up, I’m perfectly happy with you,” Logan complains to you over the phone a few nights later.

You were sat in your dorm, engineering work strewn across your desk and your roommate at a party somewhere. You were trying to get as much work done as possible before Logan came to Austin for the GP so you could spend the weekend with him.

“I mean, have you told them you’re married?” You ask, trying to stifle a yawn as your hand moves to write down the equation for the problem in front of you.

Logan shakes his head, the movement almost imperceptible through the small phone screen, “Nah, but it’s just that no one’s asked you know? I’m just waiting for someone to say “Hey Logan, you got a girl back home?” Before they try and set me up with some Instagram model they know.”

You smile softly as he talks, his hands moving to mess with his blond hair periodically. He eventually looks back to the screen once he’s done ranting and is met with your smiling face filling his phone screen, “What?”

“I love you,” you say warmly, your grin practically splitting your face.

Logan blushes before laughing and shaking his head to hide the redness on his face, “I love you too. I’ll see you next week yeah?”

You look down at the now-completed homework in front of you. Homework that could’ve taken about 2 fewer hours if you weren’t on call.

“Yeah I’m done with this. I’ll turn it into my professor tomorrow and after that I am free. When do you get in?” You ask, shuffling the papers together and sliding them into your bag before moving out of your chair and flopping onto your bunk, sleep clouding your eyes.

“Uhh,” Logan pauses, glancing at his suitcase. In reality, he was supposed to get in twenty two hours and six minutes from when he hung up the call, his flight leaving in three hours and arriving in Austin after a 16 hour flight and a 2 hour layover in DFW followed by an hour long flight to Austin. He would effectively be arriving about a week before any of the other drivers. Besides maybe Daniel. But he couldn’t say any of that. He wanted to surprise you, especially now that you had no work to do. So instead he just hums, “Next week I think.”

“That’s great, babe,” you yawn, a small smile on your lips at the idea of him being back with you again, “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Yeah?” Logan grins.

You hum, your eyes drifting closed slightly, “Yeah.”

Logan notices your less-than-awake state and finally decides to end the call, “Goodnight, I love you.”

You yawn again, your eyes fluttering shut, “Good morning Logan, I love you too.”

The call ends quickly after and Logan glances at the time, grinning when he sees the 8:24 am displayed on his phone screen. You’d both had to deal with the difference in time zones for so long, you probably had all the time zones memorized. Or at least you remembered enough to call out good morning instead of goodnight while he was in Qatar.

His flight touches down twenty-two hours later and the first thing he does is call you.

“Hey what's up?” It's about 10:30 in Austin and the only thing you were doing was picking up barbeque from this place on the edge of campus that your roommate had been raving about.

“Not much, just bored,” Logan replies, his eyes scanning the background of the face time call for where you could possibly be this late.

You glance down at your phone for a second to do the same, eyebrows furrowing, “Where are you? It looks dark.”

Logan glances around slightly before replying, “In a car,” he wasn't lying, he really was in a car. Just one that was ubering to your campus instead of one with his team in Qatar, “Where are you? It's like 10 pm over there.”

“Just picking up some food,” you reply, eyes looking over the moonlit sidewalk that threads through the well-kept grass that surrounds you.

“This late?”

You laugh, “I slept through dinner.”

Logan smiles before sliding forward slightly when the car stops, “Are you just going back to your dorm?”

You look around quickly, “Yeah it's like a quarter mile back though.” You tighten your grip on the bag in your hand, the plastic having started to slip. Maybe your Ugg slides hadn't been the best choice for this walk but you'd manage.

“Oh yeah I know where you are, I remember eating at that place last time I was there,” Logan pulls his suitcase out of the trunk and tips the driver, checking periodically to make sure you hadn't clocked him.

“Yeah yeah, really good stuff and the owner remembered me today, guess I've been there enough times,” You laugh, starting to move back in the direction of your dorm once again.

By the time you had stopped to readjust the bag of food and your shoes, Logan had already started to speedwalk in the direction of your dorm. As he walks he passes enough drunk college kids to fill the football stadium they had all visited so many times.

You're walking pretty slowly, enjoying the moonlight shining brightly on the campus. Your shoes definitely weren't making you any faster to be fair.

“You turn your assignment in?” Logan asks, hoping you don't notice his eyes darting around the campus in search of you.

You nod, reaching a hand up to rub at your sleepy eyes, “Yeah, he even gave me extra credit for turning it in so early.”

Logan nods absentmindedly and you raise an eyebrow as you watch him do it before his eyes lock on something and he abruptly ends the call, “I've got to go, love you!”

You stand staring at your phone with a confused look on your face for a moment, words dying on the tip of your tongue. Weird.

You shake your head before moving to walk again, Logan's weird actions at the forefront of your mind.

Before you can even take a step, someone calls out your name and you turn quickly to see Logan standing there with the biggest grin on his face.

You gasp and wrap him in a bone-crushing hug warmth spreading through you from his arms. You move to spread kisses all across his face and for a few minutes, you both just stand there, not having seen each other in a few months and taking the time to readjust.

“I missed you,” you mumble into his shoulder, unexpected tears starting to spring from your eyes.

He just sets you down before wrapping a hand around the side of your face, “I missed you too.”

You bring a sweater-clad hand up to wipe away a tear before grabbing the food in one hand and grabbing his hand in the other, starting to lead him back to your dorm.

He grabs his suitcase as you start moving, “Is your roommate here?”

“No, you know how she is. She'll be with her new boyfriend for a few weeks so we're fine,” you wave away his question as you walk toward the building a few hundred feet away.

He smiles in response, “Hope you got enough food for two.”

You just laugh joyously.

A week and a half later, you’re stood in the hotel room Logan’s team had provided him, the room much nicer than your cramped dorm room. You had spent the last 12 days exploring Austin with your husband, making up for the time spent away from each other.

You had accidentally slept through Logan’s departure for the morning, waking up to a text explaining that, with your busy class schedule, he wanted you to get as many days of sleeping in as possible but he had gotten you breakfast and it was currently sitting in the kitchen.

You smiled at the text, appreciating Logan’s thoughtfulness. In the kitchen was a coffee from your favourite coffee shop as well as a McGriddle from McDonalds, which, no doubt, hurt Logan to order considering he wasn’t allowed to eat them.

You quickly ate the food, texting Logan to thank him. He texts back surprisingly quickly, considering he was supposed to be in a meeting.

He filled you in on how his morning had gone before asking when you’d get to the paddock for the race. You replied that you’d be there soon, quickly sliding on a light jacket over your tank top and jean shorts, preparing for the Austin heat.

Considering you had never been in the COTA paddock before, you would rather be in any situation other than your current one. There were about three hours until the race and you had no idea where the Williams garage was. You had gotten in just fine but, for some reason, you couldn’t find the blue of the Williams employees anywhere.

Logan wasn’t answering his phone, which you expected considering he had already been reprimanded for being on his phone during a meeting once this morning. Now you were left by yourself, trying to navigate the busy paddock.

You were somehow in a sea of orange, eyebrows furrowed. You turn in a quick circle, eyes setting on a curly-haired man in an orange polo who you take a few quick steps towards, hoping he can help you with directions.

“Excuse me,” you call out to the man who turns around swiftly, eyes pulling across your figure before landing on your face.

“How can I help you, love?” The man replies, a British accent laced through his voice and a sharp grin on his rosy lips.

You glance around slightly, leaning away from the man’s hungry gaze, “Do you know where the Williams garage is?”

He nods his head but keeps his eyes locked on your face, his smirk unfaltering, “Yeah, yeah, it’s just down that way.”

He points to nowhere in particular, moving to lean against the wall you’re standing near, “What’s your name, darling?”

You have to hide the smirk that tries to escape you at the fact that this man clearly has no idea you were married and also clearly thought you’d be an easy girl to flirt with considering his unwavering confidence.

You tell him your name and a grin breaks out on his face, “Pretty name, I’m Lando.”

Ah, so this was Lando. You had only ever seen him with his helmet on and from what you heard from Logan, his current behaviour made perfect sense. Logan hadn’t talked a lot about the Brit but he had mentioned him a few times considering he was Oscars teammate.

You hum, glancing around amusedly around the garage. You and Lando talk for a few more moments before a shorter figure clasps a hand on his shoulder. You lock eyes with the newcomer, grinning when you see a familiar boy standing behind Lando.

"Hey Osc," You smile at the Aussie. Oscar glances sideways at Lando, eyes shifting across his face before they turn to you. You just smile sweetly at the man who reciprocates the grin back at you.

"Hey," Lando glances confusedly between the two of you at Oscar's response. When Lando's confusion goes on a bit too long, Oscar turns and swings an arm around your shoulder, effectively moving the both of you away from the still-confused McLaren driver.

"I assume you're looking for Williams, then?" Oscar asks, running his free hand through his hair which had already begun to stick to his forehead from the Austin heat.

You hum in affirmation, sliding your sunglasses down your nose as the two of you step into the sun to make your way to your husband's garage.

Oscar makes conversation as he pulls you along, talking to you about how his season had gone and also asking a lot of questions about your engineering classes.

“I’d do a video for you, shock all your classmates,” Oscar says when you tell him you had to do a presentation explaining the engineering behind a piece of machinery and you had chosen a Formula 1 car.

You laugh, shaking your head as you do, “Yeah? I'd take you up on that, but I have a driver who'd be much easier to get a video from.”

Oscar snorts, smiling as you reach the Williams garage, “Lando?”

You roll your eyes as the name leaves his lips, hitting the back of his head with the small bag in your hands, “Don't get me started on Lando. You know he tried to set Logan up with one of his friends?”

Oscar furrows his eyebrows, “What?”

“Yeah, Lando said you told him Logan’s love life was lonely or something like that,” You reply, glancing around passively in search of your husband.

Oscar somehow manages to furrow his eyebrows even deeper, mouth opening and closing in disbelief, “That’s not what I said at all.”

“Tell him that.”

You both walk into the garage after that, you move to make conversation with Benny who’s sat to the side, surprise crossing his face as he sees you.

Oscar, though, spots Logan and makes his way to him quickly. He clasps a hand on the blonde's back who turns to face him with a grin, “What’s up Osc?”

“Lando was flirting with your wife,” Oscar states flatly, trying to push down the grin on his face.

Logan blinks a few times in an attempt to understand what the Aussie just said, “What- why?”

“Don’t think he knew she was your wife, mate.”

Logan rolls his eyes before turning around slightly to resume his conversation with his engineer. He stops mid-turn and swings back around to Oscar quickly, eyes wide, “My wife’s here?”

Oscar laughs at the American's face, stepping out of his line of sight so he can see you conversing with Benny.

Logan grins, sliding past the other boy to step toward you as quick as he can, wrapping his arms around you from behind. Oscar can’t hear what you two say to each other but he can see the love painting your faces as Logan plants a kiss on the top of your head. Benny smiles at the two of you, walking away to let you two talk.

As Oscar leaves the Williams garage, he briefly debates telling Lando you were married, especially to Logan, but he eventually decides not to. He’d figure it out eventually. Also might help to have him learn the hard way.

You sat in the garage for the entire race. But when Logan ends the race in eight, you’re jumping up happily to follow the Williams employee guiding you to where he’ll be.

The moment he’s done being weighed, he runs over to you, pulling his helmet off and unzipping his suit to his hips.

He grasps the side of your face, pulling you to him as he kisses you softly. He pulls away slightly and rests his forehead against yours, lifting a hand to grab the one you have against the side of his face, fingers brushing over your wedding ring.

“Thank you for being here. I love you.”

You can’t help the lovely laugh that escapes you, throwing your head back a bit to escape the heat rising on your cheeks, “I love you too, dork. I’m so proud of you.”

He smiles before leaning to catch you in another kiss.

Lando had finished the race in 4th. Not bad considering who had finished in front of him. He’d already talked to his team so he was now just roaming around, looking for someone to talk to.

He locks eyes on you and takes a few steps toward you before someone comes running past him. He looks over to see Logan grasping your face in his hands before pulling you down into a kiss.

He can’t help but stand in shock for a few moments although he can sense a couple people walking up next to him. He glances beside him to see Charles and Alex, both also staring at Logan in disbelief.

“What the hell?” Lando asks, to no one in particular. Luckily, or unfortunately, for him, someone has an answer.

“Are you lot staring at Logan and his wife?” Lando doesn’t look over to catch the amused look on Oscar’s face as he asks the question. But Alex does, and he furrows his eyebrows at the younger man.

“Sorry?” Alex asks the Aussie who just smiles and turns back to the couple, still smiling in each other's embrace.

Charles is the first one to notice anything and he smacks the other two on the head when he does, “They’re both wearing wedding rings.”

Alex blinks for a second, caught in the strange reality that he hadn’t noticed his teammate wearing a wedding ring the whole season. He pulls out his phone to go through old photos and low-and-behold, Logan’s wearing a ring in every single one.

“Jesus Christ,” Lando mumbles, running a hand through his damp curls, “I flirted with her.”

“Yeah,” Oscar nods, hands on his hips, “I probably wouldn’t talk to Logan for a while if I were you. Unless you want to find out how they do it in Florida.”

Lando gulps at the boy's words, of course, having no idea how they “do it” in Florida but only assuming he’d end up with a black eye. Oscar has to stifle a laugh, knowing Logan would most likely just laugh it off if Lando genuinely apologized. Not that Lando would.

Oscar's eyes drift across the trio of confused drivers, most likely all going through their memories of the times they had tried to set Logan up.

“You told me he was lonely,” Lando finally whines out, turning back to Oscar who shakes his head.

“I told you he was lonely because his girlfriend couldn’t make it to any of the races. If you would listen, you would’ve heard that part.”

Lando has no defence to that and turns his head back again to watch as Logan laughs at something you said, fingers intertwined together.

When the news spread across the paddock the next day, Logan received a lot of incredulous texts from drivers and employees alike, all shocked that he was in a relationship, let alone married.

Logan didn’t read any of them, he was too busy hanging out with you.

Except, of course, the message from Oscar that included three specific drivers all with their eyes wide as they stared at him and you.

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Tags: @casperlikej @evie-119

#scheduled #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 smau #logan sargeant x fem!reader #logan sargeant x you #logan sargent x reader #logan sargeant x reader

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the-writer-arrived · 10 months

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Wait, you're engaged?!

Synopsis: you two are engaged, congrats!! how does he share the news with others?

Characters: alhaitham; diluc ragnvindr.

Warnings: gender neutral!reader, fluff, crack, this is actually more crack than fluff oh well, diluc and kaeya are brothers.

A/N: this is the third draft I wrote in two hours. IS THIS WHAT'S LIKE TO HAVE MOTIVATION????

It all started with a simple question about your well-being coming from Kaveh.

"So, how have they been lately?" was what the architect had asked, while shaking the elemental dice in his hand. He was playing a TCG match against Cyno, not an uncommon occurrence when the 4ggravate group of friends get together at Lambad's Tavern.

"Oh, my fiancée is doing just fine, I guess they're in a bit more energetic mood than usual." was what Alhaitham had answered, nonchalant as if he was talking about the weather and hadn't just dropped a huge bomb just like that.

The cheeky bastard is actually hiding his smirk with his wine cup, totally satisfied with himself at the shocked looks everyone has now.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!?!"

"Kaveh, please don't yell, you're making my ears hurt!"

"A-Ah! Sorry, Tighnari..."

"It seems like you didn't get a single dice of the elements you needed, your luck is truly something to be researched about."

"Wha-?! You...! Ah, no, wait, who cares about that?!"

I'm telling you, the guy is doing all he can to surpress the grin threatening to appear on his face.

No one was expecting to hear that, heck they didn't even know Alhaitham had bought a ring in the first place????

Dude how come you don't share these life changing plans with your homies?!

He shares the tale of how he had proposed to you... And let's just say Kaveh's romantic side was not happy about how it happened.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU PROPOSED WHILE YOU TWO WERE LOUNGING IN THE LIVING ROOM???"

"Kaveh, too loud!"

"S-Sorry!"

Much to Kaveh's dismay, Alhaitham didn't make any extravagant gesture or big preparations.

It was just you and him, in the comfort of your home and it just felt right to pop the question at that moment.

What no one, not even you, knew is that the confident, smart and aloof scribe had not actually planned to propose to you like that at all.

Ever since he had bought the ring months ago, Alhaitham had devised so many different ways on how to do it, always thinking about which scenario would make you the happiest.

But when he had you laid down on his lap, spounting your usual nonsense just to try to get a reaction out of him because you were bored, it simply felt... right to do it right then and there.

Make no mistake, he may not have shown, but his hand was shaking when he pulled the small box out of his pocket, he had to thank Lesser Lord Kusanali for allowing his voice to not come out shaky.

Alhaitham's cockiness aside, Cyno, Tighnari and Kaveh are all genuinely very happy at the unexpected, but positive news.

"Let's order some bread, then."

"Bread? Why do you want bread all of a sudden?"

"So we can offer a toast to the future spouses... Get it? Toast? As in-"

"Yes Cyno, we get it!"

Ahhh Diluc, my sweet Batman of Mondstadt... He had always thought that the best course of action was to keep everyone at arm's length, not only for his sake, but for other people as well.

Now, as he gazes at the beautiful ring on your finger, he can only laugh at how naive he was for thinking he would be able to do that during his whole life.

On the next day after he had proposed to you, every customer in Angel's Share can see Master Diluc acting rather... odd.

He seems... I don't know, lighter? His expression doesn't look so serious anymore... Wait, is he... smiling?!

Needless to say, everyone at the tavern is dying to know what happened to the tycoon of the wine industry, but no one dares to ask him directly...

...no one but a certain cavalry captain of the Knights of Favonious, that is.

"My, someone is in a good mood today. Did something nice happened lately, Master Diluc?"

"Here's your Death After Noon, Kaeya."

"...Okay, something must have happened for you to prepare my drink before I even ordered it."

After much poking and prying from Kaeya, Diluc finally relents, just so the pestering would stop.

It's a lie, he is actually feeling ecstatic to be able to share the news with someone.

Everyone and their grandma knew about your relationship with Diluc of course, it's a bit hard not to when you are dating the uncrowned king of Mondstadt himself, despite you two not making a public announcement of being together.

So, before he could even tell Kaeya that he had proposed to you, the captain already suspected that that was the reason for his brother's sudden change of behavior.

Even so, that doesn't stop a genuine smile to appear on Kaeya's face as he congratulates Diluc.

"It's about time! I was starting to wonder how many more years you were going to make me wait, before I had the chance be your best man in your wedding."

"Who said you're going to be my best man?"

"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you've forgotten our promise to be each other's best man when we were younger?"

"...I'm surprised you still remember that.

What Diluc wasn't aware at that moment was that a certain bard had eavesdropped "accidentaly" listened to his private conversation with the cavalry captain.

It was such great news, the bard couldn't help but let it escape during the drunk conversations he had with other patrons that night.

How could he imagine that those patrons would tell their friends, who would tell their friends and so on? Of course the kind-hearted bard wouldn't do that on purpose!

It's not his fault that all the citizens of Mondstadt now know about Diluc's engagement with you!

Sorry Donna.

"Come now, Master Diluc! Good news are meant to be shared with others! Who knows? Maybe even the Anemo Archon caught wind of them, ehe!"

"...I won't sell you any wine for a month now."

"W-What?! Please, don't be so cruel, Master Diluc!"

thanks for reading <3 likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated <3

heart divider made by @/cafekitsune

pink alhaitham and diluc banners (fluff) made by @/the-writer-arrived aka yours truly <3

#blue.writes: genshin impact #blue.writes: fluff #blue.writes: alhaitham #blue.writes: diluc ragnvindr #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin alhaitham #genshin diluc #al haitham x reader #alhaitham x reader #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader

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kyeomofhearts · 6 months

Text

Again & Again | C.SC

+ summary: you caved in and fucked your best friend, but it was only a one-time thing… right?

+ pairing: scoups x fem!reader

+ word count: 4k

+ content: fwb!, chubby reader (love ya'll), friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, pussy drunk cheol, size kink, angst, fluff.

+ WARNINGS: smut, dom!seungcheol, sub!reader, rough sex, praise? pls lmk if I missed anything

🫧 AHHHHH this is my first fic on here! I tried proofreading it but I can only read so much :') I hope the people that see this, enjoy!

You wished you had an excuse for last night’s events, you really did, because how are you supposed to tell your best friend of ten years that you didn’t want to fuck him again?

Okay, that sounds harsh… but it’s the truth!

It’s not like he was a bad fuck either because it was quite the opposite. The man was incredible in bed, plain and simple. But you know how these things go, someone proposes the idea of friends with benefits, and then boom! Someone ends up falling for the other and now the whole dynamic is ruined. And you knew that you would be the one that fell for him.

There's no denying that there was always something more with Seungcheol, he was just different from your other friends. Your 'reasoning' was that you two had known each other for so long that you naturally saw him differently. This was something you tried to push time and time again. And for the most part, you were pretty successful in hiding your attraction towards him... except for last night.

Which leads us to our dreaded present. You have come to terms that the deed has been done (well done if you might say so yourself). And you most definitely cannot deny that yesterday’s events occurred because then you would be lying to yourself and Seungcheol-

“Hello? Are you even listening to me y/n?”

Shit.

“Hm? Sorry, what were you saying?”

Cheol scoffed and playfully flicked your forehead. He turned his whole body towards you, “I was saying that we should do this again. I really enjoyed last night so maybe we could make this a regular thing… if you wanted to that is.”

At least you knew he enjoyed last night, seeing how he wants more. But what if that's all he wants?

It’s now or never. You have to tell Cheol that it was only a one-time thing.

You turned your body to face Seungcheol and locked eyes with him. Even though you’ve seen his freshly woken up face countless times , it still brought butterflies to your stomach every time he looked at you. Especially his eyes, they somehow become even more droopier in the mornings. How could you ever say no to him when he looks like a lost puppy?

No. Stay on track.

“I don't know Cheol, I'm not sure if I can do that.”

And… here we go. You immediately see worry take over his face. His eyes somehow looked even more glossier than normal. You had to clarify yourself quickly or the damage would be irreversible.

You quickly throw your hands in the air for defense. “No, no, no… it’s not like that! I swear. I just don’t want to overcomplicate things Cheol. It’s just that I know how these things go and I seriously cannot bear the thought of losing you.”

He was about to say something before your hand went to his hair, going through his soft, fluffy locks. Seungcheol’s face seemed to relax with this gesture. You wanted to keep the atmosphere light and show him that nothing was going to change between the two of you.

It stayed like that for another minute or so.

He took a deep breath. “No I get it… But, my offer still stands you know.” He ruffled your hair while saying that last part.

God his morning voice sounds so raspy. Just how you like it. And it’s so tempting to just throw all of your self restraint away and fuck him again. But you know it’s for the best, I mean, it’s not that uncommon to fuck your best friend… right? Whatever. This whole thing will pass and you guys are just going to laugh about it someday in the future.

You giggled at that thought. But going back to what Cheol said.

“No yeah, of course. You know I would never turn down an offer to fuck you again.” This was a lie of course, but you had to keep it light. Although, this did make Cheol’s ears flush a bright red, which is very uncommon to see. Laughing, you were able to roll out of bed and start getting ready for the day.

Seungcheol’s eyes followed your frame as you went about in his room, gathering all of the lost pieces of clothing that you did not care for last night.

What you didn't know was that Seungcheol felt the same exact way about you. He was just as scared as you though, which is why he never pushed for more. Scared that he would lose you if he did so. He thought that maybe last night could lead the two of you for more, he just didn't know how to approach you about it.

He tried ignoring the sinking feeling in his chest. Your response worried a part of him because he knew that last night was for sure going to change your friendship, whether he liked it or not.

"Hey, I have to go now, but I'll see you later, yeah?" You said while waiting for him to walk you out.

"Yeah, for sure."

It will all work out, he thought. It has to.

All good things eventually come to an end.

That ‘good thing’ being your resolve. One week. A total of seven days before you came crawling back to Seungcheol about that deal. Because at this point you did not care about what was going to happen next.

From: You

Hey, I know it’s late but are you home rn?

Sent at 11:42 pm

You were desperate at this point. You thought that maybe Cheol was “great” in bed because he was the only person you’d had sex with within the last six months. So naturally, you decided to hook up with a stranger from the bar, to test your theory.

Not the best idea.

When you guys got to his apartment, he was all over you, but not in a good way. It felt rushed and sloppy. What you had forgotten during your night with Cheol was that some guys really did not care about your pleasure. Because not even two minutes of making out, and the guy was already trying to stick it in! To make matters worse, the guy didn’t even know where your clit was, like come on! Overall, it was a terrible experience.

Which is why you were in your current situation. You had weighed the pros and cons of fucking Cheol on a regular basis. …And they weren’t too bad. If anything, the two of you had excellent communication so if a problem came up then you could just talk it out, no big deal.

But god did you feel pathetic. You were so quick to shut his idea down and now you’ve come crawling back to his-

From: Cheollie

Yeah what’s up?

Sent at 11:53 pm

Relax. If he says no, then he says no. Not a big deal.

From: You

Well, if you’re not busy… I was thinking about a follow up from last week?

It’s okay if you changed your mind about it! I was just curious if you were still up for it 🫣

Sent at 11:55 pm

You immediately put your phone on ringer and threw it to the couch. The thought of seeing his text bubbles in real time gave you so much anxiety. Maybe you should just take a lap around your kitchen, that always helps right?

Not even a foot away from the couch and… he was calling you?

You scurried over to your phone and accepted the call with haste.

“He-”

“I’m coming over in ten.” And then he hung up.

Wow. That was pretty dramatic, he couldn’t have said that through text? Although, you couldn’t deny just how excited you were. It certainly didn’t help that he seemed to be just as ready as you were for him.

These next minutes of waiting were going to be hell for you.

Needless to say, you were thrilled.

You figured that with the time you had, you could at least spruce yourself up.

Which is exactly what you did.

You changed out of your old pajamas and into something more presentable. By presentable you mean revealing because you really do not want to struggle to take off your clothes. Plus, you want to give Cheol a treat for being able to come out so late. So you also sprayed on that perfume he complimented you on a while back (totally not why you continued buying it). Maybe you should clean your apartment up? Seungcheol has seen worse but it never hurts you know.

You were about to go ahead and start cleaning but the doorbell rang.

Damn, he was fast.

The anticipation was eating you alive. You could not wait for what Cheol had in mind for you. Just the mere thought of him made heat rush down to your core.

Opening the door, you were met with Seungcheol. Not just his regular self though, he was in a black compression shirt with loose-fitting sweatpants. It was so simple yet so hot. You would have kept ogling until he cleared his throat.

“What made you change your mind?” He asked with a smug expression.

Ugh, if you weren’t so turned on you would definitely wipe that smile off his face… but you needed dick bad. Like really bad.

“Well I would lie to you and say that I thought it through but I’m really horny right now…”

You turned away from him to close the door.

“Well, we can always talk about it after… right? Or maybe you’ll be too fucked out to even talk.”

Now this made you turn swiftly towards him.

Which was a big mistake. His face was merely inches away from yours and you could even smell his cologne radiating off of his body. His eyes were dark, something you only saw when he would talk to girls at the club. Only this time it was directed towards you.

You went for the kill and locked your lips against his. You needed to taste him again, you were just that insatiable. His lips were so soft and plush against your own. You were always jealous of his lips, they were always somehow perfect.

Your arms slid over his shoulders to draw him closer to you. Now pressed as close as possible, your hands began to wander throughout his torso. You never truly noticed just how broad his shoulders were, never mind his chest. You wished that he never stop whatever he was doing at the gym, because clearly it was working.

As much as Seungcheol loved the attention, he felt the need to taste you again.

“Open,” he said with a low rasp.

You obliged and opened up for him, allowing him to nibble at your lower lip. He kissed you with the same amount of fervor. He raised his hand to tangle his fingers around your hair. Seungcheol’s fingers tightened their grip causing you to let out a small whimper.

Now that was a sound Cheol loved to hear, especially coming from you. He wanted to see just how loud you could get.

Carefully, Seungcheol readjusted his grip on your hair and firmly tugged on it once again. This was his way of testing the waters, since he didn’t know how rough you liked it.

When you whimpered once again, he made sure to take a mental note of that.

Things began to get increasingly heated by the second. Which is why you decided that it was (finally) time to relocate to your bedroom.

...

Once the two of you had reached the door to your bedroom, Cheol had suddenly lifted you off the ground.

Now you weren't necessarily a fan of being picked up, considering you weren't 'light' like others. Totally not traumatized from previous partners struggling to pick you up...

“Now why would you do that?" You tried to keep it cool but it was obvious that you were a little frazzled. It honestly scared you that he was able to lift you up so easily, like what was he training for at the gym?

“Just because I can,” Seungcheol said nonchalantly. His voice made you gush with wetness, it was just that deep.

After that, he gently threw you on your bed. Maybe he just wanted to show off his strength, you thought. It was still hot either way.

He slowly started stripping, starting with his shirt. Seungcheol was a big dude, and you knew that, but seeing him in all of his glory really did something to you. Though the lighting in your room was dim, the shadows did an excellent job of emphasizing just how big his chest was. He was undeniably handsome, you could see why everyone threw themselves at him...

You were staring again. Get a grip!

"Quit with the teasing and just fuck me," you were getting more desperate by the second.

This made him even more cocky, but he didn't say anything. Rather he tugged at your shorts for you to take them off. So you did, and your cunt was immediately hit by the cold air in the room.

"No underwear?" Cheol said, trying to not make his surprise evident.

You felt like being bold today, who knows what he’ll do to you if you teased him enough.

"Why bother when you were gonna take it off anyways?"

That's when he knew you were going to be the death of him. How could he ever think about being with anyone else when you were perfect for him?

"Fuck, don't say shit like that."

Seungcheol was enamored with your body and everything that you had to offer. The soft plushness of your skin made him want to break you even more. But before he broke you, he had to give you a taste of heaven.

He started off by trailing sweet kisses on your thighs. He took his time on working you up. Eventually he reached your cunt, pressing light pecks on it.

He wanted to take his time here, remembering just how sensitive you got when he ate you for the first time. His goal was to have you crying by the end of the night.

“God, I forgot how good you tasted love,” he mumbled into your pussy.

Seungcheol used his arms to hoist your legs on his shoulders. His grip on your thighs now firm and steady.

He started off light, giving you slow and gentle licks on your clit. He wanted to slowly build you up to your first release (more like an excuse to tease you).

This seemed to please you, but not for long. You could only enjoy the slow pace for so long until you started craving for more.

Fortunately, Seungcheol had been growing his hair out, making it the perfect length to tug on.

You didn’t realize how good and bad this move would be.

This for sure got him to speed up his movements. Instead of gentle licks, he switched to harsh sucking. Occasionally groaning into your pussy, which brought you delicious vibrations. He was eating you out like a starved man, he just couldn’t get enough of you.

With his consistency, it was no surprise that you already started to feel the warmth in your lower belly. It's not like it was hard to make you cum either, that is if you knew what you were doing.

Seungcheol knew this, he felt the way you were beginning to twitch and tighten your legs around his head. God did he love just how plush and warm they were. He thinks he could stay here forever if given the opportunity. He began to speed up his efforts in hopes of bringing you to your first release of the night. The more releases, the easier it gets for him to slide into your (heavenly) pussy.

And just as he was thinking about this, you came.

But Cheol wasn’t feeling nice today, he wanted to push you past your limits. So even after you came, he still kept the same pressure and speed on your now sensitive bud.

You tried to get him to slow down, or at least just give you a little break. Tugging his hair didn’t seem to work, in fact, it worsened it. He would speed up every time you tugged on his locks. You were beginning to feel the same warmth in your belly. Two minutes haven't even passed since your first orgasm!

Just a few more licks and you were spasming against Seungcheol's head again. Finally, you pushed his head away from your overly sensitive cunt, this seemed to do the trick.

"Aw, is my pretty girl already tired?" He cooed while moving his face up to yours.

You didn't reply to him. Feeling spent from your first and second orgasms for the night.

"I hope you know that this is just the beginning love, I haven't even stretched you out yet," he whispered right before diving in to give you a kiss.

You have never tasted yourself before, it was a bit salty but nothing too strange. His hands roamed over your waist, just before going up to settle on your chest.

He softly tugged at your shirt so you would let him take it off.

Now Seungcheol was aware of how you felt about your body. Having heard your frequent frustrations with being on the chubbier side. And no matter how much he reassured you that you were beautiful, you still managed to doubt yourself. He never understood that which frustrated him just as much. He just wanted to show you just how gorgeous you were in his eyes.

So while he had the chance, he was going to show you how much he loved your body. He was going to worship you. Seungcheol peppered your chest with small chaste kisses, and he continued all the way down to your boobs. His tongue passionately flickered over one of your hardened nipples, with his hand softly massaging your other breast.

While his hand was working on your hardened bud, his other hand slithered its way down to your cunt. His thumb made slow circles on your clit, while two of his fingers teased at your entrance. Fortunately, you were wet enough to slide in with little resistance. He made slow scissoring motions to open you up for him. While he wasn't necessarily trying to make you cum, he did want to make this at this pleasurable at the very least.

But you were growing needier by the second. You loved his attention to foreplay, but god did you just want him to get inside you already.

"Please, Cheol, just get inside, I'm more than ready by now." Your face was burning, never have you begged someone to fuck you.

Your plea was more than enough and he quickly stopped everything he was doing. He got out of the bed to shimmy out of his sweats and underwear. And... god was he big. You were never the best at hiding your expressions, because one look at you and Seungcheol started laughing.

"Is something wrong?" He asked with feigned concern.

"Don't tease me right now!" You huffed with slight annoyance.

He chuckled while digging in his sweats for a condom. His smile quickly dropped when he didn't feel anything in his pockets.

Now it was your turn to laugh at him.

"I forgot to bring a condom."

You knew what you were going to recommend was dumb. But since you knew Seungcheol pretty well, you trusted him.

"We... can do it without one," you said, trying to make your voice sound confident enough.

His eyes grew wide, surprised to hear that you would let him fuck you without protection.

He took a deep breath before responding. "I know I'm clean, and I've never fucked anyone without one. I just want to make sure you are completely okay about this."

"I promise." Plus you were on birth control, it was going to be fine.

That being said, Cheol got back on the bed and settled himself between your legs. He gave his cock a few pumps before he settled it near your cunt. Within a few seconds, he slowly began to push the head inside. The initial push stung a bit, but it quickly dissipated once he went further inside.

His eyes fluttered shut at your tightness alongside letting a rough groan out.

Once he was fully inside you, he stayed there for a minute, just wanting to let you adjust to his size. After a beat or so, he experimented with a gentle thrust. You whimpered at the feeling, you wanted more so you decided to clench around his cock to let him know. Seungcheol started at an easy pace, one that was able to tame your neediness. He held that pace for a minute before he quickly switched gears on you.

He started pounding into your aching cunt, lifting your legs over his shoulders. Now this was on another level, it made it easier for him to hit that one spot.

You felt yourself clamp hard around Seungcheol's cock, feeling his thick veins dragging deliciously inside you. A whine was ripped from you as a wave of pleasure shot throughout your body. His hips started snapping into you, smirking every time you desperately cried his name out.

"Fuck, I think I'm gonna cum again Cheol-"

"Not until I say so," as he continued snapping into your hips. The grip he had on you was growing rougher by the second. It was for sure going to leave a bruise in the morning.

He continued with his animalistic pace, grunts occasionally leaving his mouth. He started trailing messy kisses along your neck, sometimes focusing on specific areas. It was getting harder for you to hold your release, you could only last for so long...

"Come on love, you can cum," Seungcheol mumbled against your neck.

You didn't need to be told again, feeling your body shake against his. The sudden gush of wetness running between your legs. Quickly following your release, Seungcheol pulled out and came all over your stomach.

Part of you felt disappointed that he didn't come inside you, but you tried to push that feeling down.

Everything started feeling hazy, you didn't even feel it when he got off the bed to go to the bathroom. Just before you fell asleep Seungcheol lightly tapped your leg.

"Let me clean you up, yeah?"

You flinched once the rag made contact with your cunt, it was just so cold. But it only lasted for a minute.

You felt the bed dip once again and Seungcheol covered the two of you with your blanket. He wrapped his strong arms around your body, pulling your back flush to his chest. He buried his face into your neck and lulled the two of you to sleep.

You woke up to the feeling of fingertips lightly touching and tracing over your side. It was oddly soothing.

When you moved your eyes up to his face, he was looking at you with fond eyes.

"How long have you been staring at me, weirdo?"

"Only for a minute"

You let out a soft giggle. His face was so puffy in the morning, so cute.

"Did you want to come up with some ground rules for our arrangement?"

Crap. You forgot about that.

"Hmmm... I guess my only thing is not sleeping with other people."

Hopefully, he would agree to that. You just didn't feel comfortable messing around with someone knowing they have been sleeping with others.

"Yeah, I can get with that." He said with a gentle tone.

He added, "We should also let each other know when we are talking to other people."

"Of course."

Your arrangement wasn't too difficult. If anything the two of you could always opt out of it.

That should be easy right?

Part Two: II

#seventeen #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #seventeen smut #smut #kpop smut #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #scoups #choi seungcheol #luv writes

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locusfandomtime · 2 months

Text

Doing the maths: Grian's failure at getting a mending book

lots of talk about maths and probabilities below the cut! but there's a graph and simple explanation at the end if you want to get the gist of it and are bad at maths.

(I am still young and learning maths, critique/advice always welcomed)

What are the odds of getting a mending book in Minecraft?

(I am assuming Grian has been doing all his fishing with Luck of the Sea 3)

The probability of a mending book is actually a bit annoying to estimate. The Minecraft Wiki lists fishing up an enchanted book as 1.9% chance. This is for ANY enchanted book. The Minecraft wiki talks about how the chance of an enchantment being selected is calculated. Mending has a weight of 2. Using the table, mending has a probability of 2/135.

However, Grian is looking for any book with mending, not just a pure mending book. Additional enchantments are calculated in a different way, involving RNG, which means it won't be as easy to model. Due to this reason, I'll just be using the odds for a pure mending book throughout.

TLDR: a mending book has a 0.028..% chance (2/135*0.019*100)

Grian's Data

According to this screenshot, Grian has used a fishing rod 5679 times. This number may not be fully accurate, as it includes the times he's fished other players, rather than just fished for items, but it is a good estimate.

To help visualise this data, with a median waiting time between catches of 17.5 seconds, Grian has spent over 20 hours fishing so far! He may have a problem.

Is this statistically significant?

Hypothesis testing (p-value approach):

H0: p = 19/67500 (the null hypothesis - he has no mending books because of chance)

H1: p < 19/67500 (the alternate hypothesis - he has no mending books due to different odds)

5679 trials, 0 mending books

X ~ B(5679, 19/67500) (binomial distribution, 5679 tries with a probability of a mending book being 19/67500, where X is the number of mending books)

p(X=0) (what is the probability the number of mending books being 0)

p = 0.2021473392

Now, the point at which data becomes significant is subjective. For instance, you *could* get a million heads in a row flipping a coin, it's not impossible, but at a certain point, you can begin to say "okay there's something not normal about this". For this approach, the closer the p-value is to 0, the more evidence there is against the null hypothesis . The p-value here is far above a significance level of 0.01, or 0.05, or 0.1. There isn't a clear line between significant/non-significant, but this is answer is quite a bit far from 0

With this, I cannot reject the null hypothesis.

Personal conclusion: this is not statistically significant, Grian is just unlucky.

Are other values statistically significant?

Gem's proposed 9000: results in a p-value of 0.079... more significant than Grian's number but I don't imagine Mojang would be too concerned. As said though, it's all subjective.

I am bad at maths, what does all this mean?

Here is a graph, showing what number of mending books you might have after 5679 tries. The height of the bar represents the probability of getting that amount. The numbers at the top are the (rounded) numbers I used in my calculation

The pink column is 0 mending books - like what Grian has! As you can see, it is less likely than getting 1 or 2 books, but not too uncommon to happen.

End conclusion: Grian has bad luck. Like, not as hilariously bad as he thinks, but still bad. If he keeps going, chances are he will get a mending book, but I think he should probably stop fishing because at this point he has a problem.

#if you saw my last post no you didnt #<- misread “5679 fishing rods used” as having fully used up 5679 fishing rods #this is so much better written than my last post though. and i think the graph helps a lot #long post #locus fandom time #locus maths time #grian #hermitcraft #hermitblr #hermitcraft 10 #“why the p value approach” i missed the lesson for it so this is my catch up work unironically

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fangswbenefits · 4 months

Text

The Arrangement (9) - The Arrangement

Chapter summary: Ava proposes an arrangement, and things get out of control with Astarion... once again.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Alcohol. Innuendo. Body worship. (almost) Fingering. Sexual tension.

Word count: 6k

Series masterlist . Ao3

Ava extended the palm of her hand across the table, expecting you to comply with her silent request.

But you weren’t so easily swindled, especially when too much of her story was beginning to rub you the wrong way.

As such, you feigned complying by placing your hand atop hers, whilst your other carefully unsheathed the dagger at your hip.

Her face held a honeyed smile that you didn’t return, and your watchful eyes followed her every move,

But before her knife could come close to your skin, you got on your feet, sending the chair sliding across the floor before you made a lunge for her, plucking her from her seat with one hand and pressing her back against the cabinet behind, your dagger firmly held against the side of her neck.

She did try to swing the knife in her hand, but you immediately caught hold of her wrist and squeezed tight until she dropped it on the floor.

“Sharp reflexes,” she noted with a curt smile.

You held her in place with the weight of your body, the sharp edge of your blade ready to slice through her skin.

“You sound surprised.”

She smiled again. “It is uncommon for sorcerers to be so skillful with anything but a staff and fancy hand flourishes.”

“Not many have the opportunity to learn from a seasoned rogue.”

Astarion had taken a liking to honing your dexterity, even when constantly remarking you’d never rival his.

However, in this particular moment, it did come in handy and his teachings had paid off.

“Unfortunately for you,” Ava said, her smile dropping slightly. “You are not the only one with tricks up their sleeve.”

And before you could question her remark, you felt the cool sting of metal tapping against your neck, just above the faint bite marks from the night before.

For a moment, the grip on your dagger faltered, but you quickly regained composure, not easing the blade pressed against her skin.

“This is coated in a most agonising poison.”

You offered a devious smile. “What a coincidence – so is mine.”

“Astarion’s?”

“Touché.”

A homebrew recipe that he had once shared with you.

Travelling together with Astarion had given you the opportunity to broaden your skill set and that covered knowing how to brew most basic poisons.

She did look far too amused for someone who you could easily incapacitate should she stray but a little.

“And here I thought we had made some progress.”

Her taunt made you snap at once. “How much of an idiot do you take me for?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Idiot?”

You pushed harder into her, causing the glass jars inside the cabinet to rattle. “Your story sounds a little too convenient. You were a monster hunter for decades, then had a sudden change of heart, and tracked down Astarion to aid him,” your words were venomous enough to match the poison coating your blade. “I’m sorry if I have a hard time believing someone could just abandon their principles all at once and even go as far as to kill their own kin.”

Her arm was gripping yours, but you didn’t flinch, your eyes boring into hers. “You don’t have to believe me. I wouldn’t either, to be frank. However, you shouldn't be passing judgement when it comes to others having changes of heart.”

You remained silent.

“You took a leap of faith with Astarion, did you not? You trusted him even after learning he could easily turn on you,” she went on, her voice now firm and low. “But he didn’t. He proved he could change, even when it goes against his very nature as a vampire spawn.”

Another wave of anger flared inside you.

How could she even compare this situation to that of Astarion’s? She was nothing like him. She didn’t know the first thing about the two of you.

“You utter sweetened words and use my bond with him to make me sway,” you said in a low warning tone. “But I simply don’t like you. It’s not even about you wanting my blood – it’s how you so easily take and take from him and expect me to compactuate with it.”

Ava scoffed, trying to push you off of her but to no avail. “So is that why you’re here? To stake your claim?”

" Claim? Astarion is his own person.”

She chuckled darkly. “Yet here you are, speaking on his behalf. Enlighten me on how that works.”

Her words tore through your flesh more effectively than the knife she held to your neck ever could.

You immediately let go of her as if suddenly burned by her touch and took a few steps back, falling silent.

Was that the impression you gave her? That you were taking away his free will on this matter? Would he think the same if he knew how close you had been to sinking your dagger into her?

Shame.

Guilt.

Your chest felt impossibly heavy from the weight of your doubts, and you dropped your arm at your side at once.

Ava adjusted her dress as she straightened up, but there was no triumphant smile on her face. “I am not the enemy. You don’t have to trust me – Hells, you don’t have to like me – but he does to an extent, and I already said that I do not take a single drop of his blood without his full consent, as I won’t take yours.”

It was starting to overwhelm you just how hard Ava was to decode. You wanted to trust her word and to believe that helping her with your own blood could be helpful to Astarion in the long run, especially if there were people out there who wanted to hurt both of you.

But you just couldn’t bring yourself to fully digest her reasoning without asking the proper questions and double checking.

You were once told: “Never swallow before chewing.”

“Why did you kill your group, then? Why not just leave?”

Ava’s pleasant features turned sour as she returned to her seat. “There are no fiercest shackles than those of the mind. I know it. Astarion knows it,” she said nonchalantly, placing her knife on the table. “Not that I expect you to resonate with this as I’m sure you’ve lived a sheltered life.”

You’re wrong…

On so many levels.

But you weren’t going to give her leverage on your past.

Not even Astarion was aware of the intricate details of your upbringing.

“Sorcerers are born with an innate talent for magic wielding,” she went on, her eyes fixed on you. “I wouldn’t be surprised if your family in Baldur’s Gate ranked up high with the rest of the nobles.”

You narrowed your eyes, lips still pressed shut.

It was unfair that she was drawing all these assumptions in regards to you when they couldn’t be further from the truth.

There had never been privilege.

The magic coursing through your body was what made you nearly lose it all once…

But silence was your best weapon now.

“Not everyone has that privilege – I know I didn’t. I was forced to do the bidding of others, because that was all I knew growing up until Astarion’s case put things into perspective. Sure, I did expand my knowledge on Alchemy here and there, but I was never allowed to openly practice it,” there was a faint hint of sorrow in her voice that nearly made you feel sorry for her. Nearly. “So long as they lived, I would never be truly free as they would make sure I’d painfully regret leaving them. But I was done hunting those who could use a second chance, which was exactly what you offered Astarion.”

Her answer absolutely floored you.

Your mind wanted her explanation to not make any sense.

You wanted a reason to hate her.

A reason to tear her bond with Astarion to smithereens.

Yet here she was, giving you seemingly truthful justifications to her deeds, which further troubled your heart and mind and completely defied your anger.

Eventually, you slid your dagger back in its holster with a long sigh. “Who’s after us?”

She crossed her legs. “I have my suspicions, but I need more time.

As much as you wanted to take her vague answer at face value, your common sense spoke louder this time.

“How can I be sure you’re not just feeding me some fable to cover up your own tracks?”

She chuckled almost in disbelief. “You truly are a tough one to crack, no doubt. I have a solid alibi, if that is what you’re requesting.”

“Go on.”

She paused briefly as if pondering her next words. “I was with a patriar.”

Hold on…

“Who?” you immediately shot back.

“Someone from the Parliament of Peers.”

Now, this piqued your interest. “ Who?”

“Rob Sorel.”

The wealthy baldurian merchant with an uncanny reputation for being ruthless when his interests were involved? The man whose wealth could easily overshadow that of a duke?

That seemed like a stretch.

A very unsettling stretch.

You crossed your arms. “And what were you doing with such an influential patriar, especially so late at night?”

Ava gave you a long and hard look, lips tugged upwards, unveiling her amusement.

Oh.

“His influence reaches beyond Baldur’s Gate and I am able to gain exclusive access to wares that aid my research.”

You felt tempted to ask what the trade off was, but judging from the way her face twisted deviously, you could tell it probably revolved around carnal pleasure, which you refused to know the sordid details of.“Feel free to have Wyll cross-check this information as I’m sure Rob has mentioned my name.”

This nearly sent off alarm bells ringing in your head. “Wyll had never heard your name before I told him.”

She chuckled again, drumming her nails on the wooden surface of the table. “Oh, but he has . Ava is short for Avalar. I have had long dealings with Rob and he will uphold my alibi. Feel free to ask.”

Against your better judgement, you began to feel less… wary of her.

Not that you were able to fully let go of your gut feeling, but every answer was delivered with almost no hesitancy on her part and, truth be told, you would quickly be able to catch her if this involvement with a patriar was nothing but a desperate lie.

A sudden knock on the door made you jolt in place.

It was Wyll. “We ought to get going. Are you done?”

Your eyes remained fixed on her. “Yes. We're just going over some details.”

He didn't reply again and you saw Ava raise her eyebrows. “Details?”

You ignored her remark. “Will you try to track whoever is after us, then?”

“I will.”

You swallowed. “What's the price?”

She rose to her feet and took slow yet sure steps towards you until she was close enough for you to fully see the olive green colour of her eyes.

“Let's just say our interests are temporarily aligned.”

Bullshit.

“You wanted my blood.”

“I want your blood, yes. But I will settle with running a few more experiments after he's fed on you, if you accept this condition, that is.”

As far as you were concerned, you would rather she stopped meddling with anyone's blood, but Astarion seemed so confident in her promises…

Maybe there was a chance of success… maybe she could truly help with their hunger.

Maybe.

“Only after you tell Astarion about this discovery of yours in regards to his blood mixing with mine,” you said firmly. “Or I will.”

She nodded, offering a sweet smile.

“Don't think of this as payment, though. A mere transaction. An arrangement, if you will.”

You were starting to dread that term as of late. It was as if everything revolved around transactions and that it was the only way people knew how to properly function and establish relationships with others.

Slowly, you nodded and, for the second time that night, Ava extended her hand to you, only this time you took it in yours.

A mysterious smile settled on her lips until you pulled her closer to you, lowering your voice, “I still don’t trust you.”

“I’d be disappointed if you did.”

You glared intensely into her eyes, hardening your face. “Any small step in the wrong direction, and you’ll hear from me.”

She nodded. “Deal.”

Then you gave her a firm shake before letting go and exiting her room without even looking back, as you were in dire need to distance yourself from the overwhelming events of tonight.

Wyll hurried to your side, glaring at you inquisitively. “So? What did you find out? Is she to be trusted?”

“Do you know a woman who goes by Avalar?”

He tapped his chin pensively for a moment. “Avalar? That name does sound familiar. Wait – she is Avalar? The merchant?”

You nodded as you made your way down the staircase, feeling the uncomfortable and draining presence of the mage slayer right behind you.

“She is connected to Rob Sorel, right?”

He hesitated at first, grabbing your arm and bringing you to an abrupt halt as you reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Lord Sorel isn’t one to trifle with idly. If she is indeed who she claims to be, then we must keep an eye on her.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine, already feeling that you might have given her the benefit of the doubt too quickly.

Wyll turned to one of the Fists by his side and gave him a silent command to which the man nodded and exited the tavern.

“She said she was with him on the night we were caught, and that Sorel will vouch for her.”

The commotion around the two of you from the rowdy and very much intoxicated crowd made it nearly impossible to hold a proper conversation.

“I will dig around,” he said with a raise of his voice, guiding you to the door.

But you yanked free from him, which earned a wary look from the other Fist.

“I need a drink. Please.”

The Fist spoke before he could, “My Lord, I don’t think we should linger any longer.”

You rolled your eyes and promptly made your way to the counter, squeezing past a few smelly individuals who grumbled in

Bork appeared rather quickly in front of you, and you blinked twice.

“What can I get you, missy? ”

Wyll was by your side at lightning speed. “Are you sure you want to have a drink? Now?”

You never felt a particular interest in indulging in alcoholic beverages, but you craved it now more than ever.

“A pint, please.”

Bork’s lips parted into a devious smile and you tapped your fingers impatiently as he shifted to work on your request.

“You are not one to hold your liquor, if I remember correctly, my friend,” Wyll noted, already placing one gold piece on the counter. “Mayhap you ought to take a sip or two before we leave.”

He was absolutely correct, but you also needed a quick way to numb your restless mind.

At worst you’d get a bit too intoxicated.

At best, you’d find a way to, hopefully, sleep through what was left of this night.

As Bork set the mug in front of you and eagerly collected his payment, you grabbed it with both hands and proceeded to down the sweet liquid.

In one go.

Wyll’s hand tried to ease your eagerness, but you slapped it away with a chuckle.

“Why do I have the feeling I will have to carry you home after this?”

By the time you were through with the ale, you realised you had made a severe mistake.

If Wyll had not been there to steady your unbalanced feet, you would have certainly tripped on the nearby stool.

Fuck…

By the time you made it back home, it was more than evident you should not have drunk all of it.

But it seemed that your brain was starting to morph a sense of guilt into finding anything within your grasp to be rather hilarious.

Even when you almost bumped into the mage slayer stationed outside your house.

You gave them a wide grin and a pat on the shoulder as if he couldn’t easily split you in half.

Wyll pushed the door open and guided you inside with both hands gripping your shoulders for added support.

“Easy now. Mind the step.”

You completely disregarded his warning, which led to you almost losing balance if not for his strong arm that looped around yours, pulling you back.

You giggled.

He was truly a sweetheart.

Inside, you were met with the dim flickering of a few candles that provided enough brightness to spot the love of your life.

Wait.

Love of your life?

Scratch that. What a ridiculous overstatement.

“What in the sweet Hells took you so long?” Astarion said with a scowl, rising from his chair and heading straight towards you like an arrow.

You giggled again, throwing your arms in the air. “You stayed up and waited for me!”

Astarion halted abruptly in front of you, hands on both hips. “I don’t sleep as I’m sure you’re aware. What is wrong with you?”

Wyll patted your back reassuringly. “She…drank a pint, and – well… this is the result.”

Suddenly, there were two Astarions standing next to each other and you yelped in shock, flinching back.

“Why are there two of you?” you asked, pointing at them.

Both of them cocked an elegant eyebrow. “Two of what?”

Odd.

They moved and spoke in perfect unison.

If one Astarion was already such a headache at times, you couldn’t even begin to fathom what two Astarions would be capable of.

Driven by curiosity, you tried to reach out to one of them with your hand, but grasped nothing but air as your vision corrected itself and only one Astarion was left.

Really odd.

But entertaining.

He quickly gripped your gesticulating arm by the wrist. “Will you stop it? You’ll hurt yourself.”

The sudden proximity made your stomach turn dangerously, but you were far too amused to care. “ You’ll hurt yourself ,” you mimicked poorly, earning another scowl.

“I let you out of my sight for a few hours and this is the result,” he said with a sigh, then turning to Wyll. “Why would you let her drink a whole pint?”

Wyll rubbed the back of his neck. “She insisted, and I figured she could use the distraction.”

“What happened with Ava?” Astarion pressed.

Oh, Gods… not her again. “Will everyone please stop talking about her? Gods!”

He then pulled you closer to him, not letting go of your wrist, but easing his grip.

His beautiful eyes met yours and you felt yourself swoon, feeling the image of Ava dissipating into thin air.

Gods… he was the most beautiful man to ever grace this earth, no doubt.

Books should be written on his beauty and songs should be sung in his honour.

You felt yourself smile widely at him, feeling a rush of heat flood your face.

You’re so handsome…

His brows immediately furrowed.

Oh.

Shit.

You had said that aloud.

But you stood by it.

Astarion was so very handsome.

The only man who could make you yearn for him and have your heart and soul enamoured by all of him.

Then his face gradually softened. "Well, good thing there are no newshounds nearby. Can you imagine the headlines in tomorrow’s paper about the hero of Baldur’s Gate making a fool of themselves?”

You felt so giddy and drunk in his beauty that you just nodded at every word that spilled from those full lips that you wish you could just–

Whatever you say, handsome…

“Where’s Shadowheart?” you heard Wyll ask.

Astarion shrugged. “No one else is here, and it’s not as if I’m their mother.”

He was so snarky and it just made you almost melt under his touch.

“I can stay if need be.”

You rapidly turned to face Wyll, and immediately felt dizzy as Astarion steadied you.

“Please stay! We can have a party!” you suggested with a dramatic pout.

Behind you, Astarion scoffed. “I’m quite sure dear Wyll is busy with his Duke duties, darling.”

Wyll chuckled. “I always make time for my friends.”

“Well, I can take it from here,” he retorted and you could spot a hint of disdain in his voice.

So attractive…

Astarion then lifted your arm and wiggled your wrist. “Say goodbye to Wyll, sweetheart.”

You giggled dramatically again. “Goodbye Wyll!”

He took a step forward and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I’ll be back tomorrow once I have an update on what we discussed.”

Astarion pulled you away from him at once with a gasp. “Keeping secrets from me? Oh, you two lovebirds.”

Hold on!

No! You weren’t that close to Wyll.

As you were about to protest, Wyll spoke, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sound jealous, Astarion.”

“What is there to be jealous of, I wonder?”

You nodded vehemently, finding it utterly amusing how he sounded so territorial all of a sudden.

Adorable man.

Wyll gave a lighthearted chuckle before turning to leave. “Well, I’m sure I can think of a few reasons.”

You laughed way too loudly at his remark, which caused Astarion to click his tongue in annoyance.

Adorable.

The door closed shut behind him, and Astarion immediately spun you on your feet to fully face them.

“What were you thinking? Drinking a pint?”

You couldn’t care less about what he had to say in this moment, and simply glared at his face, your hazy mind reminding you just how much you adored him.

And before you could restrain yourself, the words tumbled from your mouth. “I… I really like you.”

Idiot.

A deafening silence settled around you, and you began to feel an increasing wave of nausea as he merely glared at you.

Then you giggled, trying to disperse the awkwardness as fast as possible.

He didn’t laugh with you, tugging at your hand instead. “I think it’s time to get some sleep, darling.”

Too bad you were clearly incapable of walking in a straight line, which earned his attention. Without a warning, you felt your balance shift rapidly as he scooped you in his arms, effortlessly carrying you along the dim corridor.

“Put me down! Astarion!”

Instinctively, you looped your arms around his neck for support, but still trying to wriggle out of his fierce hold.

“I don’t need to be carried… please put me down,” you whined. “I - I will curse you!”

An amused smile tugged at his lips. “How very ferocious of you. I suppose we should have gotten you drunk more often back then. I’m sure our foes would have fled in horror at the sight of you.”

You slumped into him with a pout. “Mean.”

He pushed the door to your room open with a nudge from his shoulder, before easing you back on your two feet again.

The room was plunged in darkness and you felt him shift away from you, setting alight a single candle next to your bed, and you blinked a few times to adjust to the clarity.

You were now entering the less amusing stage of your insobriety and you could feel yourself scowl at him, clumsily crossing your arms.

“I should have hexed you.”

“Darling, the only thing you’ll be hexing in that state is a doorknob.”

You snorted at his playful jab. “I was perfectly capable of walking!”

“Into a wall? Yes, indeed.”

He then moved back to your side, helping you out of your cloak and quickly wrapping a blanket around you.

The simple gesture was enough to melt your defiant demeanour at once.

The two of you stood there in silence, eyes locked and you found yourself wishing he’d kiss you, but you knew he never would.

Astarion valued consent above all else, and he would not cross any lines. Each time you had gotten ahead of yourself in terms of sobriety, he always reigned you in.

And that was just one of the many things you adored about him.

How safe he made you feel and how you knew he’d never take advantage of your vulnerability.

“You need to properly rest,” he urged, ensuring the thick fabric around you was tucked properly in place.

Just as you were about to head to bed, you felt the room tilt to the left and you yelped, clutching onto him for support.

“I’m going to fall!”

The walls around you began to swirl and sway and your own legs wobbled.

A genuine laughter rumbled across his chest as he patted your back. “You silly little goose. Your warped mind is playing tricks on you.”

That term of endearment caught you slightly off guard and your heart fluttered.

Gods…

Why was he so easy to love?

Or was this the alcohol talking? Were you truly so far gone, that the alcohol was merely making it easier to surface your feelings?

Either way, you wouldn’t voice them, and allowed him to guide you to your bed, helping you to slip under the bedsheets.

It felt rather good being taken care of this way.

Maybe he didn’t think of this as anything but a nuisance, but you were grateful, nonetheless.

“Thank you…” you mumbled in a whisper, gripping his hand.

The ceiling was now begging to spin dangerously fast and you had to close your eyes to help with the overwhelming sensory overload.

He didn’t reply back, but you felt him tugging his hand away from your grasp.

A sudden shiver of panic coursed through your body. “Please stay? You always leave…”

Please…

He relaxed his cool hand against yours.

Slowly, you peeled back an eyelid only to see him easing onto the spot next to you over the covers.

You turned on your side to glare at him and he mimicked you, meeting your eyes in silence.

“How do you feel?”

In love.

“Well…”

He nodded and you smiled warmly at him, probably looking rather silly, but too mesmerised by his face to even look away.

“May I touch you?” you asked hesitantly.

He arched his brow, but nodded.

You lifted your hand and with a single finger, you began to slowly trace the bridge of his nose, admiring how he didn’t just look perfect…

He felt perfect…

“You’re so beautiful…” you sighed, feeling the slight bump of his nose as you trailed down to his lips. “So… so beautiful.”

He chuckled deviously. “I’m all for praise, darling… do go on.”

And you wanted to, but you were beginning to feel lightheaded, and your hand dropped from his face and your eyes dropped close.

“Or not…” you heard him say.

His voice seemed so distant now as drowsiness enveloped your senses. A part of you wished you could trace all of his face with the pad of your finger, worshipping every inch of him.

“Please, don’t leave…” you found yourself repeating.

He clicked his tongue. “I will if you vomit on me.”

You giggled, managing to shift closer to his body and rest your head on his still chest. “Deal, handsome…”

Your heated body welcomed his coldness, and it didn’t take long for your busy mind to progressively quiet down as you drifted off into a pleasant sleep.

It was the soft click of a door being shut that roused you from your sleep. With eyes still closed, you flipped onto your back with a pained groan as your body was hit with the aftermath of last night.

“Rise and shine,” Astarion’s honeyed voice filled the room.

You stretched yourself with a yawn, feeling your mouth dry as sawdust and an overwhelming thirst that nearly made you sob.

“I’m never drinking again…” you whined pitifully.

The mattress dipped slightly next to you. “Well, how do you feel today?”

“Like death…”

“Your breath definitely reeks of it,” he said, voice dripping with disapproval. “I drew you a bath, as I anticipated you’d need one.”

At this, your eyes flew open. “Is this your chivalrous way of telling me I stink?” you grumbled, trying to make sense of your surroundings.

The curtains were no longer drawn and the faint light bleeding from the top and bottom was enough to tell you the sun had already risen.

He took your hand in his, tugging gently until you were sitting in front of him with your legs crossed. “Darling, you’re free to bask in that dreadful stench for all I care.”

You shot him a serious glare before bursting into laughter. “Good point. I need to get off these clothes…”

Astarion helped you on your feet and you carefully paced across the wooden floor and into the washroom.

A pleasant smell hit you as you stepped inside, with him following closely behind.

“I borrowed a few bath salts from Gale,” he informed, pointing to the round tub in the middle of the room, almost filled to the brim with steamy water.

You glared at him in disbelief. “Borrowed as in… stolen?”

He shrugged.

You knew him too well.

“He does have a decent selection, yet manages to always carry the most interesting smells around,” he said, bringing you over to the large basin under a round mirror. “I minced peppermint and it should help with your breath,” he added, handing you a glass of water.

You did as he advised and took a gulp, rinsing your mouth eagerly before spitting the content onto the basin.

“So… are you going to tell me how the conversation with Ava went?”

Wiping your lips clean with a rag, you gave him a look.

“It could have gone worse, I suppose.”

“Charming,” he said. “Worse as in ‘I almost killed her’ or ‘She made me want to pluck my eyes out’?”

“All of the above, maybe,” you said with a roll of your eyes.

To be fair, after hearing her reasoning, she didn’t come across as that bad. But you couldn’t help but to still feel wary of her intentions in the long run.

Astarion was studying your face intensely as you emptied the glass of water to quench your thirst, the minty aftertaste doing wonders to your throat.

“Anything in particular I should know about?”

Besides her wanting to take my blood? Nothing at all, you thought grimly.

You merely shook your head.

“I’ll be waiting outside, then.”

Right.

Bath time.

You took a quick look in the mirror and nearly groaned out loud from the sight of your weary face.

Just as you were trying to strip the shirt you had on, you huffed in annoyance, which earned his attention before he slipped out of the washroom.

“You need help.”

You tried to pull the sleeve, but your body ached too much to comply. “I need help.”

Astarion slowly crossed the room again, and swiftly helped you out of your shirt.

You hissed as his cold knuckles brushed against your bare stomach. “Cold, cold…” you said, teeth jittering.

Being naked in front o fhim had long lost some of its inherent sexual meaning. It used to make you feel too exposed and only when the two of you were about to indulge in one another.

Now, it felt like something casual.

His stare didn’t linger on your breasts for too long or on your now hardening nipples.

“I apologise,” he said with a smile. “Let’s get you out of these next.”

Skilled fingers worked on the front of your trousers, undoing them slowly before carefully dropping on one knee and pulling them down along your thighs.

You had to look away to hide the rush of heat that had settled on your face.

Now that felt too intimate…

He tugged at your underwear next and shiveres began to prickle along your body.

You suddenly felt too exposed.

Astarion had seen you this bare since you last slept together before reaching Moonrise Towers.

And this new predicament had your heart strumming hard in your chest.

You slipped out of your trousers and looked down to meet his crimson eyes. “What?”

“May I kiss you?”

You swallowed. Hard. “Where?”

He leaned in to press his cold lips to the dip of your hip, lingering for a few seconds before pulling away and rising to his full height again.

Gods…

“Do you need my help getting inside?” he asked and you could see it .

You could see the lust in his eyes.

You could hear the faint innuendo in his words.

And you could feel the familiar throb between your legs increasing.

“Yes…”

He promptly gripped your hand and you lifted each leg to dip into the nicely heated water, its surface covered in frothy suds.

Slowly, you lowered yourself into a sitting position before leaning back.

Astarion placed a folded towel under your neck, so you could easily relax against the wooden tub as you sank below the waterline.

“May I wash you?” he asked, settling himself on his knees behind you.

You immediately nodded, gripping the edges and trying your best to ignore the swell in between your folds.

It was almost embarrassing how easily he could turn you on with mostly his words and intonation.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you jolted briefly when you felt a soft sponge being dragged from your neck and down your breasts.

A sigh parted your lips and you arched your back instinctively, just enough to raise your nipples above the waterline as he grazed each of them in circular motions.

You instantly clenched around nothing, knowing fully well that it would have driven him insane had his cock been buried inside you.

A second moan was heard when he started planting soft kisses along your jaw while his hand kept on gliding the sponge down your abdomen.

“Does that feel good?” he whispered in between kisses.

Your legs parted as you welcomed his ministrations.

With his other hand he gripped your jaw and applied enough pressure until the back of your head hit his chest, his thumb caressingly you lovingly.

A strained whimper erupted from you when the sponge reached your folds, deliciously caressing the growing swell in between.

Your hips rolled a few times to increase the friction and you begged the Gods above to have him use his fingers instead…

“Please… Astarion…”

He planted a lingering kiss on your lips, pressing the sponge against you so you could grind desperately on it.

“Does it feel good, darling?”

“Use your fingers… please…” you begged against his lips, squeezing your legs together to trap his hand as you gripped the edges of the tub for support.

He chuckled darkly, dropping the sponge and he had to cover your mouth with his other hand to muffle a loud moan as he slid one finger along your folds.

“Do you remember how many you could take?”

Your eyes rolled shut as lust clouded your senses, hips rolling at a faster pace.

All you remembered was struggling to fit his cock inside at first…

The pad of his finger teased your swell a few times before he moved to place it at your entrance.

“Answer me.”

You could cry from the despair alone as he refused to slide a single one inside.

“I - I… two? Astarion… please… ”

He chuckled teasingly in response, and you

The door to the washroom burst open, causing him to detach from you at once.

Shadowheart.

You let out a yelp, sinking until you were neck-deep in water.

“Ever heard of knocking?” Astarion’s words were dripping with poison.

“Even heard of not greeting people with... that?”

From this position you were almost at eye-level with his lower half, giving you a privileged view of his rather generous bulge, strained against his own trousers.

You felt heat flare in your cheeks as you remembered just how easily he would drip precum for you.

She hurriedly crossed the room and threw a robe at you. “Dress up. Quickly .”

Lust quickly turned into panic from the way Shadowheart glared worriedly at you.

“What happened?”

“Gale is leaving,” she said. “We just received word from Waterdeep that his contact has been killed.”

TBC

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x female reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x reader #astarion x f!tav #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x oc #astarion x f!reader

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iznsfw · 3 months

Text

Manic Robotic Dream Girl

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 4 - Choi Yena

IZ*ONE's Choi Yena x Male Reader Smut

8,311 words

Neon lights dance like flames around you. There’s no need to touch them when you’re already burning. Burning with something that’s not a fever but a kind of pain that never goes away.

Sweat pricks the sides of your face and you’re aware of the blots of perspiration running down your jawline. Nights at the Rogue are often hot, but then they surprise you with a sudden burst of windiness, so you never bother to take your coat off. Whatever and wherever, you’ll always be here yet you’ve not once been able to predict the temperature.

That’s what happened when WAKE12 took over.

Apparently, they decide if people are under the weather by controlling it by them-fucking-selves. Kwon feeling shitty? Looks like rain then. Maybe she’s feeling happy? Alright, let the clouds find balance. Angry? Take a fucking hailstorm. What a privilege, one bigger than the lives of the rich men in the North. But everyone forgets about that fact after she sends out minimal alms—canned goods, a Bible, something. Then it’s back to President Kwon is the best! President Kwon can never fail us! President—

“Vodka.”

“Same as yesterday?” asks Yuri, smiling a little bit.

“Same as yesterday.” For a hologram, Yuri can be quite the social butterfly.

Online wallets are all the rage nowadays. The AI voice in your head offers you said option to pay, and you can hear your balance privately spoken. Somehow your brow prevents from creasing as you hear it. You lack funds but somehow have a few extra bucks to drink.

Choose that. You want to save your Wizes for other things. Lock eyes with Yuri and your balance goes down. You’ve paid.

Online and digital wallets modified with embedded signals and readers were in use before you were even born. Of course, there were already such payment options in the twenty-first century, but how WAKE12 changed everything, not just ordering options with telepathic payment, can easily be read in a sixth grade history textbook.

In October of the year 2918, Kwon Eunbi rose in the ranks as a scientist and soldier for Kang Hyewon, former president, and ended up working her way into dictatorship. The textbooks and classrooms teach that she proposed a law to the court and got herself a position for her wit and intelligence. But early first accounts challenge that, saying that she caught the eye of Kang and had a sexual relationship with her. WAKE12 branded this as propaganda that sullies the name of not only the dictator but the one of the late president, who died mysteriously before Kwon rose to power.

Massive backstory for cashless payment, but you know there’s more to it than the government would like to let on. What happened to Kang? What made Kwon so evil the moment she sat in her presidential throne?

“Thank you, sir.” Holograms all have different voices; Yuri’s sounds like she’s singing. At least the bartender slash boss hired her instead of those with monotone, emotionless ones. It’s cheaper to have hologram workers than humans anyway. Less money, less emotional labor, less of feeling like a normal person.

A beggar curled up below the counter holds his hand out. Not an uncommon sight in the Auster, but it’s a pity to see. The world has advanced with its telepathic wallets and 3D holograms yet there will always be individuals who haven’t caught up with time. While the North Rogue leads worldly lifetimes, the Auster is a home for the rejects. The poorest of the poor. The somewhere-in-the-middles. It can never be truly a perfect world if advancement doesn’t include everyone.

Give him a Wize. Back then, that would have been worth a hundred or so dollars, a currency long gone. Not that you’d know of it; WAKE12 claimed leadership way before you were born so the cheap value of the coin studded with the bust of Kwon Eunbi is all you’re accustomed to.

Take your drink and thank Yuri.

The cobblestone is rough beneath your feet. You take your seat at your usual table. Float your fingers around your shotglass. Pour the contents down your chapped mouth almost all in one go. Anything to feel something. Anything to feel anything.

You’re not an alcoholic by any means, though that’s certainly up for debate. But there’s a need for the liquid that rages more than the need for oxygen (the fucking shortage of it) or food (the fucking expense of it). How else could you be less numb? You’re welcome to every feeling at this stage, just not this empty neutrality that slumbers your senses.

Pain? Your throat seizes up when you drink and brings tears to your eyes, so there's that.

Happiness? Hm, none. You’re barely smiling. You’ve no family, little friends, and no partner for the last few years. There’s nothing to be happy about.

Anger? The displays of people fined harshly for their crimes on the big as life advertising screens stir some defiance in you. WAKE12 doesn’t take kindly to hacktivists and young coders dabbling in creating their own AIs. You have your own anti-government opinions, but what’s a human mind against an artificial one? Plus, and probably a less serious reason (tell that to the thousands who flock to the hospitals because of asthma), the air is almost always polluted here in the Rogue. It’s dirtied by car smoke and factory remains. You’d think that robots taking over the labs would improve it. Perhaps they weren’t programmed that way.

Loneliness?

You look around. See the glitching phantoms of new world technology make the drinks breezily. Watch the light-studded train filled with commuters from the Auster. Kwon Eunbi managed to build an underside track for additional trains to run and still the commuters—young students, old grandparents, not young but not old workers whose jobs belong to WAKE12—wear the same tired look you saw yesterday. All you could hear are buzzes and uncanny valley voices from holograms.

The second chair paired with your table is empty. You’re suddenly lucid to the fact that it’ll always be like this. These nights of drinking and walking in the Auster Rogue will be endless, and just the same, you’ll be endlessly alone.

Sometimes mortality could be so depressing.

So depressing that it makes it all so meaningless.

A man stumbles over to the outside bar, breaking your thoughtless reverie. His clothes are as black as the night you spend but you can see blood on the fabric. The skyscrapers provide enough light for you to see his red face from anxious internal and worrying external blood. The pleading look grips his expression like a malfunctioning robot’s limb.

He’s looking back as if afraid of what might be there. The rain-soaked road is tread on roughly by his shaking knees as he crawls his way to the bar. “Please, help me!”

“Warning,” comes the voice in your head, and you know the other visitors hear it, too, “a criminal of the state is in your proximity. Proceed with caution.”

WAKE12 always keeps an eye on those who threaten them. They have goons everywhere. The kindly grandfather down the street could be a veteran waiting for the chance of a medal. They have ears everywhere as well. Undercover cops stay in both crowded and clear spaces to identify possible threats. When it all comes down to it, you’re not safe in your own head at all. The implants can detect when you dream up something terrible. That’s how millions lose their reputation. Their jobs. Their families.

Their lives.

He staggers to the counter, crashing glass that shards his palms, and lets out this wail you’d hear from an abused pup. “Please,” he croaks. “Don’t listen to them. I just need somewhere to hide. I did nothing wrong, nothing!”

The implanted voice in your brain says otherwise. Everyone was given one when the Cyber Age came. That’s what makes a tiny difference in seeing who’s human and who’s not: the tiny, diamond scar below their hairline from the operation. Close inspection can’t always be done, however. Nowadays, too many of these robots and holograms pass the Turing test. You can never truly trust someone.

“Offenses include: playing the role of an accomplice in theft of government data, distribution of terrorist propaganda—”

“Get the fuck out!” says the bartender, having burst out from the back. As a longtime visitor, you haven’t seen him this angry, but you know it stems from fear. No one wants to associate with a criminal. No one wants the association to lead to arrest and the arrest lead to god knows what. Hundreds of people go missing after they’re taken under custody. What Kwon does to them, you don’t know. “Leave or I’ll call the cops!”

Like you said, they lurk everywhere. You’re surprised they haven’t caught up to him.

The bloodied man shakes his head, like please, please, someone believe me. “No, I’m not a criminal! Listen to me, please, I don’t have enough time! They just wanna—cut down”

Rapid footsteps. Sigh and put your glass down. There they are.

The man reaches for him, but the bartender shoves the whole table into his face. He falls back on the ground and cries out for help that never comes. Men and women wearing tight black uniforms and vests pull him up. Their lit helmets that opposingly disallow a view of their faces make them look emotionless. Like robots.

Huh.

While resting your head against the metal chair, you listen to the struggling shuffles of the police and criminal, and see the glitching robots walking down the road. No real emotion, no real living.

He scratches and screams and sobs, but that doesn’t matter to them. They pull him along the rocky cement and recite his nonexistent rights to him. There’s the right to remain silent (he’s screaming), the right to an attorney (nobody in the Auster can afford a good lawyer much less an honest one), and the right to live freely if found innocent of the crime (someone getting convicted happens more often than being released).

Besides, it can’t be called living when it’s in a place so completely devoid of any humanity.

“In more ways than one,” you say. Fuck it, you’ll drink to that.

Like always, you take more than you should. You believe by now you’ve built some kind of immunity. That’s what they all think, you remind yourself, before an inevitable death that buries them in the ground one bricked shot at a time. You swear you’re not dizzy at all or feeling the acid build to your throat, so the sight gathering just a little away from you is real.

Stare at your glass. Space out if not for what you see: behind it, a shapely form of a woman in purple. The blue and violet lights make it difficult for you to distinguish it from her clothes so she actually looks naked. That shocks you more than the arrest. You’re sure she’s got a little modesty in her because why else is she making her way to a table?

Your table?

It’s like she teleported when she’s suddenly seated before you, filling the chair that’s been empty for the last more or so years. You don’t even get the chance to look up at the right time, but the moment you do, you think keeping your eyes on your glass would’ve been better for the sake of your heart.

YENA.

Her name appears in your mind and she hasn’t even introduced herself. But it’s right there, emblazoned in lights in all capitalized four letters: YENA. This girl is Yena. And this girl—this fucking guilty pleasure of a girl—is gorgeous.

The ends of her hair are tinged with blonde, and it’s hard not to give attention to that with how her locks are gathered into twin tails. She smoothes them before looking at you quite seriously, like she’s about to propose a challenge you’d lose.

Blue shining eyes. There’s something odd about the way they twinkle below her bangs—almost like something not human.

Yena dances her fingers around her jawline, elbow resting on the table, and tilts her pretty face. Lets her fingers play with her lips that are made for things the Auster’s known for providing (she can’t be from here though; those crocheted coordinates look costly). That’s how you notice that fine feature. Naturally thick and casually jutted out in a distinctive pout, your eyes are glued to them. Can’t take your prolonged stare away if someone helped you.

“Are you waiting for me to start talking?” Yena asks. She’s not angry, just amused—her voice is smooth and clear, with a tiny pitch that makes her all the more cute.

You shake your head. “Was just trying to figure something out.”

“And that is?”

“A lot of things,” you state. Things you’d keep a secret forever, lest you spill them out to a girl all for the payment of being beautiful. “But I’m not sure pretty girls like you would want to know.”

You try to keep your curious peering at her normal, but it’s difficult when she just attracts attention. She’s a glowing lightbulb in a flutter of moths. Yena doesn’t flicker weakly; she shines, and it’s honestly why everyone else is “subtly” looking at her, this gorgeous stranger who came in and somehow chose the alcoholic who came from places more rock bottom than the Auster.

She laughs. It’s sobering—you think you’ll get drunk on her rather than the cheap alcohol. “Is that what you think of me? Too beautiful to think too much?”

Look her up and down. Yeah, you want to say, that’s about it. It’s not out of offense but rather the instinct in you that wants to tell her you don’t want to put her in a worried state. She’s too… ah, she doesn’t know what you’d do for a girl like her—someone too unreal to be human but too genuine to be the “living” dolls lonely men purchase. Someone who can keep a conversation going without fearing a low blow. Someone who’s out of your league in the Rogue’s mixed pool but chooses you anyway.

“I’m just saying you might not want to hear a stranger boring you with his hard problems.”

“Oh please,” she says, waving it off with a flick of a pointed wrist. “You know my name. I know yours. We’re not strangers anymore.”

How did you—how did she—

Her eyes twinkle again. They’re… violet? You could have bet they were blue. But then you see the suspiciously smooth and clear skin, with the perfect lines of her eyelids, which curve as if manufactured in. She’s definitely not human.

“Besides,” adds Yena sweetly, “you’re really underestimating how good I can take certain hard things.”

Swallow. You opened the door, now you’re locked in.

Yena catches the bob of your Adam’s apple and smirks. Traces her fingers over yours. She can’t be human for sure yet you feel the softness of her hand, the only thing giving you doubt being how chilled her touch is. It's humid here, so where did that come from? Goosebumps pop up in masses across your skin—note how nothing shows up on hers.

Maybe she’s just a confident woman.

“Come on, I dare you.”

“Only if you go first.”

“Yes, sir,” she says. A cutesy saluted hand positions itself before her temple. Her hands are tiny, could be dainty, while her cheeks lift to support an adorable smile.

Your knees tremble. You don’t know where that came from either. Yena just knows what to say to get to a guy. Almost like she was made for it. There’s that question again, resurfacing in your altered brain: is she human or not?

You lean back. Cross your arms. Here you go, on your way to find out. “What’s your story?”

Yena shrugs, her shoulders bare and smooth. And you’re thinking of how you’d like to see the rest of them, the rest of her body naked by pulling down the crocheted strap of the purple coordinates. How you’d like to touch those puffed up cheeks and not care if they’re real or not when you pull her close to kiss her. How those lips—

“Don’t have one.”

“Sorry?”

She laughs. Even the way she giggles is attractive. “No, seriously,” she replies, licking her lips. “There’s nothing interesting about me. I’m the most normal girl there is.”

There is nothing normal about her. Everything she says is too prepared. The largeness of her eyes gives everything away. Her hair is combed too finely that you’re not unconvinced that it isn't human hair at all, though you can see them connect at the roots. It’s like someone drew a cute animated girl on a notepad one lonely night, sent the idea to a rich bastard, and brought her to life.

So no, you’re not buying it.

“So you’re saying you’re just a blank canvas.”

“If you put it like that, I guess.” Yena rolls her eyes. You’re a bit obsessed. “Guys want that, right? A blank piece of a girl they could shoot more than a shot at? Maybe paint her white?”

You’re thankful you didn’t continue drinking. Otherwise, your surprise would be visible and audible with the lodge of your throat as you wineboard yourself.

The side of her mouth raises. A soft dimple exceeding cuteness—it’s deeper, brighter, shinier. You imagine her as a college student, charming boys into submission just with a wink and a smile that can melt hearts and bring guilt to lust-addled minds.

That’s what she’s doing: Yena is melting you because of how adorable she is, but then you take a look at her body, note the fine curves it boasts, and feel the need to go to a confessional pastor. You’re not supposed to repeats in your mind, but you’re you—if you aren’t supposed to do it, then of course you’ll do it anyway.

“Woah,” you say with a nervous laugh. “Woah.”

“Look.” She rests her forearm on the table and talks so casually one would think she weren’t just talking about getting cumshots. “I‘m not taking that back, so do with that what you will.”

Under the table, behind the scenes, her leg is curled around one of yours. Her ankle glides along your skin teasingly. Not a speck of hair on all of those flawless legs, but you’re shivering anyway from the contact. Hence, make a show of closing your coat around yourself. You can’t fool her when it’s not even chilly.

Recover, piecing together the brokenness of your confidence she tore apart.

“My story is, uh, weird.”

“Tell me.”

“This might be too personal but—” You lift your shoulders awkwardly. “I used to date a girl who looks exactly like you.”

Kim Chaewon—short auburn hair, soft cheeks, and a tiny figure. She’s a memory you didn’t think of returning to today, but then Yena came here, and now you’re back to your youth.

“She was a cop. Cutest officer I’ve ever seen, but a real bitch, for the lack of a better word. Then she left me.”

“You broke her heart, didn’t you?”

Sputter. “No!” you immediately deny, shaking your head. “I—I didn’t hurt her, she was—”

A filthy lie. You became nonchalant, undeserving of a sweet woman who’d do anything for you, even give up her well-paying job. Again and again, Chaewon expressed her concerns: why were you talking to Minju? Where have you been? Why are you so mean? You disregarded them all the same. She deserved the ignorance; she was too fucking controlling, too fucking jealous.

Yena knows you’re lying. It’s like you’re a wound she can peel back to see all the ugliness, all the damage underneath. Her smile tells you everything.

“Oh, come on. I don’t care. Except for this.” Yena intertwines her fingers. Rests her chin on top of the formed platform. “Was she a good fuck?”

Your laugh is forced, trying to make a good deal out of this situation. A girl is flirting with you right after you saw someone disappear. Now you’re wondering if she’s a robot. Now, through some way, she knows you’re lying about your ex. Coincidences meet yet you refuse to connect them—parallel lines they shall stay, forever.

“Yena, what exactly is up with you?” you ask. “You just met me. And come on now, why me?”

It’s begun to be hotter in this space. Loosen your coat. Perspiration isn’t because of the atmosphere, so you find out (and what a surprise). It’s because of the woman across you, a midnight sun. If the painful sun was actually a symbol of good in the Rogue, Yena would play its role perfectly. She’d scorch through you and you’ll enjoy every second. Yeah, you’d get all sorts of tans and burns and cancers if you bask in her without protection, but my god, are you willing to take the risk.

“I just don’t like seeing pretty boys have problems,” she replies easily. “If they want, (and I know they do), I’ll take them all away. Soon, all you'll think of is me. Like I’m the sun peeking in your room and you just can’t get enough sleep because of it.”

You tense up. Millions of questions, a void empty of answers. Once again, how was she so spot on? You’re not breathing quite well, and your clothes are tighter tonight. “Yena, look, I-I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Don’t be, not because you aren't, but because she said so.

She pouts. “You’re not gonna buy me a drink?”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Nope. Remember what I said? I’m a blank canvas. So do whatever you want with me. Buy me a drink. Or not. Tell me to fuck off. Or not. Force me on my knees.”

Yena kneels.

There’s no mantle on the table to cover up what she’s about to do. You gasp, then try to mask it as a poor cough, but you’re distracted by how she pulls your pants down effortlessly. The button sealing your coat is busted open and gone.

So is your dignity.

Yena’s tongue sticks out at the side of her mouth as she looks up at you with excitement and mischief in her eyes.

“Or let me do the job. I’m a big girl after all.”

She seals her teeth around your zipper and tugs down. It’s embarrassing how hard you are for her. But Yena doesn’t care. Adoration is clear on her face as she stares at your shaft, the worshipful energy in her eyes so overwhelming that she has to do something about it.

“Yena—” What a way to go out: screaming a stranger’s name.

You knew those lips were up to no good the moment you saw them. She’s provided evidence, too. Her soft lips embrace your boner and suckle fervently while dragging themselves upwards. It’s a caress that tenses you up rather than comforts you. It works you up, tying you down with the little weight Yena has. You could kick her away right now and tell her to go away. File a case against her.

You don’t.

The joined duo of careful teeth and wild tongue gets you whimpering. Shivering. Begging. How is she so good at this?

Her mouth is perfectly wet. It’s not copiously soaked to have you cringing but the perfect balance of wet and ready, coating your rod again and again. She gives you too much and just right. It would be a cruel violation if you were asked to choose one and only one.

“Baby, what the fuck—” you stammer.

Her throat’s an expert in taking you because one push of her lips to your base welcomes you in its tight hole. Your knees shake; Yena places her hands on it, not to stop their trembles but for leverage during the dip of her head.

Close your eyes, look up, and stare at skies that provide no reprieving stars. Think of how she’s infinitely bett—

“Better than any pussy, huh?” Yena asks. The third time is no coincidence, so you’ve heard. “And it’s just my throat.”

At this stage, you don’t care if she’s a robot or not, because either way, that mouth is a fucking treasure.

You lift your hips and start slowly working yourself in Yena’s face. Her lips pucker and pout to allow you inside with pleasurable friction. Those eyes—there aren’t any planets in the sky because of the pollution but you think you can see their sparkle in them.

The amazing part is that Yena doesn’t choke. She endlessly takes you in, receiving every inch like a blessed gift, but you don’t hear her wheeze. No sounds of complaints escape her. You have a feeling it’s not because of your cock sliding in and out of it. She only gags on occasion, and those already sound fake. It’s like she’s doing it just so you can get worked up hearing her moans.

While others might be impressed, you’re dumbfounded. She tightens and loosens and pushes and pulls just for your pleasure.

“Yena, I– you’re doing so good,” you compliment her in gasped breaths.

Her cheeks hollow. The suction strengthens and it now feels like your soul’s being swallowed down her neck. She knows how to tease you with light pandering from her teeth, generous licking, and strengthened swallowing. Her mouth is warm but you are more so. She’s making you feel hot in all these layers, an additional one played by her perfect lips.

Perfect hair, too, you note.

Hungry impulses take over your body and now you’re pumping your core into the girl’s face with the help of her pigtails. Yena’s hair is thick and silky, and it’s another enjoyable factor: feeling how it slips between your fingers and how each pull directs her lips to press firmly to your crotch.

She doesn’t gag with that either. She must have had a lot of experience; she did say she can take hard things fine. That is, if she were human. If not, whoever built her had dirty ideas: the lack of gag reflex surely brings in the five star ratings.

Bright star-like eyes, cute ruinable face, mouth that can take the largest.

Yep, perfect.

“Good—fucking—girl.”

Your cock weeps white. Yena feels the first drop and immediately pulls away. She pumps your shaft with a strong, urgent fist. As she hinted, you blast all over her face. Your orgasm grips you and shakes you like never before, and of course, the little brat enjoys it. She’s nearly laughing.

“There,” says Yena after she drains you. Her duck-like lips are sticky with cum. “Canvas painted.”

What a pretty painting you’ve made. Here, shown to the public, is the manic pixie dream girl, semen on her chin to symbolize how each word she utters has you climaxing; hair disheveled to show your subtle but messy rule over her, because you own her although you weren’t there when her mechanical limbs were assembled and her face drawn; and a smile on her face to show that despite all this: she likes it.

You laugh, short blunt breaths wisping in the air. “There really is something wrong with you, Yena,” you say.

She’s a girl who’s extremely pretty, good at blowjobs, and likes public sex and oral. She can also read minds. Oh, and she might not be real.

“You could say that again.” She wipes her mouth. “Though I do think I could use a little fixing from you.”

You take her home. Your mother would have been disappointed in you if she knew you violated the first law you were ever taught: don’t talk to strangers. Most of all, don’t ever let them in. But Yena is no stranger—like she said, she knows your name and for some reason, you know her own. You’re not strangers. And your mother isn’t around to command you not to kneel for a pretty girl.

This home of yours isn’t fancy, but if people from 2024 saw it, they’d be mesmerized. You’re not rich enough to afford the penthouses the North offers; this one is alright for you. The stories of the building aren’t aligned with each other, separating a few yards with floating floors that defy gravity. That’s right; WAKE12 somehow found a way to disobey the rules of physics. The ends are lit up with bright lights that blind you from miles away. Wide windows encircle the areas along with al frescos and convenient malls. Back then, this would have been classified as the house of the wealthy—you can’t say you agree with the sentiment when you’re not at all rich.

“Hi,” says Yena brightly at the front desk. She’s so smiley, always grinning like she’s just told a really clever joke. “Where’s the elevator?”

“I, uh…”

The manager looks at her oddly. Your ears redden; she still hasn’t cleaned her face up. Evidence of your deed lies there on her nose and chin and cheeks, even in her perfect hair.

“Well?”

The manager lifts the phone immediately. Before he could dial a number, Yena sighs loudly.

“Look.” She silences the telephone with a slam of the device down on the keypad. The man’s hand cringes. “I’m about to fuck this guy’s brains out and I promise your little backup bosses can’t do anything about it.”

He stares at her.

“I’m gonna use his dick until it’s limp as a balloon, then ride him in bed, then bend over on the kitchen table so he could breed me like a common whore.”

You lift an index finger to apologize, but put it back down. Did she just say you can breed her?

His jaw tenses. The teeth behind those unsmiling thin lips grit, not in annoyance but in fear. Yena’s bouncy and sweet, but apparently she’s excluding people who cockblock from her cute attitude.

“So,” finishes Yena, lowering her gaze, “where is the fucking elevator?”

The elevator has no pulley or doors. It sits at the side of the uneven floors and rises with nothing but a sizable pod. You’ve had to watch your weight to be able to enjoy the freedom from staircases.

Yena steps on it with no worry. As you look at her, you realize how positively tiny she is. That’s why she isn’t doubtful about fitting in the claustrophobic space. Her violet clothes can slip off at any time at her pull of a waist and slim thighs. All the fullness goes to her cheeks, painted with fake tattooed stars and minimal doodles.

She’s the kind of girl you could just pick up and do whatever to. You’re the kind of guy who really, really likes the idea.

Holding your hand is a thing of the past. Yena clutches your cock over your jeans as the elevator lifts the two of you up.

The first thing she does the moment you enter your home is not kiss you, or slam you to the door, or whisper dirty nothings in the hollow of your ear. Yena looks around and says, simply, “Doable.”

You chuckle. You’re not offended. It’s a tidy, minimal apartment with glass that spans a viewing pleasure of the artificial forest and the hills. Glass lost its value but skyrocketed in purchases when Jo Yuri, first activist recorded in the history of WAKE12’s domination, was imprisoned. People compared her name to glass (yuri was 유리 and 유리 meant glass) and since then, it has been used everywhere. High demand, low price. Her symbol and namesake is used the way the public wants her to be used: cheap thing convenient only to the eye. They always said she was too pretty to talk too much.

“Here, doable is the best compliment,” you reply. You go to your bedroom to clean the place. If you want to fuck a rich girl, make sure the bedroom is at least up to her standards. “You have personal maids there in the North?”

Yena continues looking around. She’s mildly fascinated by everything, especially in the big window placed on the ceiling that lets stars peer down at you. For some reason, all the ejaculation on her face is gone. You don’t remember her bringing a washcloth.

“I’m not from the North, you know.”

“You’re not?”

“Nope. I don’t come from anywhere.”

You come out, having cleared your bed from clothes and the floors of trash. You fed the trash to the connected chute that all apartments have, which leads down to the Southern Auster. The word may be Latin and is already defined as south, but there’s places poorer than the part you live in. You’re lucky to be here. The Southern Auster’s where it’s much more dangerous. The people there scavenge for food and money, and their cries go unheard in the night. It’s the biggest criminal capital of the Rogue.

You come out and Yena’s sitting on the kitchen table with a knife.

Stop in your tracks.

See the blood running down her arm.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she says dismissively. “It doesn’t hurt.”

You still don’t know what to say. The wound on her skin’s dissolved to a scar that looks more like a scratch on metal. Why would she do that? Why would that do that?

“In fact, I think it’s kind of cool.” Yena slides the blade on the strap of her top. It falls apart, right down to her braless chest. A pink, perky nipple is clear in the moonlight shining from above. “When people see me, they usually want to hurt me, so I might as well do it myself, right? They want to slap me, pull my hair, choke me. They say that and figure I’m totally flattered.”

You want to say that you couldn’t blame them. Yena’s got this innocent but naughty aura about her that you want to completely ruin. There’s her hair, all dolled up and her quirky makeup that brings attention that eventually switches down to the body she doesn’t bother hiding.

But it looks like she’s doing the ruining. Aren’t those the best stories? Boy corrupts girl when it’s the other way around in reality?

To use the word “reality” when you’re with Yena is laughable. She can read your mind like a Rogue Times newspaper. You get that things you thought were impossible have a chance of happening in these days, but you don’t remember wounds healing that fast. The knife slices right through the fabric, revealing swoon-worthy curves of her waist and hips, making her bleed only not for too long. Who would want a scar-ridden skinny girl anyway?

“Well,” you say after a dutiful swallow, “are you?”

Yena examines the knife. Her crimson blood dripping from its edge is a worthwhile watch while she considers this.

She finally puts down the knife, much to your relief. “I don’t know. What about you, handsome? Do you want to hurt me or fuck me?”

“I… I’m not like them. I don’t wanna hit you or make you cry or anything. I want to fuck you, that’s completely different.”

First confession of the night that didn’t need saying when it’s clear. You let her blow you in public. You took her home. The intention is staring you in the face: you want to have sex with a girl you just met.

Yena smiles. “You’d be surprised how blurred the lines are.”

Yena‘s hands fall on your shoulders and make you fall to the kitchen chair and make your pants fall on the floor. Falling, falling, falling for her—it’s all you’re able to do provided that she’s stunning. She’s tiny with her thin arms and legs but her breasts are surprisingly supple. The cleavage her top subtly shows off hinted to that and you’re still shocked.

She’s a hot desert, and the only source you can drink of is her core. Her pussy is slick, making her thighs glue together only for them to part as she sits on your lap.

The first grind has you both breathless. The second renders a duet of moans. She’s so wet that it’s excessive enough for her to drip down your cock and completely cover it with her. Yena’s pussy lips splay and clasp your shaft with slippery friction.

She curses. “You’re so hard. Big, t-too.” She aims your cockhead at her clit and sighs at the toe-curling pleasure. “You think you can fit in me?”

“I guess we’ll have to see.”

Yena smirks. She continues soaking you with her wetness. Her juices pour from your head to your balls. Then, without warning, she sheathes your rod inside her.

You gasp. It’s so easy to slip yourself in and all too difficult to cope with how tight she is. Her walls, perfectly textured and sloppy, trap you and let you out, giving you false hope of escaping, only to imprison you again. It’s the best punishment you ever had.

Her throat was already better than the other cunts you’ve spent yourself in, so what does that make her pussy?

The best. Her overflowing waterfall lets her ride you easily. It seems like there’s a million spots inside her you can target for she quivers and cries with each bounce. Her hair flows photogenically while her chest does the same erotic motion.

“So fucking good, fuck,” Yena groans. Her round butt lands on your lap and you think you’d like it to stay there forever. Curl your hands around her cheeks. Draw a healthy moan from the throat you used.

Yena’s pussy curves and opens in every best way. She makes it so easy to mold her into the shape of your cock, to rearrange her insides. Was she made for dick? She’s so wet that you’d think she’s a nymphomaniac who won’t let you go, the same way her vagina won’t let you go as its grip curls around you and threatens to milk you to your wits’ end.

You wouldn’t mind that.

Her riding accelerates to an unbearable point the moment you start to spank her. She’s right about hurting and having sex being almost the same—you want to leave red handprints all over her jiggling ass. You want to pull her hair until she screams. You want to fuck this perfect cunt of hers right up to when she’s creaming all over you, flooding your sexes with her naturla nectar.

And the crazy thing is: she’ll actually let you.

“Fucking brat,” you say, hitting her butt again. She yelps coquettishly. “Are you really this thirsty for cock?”

“God, yes…” Her head throws back. Yena’s eyes shut and although her vision is blocked she sees stars. “Wanted to know how your dick would split me open. Fuck, keep doing that!”

Her core tightens with each blow you expel on her bouncing ass. Her hole’s already so enclosed so when she squeezes more, it’s close to having your cock tortured. You’re suffocating inside her. You’re waterboarded again and again with her waterfall of wetness.

You guide Yena’s motions with your hands on her behind. She’s so light that you’re practically using her as a doll, fucking her on your erection and letting yourself enjoy how her tits recoil. Her moans turn on a part of your brain that you don’t know, but it transmits to you these thoughts: fuck her senseless.

You raise her as high as you can, her weight nothing even to your long-untrained muscles, then slam her down. She sinks deeper into your lap and takes longer inches. Yena’s screams bounce off the soundproof walls that ensure only you can hear them. Those walls were fucking expensive, so of course you gotta let them have purpose. Slap Yena’s thighs down on yours and let her pussy envelop you right up to the point of bruises appearing on your skin.

How does she not sweat? Your hands wander all over her tight body and still you don’t find a drop of sweat. Her pigtails are still secured. You guess she was just made to be eternally pretty.

She is pretty, under any circumstance—her smooth skin possesses zero blemishes and her winged eyes remain lamp-bright. She’s pretty, even when she lets out the pitchiest sounds, even when Yena’s lips rise into a devilish smile before sealing on your neck. She nibbles on your skin and rakes up your sensitivity.

“Holy shit, Yena…”

“Yeah, that’s right.” She licks behind your ear and you nearly lose it. Maybe you already did. “Say my name. Because I’m all yours. This pussy is yours to use and abuse, so do it.”

Rub her tiny pulsing clit. Yena’s cries deafen you. If that’s not enough, she drowns you with her cum. There’s no raft to save you. You’re all alone. You’ll drown here and never see the light of day again.

Electricity runs through her body as the pleasure ramps up. Her fingers weaken on your shoulders. Her gasps are split off by larger, more surprised evolutions. Yena’s close.

“Fuck, no, I can’t!” Yena’s riding is furious and borderline abusive. The noises between your two crotches are louder than before.

“You can,” you insist. You throb inside her while her pussy becomes smaller despite the many thrusts you perform. “Take it like a good girl, Yena.”

“Fuck me, use me, I’m just your cute little helpless girl, fuck me!”

She couldn’t be more correct. She’s just a useless doll, thin and adorable and tight—so why not use her like one?

You’re surprised your limbs have any power in them, but they impress as you lift Yena up. During your walk to the counter, you don’t stop thrusting in her. She’s wet and ready, just waiting and begging for it to happen. Her pretty face is smudged with tears. There’s sick satisfaction in you from seeing how the confident girl at the bar is now just a fuckhole to use.

“Oh, oh, ah!” Cute little whines come out from those lips. Her mouth used its power to pick you up, make you cum, make you scared. In this second, all that is gone: she’ll only ever use it to wail in pleasure.

Knock her against the kitchen counter. Her thighs press to the curve. You spread them open and continue spending yourself to death in her. Her sides that slant to make the physique you love are perfect handles to thrust.

You’re completely soaked, but she’s completely defiled. The dream girl is not just any dream but a wet dream. She’s the fantasy you never had but will constantly think of now. And you don’t care if WAKE12 knows you’re fucking her. They can read all the thoughts you have about Yena as much as they like, and you wouldn’t care.

Instead of giving a fuck, you twist her around, her smooth back in front of you, and fuck her harder while you’re at it. Admire the way your hips slap her ass and give her the spanking she deserves. One spank, that’s for being so tempting. Another for the price of her promiscuity. Three one-after-the-other’s because she’s too wild, too free for a girl with that face.

“God, please, harder!” Yena cries. “Make me your little cocksleeve cumslut!”

She does not take pain to heart, physically and mentally. In spite of your rapid pumps and the slap of your stomach to her bent and ready ass, no bruises or scratches appear on her skin. You say all these degrading words and rather than mope about it, she gets more turned on. She forces you to give all your might in railing her in this apartment where the open windows give you away rather than the sounds. And you’re nodding along, saying:

“Of course.”

Of course you’ll grab her tits and pinch their nipples as hard as you can. Yena’s skin might not be humanly warm but these boobs are real. They’re soft in your palms and plentiful. Is she a masochist? You tweak and slap and squeeze; in response, she’s… smiling?

Of course you’ll slip your touch all over her body. Appreciate every perfect curve, every fine fullness. After fondling her tits, you slide your hands over her smooth pits, then to her arms that struggle to remain stable. She’s sensitive all over; it’s evident in the way she babbles each time you caress her.

Of course you’ll take her hair and pull as hard as you can. She won’t get mad. Nothing ever gets to the cool girl.

“Oh my god!” Yena shouts.

Those pigtails are there for a reason. Thrusts become easier to do with her hair curled in between your digits. Her ass meets your crotch easily and you find yourself excavating her cavern, hitting her in all the good places. Yena hums and screeches and sobs.

“Bad girl.” Her hair plays the role of your reins. They’re convenient in spreading Yena apart with your shaft, tearing at her tightness. “You’re nothing but a filthy cocksucking slut.”

“M-mhm, yes, just for you, just for this perfect dick, ahh! I’m cumming!”

Yena’s core flexes and contracts. It holds you like it never wants you to go but you let go anyway. You can do nothing besides that especially if it’s her, someone who’s so cute but so seductive, so challenging but submissive. Each part of her—those blowjob lips, her blooming face, her cockiness—makes you wish this could never end.

The first sign of the end of this pornographic one-reeler is your semen raining inside her, setting a storm in her guts. You pant, legs weak, while Yena’s seem to go on forever although she’s smaller than you.

The second sign is the mess she made. Those aforementioned desirable legs are painted by obscenity. She squirted all over your floor and herself. Your cum coats her vulva plus spills down freely.

Yena looking back at you with a tired smile is the last one, along with her asking, through shattered breaths, “Better than your whore ex?”

Because that’s the thing about girls like Yena. They’ll do everything to please you. Perhaps she’s a good dresser, but really, this is your style, not hers. This type of fashion is what you like on women: modestly revealing. Girls like Yena will give you everything, make you discover yourself, and when all this happens, she’ll remain the thoughtless, forgiving girl. She won’t complain about things that will set you off and say coy, clever things, the kind men like to hear.

All just to be better.

She is.

“Yeah.”

Yena chuckles. For a moment, she looks like the sweetest girl in the world. The happiness overtakes her face and makes her smile reach her ears.

It disappears as fast as it arrived.

“Wrong fucking answer.”

Alarm sounds of every kind—natural disaster, fire, robbery, whistles—blare in your head. You can’t hear anything except the thin screeches of emergency. But for what?

Yena loses her brightness. Everything that made her shine shuts down. She smiles, that same one full of mischief, before she breaks, too. Her eyes turn pitch black, the ones you see in crows, the sign of bad luck. She disassembles part by part before you. The light girl is suddenly so heavy that she forces you down. Suddenly, her torso above yours feels colder than before.

What the fuck?

Escape is your first instinct. You push the remains of the girl away. Your feet kick the broken parts as if you’d break, too. You brush past the fringe of her bangs. Below it, no diamond scar rests on her forehead.

Stare down at her. Yena truly is not real. Your manic robotic dream girl is dead. She was never alive.

“You have been found guilty,” says the implant. You used to hear it when WAKE12 arrested people and now it talks to arrest you. The alarms are loud but you understand every fragment.

The implant’s emotionless voice now sounds a lot like—

“Chaewon?”

Bad luck comes just like the consequences of the law, personified by stilettos clicking on your floor, a shadow in the moonlight, and the face of the woman you swear you never wanted to see again.

And yet here she is.

Chaewon looks so much like Yena. Yena looks so much like Chaewon. Their chins, their eyes, their bangs—who is who? Their faces mingle and mix in your vision. You think you’re going crazy.

She puts away a remote control and places her hands on her hips. Her black bodysuit is all you see as she approaches. Her smiling lips don’t utter a word. You hear her voice, all in your head.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything and everything you do shall be punished by WAKE12 accordingly. This is the price you pay for your crime.”

There’s a gun in front of you. It’s aimed at your chest, determined to crush what keeps it beating. Raise your hands, but not in surrender. You’ll die before you try to be Chaewon’s toy again.

“What crime? Being your ex-boyfriend?” you spit. This has got to be a joke. “Chaewon, I said, what crime?”

She can’t abuse her authority. She couldn’t have done all that just to get back at you. And for what? Being a bad boyfriend when you were younger and dumber?

You hear her speak. That striking smile looks more terrifying than beautiful. It dissolves into darkness to pronounce your wrongdoing.

“For the crime of fucking existing,” she snarls.

You hate Chaewon. You swore you never did yet now you do wholeheartedly. You tried to love her and reciprocate her efforts. She’s a busy woman so she should have understood you had other commitments.

This is the last time you ever want to hear from her.

A bullet you don’t see coming. It soars in the wind and finds its home sweet home in your skull.

She’s the last thing you ever heard.

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helluvapoison · 2 months

Note

how would the overlords propose?

Say Yes

how the overlords would propose

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

˚✧₊⁎ Carmilla Carmine ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Romance isn’t an afterthought to her, as hard as that is to believe. Carmilla is a very passionate woman… it just comes after logic. Whether you knew it or not, you’ve been put to the test much earlier on. (How you treat her daughters and how they like you is the most important part, if you didn’t pass you wouldn’t have made it this far)

By now she knows you’re worthy and she’ll bring you into her world permanently. Carmilla plans something intimate. She surprises you in her office for a candlelit dinner, courtesy of her private chef! She is a businesswoman first so she gets straight to the point and asks for your hand, literally, slipping the band into your finger.

“Marry me,” Carmilla says, uncharacteristically soft, “With you at my side, I will be complete.”

˚✧₊⁎ Zestial ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Telling himself there’s no rush, that he could wait a thousand more lifetimes to make you completely his, doesn’t cure the urgency to do it anyways. He’s seen any ounce of goodness down here nabbed before anyone else can take it for themselves. Zestial never claimed to be unselfish, only patient. He tests the question to himself first very early on. Then he phrases it differently to you or refers to himself as your husband to others. You mistake it for a slip up and smile anyways. A delightful sign in his eyes.

Zestial is pleased that you don’t suspect it. How could you when he’s merely being his usual, charming self? He takes you strolling down the same path you took when he first began courting you. Ever the gentleman, he pauses before the bridge over the river of magma and actually kneels.

“Would thou spend the rest of this infernal afterlife beside thyself? Say yes and I swear never to stray and never to allow harm to befall thee. Thou shall only know happiness from this moment on.”

˚✧₊⁎ Alastor ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Love at first sight doesn��t exist so do not twist his words when he says he knew you belonged to him the moment you met. Feelings were bothersome and you flooded his entire being with them with a simple gaze. Lingering between the emotions was always pain, which he was familiar with. Unfortunately for him, the cure for his ailment was always you. Marriage was not in the cards for either of you. Alastor thought he had no intention of going through such hassle until he couldn’t stop staring at the vacant spot on your ring finger. Bothersome.

Truly you had no idea what he was plotting. It wasn’t uncommon for him to bring you to his radio tower, going over notes with him or just quietly hanging about while he worked. He told you there would be a guest on his next show and he wanted to rehearse the questions. Simple enough. Before you even read the last one Alastor stopped you with a finger to the lips,

“Pardon my dear, you’ve been a wonderful co host— utterly indispensable these past few years— but that’s my line!” There’s a flicker of hesitation before his smile takes a slightly gentler form, a side of Alastor only you’re privy to, “Will you marry me?”

˚✧₊⁎ Rosie ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Since she was married a few times already, you thought Rosie would be over the whole thing by now. Well you couldn’t be more wrong if you tried! She adores weddings, from organizing them to being in them; the whole shabang is right up her alley! There was a reason her ex husbands didn’t work out but you don’t have to worry about the whys and whatnots. You’re oh so very special to Rosie, she couldn’t bear the thought of losing you!

The fact you think marriage is off the table has her giddy. She loves having the element of surprise! Cannibal’s left and right are in on the plot, making sure you’re exactly where you need to be all day long until you reach the town square at sunset. Crimson rose petals lead you to the gazebo where candles are lit all around your Radiant Rosie. She smiles so fondly at you it makes your knees weak as you climb the steps to reach her. She poured her love into two pages, prepared to make it her best speech ever but the second you were in front of her everything went out the window!

“Oh! I can’t wait another minute! Marry me, won’t you?”

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ the vees might get their own part cause, i feel, they’re particular about marriage

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel x you #carmilla carmine imagine #carmilla carmine x reader #zestial imagine #zestial x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor imagine #hazbin hotel rosie imagine #hazbin hotel rosie x reader

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nelkcats · 10 months

Text

Captain Phantom

Since the ghost invasion of Amity stopped, Danny had become close to many of the ghosts he was once enemies with, so it was not uncommon to find him attending Ember concerts or competing with Johnny.

Then, it was also not uncommon to find him playing with Youngblood, who was always up for playing pirates. The halfa knew that the ghost boy was lonely and not all ghosts paid attention to him, so he made sure to play with him whenever he could.

Of course, he and Youngblood noticed that they could no longer play in his home dimension (too much risk; as much as the adults didn't see Youngblood, Danny preferred not to risk creating a second GIW), so they chose a random dimension to play pirates. The halfa even invited more ghosts to be each other's "crew."

When everyone agreed to the proposal, they traveled through a natural portal to the new dimension, they wouldn't stay too long for it to matter.

Happy with the arrangement, no one noticed how the people in the "new" dimension freaked out at the sight of two pirate ships floating in the sky, everyone on the ships were too busy having fun to notice. Batman grunted at the thought of another magical stupidity in Gotham.

Determined to explore the strange phenomenon, Red Hood and Nightwing offered to use the Jet to get to one of the ships, to which Batman agreed. When they reached the first ship, they found a fierce fight between...aliens? spirits? None of the brothers were sure, but they all glowed in a familiar green. It seemed that the pirate ships were clashing.

Jason was about to speak to draw the attention of the people in the battle, but before he could a boy with bright green eyes, white hair and a Captain's hat on his head came, he immediately noticed them and shouted, "Argh! Intruders!"

Dick swore he saw a boy in a Captain's hat (the rival ship?) pouting and about to complain about something but he couldn't pay any more attention to the event because the "crew" circled them and before he knew it they were tying them up with ropes (also glowing?) and calling them "prisoners". Dick wondered if he would have to jump off the plank, while Danny hesitated about what to do with his "prisoners", Youngblood didn't appreciate people interrupting their games.

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razzle-n-dazzle · 2 months

Note

I just read some of your works and god do you write good better than the actual show I would even say.

I really want to request a Yandere headcannon for mainly Ozzie and Fizzarolli they don’t get enough love as they do, but with a little twist

Whichever you choose I would love either one you pick cause im indecisive.

1: a powerful reader maybe even more stronger than Ozzie being lovers with the two

Or 2: a chubby but physically strong reader that could lift Ozzie with ease as example

If you do see this I hope you consider writing this, you have such a lovely writing style and I would love to see what you cook up

Also call me 🥟-anon if you will cause I hope to request and talk more

ᯓ★ Murder is Okay, Shutting Us Out Isn't. Yandere! Asmodeus & Fizzarolli / Overlord! Reader | Oneshot TW! - READ AT YOUR OWN RISK: romanticizing yandere(s), obsessive behavior, def not proof read (because we die like Adam in this household /j), Vox (/j), boner mention (no sexual content), self harm, yelling, possessive

ᯓ I actually loved both ideas you gave me, so I'm going to mash then both together into one! For that, I'm going to give you all a little crash course into the background for the Reader (you) in this story so things make a little more sense: The reader, though an Overlord, is both physically and magically stronger than Ozzie, though doesn't show it off often. Also, this happened due to their mix of blood; The reader is the child of an an old overlord and a Sin (I'm going for Wrath in this story) and had gained the physical strength from their overlord mother and the magical strength from their Sin father. With this they're able to be known as the Wrathful Overlord, or 'The child and will of Wrath', though Satan doesn't claim them to be his own and has no interest to. Also, no the Reader isn't stronger than other Sins, just Ozzie for this case. Since Ozzie is claimed to be the weakest (or one of the Weaker) Sin that we currently know of, the Reader is matched right around his level. Yet they, much like Alastor, cannot beat other Sins or even Adam, as even with their strengths, are set back by the rather large power difference. So with that out of the way, please enjoy!:

ᯓ You had been living with Ozzie and Fizz for a few months, silently having moved away from your district on the Eastern side of the Pride Ring after their proposal. While it was not uncommon for love to bloom in hell, even with the eternal suffering or the large amount of (usually) taboo topics being put on display down here, you were still not big on having your private life being posted for all of hell to see. Especially those in the Pride Ring, where you were sure Vox would take any chance to slander and drag your name in the mud for having a 'blasphemous' relationship. And really, you didn't feel like cleaning up the blood of another Sinner. Oh no, not because you killed them. Dear, Lucifer god no! Why do that when you had two perfect body guards at your beckon and call?

ᯓ "Honestly, I don't even understand how there can be blasphemy down here. It's hell, God is not watching what we do and I pity him if he did." You would mutter, leaning against the kitchen counter, watching News 666 on your cellphone silently with Fizz; Who had became curious open hearing the news topic and bounded over, wrapping his snake-like arms around your waist twice. He squeezed you a little tight, yet you didn't mind, especially when his head was rested upon your shoulder. You could practically see the growing smirk on his lips before he even spoke, "You know everything we do down here is blasphemes right? That's why we're in Hell, not Heaven. I mean the murder, the sex, the gr-" Though Fizz's little list was caught off short as you hushed him, pressing a quick finger up against his lips.

ᯓ Ozzie was cooking in the background, occasionally taking peaks behind him to make sure you nor Fizz were doing anything stupid; Like trying to cook despite knowing neither of you could do so. It was always a nice gesture until Ozzie has to get the kitchen repaired... again. "And this in, News 666 and it's broadcasting will be disturbed quickly for a message from The fucking V's themselves." Katie Killjoy would crack her neck to the side, seeming oh so annoyed at the interruption. You were too, and Fizz didn't miss the way your face scrunched. "You know Tom, their news isn't even repu-" Katie tried to shout before their segment was cut off, their news source becoming engulfed in The V's logo before the man of the hour, Vox himself, overtook the screen. Him and his snicker, you knew this couldn't be good.

ᯓ Vox never hit the air unless he knew something, unless he wanted something to happen, unless this was his calculated and curated response to something.

ᯓ And the last time that happened, Alastor wiped the floor with him.

ᯓ Fizz drew away from your shoulder a little, his eyes narrowing at your growing irritation before he glanced back towards Ozzie, who already had his arms crossed in confusion. Sure, they've heard about this Vox, mostly from you, but they never expected you to have this much of a detest about him. What happened between you and this TV-head that they didn't manage to dig up? And most importantly, recent or not, did he ever hurt you in anyway. . . or was he planning to?

ᯓ "This just in, news is starting to come up from higher-ups, and close friends, in Wrath Town that their leader, supposed their supposed Overlord, the Child of Wrath, themselves, have gone missing!" Vox stated, trying to carefully keep his voice leveled yet failing miserably; From the twitch in his eye and the wide, plastering grin across his flat face, you could just tell this was another Alastor situation. Yet an Alastor situation that was not pointed directly towards Alastor rather You; Which you had saw coming, maybe even expected it, but fucking Lucifer did you hope you could at least get a good year under your belt before Vox came in to spread 'miss information' all over the Pride Ring. All just to keep his viewers attention on him, just to keep his support. What a loser.

ᯓ You would scoff, trying not to laugh at his obsessive allegations, which were true you guessed, as Fizz and Ozzie silently listened from beside and behind you. While you didn't seem alarmed, or even frightened at the least (as they were sure you would be, seeing as this seemed common for Overlords to not get along) they sure were. Well, not alarmed per say, rather on guard; carefully lingering on the words that Vox was so carelessly spewing to all of those who watched his broadcast. And you noticed how Fizz drew back closer, leaning over your shoulder to glare at your phone, to glare at Vox like Vox might feel his stare, like he was daring Vox to say something else; All the while you couldn't help but laugh, chuckle, giggle, and kind of make fun of Vox as he continued on. His senseless chatter played in the background as you tried to wave off your fiancés' concerns, "Please, guys, don't get worked up over him, he's no threat; More like an annoying bug under everyone's shoe." "One who, from what we hear, likes to stick his non-existent nose in other people's business." Ozzie would comment from the stove, his glare still harsh on the screen even as he flipped over the bacon in the pan. His tone was leaking with annoyance, or maybe irritation and ire is are better words; Either way, you shrugged your shoulders as he continued, "Really, doesn't he have like any other news? that's all basically weightless if it's coming from other people's mouths!" "It's gossip, it keeps his viewer's attention and support up. That's the whole point," You would explain, slightly rolling your eyes at the crazed look Vox gave you. Granted, it was through the screen, but, "I would have thought he would know better than to talk about me, especially since I've shattered his screen more than once." Though Fizz was less amused, "You both give than man way too much credit-" Was the only part of his commentary he could get out, hands on the counter now, before a shout from Vox drew all of your attentions back in.

ᯓ "Oh, ho-ho!" And there was a cackle, one that caused your eyebrows to frown downwards and scrunch your face. One that rang out like an annoying fire alarm and drew a growl from Fizz's throat and a flicker of hellish flame from Ozzie's coat. It's like you all could smell that the shit that Vox was going to spew. "THIS JUST IN," And there was a slam of his hands on the table, "I JUST GOT WORD FROM A TRUSTED SOURCE THAT THE WRATHFUL OVERLORD IS NOT ONLY NOT IN THEIR PITIFUL, SHIT-HOLE OF A TOWN, YET THEY'RE NOT EVEN IN THE PRIDE RING!- Where the fuck are they, you might ask? Well, not fucking here and maybe that's for the better, this place was turning into a shit down with them around." His grin would tease you from behind the screen, and you grew slightly worried that he could see you. That, as his eyes widened and he drew closer to the screen, that he could see right through it. . .

ᯓ "You're in the fucking Lust ring, you absolute SLUT! What the fuck are you doing hanging around an, who's that? An Imp and- And is that Asmodeus himself in the background!" Clack! You would drop your phone like it had burnt you and stumbled backwards, not out of fear, you could never be fearful of someone like Vox, yet out of . . . what would be the word? Ire? Exasperation? Irritation? Preservation? Fizz was quick to lock his arms, just to keep you from stumbling back too far and hitting against the countertops near the stove, potentially burning yourself; As Ozzie stepped up, standing protectively between the phone and the two of you, the flickering of his growing detestation and bubbling anger slowly flickering around his coat, which threatened to burst flames. "This just in, your little Wrathful Overlord, has not only abandoned the Pride Ring yet is sleeping with the Sin of Lust and his weak-dick, limp ass Imp!" Vox's cackle echoed around the room, "That's so fucking sad!- Oh, looks like no one will ever have any sort of reason to be scared of you anymore," And his name spilled out from his lips with venom, poisoning the air with his slithering voice. That was, until his broadcast was cut off, cutting his maniacal laughter short, with a crackle then pop. It seemed like Ozzie had enough of listening to Vox, and seemingly had enough of your phone, as he had slammed his fists into the counter. Effectively ending the broadcast and your phone all in one go.

ᯓ And nothing but silence filled the room, just as you were sure nothing but silence (and soon an eruption of hatred and irreverence) filled the Pride Ring, and Wrath Town.

ᯓ "Fuck. ." Was the words that left with an airy breath.

ᯓ "THAT FUCKER IS SO DEAD!" Was Ozzie's first words; his hair combusting into flames, his irritation and outrage boiling over and finally having struck that match.

ᯓ Maybe it was slight shock overwhelming you, never having expected your engagement to be outrighted for everyone in the Pride Ring to hear, or maybe it was Fizz carelessly (accidentally) spinning you around, but you found yourself exasperation against the kitchen counter; Your eyes still locked on where your cellphone was now intended into the counter. "I've got the rope!" Fizz's voice barely registered in your ears, along with the sounds of his mechanical arms and legs moving to easily wrap himself around Ozzie. "Let's go kill that fucker!- or maybe tie him up and leave him exposed and naked on his own stupid broadcast. Like, really, who does he think he is trying to come for us like that?" Fizz's agreement with Ozzie's irrational solution caused a growl, a very lion-like one, to seep through Ozzie's gritting teeth, "A two timing nobody, that's who he is, and I won't stand for it! He comes for what's mine and I'm going to show him who the FUCK he's dealing with!"

ᯓ You know, maybe you've enabled their behavior a little too much; Sure, you loved the way they grew overprotected about you (and as you were sure they loved when you did the same) yet logically, you knew you had to stop them. When news gets out about Ozzie and Fizz going up to the Pride Ring and killing, or humiliating, an overlord not only will Vox's words be taken as facts, which can cause a whole other set of issues, yet Lucifer might also get involved. Of course, though, your knowledge about how Sins worked together and how they could interfere with each other's rings was limited. Yet, you can only guess a Sin killing an Overlord in another person's ring would just cause some sort of uproar.

ᯓ So when Ozzie, with Fizz coiled around his arm as to not get burnt, were about to leave the kitchen-living room, you had to act fast. Even while a little dazed, a little out of your own body, stilling trying to reel in the information of the situation that just happened, you dashed forward towards them. Or maybe your feet did so because they knew you had to catch them, and it sure felt that way rather than your own doing. It all felt like you were watching through a pair of another's person's eyes as you rushed over, your tail trashing out to stag the Ozzie's heel and trip him (you would have to apologize later). It bought you some time to slid in between him and floor, effectively catching him in your arms. "Yeah, as to hell we're going to go do anything boys! We're," You slammed the door closed, effectively walking away from it, "Staying here!" And that was your final verdict and that was what you were going to do as to make sure you can control this situation as much as possible. While frazzled and your finances' not thinking properly, giving into their own natural urges that some would call taboo (even for hell), this was no time to do that. Ergo, this was no time to be out murdering people!

ᯓ At that time you failed to notice the blush and wide eyes that had sprung to Ozzie's face when you dropped them both onto the couch, as well as the slight boner he had to hide by crossing his legs; Which Fizz defiantly noticed and teased him for with a snicker. Often times, not on purpose, did Fizz and Ozzie forget that out of all three of you, you were the strongest. Physically and magically, as you tended not to flash it off like some demons like to do, instead you flashed where you shined mentally. Though, damn, does it get Ozzie every time you swiftly come in and pick him up like he was weightless, with the same ease he picked up Fizz and you (even after you had told the first few times he didn't have to, later learning that you were conscience about your weight due to your chubbier figure). So it managed to calm Ozzie down, at least a little for the time being. Fizz would follow after, not really looking to murder people by himself - or at least not wanting to or not believing that he could.

ᯓ Calling your name from the couch, yet to no effect, the two would watch as you walked away from them to only circle right back round and leave again; pacing around the room with a constipated look on your face, leaving them confused, and slightly concerned, on the couch. Fizz slinked down to sit on Ozzie's lap, seeing as Ozzie had sat up to make sure you were alright while walking circles around them. Them both noticed quickly the way your tail trashed dangerously, the slight glare you gave to your phone anytime you passed through the kitchen, and the way your left hand clutched and curled in on itself. Fizz was sure your claws were digging into the skin of your palm, where marks from previous punctures of your claws laid fresh. "Hey," Ozzie started, calling out your nickname yet watching it effectively fall onto death ears. Even so, he continued, what's going on?" An invitation to talk to them, an invitation that received the acknowledgement of you hitting the tip of your tail against the floor to ceiling glass. Your own way of letting them know you heard him, yet needed a moment to gather your thoughts. To find something that can fix this situation without it blowing over and becoming bigger than you needed or wanted it to. To find a way to sweep and brush it under the rug. To just- make it like it never, ever fucking happened!

ᯓ Crack!

ᯓ You barely felt it, the smoke of Wrath infesting your very mind and blurring every other sense. Yet, Fizz and Ozzie caught it with ease. They heard the crack of your bone, the saw the way your nails not only had dug into your skin with the increase pressure yet suddenly broke through your palm and to the other side of your hand. Fizz covered his mouth, trying to hold in the gag that threatened to escape from the shock that filled him. Ozzie, wrapping an arm around Fizz to support him up to his chest to comfort him, would stand. . . and he didn't know how else to get your attention but exploding; Calling your name with a tone he rather not use with you. "WHAT?" Yet you would snap back, a green lining the inside of your eyes, right by your pupils. "WHAT CAN BE SO IMPORTANT THAT YOU CANNOT WAIT, OZZIE. I'M TRYING TO-" A tug at your wrist, Fizz, despite not being able to stand the sight if your claws puncturing through your hand, dragged you over to them. He rose your hand up to eye level once you were in front of the two, and he didn't want to make you watch the black blood that flowed down from it, that coated your claws thickly, he knew it was the only way to get you to pay attention. To realize that you hurt yourself in the panic of trying to fix a problem that could best be fixed together. To realize the scowl that was placed upon Ozzie's face at your actions, yet the underlining concern he had. To notice how Fizz was a bit sickened at the fact that you could so easily hurt yourself, and hurt that you wouldn't talk to them and effectively just shut them out again. Even though they have both told you countless times that you could talk them through your thoughts, that they can help you, that they want to help you! Even if you felt like you needed to handle everything that happened by yourself, even if you felt like the world was crushing in they were here! They were always here for you, and they were ready to help as long as you just talked to them.

ᯓ Fizz and Ozzie, out of everyone and anything, care about you (and granted each other) the most. And to see you physically hurt yourself over someone you told them not to worry about . . . well it stabbed them in the heart and made them ever so more concerned.

ᯓ "I just, I need time. I can figure this out if I'm given enough time." You would try to explain to Ozzie and Fizz as you sat on Ozzie's desk, where Fizz usually sat to replace any problem limbs. Fizz sat beside you, securely holding your right hand in his own and nuzzling up to you; His head resting against yours. Ozzie was in front of you, carefully trying to bring your claws out of the palm of your hand without hurting you, so he could then disinfect the wounds and wrap them up. He would have gotten a doctor, but felt a bit too fired up to let any medical professional touch you when you were so vulnerable. "Honey, get us, we know," Ozzie started, then let out a heavy sigh. "You say that every time something shitty happens in Pride. It's like- your go to thing!" Fizz added on, his tone a bit chirpier than Ozzie's; trying to lighten the mood, bring at least a small tug of a smile onto your face. Ozzie would soon apologize as you let out a hiss, feeling your claw carefully yet strikingly painfully being pulled out from your palm. You squeezed Fizz's hand, he nuzzled his head further against yours. And yet, you still spoke through gritted teeth and hissing, "I just! There never seems to be- FUCK, Ozzie that shit hurts!" "Love, I'm sorry, but I'm trying my best to make it as painless as possible. Yet, it's kind of hard when you managed to stab yourself right between your own bones." Ozzie mumbled, quickly working on the exposed wound, trying to wrap it with a towel just for the time being so he could work on the other three fingers (your thumb didn't puncture through skin, but did leave a good wound on your middle finger). Fizz would let out a nervous bit of laughter, trying to turn the situation away from your pain, just so you wouldn't have to think about it. "Hey, why don't you tell us why. . . you were so against us going to go kill the guy! I mean, I'm sure it would be easier than thinking of a whole counter plan and stabbing yourself through the hand, wounding yourself for someone you-" "Froggie," Ozzie warned, though his tone was still soft, noticing quickly how he began to ramble out of nerves. "I don't think that's helping."

ᯓ Yet you didn't mind much, it kind of did set your brain a little more straight and screwed in properly. So in a way you kind of did need Fizz's nervous rambling right now, "No, no it's fine. I. . . needed that. I just," A frown stretched upon your face, letting out a heavy sigh that was quickly replaced with a painful hiss and quickly followed by another apology from Ozzie. Your face scrunched at the pain, yet softened as you felt Fizz trying to comfort you once more. His hand squeezed your undamaged one, and when you turned your head towards his, he connected your foreheads. The distress that came from your fiancés were slowly becoming more apparent to you; Especially by the way Fizz looked into you, his own eyebrows frowned and scrunched, worry laced around his eyes. You felt the pressure of Ozzie wrapping your newly oxygen exposed wound with the towel, trying to cover it gently yet firmly enough. "I just. . . didn't want them to hurt you." The words left your mouth before you could think about their weight; Even if they were nothing but the truth, all the worry that struck your brain the moment Vox had called you out was all due to your worry that Fizz and Ozzie might get hurt. That they might be caught in some sort of cross fire between Vox and you and you would have to deal with their blood on your hands. That was a thought your couldn't bear to stand.

ᯓ The silence was thick for a good few minutes as you kept your eyes squeezed shut, afraid to open them and face Ozzie and Fizz. You could feel as Fizz leaned in, nuzzling your nose against his in an attempt to comfort you, coax you to open your eyes. But he just saw they way they twitched and you squeezed harder. You could feel as Ozzie paused, his fingers gently grabbing around yours yet not giving it's usual tug. And without looking at them, you felt the nerves build in your stomach at the thought that you might have offended them in some way, or they were disappointed in you for some reason. Yet they weren't. Logically, you knew that they weren't any of those things, yet they worrying thoughts still crept in your mind. "Baby, no. . ." Ozzie's sweet voice would ring through the unwanted chatter in your mind, almost like he could hear or feel what was happening in your tornado of a mind. "No, you don't have to worry about us, we were more worried about you. Trust me." You felt Ozzie's engulfing hand rest against your cheek and Fizz nod against your head, "Oh yeah! Our names have been racked through the mud since the whole Mammon incident. Trust us, we can take a little shit, but-" And Fizz paused, always a little hesitant to speak about these topics, "This is new to you, and we know how important your work is to you." "And Just like Sins, I'm sure an Overlord's power also comes from your reputation among people. And that guy, well, directly went for your reputation," Ozzie mumbled, his thumb rubbing sweetly against your cheek. He couldn't dent it, but he loved how they were a little chubbier than most, making your skin a little more plump and soft. "And for that I would have killed him! But you don't want that, for some reason I still don't understand!- But, we respect that. Just know we're here to help anyway we can." "Yeah just say the word!" Fizz playfully moved his head to nuzzle his nose against your other cheek, effectively earning a smile from you and a few bits of suppressed laughter that dared to bubble out your throat. You weren't sure why it was always ticklish when Fizz nuzzled his nose against your cheek, yet it was. "Okay, Okay!-" A giggle slipped through your lips, "I'm sorry. . . I should have, talked to you guys instead of-" You paused, chewing over your words. Yet, you didn't have to think for long as Fizz cut in, "Pushing us away?" "Hurting yourself?" Ozzie swiftly added after, both with their own sassy yet caring tones as they stared down at you. "Yeah. . . that." You would mumble, with an heat rushing up to your cheeks out of embarrassment. You didn't realize you were actually being that big of a dick to the two most important people in your life. Wow, you really did need that reality check from Fizz earlier.

ᯓ "Well, thank god we love you." Fizz's sarcastic voice trailed out with a cheeky grin spread across his face, showing off his pointed teeth and his ever so adorable cheeky attitude. "Or else this would be such a different story! You might have ended out on the streets, or worse, dead." And even if his words would be less than comforting for anyone else, you couldn't help but smile at them; Shooting your own cheeky glare back, finally gaining the courage to open your eyes again. To bask in your lovers' faces instead of cowering in the darkness, fearing a rejection that was never there to begin with. Something that would have never came. Ozzie took the chance to, while you were laughing and smiling and paying attention to Fizz rather than your own pain, to gently yet swiftly take out your third claw. Instantly, your tail trashed and a hiss escaped your mouth. And while he felt bad, Ozzie couldn't help but shake his head and rather seriously state, "Yeah, but don't ever do this again." "Yeah no, I don't think I can take looking at you stab through your own hand either." Fizz agreed, shaking his head. Either way, he went back to nuzzling you to comfort, trying to distract you from the pain of your hands as Ozzie moved the towel over your third wound. One more to go. You tried to keep in the giggles that threatened to escape due to their words, yet you couldn't help it. With a roll of your eyes and a sarcastic, yet playful, tone, you muttered back to them, "Well, fuck, if I ever get stabbed I'm never coming to either of you!"

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[ A/N: Also, thank you so much for this request, it was a joy to write! I can't wait to hear from you again the future! And thank you to everyone for supporting my work, I've gotten so many nice comments in my inbox and I promise I'm trying to get through everyone's requests, or as much of them as possible. There's a good handful of them that request the same thing, so they will be clumped together, just because I don't think I can make enough content to make four separate posts about Adam with a Goth girlfriend or Yandere Lucifer lol! But, thank you all for the support, really, I wouldn't be able to do this all without you :) ]

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