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ahgasegotarmy116 · 2 days

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Shut Up and Kiss Me | Jeon Jungkook | Epilogue

Summary: Jungkook let's you work on his second single 3D but although he's singing this to girls all over he reminds you that you're the only one he wants Pairing: Backup Dancer Reader x Idol Jungkook (f2l they're honestly crackheads I love them) Word Count: 4.7K~ (barely edited per usual lmao) Warnings: Explicit language and smuuttt (he's so hot ya'll I can't) a/n: Kay this took me ling enough to get out but I figured it was about time since the main story hit 1K notes!!! Like what??? Ya'll are actually insane! Thank you so much and I hope you like the epilogue as much as you liked the first part 🫣 p.s. This takes place partially during the 3D dance practice video so yeah I hope ya'll enjoy 🥰 Be sure to read Shut Up and Kiss Me first 💜

"Alright guys go ahead and take a break. Jungkook can you come here for a second?" the choreographer calls out.

"Y/n" Nari whispers, right in my ear scaring me half to death making me place my hand over my heart to ground myself. "Don't do that!" I whisper scream at her. "Not my fault you're staring girly I said your name like three times" she teases and I scoff before walking over to grab my water bottle.

"Am I not allowed to stare at my boyfriend?" I say cocking a brow at her after taking a drink of water. "You are but you also have to remember that your boyfriend is Jungkook and not everyone here knows that" she says, scolding me and bringing me back to reality.

"Hey" Jungkook says, jogging up to us. "What did he want?" I ask, nodding my head towards the head choreographer for this song. "Well..." he says rubbing the back of his neck. "Well what?" I ask, scared that theres something wrong.

"Well they wanted to tell me everyone is doing a great job and the formations are solid but..." he trails off again. "Jeon Jungkook if you trail off like that one more time I'm gonna have a heart attack now tell me what's wrong?" I scold, waiting for his answer.

"They said that we had good chemistry while we were dancing together" he starts off and I let out a breath, glad that it wasn't something major. "But maybe too much chemistry. They think it looks obvious that we're dating with the way we're interacting with each other verses the rest of the dancers" he says and grabs my water bottle out of my hand and starts chugging it nervously.

"Really?" I cringe, loving the fact that we show clear chemistry but also hating the fact that I haven't blended in like a background dancer should. "Yeah they kinda just told me to tone it down and asked me to tell you the same" he says, handing me my now empty water bottle, cringing as well at the notes that they had given.

"Well alright then I guess I'll try my best" I say, shaking my arms and legs real quick to physically shake off the pressure I had felt growing. "Yeah I will too" he says, nodding his head and smiling at my actions.

"What are you smiling at?" I ask, eyes narrowing, a playful scowl written all over my face. "You look cute when you're nervous" he compliments with a crooked smile and I roll my eyes, scoffing at his words.

Once I hear the choreographer call out to everyone to come back and I start to make my way over Jungkook grabs me by my wrist and pulls me back towards him making me fall on his chest. "What are yo-" I start but he kisses me right on the lips and dips me real quick causing all the dancers to gasp and cheer us on.

"Alright you two that's enough" the choreographer scold and Jungkook breaks the kiss and steadies me on my feet again. I take a deep breath, my breath literally being taken away from how sudden that was and how embarrassed I am on top of it.

He rests his forehead on mine and lets out a dry chuckle before I wack him on the bicep which happens to be on full display today with his white muscle shirt on. "Why did you do that?" I whisper scream to him, looking around at all the eyes that have started to trickle away from us and listen to the instructions for the next run through.

"Just because he said we couldn't show too much chemistry while we're dancing doesn't mean that we can't do it while we're not" he smirk, placing a kiss on the back of my hand before running over to the group that's gathered in the middle of the practice room.

I shake my head at him and make my way over on my own, wiping my lips to take away his messy saliva he left on them and when he sees me do so he pouts a bit before looking turning his attention to where it once was.

"What just happened?" Nari whispers when I walk up next to her. "Don't look at me, Jungkook did it. He said something about they said we were showing too much chemistry while dancing but we can when we're not. I don't know something like that" I mumble and she nods her head and goes quiet for a second to listen but breaks her silence again.

"You know all of us had to sign new NDAs today right?" she says and I turn to look at her, my brows scrunched together in confusion. "Really? But why didn't I have to?" I question and she laughs at the same time that the choreographer tells us to get in starting position.

"We signed them so that they made sure we would keep our mouths shut about you two" she winks and the two of us and two other of the girls line up behind Jungkook to get in formation, waiting for the music to start.

"You're kidding me right?" I whisper and she shakes her head, "Your name was on it and everything. They even highlighted it since you guys are the newest idol couple. Well a couple that includes an idol" she says, clarifying her wording unnecessarily.

"Okay I get it I get it" I say, and cover my face with both of my hands in embarrassment. No wonder everyone had been giving me weird looks today.

As Jungkook's voice blares through the speakers Nari and I compose ourselves and wait for our parts.

"I can't touch you through the phone" Jungkook starts, getting into his idol mindset and I get weak in the knees like I always do but take a deep breath and remember to maintain chemistry with him but not too much...

"When there's two dimensions..." he says and our eyes lock when we step into each other. 'He's so fucking hot' is the only thing I can process, my body on autopilot, following muscle memory and willing myself to stop thinking about him.

"So if you're ready, and if you let me" 'Trust me I've let him' I think, my mind wandering to the places I've let him- "See it, in motion, in 3D" he sings, his voice going in and out of my head as I follow the steps along with everyone else.

'Okay why don't I just focus on the other dancers? Yeah make sure our formations look well and our moves are in sync' I think to myself and go along with that.

"Body to body to body to body to body" comes through next and I push on his right shoulder while one of the others girls pushes on his left and I look at the way he's grabbing onto him, definitely a lot harder than she needs to me and I annoyingly take note of it.

"You give me brand new emotion, you got me drinkin' that potion" he says and I hold onto his shoulder while we all do this hip thrust thing. I don't know what the choreographer was thinking when he gave the girls this kind of a move but alright. Being next to him and holding onto his while he does it tho is um...well let's just say the flashbacks are a lot more vivid this time.

"I just wanna see you like that see you like that..." 'God I swear why did I start focusing on the other dancers? Now all I can think about are the girls and everything that goes along with this song and how Jungkook's voice and music dictates our every movement.

"'Cause you know how I like it girl" 'Yes Jungkook, I know how you like it, and you know how I like it. When is this song gonna be over? This is honestly some sick form of torture at this point. You know what, lemme just look at the staff, yeah the staff will be more or less harmless right?'.

When I look towards the staff though my eye catch Jungkook's in the mirror behind them and it takes everything in me to not stop dead in my tracks.

The look in his eyes is mesmerizing, promises of things we would never say aloud hidden behind that fiery stare and it brings me some form of comfort, knowing that although he's singing this song to women through out the world and with female dancers around him, I'm the only one he's got his eyes on. The one he's singing his song to.

I wonder if the reason he chose this song was because these might've been some of his thoughts and feeling for me when we weren't living in the same city, or weren't even on the same continent. Why do I have to keep on having these thoughts? I swear I'm just digging myself deeper.

"I had one girl, too boring" I hear Jack's voice come through and I roll my eyes, chancing a glare at Jungkook and I see him wince, remembering the scolding I gave him when he showed me the song for the first time.

"Am I not enough for you? Too boring?" I fumed. It was on a day when I had been feeling a little insecure to begin with and when he told me he had another song I had been excited to listen because he was excited to show me.

"Baby that Jack's verse, I swear I don't feel like that! You know I've loved you since I was little! I promise!" he pleads and I just end up giving him the silent treatment for the rest of the night but I let him cling to me and he apologized over and over again.

"We already asked him to rewrite his lyrics a few times and I felt bad asking him again" he says, placing his chin on my shoulder and arms wrapped around my waist, being positively attached to my hip.

I turn around to face him, still with his arms wrapped around my waist to make sure he's being honest with me.

"You sure you don't mean that?" I say, glaring up at him and he nods, the poutiest lips and the saddest doe eyes I've ever seen are granted to me along with his response. "Okay" I say, cupping his face and he closes his eyes leaning into my touch before I tap him twice on the cheek.

"Hey" he whines, scrunching his brows together, a new flavor of a pout on his face. "Just make sure that any more features you have on this album young man have to do with monogamy, you got that?" I say pointedly and he nods his head up and down violently.

"I promise! I'll make sure to tell the producers" he says and I hum in response, loving his panicked response. "Why couldn't his verse have been like Latto's?" I groan and try to walk away from him but he pulls me back.

"And what might you mean by that princess?" he says, taking on a whole new demeanor knowing exactly what I mean based off the explicit lyrics. "How they more or less kinda sorta are based off of a true story" I mumble, looking down at where he's pressed our bodies together and dying to get rid of these clothes already.

"Yeah? Which part? Maybe I should make sure it's completely based off of a true story hm?" he says, his hands slowly trailing his hands down from my waist grab my ass, pulling me even closer if possible.

I lean my head against his chest getting shy at the thought that he's keep his promise and he laughs at the cute gesture mixed with the explicit words that garnered this reaction.

"Is my girl getting embarrassed?" he taunts, placing a kiss on top of my head but still making no moves to take his hands off my ass. I whine and he laughs again and lets up, leaning back to try and catch my gaze.

"You know I love you right?" he asks and I hide my face even more, making sure he can't see how red it's gotten. I nod my head and mumble out a muffled 'love you too' but he's not satisfied by my answer and starts walking us backwards, the back of my knees hit the couch and as a result has me not so gracefully falling onto it.

"Since you're too embarrassed to say that you love me it guess I'll just have to make you scream it instead" he says leaving me biting my lip, my heart rate skyrocketing when he comes closer...

'So if you're ready, and if you let me, I wanna see it in motion in 3D' blares through the speaker one last time at the end of the song, all of the dancers going on with the choreography and Jungkook looking back at us, at me and he knows what's on my mind and smirks through the lyrics and I know I'm an absolute goner once we're alone together.

Why do all of these songs have to be so sexual? Every single time we're done with practice or he finishes up his own rehearsals it seems as though he can't wait to be alone with me. Not that I'm complaining but how can one man contain this much stamina.

When Latto said 'Seven days a week, Seven different sheets, Seven different angles I can be your fantasy' she really hit it right on the head.

'You know how I like it girl, 3D' finally closes out the song and everyone stops, panting in effort to catch our breaths can be heard throughout the room and a few of us dramatically fall to the floor in an effort to ground ourselves, including Jungkook.

"Alright everyone that's a wrap. We'll see you guys bright and early Monday morning with one last rehearsal before we fly out to film the music video. Thank you very much and get some rest because we've got a long week ahead of us" the choreographer says and we all clap for each other and get ready to grab our stuff to go.

Jungkook comes over and gives me a hand to help me up and I take it right away, not even having to put in any effort with him putting in all the work to get me back on my feet. "You done for the day?" I ask, seeing that look in his eye, knowing exactly what's bound to happen and as soon as he's about to open his mouth one of the staff members calls him over again.

"Meet me in my studio, this shouldn't take long" he whispers in my ear leaving me shuddering as he leaves me, not giving me even a second to answer before he's jogging over to said staff.

"I was gonna ask if you wanted to go home together but it looks like you've got other plans" Nari says, scaring me again for what is it the third time today? I look at her and she knows the answer already, rolling her eyes and placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Just don't get pregnant" she says, louder than I'd care to admit. "Nari!" I scold and she laughs, causing our little conversation to catch Jungkook's eye, granting me a wink in response but quickly switching back to a more professional demeanor.

"I'll see you later" she sings and I groan before picking up my dance bag and heading towards the locker rooms to shower. I'm thankful that they have these for us because I would hate to have to deal with being disgustingly sweaty just waiting for him to come back.

~~~~~

Once I finish up I make my way to Jungkook's studio where I see him sitting at his desk, hair still dripping a bit while he towel dries it a bit more.

"Thought I told you to wait here for me" he teases, draping the small towel around his neck before getting up to walk towards me, placing a hand on my waist and pulling me in to kiss him. I hum into the kiss, loving moments like these where we can openly be ourselves again.

"Didn't know how long they were gonna keep you so I took my time in there" referring to said shower and he kisses me again before taking my bag off my shoulder and throwing his towel in the little laundry basket by the door.

"Looks like you're gonna need another one soon though" he says, turning around and stalking towards me leaving me walking backwards until I stupidly back into his desk. "Is that a threat?" I ask, taking us back to that morning after.

"Thought by now you would know that I always keep my promises" he says and places his hand on my jaw, putting me at just the right angle to kiss me.

He starts slow, full of the longing and desire he had shown me when he was looking at me through that mirror and deepening the kiss, making me fall further and further into him.

Trailing my hands up his chest I bring them up to wrap my arm around his neck, trapping him against my lips while I use the other to run my fingers through his hair, making my nails drag along his scalp and pull at his locks just how he likes it leaving him groaning into the kiss.

"Tell me what you were thinking about during rehearsal" he says, pulling away from my lips before kissing me one last time and the trailing his lips down my neck. "I wasn't thinking about anything" I gasp when he bites down on my collarbone in response.

"Don't lie to me, I saw the way your eyes glossed over and how flustered you got when I finally caught your eye. Baby was having flashbacks wasn't she?" he teases, trailing his hands under the shirt I'm wearing which happens to be his.

I whimper when his hands cup my breasts, the warmth of his skin seeping through the pitiful excuse for a bra and he pinches one of my nipples as a punishment for not telling him the truth.

"I was thinking about you" I gasp, feeling him smiling against my skin before leaning back and pulling up my shirt a little, waiting for me to give him the go ahead by lifting up my arms which I do right away, used to having done this time and time again in his studio.

"Care to elaborate?" he asks cocking a brow at me, leaving me rubbing my thighs together giving him clear answers as to what I had been thinking of.

"Remembering that you know how I like it? Perhaps the champagne confetti you know you give me every time? Rain rain rain you can't fake it?" he says, trailing his hand down and pressing a finger against my center, already feeling how wet I am for him.

"Seems like she's already soaking wet isn't she" he says, trailing his hand up towards the drawstring on my sweats and tugging them as a plea to take them off. I hop off the desk and he immediately helps me out of them, smiling at the small wet stain that's been left on them before setting me up on his desk again, totally bare with only my bra on which is new and incredibly sheer him having just noticed since it's the last thing that's keeping me from being fully exposed.

I bring hands to my back to unclasp it but he tells me to leave it on. "It looks so pretty on you. Wanna fuck you in it" he growls into my ear before leaning back and ridding himself of his clothing and smashing his lips up against mine, having become even more needy if possible while scanning my body and taking off his clothes.

"Been thinking about this all day. Wish I could fuck you in here all the time. Can't even work properly in here. Just thinking about how I've fucked you everywhere in this room" he says, driving me to insanity while he drags his dick up and down my slit, making me dizzy from the stimulating but needing more to satiate this hunger he's built up in me.

"Jungkook please, do something" I plead, remembering the fact that this room is soundproof meaning I can be as loud as I want in here which is another reason why he loves having sex in here. He tells me he that sometimes he wishes it wasn't though. Says he wants the whole company to know how he makes good on his word and is fucking me right.

"Needy little thing now aren't you" he says, holding back his need to be buried balls deep in me in favor of making me beg some more. I scoot my hips forward and pull him closer in an effort to do it myself but he gives me absolutely no power over the situation.

"Gotta stretch you out" he mumbles against my lips and replaces his dick with his fingers, dragging it along my folds to get some of my slick on it to make it easier to slide in and after playing why clit a little and gaining breathy whimpers from me in response he slides a finger in, drawing circles along my clit in an effort to help me relax.

He does a quick job of it but makes sure to be gentle nonetheless while prepping me for him, needing to me inside me now. As a result he's soon pulling his fingers out of me and placing them in my mouth, distracting me from the fact that seconds later he's pushing into me, leaving me moaning around his fingers.

When I bite down on them from the surprise of him putting it in he hisses from feeling my walls clench around him along with the pain from the bite.

He pulls his fingers out of my mouth and places both hands on my hips and pull me towards him, slamming the rest of his length inside of me leaving me arching my back and choking out a sob.

He snaps his hips into me over and over again at a fast pace he only settles for in times where he's extremely needy or feeling a need to remind me of who I belong to. The first being the case for this situation.

"Shouldn't have let you work on this project" he grunts while his hands grip my hips even harder, dimpling my skin, bound to leave marks tomorrow.

"Drives me fucking insane seeing you move like that, you know that? Makes it so hard for me to not pop a boner right then and there. Fuck how did I get so lucky?" he growls in my ear, leaving me drowning in the sound of his voice, hearing all the thoughts he's been having this whole time.

"You're lucky I took a chance on the loner" I slur out leaving him slowing his pace so he could look at me properly. "Loner huh?" he smirks and I nod, smirking right back at him. He rolls his eyes and picks up the pace again, leaving me giggling at his reaction but soon I'm moaning his name with ever snap of his hips, all my coherent thought long gone when I'm close to tipping over.

"You've got a smart mouth on you today huh? Just begging to get ruined like always, my girl is never satisfied until she's begging for me to stop. Telling me it's too much. You're so fucking adorable when you cry like that. Fuck I wish I cou-" "Shut Up" I choke out, cutting him off by smashing my lips against his, not being able to handle his dirty mouth anymore.

Although I know it's almost impossible for someone to hear us I can't help but want to muffle my moans with his mouth when I cum, making his swallow all of them as his hips stutter and my orgasm triggers him leaving his slowing down, changing his pace to one that more lazy but just as deep, fucking us both through our highs before he pulls out making me whine as the loss of contact.

Maybe I am insatiable, maybe I'm completely lost in him. Not just because of who he is or what he does to me but just because he's him. Someone that I want to spend my life with and although I've felt like that for a long time I'm sure the freshly fucked mindset I have right now is the reason these feelings have come to the front again.

He rests his forehead against mine and focuses on cleaning me up with a clean towel he had somehow gotten when I was lost in a daze and walks away, cleaning himself up quickly and throwing some sweats on.

Once he's done and throws yet another towel in the basket he walks back over to me and kisses me. Over and over and over again whispering sweet nothings between every kiss and I swear I could never ask for someone more perfect in my entire life.

"You okay?" he asks, pulling me off the desk and holding onto my hips, keeping me on my feet when my knees buckle once I make contact with the floor. "Yeah I'm, yeah I'm fine" I say, embarrassed by stumbling even though for the most part I always end up like this after we fuck.

"Did a number on you huh?" he smirks, guiding me over to the couch to rest after having helped me into thankfully another fresh change of clothes I had in my dance bag with me. "Shut up" I grumble and flop down onto it, laying down and he chuckles before laying down and putting his full weight on top of me.

I groan and hit him on the shoulders, hoping to get him off of me but he just laughs in response. "I swear you're trying to kill me" I say through labored breaths, but he thankfully alters his position so he's still on top of me but distributes some of his weight elsewhere.

"No, I just love you that's all" he says, propping his chin on my chest and looking at me as if I hung the stars for him. "I love you too weirdo" I say, ruffling his hair when he pouts at me words, feigning offense.

"First I'm a loner and now I'm a weirdo? You hurt me with your words" he whines, placing his hands on his chest right over where his heart is. "You are a weirdo" I say, sitting back up and cupping his face turning it towards me. "But you're my weirdo" I whisper, placing my forehead against his and rubbing my nose up against his, giving him eskimo kisses.

"We need to get home" he says standing up and grabbing my hand to hoist me up as well. "Wait, why?" I ask, questioning his urgency and also getting a fluttering feeling when he call his place home as if we lived there together.

"You're too cute to fuck just once today and I wanna spoil you" he says, kissing me and making me lose myself in him again. When he pulls away I laugh as I watch him clean up everything and grab both of our bags to carry out and when I try to reach to take mine from him he refuses.

"Least I can do for my girl after that champagne confetti is carry her bag" he teases and drags me out of the studio before I'm able to scold him properly. "Jeon Jungkook you better watch yourself" I growl and he laughs, thoroughly pleased with himself.

"I'd rather see you, in motion, in 3D" he says pulling me into the elevator and pressing G for garage while I push him against the wall once the doors close. "Feisty are we? Thought I took care of that back there" he taunts.

"Just shut up and kiss me" I mumble against his lips and he switches roles, turning me around and pressing me against it instead. "You're gonna get yourself into trouble you know that?" he says between kisses, gripping onto my hips and pulling them flush up against his, showing me how hard he still is.

"I counting on it" I say and we laugh before he kisses me breathless, the elevator taking us, down down down, each moment bringing us closer to my demise. Knowing tonight will leave me completely shattered, but luckily I've got him to pick up the pieces.

The End

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mandarinmoons · 3 days

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Trudging up the steps of the apartment building felt like an eternity. The elevator was broken so you were forced to walk up three flights of stairs, this being the most tame of the unlucky events that happened today.

It all started with your alarm not going off, followed by getting stuck in traffic and arriving at work nearly an hour late and your boss deciding to keep you at work for longer so you could do back the time you lost in the morning. And to top it all off, your car wouldn’t start when you finally got done with work, so you decided to walk all the way home.

Your feet were burning as you made it up to your floor and as you rummaged around your bag for your keys you heard the front door open with a click and were met with the sweet smile of your boyfriend Spencer.

“Welcome home,” Spencer pushed the door aside and you automatically wrapped your arms around him in a hug.

“I thought you were on a case?”

“Well we managed to get a lucky break and here I am. I wanted to surprise you, I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s more than okay.”

Spencer took your face into his hands and his thumbs ran along your cheeks, his eyes studying your face carefully.

“You seem… tired.”

You chuckled and looked to the side while Spencer’s thumb brushed over your jaw, “You could say that. I had a lot of stuff go wrong today.”

“Yeah? Do you want to talk about it?”

“Maybe later, right now I want to be in your arms for a moment,” you snuggled closer into Spencer’s chest which elicited a chuckle from him, the sound vibrating in his chest making your heart fill with joy.

You could’ve had the worst day in the world but Spencer could pull you close into his embrace, press a kiss into your hair and it would feel like nothing could bring you down anymore.

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mxtantrights · 3 days

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Hello there, ‘tis I again! Soo happy you enjoyed the boxer!jason request!! I know, i love him too :)))

Today i bring forth another boxer!Jason ask, maybe you introduce him to your friends and they can’t see past the fact he kinda looks like a brute (even tho he’s such a big softie, i truly believe this man reads romeo and Juliet while waiting to get on the ring), and so at the end of the night he’s feeling insecure cause he could see how your friends looked at him and he starts wondering if they are right and you deserve someone who’s softer and more approachable. And obviously reader shows him just how amazing he is!!

Today i yearn for some good hurt/comfort, if you couldn’t tell lol

Hope you have fun writing this one!! Marvellous works 🩷🩷

Everything goes right before the two of you get there. Thats how Jason knows something is gonna go wrong at this hang out. You told him all week that if he felt like not going, you could cancel. But he didn't want it to seem like he was blowing your friends off. So he trudged through.

He trudged through and is sitting side by side with you in a booth. And three of your friends are crowded into the other side of it. They've had a couple of drinks before you came. You weren't really in the mood to play catch up so you stick to your one while Jason goes dry because he's driving.

They have conversations about the recent news, the latest gossip, and then they ask about your life. Particularly your life with Jason. You start gushing about him, as if he isn't there, and tell them about how you met and how he treats you.

"This guy? This six foot tall, three hundred pounded brick wall?" one of them asks.

You scoff, "How he looks has nothing to do with how he treats me."

"Yeah, but doesn't he-don't you box?" another one of them asks him.

Jason clears his throat and sits up straight. But you notice it. You notice how he is trying to make himself smaller. He did it at the very beginning of your relationship, to make you less scared. You talked to him about it when the two of you got closer, and you haven't seen him do it since. Until now.

"I'm a boxer, yes. But I don't bring any of that home with me." Jason answers.

"Isn't it hard though? When you're angry? I mean who's to say you won't-" the third friend starts.

Hell. This has to stop.

"Enough." you speak.

They all look at you, at a loss for words. While it's true the four of you grew up looking like people who were afraid to tell others no, and looked like doormats, you were far from that person. Those days are over.

"I'm not gonna let you speak to him like that. He has been nothing but kind and open with me, and not that it's any of your business, but he has never laid his hands on me, or raised his voice." you say.

Then you're getting up from the booth, holding your hand out for Jason. He looks between you and your friends and then he's getting up from his seat. He takes your hand in his.

"He's my boyfriend. I want him in my life and I wanna be a part of his. So either you get that or you get lost." You put finally.

You turn around and walk right out the door with Jason. Jason who hasn't said a word yet. Jason who is holding onto your hand in a way that tells you he's not completely paying attention.

When the two of you cross the threshold of the doors, you squeeze his hand.

"Baby?" you ask him.

Jason looks at you then. Like everything is coming back into focus for him. He has a sad smile on his face.

"I'm sorry." He says.

"Don't ever be sorry for being you. If my so called 'friends' couldn't see past what you look like and what you do for a living then they don't need to be my friends." you explain to him.

Jason shakes his head, "You've known them longer than me. It's not fair that-"

"Jason Todd, I am not willing to give you up. For anyone. Ever. You got that?"

Jason lets out a small sigh. "Okay."

You let go of his hand to hold out your arms. He pouts a bit before stepping closer to you and wrapping his arms around you completely. You nuzzle into him more.

"I'll spend the rest of my life proving it to you. I hope you know that." you add on.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"I swear it." you answer.

a/n: thank you so so much for sending this in! <333 I love some good hurt/comfort too!! I hope you like it!!

#dc x reader #Jason todd x reader #Jason todd imagine #Jason todd blurb #dc blurbs #dc #Jason todd #boxer!jason

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beskarandblasters · 2 days

Text

Packin’ (In More Ways Than One)

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author’s note: This is inspired by this HOT art by @cass-hues 🍑🔥 Unfortunately, I do not know who made this gif so if that’s you or someone you know, don’t hesitate to inform me and I’ll give credit where it’s due! Thank you to @freelancearsonist for beta reading! 🤍🤍

Summary: You see Din’s bare ass for the first time and get the urge to peg him.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), reader is able-bodied and has no physical description/no genitalia mentioned, anal fingering, sex toys, lube, pegging, praising, pet names (cyar’ika), sonic = shower, refresher = bathroom, no use of y/n

“You’re really going to shower with that bucket on your head?”

Din’s leaning against the doorway of the refresher with a towel sitting low on his hips. He just captured a bounty on Coruscant where it’s currently raining, a downpour that chilled Din to his bones. You suggested that a hop in the sonic would warm him up. But you didn’t expect to see him stripped bare of everything besides his helmet.

“Yes,” he says plainly. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing! …You just look a little funny right now, that’s all.”

“Funny?” he asks, turning and walking to the mirror. But as he walks his towel drops to the floor and you’re met with the sight of his bare ass. And Maker, it is juicy. You had no idea he was hiding that underneath his cape and his flight suit.

“Oh my-”

“Sorry!” he says, hastily grabbing the towel and wrapping it around his waist.

“You’re sorry?”

“I didn’t mean to… expose myself like that.”

“I didn’t mind.”

“Really?”

“But I am a little mad at you right now.”

“Why??”

“You didn’t tell me you were packin’… in more ways than one,” you say, walking and standing beside him in the mirror.

“Oh… You mean my… behind?”

“Yes, silly,” you chuckle, running your hand over his ass with the towel in between you two. He tenses up at the motion and you’re just now realizing that he’s probably never had his ass appreciated like this before. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he lets you feel up his ass while the towel hangs dangerously low around his hips.

“Is it weird I want to peg you?”

“No,” he says quickly.

“No as in…?”

“No, it’s not weird.”

“Oh,” you say, your eyes widening. “Should I… go to the store?”

“Yes,” he says, without hesitation.

“Alright, I’ll be back,” you chuckle, grabbing your bag and lowering the exit ramp of the Crest.

You think of where the nearest sex shop might be and quickly decide that lower levels are your best bet. The rain has thankfully subsided, leaving puddles in the street for neon lights to reflect off of. You cruise the streets, searching for the perfect place until you happen upon a goldmine; Nova’s Novelties.

The door opens and you step inside, immediately overwhelmed by the sheer volume of sex toys occupying the shelves and walls. There’s a counter in the back where the register is. A woman is there and you can only assume that’s Nova, a beautiful woman with an inviting aura. She makes buying sex toys seem less intimidating.

“Welcome!” she says, motioning for you to come over. “What brings you in tonight?”

“I’m looking for… a strap-on.”

“You’ve come to the right place,” she smiles, stepping out from behind the counter. “Follow me.”

She brings you to a shelf where there’s a strap on of every size and color, all encased in clear packaging. A silver one catches your eye.

That’ll match his armor, you think to yourself, stifling a giggle.

“What do you recommend for a beginner?”

She reaches and grabs a modest looking one, bright pink in color.

“This one is great for beginners. Not too big, not too small. And it comes with an adjustable strap.”

“Thanks!” you say, taking the box from her. “Does it come in any other colors?”

“What were you thinking?”

“…Silver.”

“You have great taste. Let me check the back.”

She heads to the back room while you take time to explore the rest of the selection, opting for a bottle of lube, too. Once she emerges with the silver dildo in hand, you check out, handing her a fistful of credits and heading back to the Crest.

“Have fun!” she says with a suggestive smile just before you step out onto the street.

As you walk back to the docking yard, you think about Din, waiting for you like such a good boy. You think about the trust he places in you, letting you see him without his armor or his fight suit on and the trust he has to let you do something like this… It’s a testament of your love.

When you get back in the Crest you find Din, standing in the doorway of the refresher with droplets of water peppered on his skin with steam wafting into the hull from the sonic. His bulge pitches a tent in his towel. You can’t believe your eyes, gawking at how gorgeous he looks. It’s almost criminal he keeps all of this locked away under his armor and it blows your mind that this is the first time you’re seeing him like this.

“Did you find something?”

“You bet I did,” you smirk. You take off your bag and hang it on a hook, reaching for the strap-on and the lube. You hold it out in front of you and think about his face underneath the helmet, wondering if he clocked how the dildo matches his armor.

“You like?” you ask.

“I do.”

“Good…” you say, stepping closer to him and placing a hand on his chest. His skin is warm, still slightly damp from the sonic. “Now be a good boy and get in the bunk for me.”

“Yes, cyar’ika,” he says, dropping his towel and walking across the hull to the bunk.

He gets on all fours on the bed while you shed your clothes and take the strap out of the packaging, setting it on the edge of the bunk because you’re not ready for it just yet.

“Are you gonna be a good boy for me?” you say, kneeling behind him and cupping his ass.

“Y-Yes, I promise.”

“Don’t worry,” you giggle, “I’ll go nice and slow at first.”

You squeeze lube onto your index finger, coating his hole with it and teasing it lightly. He lets out a small whimper in response, already aching for more.

“What was that?”

“I… want it… already.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” you say, sliding your finger in.

His breath hitches before he exhales with a moan while you slowly work his hole. You curl your finger while your other hand caresses his ass.

“More,” he softly begs.

“Be patient,” you coo.

He sighs, resting his helmet down on the pillow and sticking his ass up higher. Never in a million years did you think you’d have Din in a face-down ass-up position and yet here you are, enjoying every minute of it.

You pull your hand from his ass and add lube to your middle finger, pushing both back inside simultaneously. A deeper, guttural moan forces its way out of his throat as he melts into the cot faster than a block of ice on Tatooine.

“Good boy,” you praise, pushing your fingers against his prostate. “But I’m far from done with you.”

“I know,” he whimpers.

You feel his hole relax around your fingers and a slew of whispers and Mando’a curse words slip out from under the helmet.

“Cyar’ika, I’m gonna cum.”

“Oh yeah? Let me feel it.”

He cums around your fingers, a different kind of orgasm he’s never experienced before. His thighs shake beneath him as he rides out his high.

“Such a good boy for me,” you praise, slowing the movement of your fingers to a stop. You pull them from his ass and get off the bed, putting on the harness and attaching the strap. “But are you ready for more?”

“Yes,” he sputters, staying in the same face-down ass-up position for you.

You walk to the front end of the bed, crouching down by his helmet and telling him, “You’re doing so well, baby, coming for me like that.”

“I am?”

“Mhm,” you whisper, rubbing his back. He shudders at your touch, eliciting a giggle from you.

“You’re so sensitive right now, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he sighs.

“It’s almost over,” you remind him, taking your rightful position by his ass again.

You spread lube onto the strap and align it with his hole, one hand holding his hip as you thrust into him slowly. He lets out another string of curse words in Mando’a. It’s unintelligible but it’s a sign of how good he feels.

“You like that?” you chuckle.

“Yes. So much, cyar’ika,” he moans, just as you draw your hips back and thrust into him again. You put your other hand on his hip, holding onto him as you thrust in and out, working him up to his impending orgasm. His moans, grunts, and whimpers are melodic, like music to your ears. It fills you with a deep sense of pride that you can reduce your big strong Mandalorian to a whimpering mess with just your fingers and a strap.

“Cyar’ika?” he whines.

“Yes?” you smirk.

“I’m gonna-”

“Gonna cum again?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Do it,” you command, making sure your pace never falters.

Another moan escapes his throat, slipping out from under his helmet in his beautiful, modulated tone. His whole body shakes with pleasure, quivering as you fuck him through his high, being sure to slow down slightly to not overstimulate him.

Once he’s done you pull out of him, letting him collapse onto the bunk. Aftershocks of his orgasm make him quiver here and there, his ass shaking with each involuntary movement. You giggle watching him rest peacefully after you just fucked the living daylights out of him.

You crouch down and whisper, “Looks like you need to hop in the sonic again.”

“I know,” he groans.

“I’ll join you.”

“Let’s go,” he says, shooting up and heading to the refresher. He has that specific walk about him, the kind where you walk side to side after a good dicking down. It looks good on him, you decide.

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics

Dividers: @saradika-graphics

#din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #din djarin imagine #din djarin x gn!reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #star wars fanfiction #pedrostories #pedro pascal characters #ppcu fanfiction

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cosmicghoul99 · 3 days

Text

The Whole Watcher Debacle

Just giving my two cents on the whole Watcher situation. I've been following this since it started, and initially, I wasn't going to say anything, but honestly, why not? (lol)

I want to start off by saying that this was not a good business decision to make. By pulling this, they are essentially alienating their international and low-income fans. The world is going through a global economic crisis, and the fact is that creating a streaming subscription service when companies like Disney and Netflix themselves are struggling is not a sound financial decision. Saying $6/month is "affordable for everyone and anyone" is a tone-deaf statement. In this economy, that is the difference between getting to eat for a day or not. It's not just "two cups of coffee". It's quite literally life or death for some people.

Now, before I get hounded by people saying that "artists deserve to get paid for their works" and "it's all about paying artists until you have to pay them yourselves." I do support small artists and small business owners. I support smaller creatives whenever I can and whenever I have the means to. The problem is that Watcher is not a small artist. They are not even a small business. They are, and apparently always have been a company. In addition to that, they are getting paid. They profit from ad reads, views, Adsense, patreon, merch, and live shows.

Their patreon alone nets them at a minimum of $30k per month. This is on the lower side, mind you. I've heard some other content creators talk about this, and it's estimated that they make around $50k-$100k from AdSense and views. On top of that, they get paid $15k-$30k per sponsored video, and a vast majority of their videos are sponsored. They would make around 60k-120k from sponsorships alone. Add all this together, and they make at least $140k monthly. This is, again, the least, and this does not count in profit from their merch or live shows. Their merch sells for anywhere between $60-90 depending on the item, and they continuously sell out. I don't know how much their live shows are, but I imagine it's something along those lines. If even 100 people bought merch, although this is likely in the thousands, they would make 6,000 minimum from just merch. The current national minimum wage in the United States is around 7 dollars. Per month, if you worked for 40 hours per week, you would make around $1,120. They are making nearly 5 times that just from their merch. They make, on the low end, $150k per month. This is more money in one month than most people can make in 2 and a half years. Even the lower end of money on Patreon makes them more money than most people make in a year. Annually, they are making, and this is greatly underestimating the amount they make, at least $1 million. On the higher end, if we calculate that they are making around $100k per month via Patreon, and we estimate with their sponsorships, the range only increases, to around $320k, adding the higher end of sponsorship money and AdSense. Yearly, that's almost $4 million. Their range is $1million-$4million. I'm sorry, but if you are netting in this profit and still need more for your business, then you are doing something wrong.

Watcher are not struggling artists living paycheck to paycheck and barely making ends meet. They are a multi-million dollar company whose owners live very comfortable lives. This is fine, but they should not act like they are struggling when this business venture was because they were operating outside their means and want to go even further beyond that. YouTube is terrible regarding many things; I get it. There is nothing wrong with creatives wishing to expand, but if you financially cannot support that decision, you should not do so. I am not okay with people being hateful and bringing up unnecessary things. Still, the fact remains that all of their CEOs show their very lavish lives and spending online and constantly talk about it on their podcasts. They could not afford those things if they were truly struggling like they tried to make people believe. Some people are being rude online, yes, and that's not a good thing, but the vast majority are being rightfully upset and are giving valid criticism on why this is a bad idea.

Watcher is not worth a $6/month subscription. They do not have enough content to justify this decision, nor do they have enough followers. Youtubers with followings much larger than theirs have tried to do this and failed. Paywalling their content is not the right move. It essentially stagnates their growth. How are people going to find them, and how are they going to get attention for this? Posting one video on YouTube every time you make a new series -which we don't know how frequently they will update- will not push that content to people. Also, most people who see that initial trailer or episode will not pay $6 monthly to see the rest. The fact is that, like it or not, at $6, they are competing with some of the biggest companies in the industry. Companies like Netflix, Disney+, Hulu, Prime, and more all have standards ad supscriptions ranging from $ 5-8 dollars, and they have a catalog of thousands of shows, movies, and more. Yes, it sucks that there is a capitalistic monopoly on these services, but switching to it is not going to help them. Going from YouTube to Vimeo OTT will not net them the profit they think it will. They will struggle on this platform because it's arguably worse than YouTube, and eventually, it will raise the price to keep content up, so they will raise their streaming price.

That's another thing. They advertised this as their own service, unattached to anything else when it's not. It's still run by another company, and now they must pay that company. It feels disingenuous to say this when it is not true. It is not an app or something you can play on TV; it is a website, a fairly sketchy one at that.

There is, again, a cost of living crisis going on. Most people cannot afford to put food on the table, much less spend this money on a streaming service. And even if people wanted to pay, they've barred their international audience from doing so. If you are not in the US, you will have to pay for a VPN to use since the website is not available outside the US, and you will also have to pay a conversion fee since they did not include regional scaling of prices. $6/month is already a lot for people in the US but for people living in other countries with a weaker currency? That's anywhere from a week of groceries to a third of their rent. They did not consider how this would affect international fans, and that's not a good business practice.

And since I will get the inevitable, "You aren't entitled to free content," I'll say this. Yes, people are not entitled to content, but creators are not entitled to people's money. The truth is that if your audience does not like something or want something, then you will not get their support. As a content creator, you must cater to your audience; you can't expect them to pay for or be interested in other content or passion projects. Also, their content is clearly not free. They do get paid. In no world do they not get paid. I will reiterate that they are not small, struggling artists who can't afford to live. Watcher isn't a small indie company that barely gets by. It is a million-dollar company with around 25 employees who live lavishly in one of the most expensive cities in the world. They do not need more money. They want more money.

Plus, people are entitled to their content when that content is mostly based on fan-submission. A lot of Watchers shows rely heavily upon fan submissions and support. Are You Scared?, Too Many Spirits, Food Files, and Ghost Files happen because fans submit stories, places to go, evidence, and more. In fact, Are You Scared and Too Many Spirits are just stories and personal anecdotes that fans share and submit, or that Watcher finds online and read aloud in a backyard. (NOT what I would call TV quality, but okay...)

They posted a while ago that they were taking submissions for a new season of Are You Scared?, Too Many Spirits, and Ghost Files. They did this fully well-aware that they would soon release a paywall. Do they expect fans to pay 6 dollars to see their own submissions? Additionally, they could pass it off as free before this- even though they were getting paid- but now they are locking this service behind a paywall, meaning they make money directly from these stories and this content. People who submitted stories should be compensated since Watcher makes money from fan content.

This still does not acknowledge that they have not responded yet. It has been nearly three days since this blew up, and they have been almost silent. And it is deafening. The only things people have gotten are posts and statements from friends and spouses of the owners that are as out-of-touch and ridiculous as this decision. This shows people that they are doubling down. They had time in the initial 24 hours to respond, and the longer they took to respond, the worse it was getting. It's very telling and a slap in the face to people who have supported them for years, from Buzzfeed to this, through many different times, including the pandemic. Watcher relies so heavily on their audience, yet they do not have the respect for their audience to at least put out a small statement. That is why people are upset. They were helped and built up so much by their audience, then made a video saying, "Thanks for supporting us for years, but if you can't afford us anymore, get out," and maintained radio silence. At the same time, their close friends and family basically called people entitled for not wanting to pay for a service they did not ask for, during a global economic crisis. No one asked for "higher production value" or "TV quality." People were happy with normal, low-production content, like the kind that got them famous/popular in the first place. Yes, they can want to make more expensive content, but they cannot guilt-trip their fanbase into paying for it. I am a small creative. If I make a ridiculously expensive art piece or something with expensive materials, then hand it to someone and say, now you have to pay me for this, even though you didn't ask for this, they will not pay me. It's as simple as that.

Yes, artists should get paid. But Watcher already get paid generously. Not only have they done wrong to their fans, but they have also screwed over their patreon members by essentially saying that they have to pay double for their content. They suddenly switched the tiers on Patreon, removed most of the content, and left only the podcast, and their members do not even get the subscription for free. Most of their Patreon members pay between the $ 10 and $20 tiers, but many also pay around $100. They don't get the service for free even after paying Watcher that much and for so many years. That's spitting on the people who have financially supported you for years.

All in all, this is a very poor financial and business decision, and they are making it worse by remaining silent. They have alienated most of their audience, upset most paying supporters, and been trending for three days for all the wrong reasons. Massive YouTubers have made videos on this, and it has broken from fandom drama into the general internet. This is the beginning of the end, unfortunately. I don't wish any ill will, this is not hate at all. No one at Watcher is a bad person at all, they just made a bad business decision. Unless they apologize, I can't see this working out.

Sorry for the massively long post, I’m not an avid watcher (hehe) or fan of their content but I've had many thoughts bouncing around my head about this business decision since this started, and I wanted to share.

TLDR: Watcher made a seriously bad business decision that upset most of their audience, including paying supporters; claimed to be struggling even though they very clearly aren't and have not responded to their incensed fanbase yet, despite the urgent need to do so.

#watcher #watcher entertainment #do i think some people are being really insane racist and hateful?#yes #do NOT do that shit #but they aren't struggling THAT much #they don't need to do this #they just want more money tbh #most of the criticism is constructive and valid #Am I investing in this because I'm devastated by Ice Adolescence being cancelled and this distracts from it?#absolutely

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seiya-starsniper · 2 days

Note

Also, "you know I love you, right" with dreamling from the gentle prompts

Hi anon I am SO SORRY this is like almost six months late, but I finally wrote something for this prompt!!! 😁💖

AO3 Link Here or read the whole fic below!

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Dream is nervous.

He knows, logically, that he should not be. That he is, as always, catastrophizing things in his mind, thinking of the worst possible scenario for how things will go. But he also knows that what he plans to ask Hob tonight over dinner is not an insignificant question. And he has to get everything just right.

Dream has gotten things wrong so many times in his relationships. With his parents, with his siblings, his friends, his past lovers. He has asked for too much too soon, and given too little until it was too late to fix what had been wronged.

Dream wants to do things right with Hob.

Hob, who has been so patient with Dream as he picked himself up after his divorce from Calliope. Hob, who had only been a casual acquaintance at first, a friend of a friend of a friend. Hob, who had somehow, miraculously, fallen just as deeply in love with Dream over the last two years as Dream had done so with him.

And now, Dream wants them to take the next step in their relationship.

He sets the stage perfectly; buying a bottle of wine from the vineyard where they had their first date to pair with the dinner Hob is preparing in Dream’s kitchen. Candles on the table for ambiance. Dream is also wearing a sleek satin button down that he knows that Hob likes on him.

“Is it my birthday?” Hob asks, waggling his eyebrows when Dream lets him into his flat. When Dream closes the door behind him, he finds himself pulled into the passionate kiss. Hob presses him against the closed door and licks eagerly into Dream’s mouth, drawing a guttural groan from deep inside him.

“You’re tempting enough for me to want dessert first,” Hob teases, nipping at Dream’s bottom lip before pulling away slightly to appreciate Dream’s outfit more. Dream laughs, and pulls Hob back to himself in a tight hug.

“Perhaps I just wanted to look nice tonight,” Dream whispers against his lover’s ear. “But good things come to those who wait.” Hob huffs, then kisses him again, gentler this time, and Dream melts into it.

They eventually make their way into Dream’s kitchen, and Hob notices the bottle of wine and candles on the table immediately.

“Please tell me I haven’t forgotten a special occasion,” he says, his tone teasing, but Dream can tell he’s nervous. Dream shakes his head and nudges Hob towards the stove and countertops, kissing him again and squeezing his arm.

“No special occasion forgotten, I promise,” Dream reassures Hob. “I am only doing this just because. To be romantic.”

“If you say so,” Hob replies, still uncertain. He lets the matter drop, and goes on to prepare dinner while Dream opens the wine and finishes preparing the table. His hands are shaking with every movement, but thankfully Hob is too preoccupied with cooking to really notice. They trae stories about their days, Hob on the latest drama in the faculty department of his university, and Dream complaining about the minutiae of having to plan his gallery opening next month.Dinner itself flies by and before Dream knows it, they’ve opened the bottle of wine and moved to the living room to cuddle.

Hob tries to suggest putting on a movie, but Dream shakes his head, taking a deep breath and putting his wine down on the coffee table.

“You know I love you, right?” Dream asks, wringing his hands together despite himself. Hob hums, and then takes Dream’s hands gently in his. He brings one of Dream’s hands to his lips and kisses it, slow and tender. Dream melts like butter into his touch.

“I do, and I love you too,” Hob answers, his smile warm and inviting. “What’s this all really about, love?”

Dream stares into Hob’s dark brown eyes, and swallows thickly. Now or never he supposes. At least now he’ll know whether they really were of the same mind about the future.

“I—Iwantustomoveintogether,” Dream blurts out all in a single breath. There. Now it was all out in the open.

Hob furrows his brow in confusion at first, seeming to not have understood what Dream had just said. But then his eyes widen in shock, and Dream feels his stomach swoop. He can’t tell whether Hob looks happy, or upset, and it absolutely terrifies Dream.

But then Hob’s eyes soften, and Dream feels hope burn bright like a star within his chest.

“You mean it?” Hob asks, his voice sounding just as fragile as Dream feels. “You—you want—”

“Yes,” Dream exhales, before Hob practically knocks him into the other side of the couch with how forcefully he kisses him. Dream wraps his entire body around Hob’s, unwilling to let go of him for even just a moment. Hob technically hadn’t answered the question just yet, but Dream can infer by the way the other man is kissing him that the answer is a very resolute yes.

“You know, you didn’t need to get all dressed up just to ask me that,” Hob tells him when they break apart to breathe. “I would’ve said yes even if you’d asked me in the middle of Tesco.”

Dream barks out a laugh and then pulls Hob into another kiss.

“I would hope by now, you know that anything else less than the most romantic gesture is unacceptable by my standards,” he replies with mock indignation. Hob doesn’t reply, only kisses him again, and everything is perfect.

They soon fall into excited discussions about the future, talking late into the night about whether they will stay in one flat or the other, the best time to move, how much in monthly payments they can afford between the two of them. Dream is not particularly married to his flat, and he knows that the location is not the most convenient to Hob’s university. Hob’s flat is small, however, and Dream knows he needs a larger space in order to be able to paint. They eventually decide on vacating their separate flats and looking for a place together.

Dream’s stomach is in knots, the good kind though, when they go to bed. He’s never gotten to truly choose his own living space with another person. When he and Calliope had been married, they’d moved into her childhood home, and it had never quite felt like home, even after Orpheus had been born. Even his current flat, the style, the decor, all of it is handpicked by his mother, Nyx.

But this new flat? This hypothetical for now space? This will be just for him and Hob. It will be just theirs.

Six months later, Hob carries Dream over the threshold of their new townhome like they’ve just gotten married, and Dream laughs in delight. He cannot remember the last time he’d been so happy.

When Hob lets him down in their new, still empty living room, Dream takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, letting the emotional weight of what they’ve done wash over him.

This home is theirs. Both their names are on the mortgage, a contract that binds them closer than marriage does, at least in Hob’s opinion. This home hadn’t been in their initial plan, they had only seen it in passing while looking at another flat in the same neighborhood, but it had been love at first sight for both of them.

It had also, admittedly, been a little bit outside of their budget. But Hob was expecting a promotion, and Dream’s gallery opening had plenty of buzz surrounding it. Things would work themselves out. He knew they would.

They’re arguing again, and Dream doesn’t even remember what started it. They were fighting more and more lately; about chores, about things that needed to be fixed, about the ever growing pile of bills between them.

Hob had gotten the promotion he’d wanted, but it came with more work and time away than either of them expected. Dream’s gallery opening was well attended, but only a few of his paintings had been purchased outright. The gallery assured him this was normal, and he knew it to be true, as a debut artist he needed to build a reputation. But the disappointment stung nonetheless.

The house too, had been more work and more expense than they had expected. It seemed like something was always breaking, or needed to be replaced, and they could never agree on a chore schedule that did not make the other feel like they were doing more of the work.

Now they were arguing over what to have for dinner, a simple meal, an activity they used to both consider sacred between them. But Hob doesn’t want to cook, and Dream is tired of eating takeaway. Hob tells him Dream needs to learn to cook. Dream tells him that Hob is too picky to cook for.

“You know what? Forget it,” Hob says, throwing up his arms in surrender and turning away from him. “This isn’t worth it.”

Dream’s heart shatters when he hears those words.

Not worth it, not worth it, not worth it. Dream has heard those words a million times in a million different contexts, but it always, always, means the same thing.

Dream wasn’t worth it. Wasn’t worth the effort it took to put up with him, to be patient with him, to love him. Calliope had said he wasn’t worth all the fights and arguments. Cory had said their relationship wasn’t worth staying in London for when his dream job was in the US. Nada had said having to deal with his family wasn’t worth it. And now Hob had decided Dream wasn’t worth his time or his love either.

Before he knows it, Dream is running out of the room, out of their home, and into the pouring rain. He can’t hear anything over the pounding of his heart in his ears.

Not worth it. Not. Worth. It

He’s worthless, worthless, worthless.

Dream hadn’t even bothered putting on shoes, so it doesn’t surprise him when he slips on the wet cobblestones of the street and he falls.

What does surprise him is that he doesn’t hit the ground.

Because Hob is there. Holding him back, and gripping him like he’s afraid Dream will disappear if he doesn’t.

Hob had come after him. Had run after Dream in the pouring rain just to catch him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Hob is crying into his shoulder as he pulls Dream to his chest. “I forgot that’s what you hate hearing the most, I didn’t mean it. Not like that. Never like that.”

Dream chokes out a sob of his own, then wriggles himself out of Hob’s grip so he can turn around and hug his lover back.

“I’m sorry too,” he says, pulling Hob into a desperate kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too. I swear it Dream, I’ll never leave you alone,” Hob promises. “You’re absolutely worth fighting for, always.”

Dream doesn’t know what the future holds for them. But he knows, now, in this moment, soaked to his skin and freezing cold, that he and Hob can get through anything. Because they love each other. Because Hob will fight for Dream as much as Dream will fight for Hob. Because they’re not perfect people, but they are perfect for each other. And that is worth everything.

#dreamling #dream x hob #hob x morpheus #the sandman fanfic #seiya writes #seiya writes dreamling

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the-travelling-witch · 12 hours

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𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

summary: the human custom of sharing clothes had been an unfamiliar one for jade, but he has always been a quick study

pairing: jade leech x gn! reader (both have graduated nrc, but a lot of this is reliving school memories)

warnings: fluff, implied smaller reader; i think it made more sense in my head but have it anyway bc i never wanna shut up about him, please applaud my restraint to not name this ‘boyfriend material’

twisted wonderland masterlist

It was true that wearing clothes was a foreign feeling when Jade first came to the shore all those years ago. But he had come to like the human custom, no matter how tedious it might seem at times. Not only did he realise the way one dressed held a lot of power in the way one was perceived by others, it had also served him in making some fond memories.

The ones he remembered most vividly, however, were those which featured you at the centre of them. Through various means, like the course they had attended or familiarising himself with different types of media above sea level, Jade had learnt that sharing clothes was a thing done between close friends or romantic partners, often being hailed as a sweet gesture and being positively received by characters and audiences alike. So when you had caught the eel’s interest, he had decided to see what the fuss was all about.

Despite his tendency to curate situations which would bring about whatever outcome he desired, the first time the opportunity arose had been a happy coincidence. That day, it had started raining cats and dogs right as the bell signalling lunch break rang. Luckily, Jade’s last class of the morning had been in the building the cafeteria was in, so he could watch in amusement as students swarmed towards the building with various forms of rain repellent keeping them dry- or not.

You had been one of the poor, unfortunate souls who had left their umbrella at the dorm that day, a point made abundantly clear by the way you had sprinted with your PE uniform jacket held over your head in a feeble attempt of shielding yourself. By the time you had made it into the dry hallway, your jacket had been absolutely drenched, the rest of your clothes not faring much better. Witnessing your predicament and seeing a chance to put his theory to the test, Jade had slinked over to your side.

“Oya, if I had known you were this fond of water, I would have invited you to the Coral Sea before,” the eel had said, startling you with his sudden appearance. Your reaction had only served for the polite smile on his lips to grow a tad bit wider. “Yet, here I was under the impression humans don’t like getting their clothes wet. Perhaps I have been wrong?”

“You know well enough this wasn’t intentional, so drop the oblivious act, Jade,” you had sighed, rustling through your backpack for something and subsequently taking your eyes off him. “So what do you want? If you’re trying to rope me into a deal over a little bit of rain, I’ll have to disappoint–”

Something warm and dry had landed on your shoulders then, your gaze landing on the black fabric draped over your form first and wandering back to the tall student afterwards. With your mouth parted, opening and closing in the search of something to say, you had borne a strong resemblance to a fish out of water.

“I heard humans get sick easily after walking in the rain,” Jade had mused, tugging at his vest and shirt to make sure they sat correctly without his blazer, “and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“What are you–” You had shaken your head, overcoming your initial confusion as you began shrugging the jacket back off your shoulders. At that point you had been sure he had some ulterior motive and you hadn’t felt like picking up any shifts at Mostro Lounge that week. “I can’t take this from you.”

“Oh, but you can,” he had insisted with a smile, a gloved hand landing on your shoulder to keep the clothing in place. “If you are worried about my health, I am most touched. However, us mers are used to the cold and therefore aren’t as prone to catching one.”

“That wasn’t really what I was concerned about,” you had mumbled, crossing your arms. “I’m more worried about whatever strings come attached with this thing.”

“You wound me. Do you really think I would abuse my fellow student’s misery for personal gain?” Despite his words, he had chuckled at your resolute ‘yes, you would’. The hand on your shoulder had pressed into your upper back then to bring you in closer in order to throw you off with the newfound proximity, disguised as shielding you from the throng of people heading to lunch. “If this is what stands in between you and caring for your health, how about this: In return for accepting my blazer, you accompany me to lunch? I’ll consider us even then, I promise.”

You had studied the vice housewarden more closely, yet, as usual, his expression did not give anything away. Just then a chilly breeze had blown through the corridor, making you tremble as you instinctively pulled the blazer tighter around your body.

“Fine, I’ll accept,” you had relented through chattering teeth.

“Wonderful,” the eel had beamed down at you before guiding you forward, still with his fingers splayed over your upper spine. Students had parted like the sea when they had seen the second year approaching and it was a welcome change of pace from having to fight your way into a spot in the queue.

By the time you had found a table, you had slipped your arms through the sleeves of Jade’s jacket to better hold your tray. And when you rolled up the excess fabric to properly use your cutlery, Jade finally realised why lending someone your clothes was a popular trope in various media.

To say the piece was ill-fitting was an obvious remark, with Jade easily being one of the tallest students around, you were practically drowning in his jacket. It had been eye-openingly endearing for him to say the least. And that was even without factoring in the expression on people’s faces when they realised whose clothes you had been wearing, the Octavinelle band around your left arm added to the context of the scene being a dead giveaway. Yes, as a born predator of the sea, a possessive side of him had revelled in the feeling of staking his claim over you in this way.

But he had shoved the notion down as you had asked him if he liked the food that day and how his morning had been. While he had been able to tell you were still a little wary, cautiously phrasing your responses at first, falling into a casual conversation with you was easy enough. When the anecdote of his brother doing something reckless again made you snort before laughing, he had filed it away as something he wanted to see and hear more of, especially when he was the cause for it.

Lunch had passed a little too fast for the moray’s liking but with one glance at his watch and then one at the still pouring rain, he had quickly devised a plan to monopolise your time to the fullest before returning to your classes.

“Allow me to walk you back to your dorm, so you can change before your next lesson,” Jade had smiled as he pulled out his umbrella, his arm hovering around your back as you had exited the cafeteria. “I assure you, this favour comes with no strings attached.”

Looking back at it years later, perhaps that last part had been a lie, though he was sure neither of you minded. Because after that rainy day, you had interacted more frequently with pleasantly changed feelings.

On Jade’s side of things, he had been more fascinated with you and your reactions than ever and the image of you swaddled in his clothes had managed to stir these newfound emotions in him. You, on the other side, had started considering him as more than a devious loan eel and allowed the normally tightly locked thoughts and feelings for him to come out of their confinement little by little.

After playing cat and mouse for a while, you had taken all your courage, grabbed Jade by the collar and confessed, not able to withstand the tension and anticipation any longer. Of course, he had reciprocated your feelings in teasing delight, which, as your relationship had become public, had easily catapulted you up the list of the school’s lunatics in the eyes of many. But you couldn’t have been happier and, the initial complexities of navigating a new relationship aside, Jade was a dream of a boyfriend if he wasn’t hellbent on prodding and poking you for his own amusement.

So it came as no surprise that, during your school years, you had spent a lot of time at each other’s dorms when Jade wasn’t dragging you up some mountain with him. At that point, you’d felt as comfortable in his room as in yours, even if half of it was shared with the sentient tornado that was Floyd, leaving one half to be pristine and the other opposingly messy.

Jade fondly remembered the day you had come over to study for your upcoming potionology exam, your own dorm room too loud to concentrate and hoping to rope the merman into helping you with your prep questions, especially as his brother had been absent from their room that evening. While many regarded him as the sly and conniving one in the relationship, Jade had to admit you were very good at playing your cards right to where he found it increasingly hard to deny you. Perhaps this cheekiness was one of the things that drew him to you.

Considering you had given up on studying in your room pretty much immediately and had only grabbed your books before marching over to Octavinelle, you had still been in uniform when you joined him at his desk. Ever observant, Jade had quickly noticed the way you subconsciously pulled at the clothes or squirmed in your seat trying to get comfortable.

So being the amazing and reliable boyfriend that he was, he had fished some comfortable loungewear out of his closet; he had initially bought it to round out his collection of essential clothing items, though frankly, he didn’t wear it much himself. With no plans to work at the Lounge that night, he had thought that it might be a good chance to give the comfy clothes another shot.

In retrospect, maybe he should thank your uncomfortable uniform.

When you had both changed into the loungewear, he had not only been amused by the way the shirt, which was a regular fit for him, engulfed your upper body or how you had rolled up the ends of his sweatpants. With some playful huffs at his teasing, you had gone back to work until you had finished writing your study notes, at which point you had relocated to his bed, Jade joining you soon after.

Sitting side by side, your boyfriend had taken to quizzing you to see how much you had retained until he had felt your head drop against his shoulder, which was the first time he had taken note of how late it had gotten. For a few moments he had done nothing but study the way your chest rose and fell with deep breaths, your slightly parted lips inviting him to trace his thumb over the curve of them in featherlight reverence. To think that he of all morays would ever be treated to such a peaceful fragment of mundanity, it had made a warmth tug at his heart the same way the waves rolled over the shore in a calming rhythm, which persisted to this day.

It had pained him to wake you again, so could get ready for bed, persuading you sweetly into staying the night. Though he regretted neither getting to see your half asleep face while you had brushed your teeth, nor how he had been able to pull you close to him under the covers, curling his arms around you as his fingers had wandered over the warmth of your skin under his clothes.

In the comfortable darkness of his room, you had exchanged hushed whispers and murmured confessions as you had settled in his embrace, lulled to sleep by the steady beating of his heart and the lips that had spelled promises of safety and adoration against your skin. And for Jade, tugged deep into the crevice of his heart, there had formed the image of a future where this domesticity was normality.

Years later, after graduation, Jade could proudly claim that this fantasy now lived at the forefront of his heart, that he could fall asleep and wake up to your body next to his, cradled by the allure of forever. After all, for no one but those closest to him would he be up with the rising sun to prepare breakfast, humming under his breath as he relived those memories. Though he considered all his efforts paid off when he heard you shuffle into the kitchen before two arms wrapped around his middle and your head leaned against his spine.

“Good morning to you too, pearl,” Jade chuckled as finished plating the eggs on two plates, then knowingly slid a fresh cup of coffee within your reach. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did, until someone decided to just leave me all by my lonesome,” you grumbled, detaching yourself from him so you could lean against the counter and take a sip of coffee, prepared perfectly to your liking. “I like seeing my beautiful husband’s face first thing in the morning but alas…”

As you stepped into his field of vision, Jade noticed you had chosen not to wear a piece of clothing of yours, but had instead plucked his black dress shirt from the chair he had draped it over the day prior. His dress shirt and nothing else. While it was long enough on you to hide what was for his eyes only, it still showed off the beautiful curve of your legs, ending tantalisingly around your thighs. The few buttons you had closed still displayed the sharp contrast between your collarbones and the softness of the skin peeking through below. It would be all too easy to slip the garment from your shoulder…

“That does seem rather unfair,” Jade agreed as he stepped in front of you, hands ghosting along the expanse of your thighs to rest at your waist, the look in his eyes reminding you of his origins and sending shivers of excitement down your spine. “If you allow me, I have a few ideas in mind on how to make it up to you.”

Within the blink of an eye, his hands had steeled their grip around your waist and lifted you to sit on the counter as he took the opportunity to stand between your legs. Then, with a gentleness which did not match the show of strength, he carefully cupped the back of your head in his palm and connected your lips in a kiss as light and soft as the golden rays bathing your kitchen in light. Your own hands busied themselves with tousling his bed head once again, slowly sliding his black lock behind his left ear as you parted from one another, like a painter putting the finishing strokes on their magnum opus.

“Hm, I might be able to be convinced about forgiving you,” you teased, the lovestruck look in your eyes mirroring his as you slung your arms over his shoulders and crossed them behind his neck in an effort to be even closer to him.

“I must be the luckiest man alive,” he mused, meaning every word of his playful response.

Yes, after living on land for so long, Jade had truly taken a liking to the human custom of wearing clothes and all the different possibilities it held. Then again, the fondness those memories held probably had nothing to do with the clothes at all.

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

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twisted wonderland: @savanaclaw1996 @honehbee42

#┊holly’s potions ೃ༄#twisted wonderland #x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst fluff #twst jade #jade leech x reader #jade leech fluff #jade leech #disney twst #twst

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x-liv25-jamieswife · 3 days

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sad avery head canons

@ariscats requested this in a comment under my sad grayson hcs, and i'm more than happy to do it for my fav girl avery. trigger warning for self-harm, suicidal thoughts, and sexual assault. pls don't read if this might trigger you, and if you ever need help, there are helplines you can contact for free. family and friends are obviously also an option (if you'd rather talk to a stranger, you can always dm me (or whoever you feel comfortable with) <3). sorry if some of this doesn't make sense. i wrote this at 1 am. hope you enjoy<3.

avery used to pull out a guitar (cause i hc she can play the guitar) and sing songs for her mom when she was on her death bed

she now visits her mom's grave and does the same thing. she sings her mom's favorite songs on the verge of tears (if she isn't already crying).

avery used to wear an elastic band around her wrist and would snap it repeatedly until her wrist became sore and red (it didn't always make her stop though) when she was feeling overwhelmed or did smth she deemed wrong.

whenever avery would drive across bridges or anything really high up, she would think about jumping off of it.

she used to get her mom or libby to help her bake cookies that she would bring to school to try to get people to become her friend (it never worked)

she used to eat lunch in the back of the courtyard in a secluded place most of the time bc no one wanted to eat with her (until she met max obviously)

i'm currently rereading tig and i can't help but notice how uncomfortable she becomes when someone touches her so i hc drake or some other random creep sexually assaulted her once (or multiple times) and that's the reason why she seems so uncomfortable with physical touch.

she used to cry in her mom's arms wondering why she wasn't good enough for people to want to be her friend

when her and libby were struggling to get by and couldn't afford food, she would save the food for libby and not eat (she would tell her she ate at the diner she worked at but didn't)

when she realized, at the age of six, that her father was a piece of shit who didn't actually want her, she started trying to find faults in her to explain why this might be (she thought that if she could 'fix' herself, her father might want her)

she sometimes purposely gives herself papercuts when she feels really numb just to make herself feel something

when she would live in her car, she would sometimes continuously bash her head on the steering wheel wishing her life could be different.

when she was younger, to get people to like her, she would give them everything she had. she would do their homework for them, would cover for them when they wanted to cause trouble in the school, etc, but, in the end, it was always temporary

whenever she comes across someone who looks like sheffield grayson she freezes up in fear/shock. a little voice in her head tells her she's in danger and they'll hurt her.

after all of the almost-death experiences she's been through, she developed a panic disorder (this is already sort of confirmed) that she has to treat with pills.

she sometimes takes the haters' comments to heart (the comments about her weight, etc). she would start telling herself that skipping one meal wouldn't hurt. jameson noticed really early on though and stopped her before it became too severe.

she's convinced people would be better off without her and that she only causes pain and destruction everywhere she goes (bc of what happened with toby)

she actually hates getting drunk because it reminds her too much of her father. jameson started to notice that she would get really uncomfortable whenever he got drunk so he started to drink less. when he did drink though, he made sure it wasn't enough to get drunk.

because of everyone comparing her to emily, she's convinced herself that she's just jamie's second option and she'll never measure up (personality wise, looks wise, everything). jamie and her talked about it a lot and she's now less insecure.

she gets terrified when she hears noises at night bc she's convinces someone's there to hurt her

she forgives people so easily bc she desperately wants people to actually like her.

in the books she says she doesn't allow herself to want to want things bc it could potentially distract her/hurt her. i also think she doesn't allow herself to want things bc she doesn't think she deserves to want anything.

when she's in a stressful situation or she's having a panic attack, she'll start scratching her arms really roughly until they start to bleed to get herself to focus on anything other than the stress/panic.

the scratches on her arms became too obvious so she started scratching her sides instead.

she can't watch any tv shows with violence/war bc the loud sounds remind her too much of the shooting.

one of the reasons why she realized her father was a piece of shit was bc, once, he got way too drunk and slapped her. that was sort of like the catalyst for her.

bc she grew up so isolated, she's afraid of emotional and physical intimacy. she's afraid she'll start liking feeling loved/close to someone too much since she believes it'll never last (jamie showed her she was wrong)

i'm an averyjameson stan so don't take this the wrong way but avery was affected by jamie thinking of her as only a game way more than she lets on. even after they got together, she was paranoid that he had ulterior motives.

she blames herself whenever something goes wrong in the foundation or hawthorne house even when she had nothing to do with the problem.

she's extremely paranoid when it comes to locking her bedroom door and stuff like that bc of how often her privacy is invaded.

i said this in another post but, especially before she inherited the money, she would sometimes smoke weed to lessen the stress she felt for a little while.

she hates going to sleep bc her sleep is always invaded by horrendous nightmares. it became so bad she ended up in the hospital (jamie was absolutely terrified and made her promise to talk to him more).

she has this one stuffed animal that her mom gave her not long before she passed that she cries into whenever she feels like her life is going to shit.

before she inherited the money, she was actually near her breaking point. she was seriously considering if staying alive was actually worth it.

before she inherited the money, she used to count on her fingers how many people would miss her when she died to convince herself to stay alive (the number was never more than three). the fact that the number was so low made her feel even shittier and made her spiral.

her grief for her mom is so intense sometimes she can't get out of bed. she doesn't eat, sleep, drink water, etc. alisa had to contact a therapist/psychiatrist to help avery get out of bed.

to end on a brighter note, here's a happy avery head canon:

she used to dance all the time when she was younger. she would pull out her mom's phone, start playing some music, and jump around waving her tiny little arms everywhere whilst singing along. she would pretend she was a popstar. her mom would film her and send the videos to libby. the brothers have seen all of them bc libby showed them.

not proof read so i apologize for any spelling mistakes<3. again, pls contact someone/helpline if you ever need help. speaking from experience, things tend to get better. sending everyone lots of love (and my girl avery).

#the inheritance games #jameson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne #avery grambs #xander hawthorne #nash hawthorne #libby grambs

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spacebarbarianweird · 3 days

Note

Dadstarion prompt:

Caretaker takes the kid to a fair, playground, restaurant or shopping, just spending the day and having fun together

Ha! Take that. Pure fluff. What could possibly go wrong??

Synopsis: Tiriel and Astarion take Alethaine to a fair.

Tags: dadstarion, dhampirs, fluff, a snippet into the future

Another fluffy thing I have written! And there is also a snippet into the distant future with adult Tiri who hasn't inherited her mother's macabre nature!

Alethaine's age - 12-years-old

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Guide on How To Skin Monsters

Tiriel stops at the daggers’ stall. All of them look rather dull and Tiriel decides to search for something better for Astarion. Besides, he prefers to choose weapons for himself and Tiriel can always get something else – a book, jewelry, or a shirt. He always huffs when she brings him gifts, but she knows he is grateful for those little reminders of her care.

“Looking for something?” A merchant, a halfling woman, asks.

“Nothing in particular,” Tiriel says.

The halfling is definitely in the mood for talking and starts gossiping about a feud between two noble human houses, a serious plague “originated by giants” and someone’s wife cheating with an ork.

“Oh, and have you heard? There was a murder in Secomber! The whole family was slaughtered and by whom? A dhampir!”

Tiriel takes her eyes off the daggers.

“Yes! A half-vampire! Can you imagine sleeping with a vampire? But I think their mother was assaulted. Anyway, the dhampir grew up and slaughtered the whole family! Those half-undead are merciless cruel creatures, and they say there are so many of them!”

“Yeah… cruel monsters they are,” Tiriel mutters.

She heard of the slaughter, but there were no dhampirs or vampires involved. Just a young man possessed by a dryad. He was hanged a week later, but someone started spreading rumors his mother fucked a vampire and that’s why her child grew up so bloodthirsty.

Tiriel feels pale hands hugging her waist from behind. Alethaine presses her face against her back – she is 12 but she is still cuddly as a little child.

“Oh, is this your daughter? Such an adorable little girl. How old is she?”

“Alethaine,” Tiriel touches her fingers.

“I am twelve,” she says, trying not to betray her fangs.

“Oh… I am sorry… didn’t notice she was an elf.” The merchant apologizes and then proceeds to tell other gossip.

“Have a nice day,” Tiriel says, taking Alethaine’s hand.

“You too! And beware the dhampirs!”

“Beware the dhampirs my ass,” Tiriel says, moving further away from the obnoxious halfling.

“I can bite her,” Alethaine suggests. She is twelve, but elves mature slower than humans and half-elves and Tiriel notices her daughter sometimes behaves like a younger child.

“No, we are not biting people we don't like.”

“Dad wouldn’t mind if I bit her!”

“Hm, good thing it’s daylight then!” Tiriel rubs Alethaine’s ear. She knows her daughter too well not to notice the merchant’s words upset her.

Cruel merciless creatures? Alethaine cries her eyes out every time someone dies in the books she reads! Well, she mostly sympathizes with dragons and monsters – but also with orphan children, victims of arranged marriages and curses.

And little dead animals.

Little dead animals are a whole different story. It’s been three years, but Alethaine still feels sorry about an albino kitten killed by a stranger. The dhampir accidentally resurrected the pet and now Tiriel and Astarion also face the issue of raising a necromancer.

“Hey, don’t be sad!” Tiriel leans to a little dhampir. “Do you want anything?”

Alethaine doesn't answer. She stops by the book stall completely enchanted by a huge black volume covered in leather.

How to Skin Monsters.

Aletaine immediately flips the pages, and Tiriel sees intricate and creepy pictures of the insides of different beasts and monsters. She’d fought many of them in her lifetime (beholders in the Underdark are still one of her worst memories), but never ever did she want to look at their remains, let alone study them.

“Hey, don’t touch it!'' The merchant tries to take the book away from Alethaine’s hands, but the dhampir keeps holding it with her iron grip. “I think this book is rather dark for a little lady like you.”

“Mum, look, the cover is made of human skin,” Alethaine casually says. “No. It’s half-elf actually.”

“No it isn’t!” The merchant protests. “It’s… wolfskin!”

Liar, Tiriel realizes. She has good perception skills, and the merchant lies. And the dhampir necromancer has already passed the verdict.

Alethaine puts the book away and takes another one – a green volume with letters in Espruar.

“Is it just a collection of stories or the real guide on Feywild?’” Alethaine asks. “People who have never messed with fey write all sorts of fairytale stuff about pink unicorns and fairies who grant wishes.” She opens the book which is written with trembling handwriting. “Oh, I see. Looks like a feverish nightmare. So the writer has been there.”

The book merchant looks at Tiriel with a facial expression she knows too well.

What crypt did you find this child in?

“I have some ballads and traveler guides. Maybe...it is more for your age?” he asks

“Travelers guide on what places?”

“Icewind Dale, but it’s a rather uncomfortable read…”

“I’ve read about Icewind Dale,” suddenly something else attracts her attention and she points at a small book with a dragon on its cover. “Show me this!”

The merchant sighs in relief and reaches for the storybook. Tiriel looks at the pages – even though she still experiences issues with reading, she sees that it's just an adventure story about knights, princes, dragons, and treasure hunting.

Something her daughter stopped reading when she was five or six.

“I will take this too,” Alethaine declares.

“Eighty silver for all three,” the merchant says.

Too much, Tiriel thinks. Alethaine frowns but doesn’t try to bargain. For some reason, she is very shy when it comes to arguments.

“Thirty silver,” Tiriel intervenes. “And we are not telling anyone about the half-elf skin you’ve bound the book with.”

“It’s not made of anyone’s skin!”

“I can hear her screams,” Alethaine whispers, flipping the book pages. “They flayed her when she was still alive!”

The merchant gulps. Tiriel chuckles. So, this is true and the merchant knew it.

“All right. Thirty,” he mutters and Alethaine happily gives him the silver coins.

Alethaine puts the books in her black bag and wishes the merchant good night. The man mutters something not appropriate for children’s ears.

“Did you catch the scent of the skin or it’s more like your necromancy skills?” Tiriel asks, taking her daughter’s hand as they stand by the stall with needles and threads.

She shrugs. “I-I don’t know. Maybe both.”

“Do you know if Dad needs something to sew?” Tiriel still can’t really tell apart shades of the same color and all needles look the same to her.

“Take the black threads,” Alethaine says, touching the samples of fabric. “He’s always out of them.”

Tiriel nods. She doesn’t know why and when Astarion decided to make all his daughter’s wardrobe black, but here they are. Alethaine got from black onesies to black dresses, from black nappies to black skirts, gloves, and coats. Only her shoes and boots aren’t made by Astarion - and they are as pitch dark as everything else.

A few hours later, at sunset, they sit on the grass outside the market. It’s a beautiful summer sunset and Tiriel adores the light. Alethaine sits on her traveling cape and takes out one of her new books.

“Interesting?”

“Uh-um,” she nods, completely taken away.

Tiriel smiles to herself. She’s never been a stranger to violence and dark things – if you faint at the sight of a blood sacrifice, you won’t survive in the wilderness. But having a child like this takes everything to another level.

Death, dark arts, corpses – they have a special appeal to Alethaine, the same one Tiriel feels towards fights.

The sun sets and Tiriel sits beside Alethaine. Darkvision allows her to see in gray colors and Tiriel sees a picture of the monster inside.

“All right, now I understand who all these people were who hired me to bring them certain parts of the beasts I killed.”

“Dad is coming,” she says. “Or another vampire, but I think Dad scared all of them away.”

Tiriel smiles. “Good thing vampires hate the presence of each other.” She stands up and approaches the edge of the hill. Yes, Alethaine is right – Astarion has left his daylight shelter in the nearby inn. She can see his silhouette from the distance – white hair and black armor she can’t mix with anyone else.

She waves to him and he quickens his steps.

“Hello, darling,” he murmurs in her ear the moment he hugs her. Astarion pecks her cheek and Tiriel rubs his left ear.

“Dad! Look what I’ve bought!”

Tiriel thinks Alethaine will show him the anatomy book, but, instead, she hands him the adventure story.

Astarion studies the first page, then another. Tiriel watches them carefully.

“I just don’t get it,” Alethaine admits. “Is it about how to enter the thieves’ guild or how to smuggle drugs?”

“None,” Astarion returns her the book. “It’s about how to find a job as a bounty hunter in Neverwinter.”

“Oh, I misread the symbols then,” Alethaine pouts.

“Wait, the book is in Thieves Cant?” Triel asks.

“Yes. Hidden deep under snotty stories,” Astarion answers. “And what are these two monstrosities?”

Alethaine proudly opens the anatomy book as Astarion studies the Feywild one. Tiriel barely prevents herself from laughing as she sees Astarion cringing at the pictures. Vampire or not, he saw so many disgusting and cruel things he hated looking at them.

Then Alethaine yawns.

“Let’s go home,” Tiriel says. It will take them till sunrise to return to Daggerlake. If they don't hurry they will need to set up a camp for the daylight - or leave Astarion behind which Tirel absolutely hates to do.

It’s not like it’s a big deal right now – thirty-two years since he gained his freedom, he has nothing to fear. More than that, Tiriel is sure there is simply no other monster in the area who could be a threat to Astarion. He is a vampire, an undead, a skilled rogue, a dangerous assassin.

But when he is alone, the nightmares slowly crawl back. The loneliness fuels his memories and there are so many of them. Thirty-two years are simply not enough. Astarion can handle that too – he’s learned to. But Tiriel doesn’t want him to face mental struggles if it can be avoided.

Alethaine walks in front of them and Tiriel takes Astarion’s hand in hers. They are her little family – everything she’s ever wished for.

She looks at Astarion and notices his lips are squeezed and there is some anxiety in his eyes.

Hunger.

“Go for a hunt, we will wait for you”.

“Nonsense, let’s return home sooner.”

Tiriel doesn’t push it. They agreed years ago that Alethaine isn’t to see him dining on her mother (because it’s absolutely a sexual thing and must remain behind closed doors) and also that she shouldn’t see him feed on animals (because her dhamprisim might get awoken – blood will tempt her and they don’t want their daughter to become more a vampire then she already is).

Of course, she isn't stupid, she knows her father drinks blood. She often sees bite marks on Tiriel when she forgets to cover them – but the process remains out of sight.

It’s already sunrise when they reach Daggerlake and Astarion walks forward not to risk staying in the sun.

By the time they return home, Alethaine rushes upstairs to prepare for sleep. She sleeps a lot, even more than a human would – and Tiriel wonders how much dhampirism affects her sleeping habits.

“So, is the book really about how to be a mercenary?” Tiriel asks closing the door to the bedroom

Astarion has already put off his doublet and now sits on the bed watching Tiriel.

He waits.

“Yes. It was a guide on how to find people who will give her a job as a mercenary,” he slowly answers as if he had to concentrate on speaking. His eyes are focused on her neck.

“And can she read this book?”

“She thought it was about smugglers and thieves. Her skills aren’t that good.”

Tiriel approaches Astarion and he tugs her closer, forcing her to sit on his lap.

Astarion is no longer a sweet caring elf – his predatory side is on the loose and he pierces her skin with his nails as the fangs are looking for the vein.

Tiriel wraps her hands around his neck and lets herself drown in painful pleasure.

“Take as much as you need,” she murmurs. “I love you.”

She feels like falling into the warm dark void and, when she almost crosses the border of no return, the tender hands let her go and she finds herself on the bed with Astarion carefully applying a bandage on her fresh bite mark.

“Thank you,” he says, kissing her with his blood-stained lips.

“Will you stay with me when I sleep?”

“Of course,” he chuckles. “Besides Alethaine has occupied the bathroom – she isn't getting out any time soon”

“Oh… and I forgot…” Tiriel points at her bag. “I’ve bought you some black threads and new needles.”

Astarion kisses her cheek. “Such a caring and thoughtful wild girl. Now I have something to occupy myself with while you are asleep.” He takes her nightshirt from the floor. “Do you have anything in mind? I noticed you’ve ripped it.”

“Me? Astarion, you rip my clothes all the time!”

He unfolds the shirt showing the ripped collar. “Yeah, I agree. My fault. So, what patch do you want?”

“Maybe a dragon? A black one?”

Astarion covers her with a blanket – the one she uses when she sleeps alone – and sits on the floor with the shirt and the needle.

“I have a daughter who likes seeing monsters’ inside-outs and a wife who likes murdering monsters. Can someone in this family enjoy nice and cute things?” He pouts.

“Imagine Alethaine having a child who enjoys such things. She will pout then, ‘no one in her family has taste for macabre’”.

Astarion chuckles, and Tiriel wraps herself in the blanket.

Safe. She feels safe.

And loved.

Sewing has always helped Astarion to concentrate. It’s been centuries since he needed to shut the darkness up. Memories of his enslavement, memories of the misery have faded away and feel like a distant nightmare.

But habits never truly go, and Astarion enjoys sewing patches and repairing clothes even though the old purpose of that process has long gone.

“You know, for someone who is an elf and was raised as an elf, you are very messy,” Astarion says looking at the ripped cape. It looks like it was chewed by a tarrasque.

“It’s not my fault! I was careful!” Tiri objects. She is making new arrows (as she lost the whole quiver while running from a particularly nasty behir in the Underdark the previous day).

Astarion chuckles. Tiri, his granddaughter, showed up at his place deep in the Fairgheight Range five years ago. Red-haired like her grandmother, she was eager to see the world beyond the Isle of Evermeet – and she still doesn’t show any desire neither to return to her parents nor leave him be and travel alone.

“What patches do you want?” Astarion asks and takes his sewing kit from the traveling sack.

“Well, I am an adult independent woman…” Tiri starts.

“You are thirty and you are an elf. You are basically a child.”

“Hm, you were a magistrate and mum would work for smugglers using her necromantic skills. Barely a child activity.”

“So?”

“I want a unicorn patch,” Tiri finally admits. “Or a butterfly. Don’t laugh, ar’o’su!”

“I don’t, damia,” Astarion finds white threads. “Besides, Alethaine has never been fond of cute and nice things.”

“Mum has her own idea of what is nice and what is cute,” Tiri touches a thin tiara on her hair. While all Tiri’s clothes are made according to Wood Elves traditions, her father’s ancestors, the tiara is pitch black and with a small skull in the center. It definitely belonged to Alethaine and then she just passed it to her only daughter.

Tiri puts the new arrows on the ground and lies on her bedroll to reverie. Her drake, Aurix, immediately nestles on her chest like a cat.

Astarion casts a glance at his granddaughter. She has a certain similarity to Tiriel – and Astarion knows she would have loved her. But half-elves have such an offensive short life span in comparison with elves she had no chance to see little Tiri. At the same time, her facial features are her mother’s and sometimes she speaks like her. There is something else, something unfamiliar – Tiri’s father and their ancestors.

And she loves cute and nice things - and cringes at the sight of monsters’ inside-outs. Necromancy scares Tiri and she admits she’s never been to her mother’s dungeons just because of how uncanny it was for her. And elves would often joke that their “witch-queen” just kidnapped Tiri because no way someone like Alethaine could give birth to such a sweet young woman.

Astarion pierces the fabric with the needle.

“Well, so be it, a unicorn.”

-- Tag list

@tugoslovenka

@herstxrgirl

@herdarkestnightelegance

@vixstarria

@not-so-lost-after-all

@marcynomercy

@theearthsfinalconfession

@starlight-ipomoea

@micropoe10

@astarion-imagine-archive

@veillsar

@elora-the-slutty-songstress

@fayeriess

@lumienyx

@tallymonster

@caitlincat-95

@tragedybunny

@valeprati

@lynnlovesthestars

@marina-and-the-memes

@waking-eyes

@ayselluna

@connorsui

@asterordinary

@darkarchangel96

@locallegume

@brainfullofhotsauce

@coffeeanddonutscafe

@my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen

@queenofthespacesquids

@ednaaa-04

@dajeong

@wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

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captainremmington-13 · 2 days

Text

A Lady Made of Snow

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own The Hunger Games franchise, the images above, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, or any of the characters in this fic other than Bellova. I also do not condone the beliefs or actions of Coriolanus or Bellova.

SUMMARY: Coriolanus hands Bellova over to Dr. Gaul, knowing that she is his only chance to regain control of her, and subsequently, his future.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: THIS IS A DARK CHAPTER. It contains violence, torture, verbal/physical abuse, mention of suicide, Coriolanus and Dr Gaul being evil, swearing

A/n: I’m s o sorry this took FOREVER to write, it took me a long time to figure out what direction I wanted to take the plot☹️

Coriolanus shivered, pulling his expensive trench coat tighter around his body. Dr. Gaul’s lab was always cold, and she refused to turn up the temperature, as she claimed it would compromise the well-being of many of her beloved mutts.

The doctor, his boss and mentor, walked into the small room, standing at his side. She looked down at the unconscious Capitol heiress in the middle of the room, and smiled brightly.

“I daresay this is the prettiest lab rat I’ve ever worked on.”

Coriolanus nodded wordlessly. He had always had a hard time understanding how Dr. Gaul was able to treat humans like dolls without feeling remorse. Now, he was finally starting to get it.

Bellova laid on a metal table, dead to the world. She was completely nude, which would’ve flustered a younger, weaker Coriolanus. But in the present situation, he was much more concerned with what Dr. Gaul had in store for her.

There were thick leather straps secured around Bellova’s ankles and wrists, preventing her from leaping off the table and trying to escape. Even if she somehow undid them, there were Peacekeepers right outside the laboratory door that would intercept her in a heartbeat.

Dr. Gaul set her case of equipment on the stand next to the table. She opened it up swiftly, revealing a plethora of tools. There were several syringes with odd-colored liquids inside, sharp instruments that gleamed menacingly in the brilliant white light of the room, and a variety of unidentifiable objects (which Coriolanus assumed she’d invented herself).

“What are you planning to do?” Coriolanus asked.

Dr. Gaul gave him her signature crooked grin. “Pull up a chair, Mister Snow.”

Coriolanus did as he was told, moving a chair from the corner of the room to the side of the table. Once he sat down, Dr. Gaul spoke again.

“I am going to run a scan of her brain while she’s still unconscious. See what went wrong with the serum I gave you. Then, I will determine what the next course of action should be.”

“What do you suspect happened that reversed the serum’s effects?”

“Her sheer willpower,” the doctor replied. “Miss Reginelle has always been extraordinarily strong-willed, it is not completely surprising that her mind was able to fight against them and win.”

“Is there something that triggered it specifically?”

Dr. Gaul pursed her lips. “I don’t have a clue. But perhaps with a little…persuasion, we can get her to tell us. That way, we can ensure that the same mistake is not made again.”

After a thorough physical inspection was conducted, Dr. Gaul determined it was time for Bellova to wake.

As Dr. Gaul pushed the needle that housed the serum that would bring her back to consciousness into her arm, Coriolanus found himself holding his breath. He paced back and forth, wringing his hands anxiously. He wasn’t sure why he was so afraid. She was completely helpless, strapped down and trapped in the laboratory, and yet she still seemed to pose a threat.

After a few moments of silence, Coriolanus saw Bellova’s eyes open slowly. The sharp gaze in her pupils immediately told him she was still her true self. That wouldn’t last for long, thankfully.

Bellova squirmed, tugging at the leather straps. She looked frightened, even more so than when Coriolanus had wrapped his hands around her neck.

“Where am I?” she croaked.

Dr. Gaul cackled quietly, the harsh noise echoing slightly throughout the room. “Oh, little bunny, you’re in my lab. You’ve been here so many times, you must recognize it.” The condescending lilt in her voice made Bellova’s pale face flush pink. “Or perhaps your mind is too frazzled to think properly.”

“I can think just fine, thank you,” Bellova hissed. “And don’t call me bunny. Now untie me, or I’ll make you wish you were never born, you sick, decrepit bitch.”

Coriolanus stifled a laugh. The fact that Bellova still possessed the courage to hurl insults while completely vulnerable was truly astounding.

Dr. Gaul just smiled wider. “Oh, but what’s the fun in letting you get away? Mister Snow and I are going to help you, make you a much better version of yourself. Isn’t that what you want?”

“No-“

“Too fucking bad,” Coriolanus interrupted her, casting her a cruel smile. “You don’t have a choice in the matter.”

Bellova’s body tensed as she tugged on her restraints, clearly wishing she could hit him. This only amused Coriolanus further.

Dr. Gaul leaned down, her lips inches away from Bellova’s right ear. “If you don’t stop struggling, I’m going to slit your pretty little throat and cut up your flesh to feed to my babies.”

Bellova shuddered, and squeezed her eyes shut. She was clearly trying her hardest not to cry.

“I don’t care if you kill me,” she whispered. “A brutal death is better than a lifetime of domestication.”

Dr. Gaul looked at Coriolanus. The gleam in her eye told him that she had an idea.

And knowing her, it was bound to be a gruesome one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as Coriolanus stepped out of the elevator and onto the floor Dr. Gaul’s lab was located on, he was able to hear the screams.

He winced, and gripped the strap of his satchel tighter as he strode down the hallway. He’d started to get used to the ear-splitting sounds, but that didn’t make them any more pleasant.

When he entered the laboratory, he hung his bag on a hook on the wall and headed towards the isolated experiment rooms. Dr. Gaul had set aside most of her other projects and left them to her assistants and the other Gamemakers.

She was hellbent on breaking Bellova past repair.

“How is it coming along this morning, Dr. Gaul?” Coriolanus asked as he swept into Bellova’s room cell. His mentor looked up from her work, and gave him a knowing grin.

“Our little bunny seems to be just as stubborn as the first day we began playing with her.”

He sighed, walking over to where Bellova laid. She looked awful. Her hair was matted, the whites of her eyes were bloodshot, and she was clearly malnourished. She was shaking, undoubtedly from pain and exhaustion.

After all, Dr. Gaul had been literally poking and prodding at her for almost four days straight.

“When are you going to just give in?” Coriolanus asked, his tone dripping with venom.

“Fuck you,” she spat, crying out a moment after. Dr. Gaul had pressed a device that delivered an electric shock throughout her body to her neck, making her convulse and twitch.

“Mind your manners, little girl,” she snarled. “Or I’ll increase the pain tenfold.”

Bellova closed her eyes again, as if trying to disassociate to escape her reality.

Dr. Gaul walked around the table to stand at Coriolanus’s side.

“She’s not going to give in,” she murmured. “She keeps saying that she’d much rather die. There’s a high risk she’ll try to commit suicide. Her death would cause commotion within the Capitol’s elite, and I can’t have such disorder disrupting the peace we’ve worked so hard to instill.”

Coriolanus exhaled sharply. “So what do we do? Pretend she’s a rebel and turn her into an Avox?”

Dr. Gaul shook her head. “That would make you look extremely suspicious. You would also be seen as a threat to the Capitol. No, the only option we have is to create a new version of the serum. One that will take a stronger hold on her brain and make her truly, completely compliant. And you will never have to worry about any…unsavory behavior from her again.”

Coriolanus nodded. “I think it may be wise to keep a syringe with me at all times. That way, if something does occur, I can quickly take back control.”

The doctor gave him an approving pat on the shoulder.

“You’re thinking more and more like a true Gamemaker every day, Mister Snow. Perhaps I’ll meet with the others soon and discuss having you join us officially.”

Coriolanus smiled to himself, glancing once more at Bellova’s defeated form.

Snow lands on top indeed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week later, Dr. Gaul called the Snow penthouse, requesting for Coriolanus to head to the Citadel immediately. It was nearly midnight, so the doctor had to call almost three times before a groggy Tigris answered.

As he pulled open the laboratory doors, his heart pounded annoyingly fast. What if something had gone horribly wrong? What if Bellova had finally succumb to the torture, and her death would be the end of his climb to glory?

“Come in quickly, Mister Snow,” Dr. Gauls voice sounded. Coriolanus did what he was told, hurrying to Bellova’s room, trying to hide the panic that was threatening to overwhelm him.

When he threw open the door, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Bellova no longer looked like a corpse. In Coriolanus’s opinion, she looked absolutely perfect.

Her hair has been washed and brushed, ridding it if the mats and tangles it had acquired in the past several days. Someone had clearly styled it, as her naturally straight hair now fell in mesmerizing curls across her back and shoulders. A makeup artist had covered her bruises and various scars, giving her skin a glass-like finish. Her body was covered with a light pink dress adorned with lace and cutesy bows, which contrasted her original personality so much that it was comical. A pair of white socks covered her feet, which matched perfectly with the dainty heels she wore.

Coriolanus thought back to when Tigris was a young girl, and played with porcelain dolls. They had been a gift from her mother, and she treasured them more than anything. That is, until they were lost during the war. Coriolanus vividly remembered the single picture Tigris still had of her dolls, which she had kept on the wall of her room for years. Their perfect but lifeless figures were nice to stare at, but lacked character and depth.

It was almost eerie how much Bellova resembled them.

“What did you do to her?” Coriolanus blurted out, cringing internally at how unprofessional it had sounded.

Dr. Gaul smiled proudly. “I fixed her, of course. She put up quite a fight, though. Wouldn’t stop screaming and kicking until I had sedated her. Then, I did some minor brain surgery to remove any trace of the old serum before injecting the new one. This one should be completely devoid of flaws.”

He glanced at Bellova, who was still out cold on the experiment table. “So…has she lost her memory again?”

The doctor sighed. “I hope so. But there is no true way to tell until she is awake.”

Coriolanus felt his patience start to deteriorate at an alarming rate, and grit his teeth to prevent himself from loosing his temper. “Please wake her up now, then.”

Dr. Gaul raised an eyebrow, and he could tell that she was inquisitive of his desperate tone. He didn’t understand why. Didn’t she know how important this was to him? If Bellova wasn’t truly fixed, he would have to spend even more of his time and energy protecting his reputation against the damming information stored somewhere in her mind.

But if Dr. Gaul was truly confused about his urgency, she didn’t vocalize it. Instead, she grabbed a terrifying-looking device that somewhat resembled a gun and pressed it to Bellova’s temple.

As soon as she pressed a red button, the device sent a shock through the unconscious girl’s body, causing her to jolt awake. Her grey pupils darted around fearfully, and she let out a pitiful whine of distress.

Both the mentor and the apprentice held their breaths, anxiously anticipating Bellova’s first words.

Bellova’s lips, which has been painted over with a shiny cosmetic gloss, trembled ever-so slightly. She made eye contact with Coriolanus, and he swore he could feel his heart leap into his throat. Not in the romantic sense, of course. It was simply the thrill of being in control.

“Coryo,” Bellova whispered, reaching out to him.

Coriolanus slowly walked towards her, taking one of her hands cautiously. Despite her innocent appearance, he didn’t trust her just her.

After all, she’d tried to kill him mere days ago.

Bellova’s eyes swarmed with large tears, gripping his hand tightly. “I’m so confused, w-what’s going on? Why am I not at home? Am I sick?”

Coriolanus barely held back a groan of frustration. He’d have to lie on the spot, again. It was hard enough the first time, and he would have to alter the facts now that the initial lie was no longer completely relevant.

But before he could start weaving the web of deceit around Bellova’s fragile mind, Dr. Gaul spoke up.

“Silly girl, don’t be worried. You’re just having your routine checkup.”

Bellova’s brows furrowed. “Checkup?”

“Yes, my dear. I have to poke around your brain every once and awhile to make sure you’re alright.”

“Oh,” she replied simply. She turned to Coriolanus once more, her expression one of utter helplessness. “But…why am I so…Coryo, I don’t understand. I don’t understand myself, or anything or…”

Coriolanus met Dr. Gaul’s piercing gaze. Her expression was blank, but it told him everything she needed to know.

He was so close to winning the game he’d played with Bellova since they were children that he could practically taste it.

All it would take to secure his eternal victory was a handful of well-chosen words.

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊❆ ‧

TAGLIST: @daenerysqueenofhearts, @squidscottjeans, @euphemiaamillais, @gracieroxzy, @effectwalker, @vxnilla-hxrddrugs, @mystargirl-interlude, @have-a-nice-day-k, @that-daughter-of-hephaestus

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments! Again, I deeply apologize for the long wait for this chapter, I promise the next installment will come out much faster🖤

Also, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

#coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow x oc #tbosas #the hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #original character #thg prequel #dr gaul

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yuri-is-online · 2 days

Note

I hope im not the only one who finds it kinda annoying when people write mc/prefect as someone who doesn't have basic table manners just so they can be taught by riddle in riddle x readers, or if they're slovenly and ungraceful just so vil can chide and "fix" them in vil x readers, or any other incompetent reader/yuu x competent LI dynamics out there. I know readers are supposed to be "empty" and flexible for many kinds of readers, but it started to feel alot like self-depreciation for me.

I can't say I've seen too many fics with this specific set up, but there's a pretty good chance I ignored and forgot about them. I am more familiar with the Vil concept though, at least I think? But either way I think the issue you might be finding with these things is that they focus on Yuu's incompetence/inability to function as opposed to the potential for intimacy the scenario could create σ(￣、￣=)

This sort of feels like a weird point to bring up, but table etiquette and basic manners can sort of mean two different things. The type of manners you could argue Riddle would want to see expressed at tea/at an unbirthday party could be much more formal than Yuu is used to, which could make for a cute set up for a fic! Picture Riddle trying his best to teach Yuu about etiquette and finding himself having trouble keeping proper decorum, he wants to hold Yuu's hand so badly, he finds himself letting his finger brush up against the back of Yuu's hand while he tries to guide them through what fork to use... or Riddle trying to teach Yuu to dance and getting too caught up in how excited he is to touch them that he forgets to speak (,,>﹏<,,)

And with Vil, I think people like the concept of having someone dote on them and dress them up in expensive things, but there is also a fundamental misunderstanding of Vil's character that a lot of people have where they think he would see someone in basic sweats and assume they need to be "fixed." The main thing Vil desires is for people to work on self improvement and accept nothing less than the best version of themselves. He's not a Kardashian who wants everything airbrushed and the same, he even admits to being privileged in his upbringing and not understanding Neige's struggles in book 6, he's such a well rounded character, maybe the best in the entire game but back to the topic I am actually on-

Walking someone through a skin care routine or washing their hair, especially if they are having a hard time taking care of themselves due to injury or mental distress is something that can be so painfully intimate. People have different ways of caring for themselves and the VOLUMES it speaks to have someone learn and know your language of self love is sosososo important. Makeup is something Vil loves to express himself with, watching him pick out things to use on Yuu so he can express his love through his work shouldn't be about how he is "fixing" Yuu because that's not how Vil would see it. He is speaking to the beauty he already sees and enhancing it with his own, picture him slowly, deliberately, tracing a lip stain onto Yuu's lips and drawing out the process so he can experience what it is like to kiss them without breaching the delicate line his contract has forced him to walk. How he watches Yuu lick their lips later in the night and swears he can feels it; Yuu worries that they're doing something wrong when Vil keeps insisting on doing their make up because he's always so slow about it but really he just wants to place his claim on them in as subtle and intimate a way as possible.

or something i dunno this was just where my mind went

#<3 asks #twisted wonderland

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love-kurdt · 3 days

Text

Swooping, Sloping, Cursive Letters: 20

word count: 1066

PLEASE READ THIS IS ME TRYING FIRST, AS THIS STORY RELIES HEAVILY UPON THE CONTEXT OF TIMT

April 22, 1989

Dear Will,

Prom is tonight. And I’m not going. It’s fine. I’m fine. I made up my mind a whole month ago and have been able to withstand the borderline harassment of our friends telling me that I’m gonna regret this decision for the rest of my life and would be better off just going without a date because it doesn’t matter if I have a date or not and it’s the experience that counts and Lucas said you’re going to be there so I should go too and fuck I regret this so much.

What time is it…? Why I’m writing down the question instead of just checking my fucking watch, I don’t know. It’s 5:30pm, prom starts at 6, and you probably haven’t left your house yet. And why I’m writing about the my suit being presentable enough instead of just going to my closet to check is so fucking counterproductive and

—

It was like a movie, the way I bolted out of the house in my dress slacks and suit jacket with half-tied converse, the laces billowing behind me in the wind as I biked through the neighborhood as fast as I could to your house. I should’ve just taken my car, but of course I had to bring all of my own rom-com fantasies to life. You know, like the Big Chase scene where the guy runs through the airport, praying that it isn’t too late to confess his love to the girl that nearly got away. But alas, I am no athlete, so this unfortunately came with the consequence of looking like a sweaty rat by the time I reached your driveway. Thankfully, you and El were still there, taking photos with Jonathan on the front steps. I haphazardly thrust my bike onto the curb and sprinted up to you as fast as my legs could carry me.

“Will!” I shouted, suddenly conscious of how I hadn’t prepared anything to say to you. My actions always have spoken louder than my words, which is concerning, considering the fact that I’m planning to become a writer once we’re out of high school. So I ran across your front lawn, and I stopped in my tracks when I noticed the surprised looks on Jonathan and El’s faces, the worried look on your own, and the confused expressions on Joyce and Hop’s.

“Hey, Mike,” Jonathan’s eyebrows furrowed together as I gasped for air.

“Hey, Jon,” I replied, leaning forward until my palms rested on my knees as I panted. I acknowledged everyone else, and then looked back up at you, standing back up and running my hand through my hair. The sweat clung to my hand, which I wiped on my slacks with a grimace. “Hey,” I said, “Yeah, so, uh– Will. Dude. Buddy. Do you want to go to the prom with me?”

There was a beat of silence that followed, and I felt the urge to cut my own tongue out. Before I could actually act on my impulse, you walked down the stairs and took a few more steps in my direction. “I thought you weren’t going,” you said, crossing your arms against your chest. I shook my head, shoving my hands in my pockets.

“I changed my mind. Lucas told me–” I began, but trailed off before I gave myself away. You could never know about how Lucas convinced me to go to prom on the sole basis of your attendance. That would’ve been humiliating.

“He told you what?” you prompted me to continue, taking another step forward so we were less than a foot apart.

“Just that everyone else was going, and that I was a weirdo for not wanting to go as well.”

“He’s not wrong,” you smirked up at me, and I lightly smacked your shoulder, feigning offense. “But, like,” you went on, “now that you’re actually coming to prom with us, doesn’t that mean you’re going with me already?”

Against my better judgment, I reached out and adjusted your shirt collar against the lapels of your suit. You looked up at me in mild shock, but hey, at least I didn’t kiss you. “I mean, I was asking if you wanted to go to prom with me as my date.”

Your face turned a beautiful shade of pink, and you stammered out, “I–I’m not sure if we’d be allowed to do that.”

“Come on,” I pleaded, “We’d be going as friends, they can’t kick us out for that.”

Another moment of silence bloomed between us like the yellow flower in your jacket pocket. You picked at your nails in contemplation. “Fine,” you relented with a smirk, “I guess I could go as your prom date… buddy.”

“I just know you’re never gonna let me live that down,” I whined, and you just laughed.

“Damn straight,” you agreed, and I refrained from making a gay joke on account of, oh I don’t know, outing myself. You put my bike in your garage while I was caught up on the plan for transportation, which was Lucas’ parents’ minivan, which would be there in a few minutes to pick us up. Needless to say, everyone was shocked when I climbed into the van.

Prom was pretty lame, and we all ended up leaving early and going back to your house, but I honestly don’t give a single flying fuck, because we actually got to dance together. I repeat: we actually got to dance together. The music had slowed down, everyone was finding their respective dates, and I was just about to leave the dance floor for my impending Closet Pity Party™ when you grabbed my wrist, pulling me closer to you and placing your hands on my hips. “What’s the point of prom if you don’t have at least one slow dance?” you asked, and I tried my best to appear as nonchalant as possible by shrugging. Meanwhile, I was, like, one second away from dying of happiness. It was dark enough I could get away with putting my hands on your shoulders, and you became a bit more confident with the way your hands gripped my waist as we swayed back and forth to the music. I’m grinning so hard while writing this. I think this has been the best night of my life by far. I hope this feeling lasts forever.

Love,

Mike

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#byler #byler fanfic #byler fic #byler tumblr #mike wheeler #will byers #will x mike #mike x will #stranger things #stranger things fic

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terras-domain · 18 hours

Note

what do you think the sexiest thing StayC Isa would do? (Besides showing off her thicc thighs)

terra's note: Hey anon, took me a while to write this, cuz I have to think of a wild theme but I couldn't make it short enough like I usually do. So uuuh yeah, hope you accept this little short "smut" of her getting railed hehe. Anyways love you all, whoever it is reading this and hope you have a nice day <33 (trigger warning: voyeurism, cum in pussy, stranger sex)

words: 967

Isa one time going out to a water park with the girls, and after a tiring day of going rides and splashing water she rests on a giant floaty, laying down on her stomach while she relaxes on a lazy river. While she lets the stream bring her across the lap of the chill pool, she feels a hand groping on her soft covered ass, causing her to jolt up and look around the area, seeing there's actually a guy that was groping her.

For some reason the guy had zero idea who he did that too, in his mind that was just some random hot chick you would find at a water park. The fact she's alone makes it the more reasons for Isa to be a prey for his lust. Isa, seeing the guy not even flinch after making direct eye contact, tilted her head in confusion and questioned, "do you not know who I am?". The pervert only gave a short reply, "no idea, but your body sure does sing for me." Isa could only shake her head in disbelief. Is Stayc really that underrated? After a little thought, she's pretty stressed from schedule and when else will she ever be treated like a normal woman? She looked at the guy that groped him and left her floaty somewhere she can pick up later. The guy was ecstatic to see Isa still there with him even after practically molesting her.

The lazy river was deep enough to submerge Isa's lower body, so when the guy kept touching and squeezing her round ass, it wasn't visible. It was a slow day sure but there's still people around to see the guy groping her ass. They ended up near a section where they spray mists of water which covers the vision of most people around. The man stopped her, letting the journey around the lazy river to a short pause. "Let's have a little fun baby~" he lowered his shorts, letting his cock out and lead her hand to hold it.

Isa was shocked to feel her soft hands holding such a huge member, out in the open, only hidden underneath the pool of water mixed with chlorine. She had no other choice but to take a step forward to close the gap between them, making sure nobody sees them. "Fuck this is so wrong..." Isa muttered, her voice breathy from anxiety, scared of getting caught. "Don't worry sweetie. Nobody can see us~" the soft yet deep voice from the man reassured Isa to be more calm. She kept her hand moving back and forth on his cock, working it up to make him hard, almost leaking a bit of precum from his cock.

"Oh gosh baby you're a pro at this aren't you?" As the guy endured Isa's soft hands jerking her off, he reached down to her thighs, groping her. It's either the mist is too thick today or the people that went past them were blinded by the two having literal sex at the corner of a lazy river. The fact they haven't been caught yet boost the ego of the man, wanting to take more risks. He turned her around and slowly slide his cock in between her thick milky thighs. Isa yelped, but immediately covers her mouth with her hand, suppressing her moans while the pervy guy keeps doing his business. She can see multiple people crossing paths with them as he fucks her smooth thighs, but for some reason nobody was noticing anything weird about them. The man in heat continues his pursuit between Isa's thick thighs, humping his cock back and forth as he grunted, trying to hold back his load.

"Fuck baby, I wanna cum." He grunted, whispering in her ears so that it won't be heard by anyone else. "What? But then they'll see your cum though" Isa argued, worried as she raised an eyebrow whilst looking at him. It was too late, he couldn't wait any longer. He had to improvise somehow. Last resort, he slide Isa's underwear to the side, and slide in his cock deep inside as he shot his load deep in her tight cunt, leaving Isa to bite her lips, fighting the urge to scream out her moans as her pussy gets filled up. "Fuckkk....." Isa looked back at him, seeing his panting, joyous face from cumming to such a baddie. As much as Isa wanted to punch him in the face and tear his horny dick off, she had fun, so she lets him off. "That was fun~" the man smirked, huffing and puffing to regain his breath. "What's your name cutie?" He asked, trying to hook up for another round sometime else. "oh sorry~ I can't give you my number. I uuuh can't really do that" Isa replied, her forehead sweating as she tries to find herself a way to get out of the river to get back her floaty. "aww why's that babygirl? I promise it'll be worth your time the next time we meet." He countered, pushing his luck to get the girl who satisfied his lustful needs. He wants her again, more and more of that juicy body. "Sorry dude, it's pretty complicated. Search up Stayc, maybe you'll find some answers." She smiled, in a show off manner as she climbed the steps to get out of the pool of chlorine, her thighs jiggle at every step which made the public eye fixated on her for that moment, especially the one that managed to cum in her tight pussy. She walked away, hiding the cum deep in her pussy hoping nobody sees it. "This is one hell of a story to tell Sieun unnie" she sighed, walking away quickly as her steps fades away from the scene.

#kpop smut #kpop nsft #anon ask #female idol smut #isa smut #stayc smut #short ahh smut

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genderlessdude92 · 3 days

Text

HEAVENLY DRINKS

CHAPTER 2

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PAIRINGS: Alastor x F!Reader

SUMMARY: In this chapter, the protagonist finds themselves in a confrontation with Alastor, known as the Radio Demon. Vox, another character, intervenes, leading to a tense exchange. Later, the protagonist returns home, reflecting on their fame and current situation. Alastor is just annoying.

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI. Mature Content, Sensitivity, Alcohol use, like HEAVY, (It was noted in the intro that reader is an alcoholic but gets better throughout the story), Verbal Altercations, Implied Violence, Character Behavior, Sexual References, News Media, Emotional Turmoil, Cliffhanger.

NOTICE: please don't steal/copy/translate my work. But thanks for liking it, though!! ^^ Posting chapter every friday but this one is early! Asks are always open, but i can’t get to all of them at the same exact time so if yours is answered right away…You might be lucky 🙏

WORDS: 2.9k

HEAVENLY DRINKS MASTERLIST

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The waitress squeaked out of fear and ran to Lucifer knows where, clearing the space of view between you two.

‘Fuckin’ wimp.” You thought.

“No manners these days, am i wrong?” The deer said, turning his head to face yours.

You snapped out of your trance, “Uh…I was doing just fine my myself.”

“I could tell.” he smirked, “You must be pretty desperate to drink every single type of liquor in here.”

You raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“Well,” he replied, “For starters, you were naming those liquors from the top of your head like the songs in your albums..”

You only blinked.

“Secondly, you’re dressed like a prostitute. Thirdly, you’re not even wearing a bra,” He cleared his throat, “Fo-”

“What gives you the fuckin’ right to call me out like that?!” You argue, “Do you know who I am, fuckin’ asshat?!”

Alastor’s demeanor shifted more eerie, along with the lights in the establishment, “Do you know who I am?” He retorted, “I think somebody needs a quick lesson since they’ve missed some classes, shall we?” He asked, sizing up his form.

You snarled, “You cocky…”

“What the fuck is going on here?!” A loud voice yelled from the entrance.

Both of your heads turned to meet a vision on Vox standing at the entrance, clearly fuming.

“…Why the fuck-“ He points his claw to you, “are you doing he-“ He then snaps his like of view to Alastor, “I-what the fuck?!”

You started to laugh like a child, only now you were a drunk-full-grown-not-mentally-stable-and-not-currently-alive-adult.

Until Alastor slapped you on the back of your head to stop.

“My office, now!”

***

Vox’s office was dimly lit, with soft jazz music playing in the background. The walls were adorned with paintings of various musicians, and shelves lined with books and trophies. A large desk dominated the room, with a sleek computer monitor and stacks of papers piled high on its surface.

Alastor sat across from Vox, observing the scene before him. He seemed to find this situation amusing for some reason.

But you certainly didn’t.

This was not how you wanted your first day out to go.

“What do you want from me?” Alastor asked, his tone casual. “I’m already banned from this fine establishment, am i not?” He chortled.

“That’s the fuckin’ problem,” He slammed his fist on the desk, “I don’t even know why i bothered to bring you in here.” He growled.

Vox then shifted his eyes to you, “-and you.” he added, “You shouldn’t even be showing your face here. do you know how mad i am at you?!” He yelled in your face sparks igniting in his antennas.

“…What.” You gave him a droopy smile.

He groaned, “How much drinks did she have, fuckin’ hell-“

“-34, my good sir.” Alastor intervened.

You chuckled, “No, i had like, 4 shots.”

“Well, you must be mistaken, because i counted 34 drinks.” Alastor corrected, bending his neck slightly.

“Wh-hold on, why were you watch-“

“Enough! That is not what we are talking about.” Vox yelled, standing up from his seat to show authority.

After a surprising moment of silence, he continued, “Y/N, You literally vanished from sight a day before we had a massive show planned at my convention center,” Vox answered, sitting back down, “I know you weren’t told that you aren’t welcome here, but you aren’t and it should be obvious.”

You stayed silent for a moment, getting sober by the second. How long ago was that?

“…Sorry.” You crossed your arms.

“Now you see how none of you are allowed here?” He folded his hands on his desk, looking down and sighing in stress.

“…Yeah, yeah.” You said.

***

Walking out of the building, you jumped slightly when you felt a claw on your shoulder.

“You really don’t remember who I am, little lady?” Alastor said, turning your shoulders to face him.

You looked up slowly, relaxing the alcohol in your body, “No, i know you. Just thought it was funny.” You put a hand on your hip. “You used to put my songs in your broadcast in intermissions, if i remember correctly”

He laughed, “My highest point of listeners.” He grinned.

“I don’t remember much, though,” You admitted, scratching your cheek. “Kinda what i was wanting las’ couple of years.”

“I’d imagine.” He replied, “Drinking every night for forty years isn’t healthy, even for someone like you.” He scoffed, still

plastering the same grin on his face.

“wh- ‘someone like me?’” You questioned.

He sighed, “Look, i know you haven’t been seen for a while, but that doesn’t mean that we forgot about you, if that’s what you’ve been wanting.” He clarified, “You’re a well known woman, but you’ve had…issues since you were alive.”

“good way to bring down the mood,” You scoffed, “i thought we were just getting along, y’know?”

He laughed, “That would be a headline, for sure.”

You tilted your head in confusion, “You’re weird.”

“You’re drunk.” He claimed back.

You growled, about to bite back, but he cut you off, “It seems our time here is up,” He said, now looking at his watch (that clearly does not exist) on his wrist, “My radio show starts in little over ten minutes. Ta-Ta!” He waved goodbye, walking past you.

You began to walk over to him, to give some piece of mind to him, but he then materialized into the shadow.

“Piece of trash…” You muttered, beginning to walk away from the building.

***

As you unlocked the door to your manor, you can’t help but wonder why, after all these years, people still remembered you?

You stepped inside, kicking your heels off.

That was the whole point in rotting in this trash bin, anyways. You couldn’t have all this fame, it wasn’t ethical.

You tossed your fur coat into the laundry room.

And on top of that, you were banned from one of your favorite places. who the fuck does that? He’s just jealous-

You plopped your body onto the plush couch, not bothering about the feeling of your dress riding up your thighs, as you would’ve.

“-yeah, jealous,” You said aloud, “He’s a fucking television, I’m full bodied. I’m a legend and he’s just a piece of trash.”

you scavenged around the coffe table’s under-cabinets until you found a half empty bottle of wine-

…and let’s not forget that stupid deer.

“After all the fucking fame i probably got him, he just treats me like imp-shit. I was just tryna be friendly, start a little fake fight, but noooo-“

You took a large swig of your bottle.

“He just had to get me in trouble, embarrass me, and walk away as if nothing fucking happened.”

You sighed.

You looked at the bottle that was now empty.

…And think if… you did this to yourself?

“…Nah.”

You take off your jewelry, take off your clothes until you were in a bra and panties, and sprawl yourself on your couch, reaching for the remote and turning on your television.

“He’s probably getting… bullied on the news or somethin’.” You muttered to yourself, laughing softly.

Swapping through news networks-

…Oh fuck.

“Famous singer and dancer star from back in the day, Y/N (or stage name idk), Has returned to the bustling streets of the pentagram after 40 fucking years of an absence!” Katie said clenching her script sheet in hand with a shit-eating smile on her face.

You always felt bad for that other guy next to her…

-That’s not the point.

“…apparently, she got into a little fight with the infamous Radio Demon we all know and hate, Alastor! Talk about the conversation of a 40 years!” She added as a laughing track played.

You cringed, “Fuckin’ bitch.”

“But that’s not all! Apparently, this has caused quite the uproar among the fans of the two. Some are worried that our beloved star may never return to performing again, and is just scavenging for some drinks and dicks! While others are ecstatic that she has finally reappeared after such a long time.”

“…Fucking hell, m’ not dealing with this.”

“In other news-”

You turned off the tv, tossing your remote onto the floor.

“Her boobs are so fuckin’ fake, I hate that bitch.” You ranted, Stretching your back and staring at the ceiling.

“…Let’s see, ok…I’m out of books to read.” You noted, “…No more alcohol in this stupid jail cell of a shit hole…” You noted as well, “…and I’m all over the news now…”

After a moment of contemplating life, you sit up again and go to your room.

“I should go to another bar…a really expensive one…” You muttered, immediately rummaging through your closet.

“…I have a lot of money anyways…” You grinned, “Probably more than that stupid dear. I could probably hunt him and eat him…it would taste…” You looked down to your naked body for a moment, thinking, “…like…if it were medium rare, really good…”

“-What was that?” a static voice asked from across the walk-in closet.

“What the fuck?!-“ You turned around, covering your boobs, “How the fuck did you get into my house, pervert?!”

“I’m sorry, dear. But I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re saying.” Alastor said, crossing his arms, “And for the record, I’m far from a pervert.” He said, squinting his eyes.

“How the fuck did you get in here?!” You demanded.

“Well, you see-“

“No, no. No explanations. Get the fuck out of my house, perverted demon!” You yelled, throwing a shoe at him.

He caught it without effort and stared at you with his red eyes, “Excuse me? You…just asked me why I was-“

You narrowed your eyes, “Oh my gosh, you are so annoying, i can do see how Vox hates you now…” You groan, looking for a robe.

“…You know,” he began as you continued to search, “There’s a saying that goes along the lines of, ‘Drunk men say wise words’ I believe?” He questioned aloud to himself, “…I don’t think that goes for women.”

As you tied a robe around your waist you put your hands on your hips and looked at him. “What are you doing here.” You asked.

“…” Alastor waited silently.

“…Like…actually.” You clarified.

Alastor nodded, “I came to make sure you were alright.” He said simply, “You were rather intoxicated earlier today.”

“…”

“…And you were also not wearing anything under the dress, it kept slipping off.” He added, adding an awkward laugh to it.

“…”

“…So, naturally, I was concerned for your safety.” He finished.

“…”

“…Was it something I said?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“…”

“…Or maybe it was the fact that you threw your shoes at me.” He stated bluntly.

“…Wait- why would it be about the shoes?”

Alastor smiled, “Never mind, it sounds much nicer in here when it’s down one voice.”

You scoffed, “What the fuck is your problem? didn’t you come over here to check in on me?”

“Yes, that is correct.”

You rolled your eyes, “Then why are you acting like an ass all the sudden.”

“Actually…” He pondered for a moment, “…I was hoping you would… join me for dinner.” He replied casually.

You raised a brow, “Dinner?”, You said flatly, crossing your arms.

“Yes,” Alastor confirmed. “I’ve…prepared a special meal for us to enjoy together.”

“…That’s so mean.”

“…What…what do you mean?-“

“You’re just tryna get me to not go to a fuckin’ bar.”

He laughed blandly, “You are very wise, my lady.” He claimed, “But, may i remind you that a free dinner cost less than putting another 34 drinks onto your tab?”

You looked at him confused, but then realized something that disgusted you, “Are you gonna feed me cannibal food?”

He laughed, “For you, I’m sure it’s your favorite meal, but for me, yes, it is a cannibal meal.”

“…What-“

“Medium rare deer?”

You gasped, “Stalker! I fuckin�� knew it!” You claimed, getting another shoe from the ground and getting ready to throw it.

“Don’t!-“ He grabbed the shoe from your drunken-soft grip, “-you dare.”

“…Just don’t go to the bar,” He sighed as if taking care of a toddler, “I’m doing you a favor.”

“-And why would the Radio Demon care?”

“…It’s not pity,” he began, “…I just get second hand embarrassment seeing you drunk.” He grimaced.

“Nah, you just want me and not want anybody else to check me out.” You grinned, turning around to rummage through clothes again.

“Excuse me?” He said, offended, “I don’t view you that way whatsoever.”

“It’s okay, I worked hard for my glutes.” You slugged out a laugh, “Plastic balls wouldn’t look good in my skin.”

Alastor let his disgust cease for a moment before sighing, “I’m leaving. But,” He pulled out a pen from out of nowhere and wrote something down on a piece of paper, that also appeared out of nowhere, and handed it to you when done. “-If you ever need anything. You know, since you’re so vulnerable outside right now, I’ll be at this location.”

‘Hazbin Hotel, Morningstar District.’ It read.

“I’m not vulnerable, I’m just really hot and everybody wants me.”

“…Ugh, okay,” Alastor said to himself, “I’m out. Goodbye, Y/N. Until we meet again.”

And he was gone with the shadows.

You sighed, “Probably still watching me.”, you said aloud, pulling out a black silk dress from the mountainous pile on clothes beneath you.

***

You awoke in the morning to a pounding headache.

You groaned, rubbing your temples as you sat up and opened your eyes.

Your gaze fell upon the empty bottles of liquor strewn across the room and a wave of regret washed over you.

“…At least I decided to buy more.” You said to yourself, sitting up as you yawned and stretched.

Your eyes drifted towards the nightstand next to the bed and saw a glass of water and some painkillers.

You smiled softly, thankful for the kind gesture your past self gave you.

You popped the pills in your mouth and drank the entire glass, feeling slightly better after the medicine kicked in.

You looked at the clock on your wall, seeing that it was only 7 am.

Sighing, you get out of bed, ignoring the fact that your entire outfit from last night was still on (including the heels), You stalked your way over the kitchen to make some hangover stew

After a few minutes of chopping, mixing, and boiling, you finally had a bowl of hangover soup in front of you.

You took a bite and moaned.

It tasted delicious, as usual from your cooking.

And decided to turn the TV on.

Which was a bad idea.

Many news channels reporting on the Pride Ring were showing pictures of you and Alastor at the bar and outside the building-

“Could this be the relationship of the century or a big fluke?” The news reporter asked the audience-

Switch.

“-Another soul for Alastor to collect? Find out more after-“

Switch.

“-Personally, I wouldn’t date her if i was him, yeah?” The television guest claimed to the news reporter now on screen.

…what?

“I mean, look at her. Her boobs are flat and her ass looks fake. I mean, she could’ve at least had some surgery happen in those 40 years or bought some pads for bras.” He added, making the reporter laugh-

Click. Off.

You slammed the remote down and groaned.

You had just gotten out of a 40-year-long-hangover and now the world wants to talk shit about your body?

And you?

Great.

This was a great start to the day.

You got up, grabbing a bottle of wine from the table and taking a swig, feeling the burning sensation in your throat and the dizziness in your brain.

“…What am i doing to myself.” You said, looking at the bottle.

“…I should go to town and find a fuckin’ news reporter,” You claimed, placing the wine on the coffee table, “Fuckin’ rumors spreadin’ like that guy’s ass…” You trotted to your room to find an outfit.

You stopped, looking at your outfit from last Night, “…or jus’ fix my makeup.”

***

Strutting into the heart of Pentagram City, this was probably your first time appreciating how much eyes were on you and those…’phones.’ (which you found out the name from the television.)

You walked with confidence, but also with a little bit of embarrassment.

But mostly confidence.

You looked around, taking in the sights of the bustling city and the sounds of people chatting and laughing and yelling.

Alastor submerged from the shadows next to you, walking by your side.

“Enjoying the outside, my fellow homebody?” He asked with a grin.

“Not now, Alastor.” You said, scanning the area.

“Now, What’s gotten you so worked up with smarts?” He asked like a babysitter, “Haven’t seen you this focused since…never!” He laughed.

You scoffed, “Some guy dared to insult me on live television.” You answered, “Called me flat on my Himalaya’s.”

“…Your what’s?” He asked.

“My boobs, Alastor… they’re not that flat are they?”

I’m not answering that question.” He announced.

You pouted.

“Think of the headlines, dear.”

“…Yeah, you’re right.” You shrugged.

“So,” Alastor started, “Anything i could do to help?” He asked, clenching his cane in curiosity.

“…I needa find a popular News station. So i can announce my…opinions n’ stuff.” You said, “a popular one around these parts.”

Alastor thinked for a moment, “…Ever suggested to yourself…Vox 2 Nite?”

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NOTES: CHAPTER TWO IS OUT AND EARLY?! Guys the Alastor x Reader tumblr community is dead rn I need people to like RISE FROM THE DEAD and get their friends who also thrive here like…do their job??? Show support??? Requests??? NOTES??? COMMENTS??? ahem, Anyways, I’m proud of this chapter, It’s gonna get better though, there is spicy material coming, but you guys just have to be patient <3, support is appreciated, Love you guys!!!

-Genderlessdude92, Kiki!

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HEAVENLY DRINKS MASTERLIST

OTHER WORKS

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TAGLIST:

@martinys-world

@sirens-and-moonflowers

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COMMENT TO BE APART OF THE TAGLIST!! HAVE A NICE DAY BAII!!! ;3

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x wife reader #alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor x you

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anonymityisfunwriter · 2 hours

Text

Every Part of You

Pairing - Grumpy!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader A.N. - Alright, I've been asked to write about Bucky and Sunshine's first time many, many times. And the thing is, like sure, I could write that, but also I want us to take a moment to consider trying to build up to that. There's so many firsts buried in there that I think need to be navigated through before they even get there. This is one of those firsts. Like the first time you see Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Grumpy Sunshine Series

"You're just- " You stop speaking, searching for his lips again. Though you're breathless, you can't bring yourself to pull away from him, "You're so pretty."

You shudder as you feel his hand slip under your sweater. The occasional graze of the cool metal on your skin enough to send shivers down your spine.

His lips trail down, nipping at your jaw, "I'm not pretty."

Your hands, winded in the hair at the nape of his neck, glide down his neck, to clutch the fabric of his henley. The moment he feels your fingers toy with the collar of his shirt, his heart hammers against his ribcage. Not in the sort of way that he usually feels in these moments with you. He feels a sense of dread, of panic. It wraps around his spine like a python. It feels like he can't breathe.

"You're so -"

He wrenches away from you, his chest heaving, "Stop, stop, stop."

You freeze, immediately dropping your hands. Panic starts creeping up your throat, coating your words. "Did I - did I do something wrong?"

He gulps, silently shaking his head. It takes him a moment to regain his composure, to regain the ability to speak clearly, "No, no, you're - you're perfect."

Guilt starts to eat at him. He can see you doing your very best to keep your own feelings off your face. He can see the sting of his rejection in the way your lips press together in a tight line. The embarrassment in the pallor of your once flushed cheeks.

You two have worked so hard to overcome your own personal issues and traumas, to build trust in each other, moments like these hadn't come easy. And he so callously pushed you away, it makes him feel worse. And what makes his heart ache even more, he sees nothing but concern for him shining in your eyes. You just look so worried for him.

Your hands rest in your lap. You twist and untwist your fingers. "If you don't want to, we don't - we don't have to do anything. I'm really sorry -"

"No, no, please don't be sorry." He reaches for you, gently squeezing your hand. It soothes him as much as it does you. "I want to. You don't know how much I want to."

"But?"

His eyes squeeze shut. He can't bring himself to meet your eyes. "You haven't seen it before - my arm, my shoulder."

"Oh."

He drops your hand. That feeling takes over him again. It feels like there's not enough air in the room. He slides away from you, closer to the edge of the tiny couch in your apartment. "It's - I am not pretty."

It breaks your heart, watching him pull away from you. You can only imagine how many people have turned away from him before. "James..."

He fervently shakes his head, refusing to open his eyes, "No, no, I know what you're gonna say, but it's bad. A lot worse than you're thinking."

"How do you know what I'm thinking?"

"It's bad," he insists. "I see it every day and I can barely - it's just bad, okay?"

You take his hand, squeezing it tightly. "It's okay if you don't want me to see it. I understand."

He finally opens his eyes again as his eyebrows pull together. He still doesn't meet your eye. "No, no, I want to - I trust you with this, I do. I just - I want you to be prepared."

In that moment, you realize that it's not really about preparing you. Not at all.

He thinks you're going to react badly. He thinks that this will make you turn away from him for the first time ever. He's worried that the love and adoration in your eyes will turn to disgust and repulsion.

It's less about preparing you for the scarred flesh, and more about warning you that he couldn't take a bad reaction. He's not sure he could take it if you turned away from him too.

"I love you," you promise him. "There's nothing that you could show me that would change that. I hope you know that."

There is no response to that. And you know that he won't believe it until he sees it. It takes him a moment. His hand toys with the hem of his shirt. His hand grips the hem, only to let it go.

"I love you," you remind him.

He takes a large gulp of air, pulling off his shirt with one quick movement.

You weren't really sure what you were expecting. You knew the story. You knew how Bucky lost his arm. He even confided the bits and pieces he remembered from getting his vibranium arm.

Your eyes trail over his skin. The shoulder is scarred, scars jut in every direction. Each scar is etched into his skin. It's clear it was a painful, violent experience for him. The metal plate protrudes from the scar tissue in a way that you're sure was painful when first placed. You look on with curiosity, you're not really sure how this, a sign of survival, a badge of resilience, could ever make anyone turn away from him.

He's as breathtaking as you could ever imagine.

Your eyes flicker up at him. He looks at the blank wall of your apartment, scared to watch your facial expressions as you take it in. "Can I?"

He nods, barely able to look you in the eyes. He sucks in a breath when your fingers make contact with the scar tissue surrounding the metal plate.

You immediately pull your fingers back, worried you've accidentally hurt him. "Does it hurt?"

"No," he answers reflexively.

You know he's lying. "I've seen you holding your shoulder before - holding it like it hurts."

"Sometimes," he amends. "The doctor said there's a lot of nerve damage. Things they can't fix."

"Does it hurt now?"

"No."

You run your hand over the plate, over his scars, down to his shoulder blade.

"Still think I'm pretty?" he sarcastically remarks.

You press a gentle kiss to his bare shoulder. "I'll always think you're pretty. Every part of you."

Bucky Barnes Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

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