#I'm still taking it easy with the comic for the moment

[wosoluver]

Trying hard

TW: suggestive content

Andrea x Teammate!reader

"Why are the both of you fighting so hard to hate eachother?" - Asked Lola.

No one on the team understood where all that came from. And seemingly not even you or Andrea seemed to know.

"She started it."

You were all doing warm ups in training

"Literally when?" - Lola insisted knowing her friend very well. And Andrea just huffed at her.

You were new on the team, arrived in the beginning of the season. You were a forward, she was a defender, you naturally clashed a lot during trainings.

But still there was never an event to cause your constant bickering at each other.

"Everyone dividing into teams." - Yelled the coach.

As usual the two of you were in opposite sides. But twenty minutes in Medina started to get frustrated. She couldn't manage to stop your attacks, that led her to commit a bunch of fouls, this one had been particularly hard.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!" - you screamed out as you got up. You were in pain but in the moment you saw red. And you pushed her back. - "You aways pull this shit! Try to learn how to manage your anger issues. It's not my fault you suck at your job."

And that's all it took for her to stand up and try to start a physical fight.

But thankfully you were separated by your teammates.

"You two are staying late as punishment." - That's the only thing coach said before starting the game once again. You stayed on the sidelines trying to cool down.

You couldn't help but watch her every move. How the sweat glistened over her muscles as she gave her all on the pitch.

"Alright we're done for the day. Not you, Medina and Y/L/N, you two are working on your 1 v 1 and if you start another fight we'll have a problem."

"Fuck!" - You let out under your breath.

You grabbed the ball closest to you.

You two did some drills, but when you tried to pass her once again she pulled you down, but you managed to trip her with your legs, and soon she was on the ground too.

"Your not gonna yell at me?" - she asked.

"I'm too tired for that." -

"Why do you do it?"

"You're the one who keeps attacking me! But I apologize for saying your not good at your job. You're actually pretty skilled."

"Yeah, just not enough to stop you."

You looked over at her watching how the sun made her eyes look, their prettiest.

"Sorry for being harsh, I just- it's frustrating."

You got up and offered her a hand up in the process, which she took.

"Let's go."

You both went into the locker room, and went straight to shower. But she accidentally slipped on the wet floor right in front of you, taking you down with her.

"This one was not intentional I swear!"

"I'm so going to get bruised." - you said trying to help each other up. But failing miserably. But taking the situation in comically.

When you two finally managed getting up, you finished showing and getting changed.

"Can you give me a ride home? I came with Lola this morning."

"You'll owe me one."

"Fine."

Next day everyone was shocked when the two of you started joking around.

"Oye, I'll go easy on you today!"

"No, you can't!"

You left for the gym, as Andrea stayed behind.

"I knew it!" - Said Lola.

"Knew what?"

"You two liked each other deep down."

The younger girl only rolled back her eyes. Leaving the room. She didn't want to admit to anything.

She stared at you the whole day. Now that she couldn't blame it on the hate, she realized that maybe those feelings she had, were more than frustration. It was a mix of admiration and longing. It felt somewhat like a crush. And the realization made her cheeks red.

"Y/N! Can you stay and train with me for a little longer?"

"Yeah of course."

Lola simply looked suspiciously at her friend. - "Don't you need me to give you a ride home?"

"Y/N can take me."

"Okay." - She didn't want to insist too much. But she knew something was up.

After spending another hour training you decided to call it a day. Heading inside.

"You're doing better at blocking me."

"You're still winning though."

"Give it some time, you'll get there."

That week during the derby, between the team and Real Madrid. You were being ferociously taken down. Probably for the same reason as aways. But that was working you up, and Andrea as well. Even if she wasn't personally getting hurt.

But when they took Wifi down, as she was about to enter the penalty area, Andrea was so annoyed, she started running from the other side of the pitch to start a fight with Oihane. But before she could you intercepted her, pulling her away the best you could.

"Hey, stop if you get another card, you're out of the game."

"I don't care!"

"Well, I'm not letting you."

"You can't boss me around like you do to everyone else!"

You thought you were past this stage of fighting for no reason. She thought so too, but right now she couldn't deal with the pressure of the game, her hot headed need to bite back and the way your arms held her back with force against yourself.

Once the game was over and you were ready to leave, you walked towards the car without saying goodbye to anyone.

But unfortunately Andrea was able to catch up with you.

"I'm really sorry."

"I thought we were on good terms!"

"I can explain, can we please get into the car?"

"I'm not giving you a ride."

"I'm not asking for one. I just want to talk privately."

You huffed as you unlocked the doors.

You both sat respectively in your seats. You waited for her to start talking.

"My head was spinning out of control. The way they were making so many fouls, and we were struggling to keep up, was getting to me and when you held me back in your arms, I just exploded."

"You keep throwing your frustrations on me again and again."

"I know, but I've been trying to fix it, since I realized where they came from."

"Which is what? Your anger issues?"

"I don't have anger issues, it's you!"

"I don't have any anger issues!"

"No, I mean I have a crush on you.

That's what has bothered me from the start!"

By now you just stared at her, mouth agape.

"You're not going to say anything?"

But before she had barely ended her sentence, you kissed her passionately. This led her to pull you from the driver's seat to seat on her lap. And when you pulled away to breathe, she decided to pull you to the backseat to blow off all the steam you had build up during the game.

And you thanked god you were parked so far from everyone else that day.

#woso x reader #espwnt #andrea medina #andrea medina x reader #atletico madrid femenino

[bcdrawsandwrites]

[ID: A Team Fortress 2 fic banner featuring a silhouette of Pyro using the stock flamethrower and setting things on fire. Pyro is light gray with darker outlines, with its class symbol and canister markings in orange, and its lenses yellow-white. They are on a dark gray background with faint gray text behind them reading numbers from 999,996 to 999,999. The title is in the top right in yellow-white text on a darker background reading, "CHAPTER ONE: PYROMANCY." /end ID]

Flickering

Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Rating: K+ Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship Characters: Spy, Pyro, Engineer, Heavy, Sniper Warnings: General references to trauma, TF2-typical violence Fic Description: After the events of the comics, the mercs try to go back to how things were, but it’s never that easy.

Spy can see his teammates going through their own struggles… but something seems to be very, very wrong with Pyro in particular.

And since no one else seems to be doing anything about this, Spy makes it his mission to get to the bottom of what is troubling Pyro. For no particular reason. Beta Readers: @mechmolar, @gonturan0, @junuve Notes: I have no idea what was supposed to happen in the final comic, so for the sake of my sanity I'm going to have the mercs go back to business as usual, somehow.

---

Chapter 1: Pyromancy Summary: In which Spy takes on a new mission.

---

After everything was said and done, the scars they endured were more than physical.

Sniper had been the first to admit it, quietly mentioning during the chaos between rounds the fact that he sometimes still felt the pain of bullets long-gone, and not the ones they endured from their usual matches.

(The matches had resumed, even after the death of all three Mann brothers. It was a touch of normalcy that they all needed.)

Heavy made frequent trips to Medic's office, not for any treatment, but just in case there was still some Australium left in that brute's veins and he came after them again.

Spy, meanwhile, had escaped unscathed and had absolutely nothing to hide from anyone.

But as for the others, this was, of course, all very normal. They'd all been through a lot of strange events—or stranger than usual—and a bit of lingering trauma was to be expected. Nothing to be concerned over.

Except for one thing.

Spy had noticed it during a match. An enemy merc had been preparing to sneak up on Pyro, who was removing a sapper from a sentry. But the second they got too close, Pyro swung around with its homewrecker, striking the merc again and again until they despawned. On the surface it had seemed little different from how Pyro usually handled things. Even so, something about the incident felt... off to Spy.

So he decided to keep an eye on things. During matches, whenever he could, he would take a moment to observe Pyro. He observed it charging into battle, firing its flare gun with impressive precision. Efficient, and yet...

Another moment he caught was when it had a brush with an enemy spy. The spy had just attempted to backstab Pyro when it swung around, striking with its ax and slashing, again and again. When the bloody remains disappeared, Pyro stared blankly at the red stain they’d left behind for a few uncomfortable moments before moving on.

At this point, Spy wasn't even sure what he was looking for, or why he cared, beyond the fact that it was his part of his job to study people's behavior should he need to imitate it later. No one else had taken notice of any of this—or if they had, they said nothing of it. If he just dropped the matter, likely no one would care, and they could continue to move past the mess from the past six months.

...But a little poking around wouldn't hurt. It wasn't like the Administrator was sending him off on any high-profile missions right now.

Engineer's workshop was meticulously organized, and a place Spy did not typically set foot in, for good reason. Instinctively he cloaked the second he heard the beep. The sentry's gun was trained on him anyway, but, recognizing a friendly merc, did not shoot.

"I'd say it's funny seein' you here, if I could see you," Engineer said, following his sentry's eyeless gaze.

With a snort, Spy de-cloaked.

Engineer's gaze darkened as he rested the Gunslinger over the top of the machine. "You ain't here to practice with those sappers of yours, are ya?"

"What? No. I have no need for that."

"Huh." Withdrawing his prosthesis, he relaxed slightly. "What can I do ya for?"

"I seek... information." Spy strode closer, idly lighting a cigarette. "You often work with Pyro, no?"

Engineer shrugged. "Well, sure. Don't need to explain to you how we collaborate on the battlefield. Sometimes collaborate here in the workshop, too. That fella's got a knack for makin' new flamethrowers, and it'll sometimes ask for my input." He tilted his head. "Why? You lookin' to partner with it for something?"

"Ugh, no." Spy shuddered. "No. I was wondering if you had... noticed its behavior on the battlefield as of late."

At that, Engineer leaned forward, rubbing a finger against his chin. "Lately? Mumbles's been doing pretty well on the battlefield. Better than I can remember, even." Shrugging, he sat back. "Guess it's been missin' the usual matches, pointless as they are, same as the rest of us."

Exhaling a stream of smoke through his nose, Spy looked the Engineer in the goggles. "And outside of battle?"

"Dunno. Haven't seen it much."

"Do you find this... concerning?"

"Nope." Engineer looked away. "I know I was pretty much out of the fray for all of that, but it sounds like all y'all had it pretty rough. Don't blame anyone for wantin' to take a bit of time to themselves. I'm sure it'll come around."

"Perhaps." Sighing, Spy turned, heading back toward the door. "I'll leave you to... whatever sort of contraptions you have here."

"What are you worried about?"

Spy stopped in the doorway. "What?"

"You ain't the type to come in to ask about someone for no reason."

Spy glared over his shoulder. "I worry about nothing."

"All right," Engineer replied, and resumed tinkering with the sentry. When the fellow merc said nothing more, Spy went on his way.

No, he was not worried. But as his mind wandered back to their short time imprisoned in Gray Mann's base, he was wondering. And there was someone else who might be able to satisfy his curiosity.

Medic's lab, in contrast to Engineer's space, was cluttered and chaotic, not helped by the doves nesting and perching wherever they could find space, nor the young baboon scampering around the floor. The sight of Heavy sitting on a chair made Spy pause, wondering if he was interrupting something, only to realize that the Heavy was only reading a book. He did not look up when Spy entered. The baboon, meanwhile, scampered up to Medic (who was studying something at his desk) and tugged on the hem of his coat.

"Ah, Aristotle. Did you find it?" Medic asked, bending down to accept a small red vial from the baboon's paw. "Let's see..." Adjusting his glasses, he peered at the vial's label, only to frown and toss the vial aside, where it shattered on the floor. "Aristotle! I told you I needed an O-positive blood sample, not another B-positive!"

The monkey, evidently named Aristotle, gave a sad chirp.

"Now, now, try again," he said, and shoo'd the monkey off. "Unless you want this experiment to fail, anyway." He watched the monkey scurry back across the room and run past Spy, and did a double-take. "Ah, Spy! I didn't hear you come in."

"I should hope not, or else I'd be doing my job poorly." He sidestepped the broken glass as he approached.

"Are you recovering well from your emergency blood transfusion?" Medic asked, flipping through some papers at his desk.

"Actually, I had a question about that."

The Medic's face lit up. "Ah! You're in luck!" Setting the papers down, he gestured excitedly toward a series of vials lined up in front of him. "I'm currently working on a method of separating different blood types that may have gotten—hmm—mixed together, by some means, and I needed a human test subject to—"

"No."

Medic's expression immediately soured. "Oh." He turned away, flipping through the papers again. "Well what do you want? I'm very busy."

"You also performed an emergency transfusion on the Pyro, did you not?"

"Oh, yes!" Medic smiled as he held up a paper; Spy was able to spot the Pyro's class symbol on it. "Yes, it's always fascinating working with that one."

Spy didn't have to ask what was fascinating about the only non-human mercenary on their team. "Did you notice anything... unusual when you performed the operation?"

At that, Medic scratched his head. "Well now... I was quite busy at the time, trying to prevent everyone, including you, from dying from blood loss, you know. I didn't have time to focus on the details."

"But you did open Pyro's suit to slice it open and fill its chest cavity with blood."

"Yes, yes. Your point?"

"And you didn't see anything strange when you did this?"

Medic clicked his tongue. "I told you, I had no time to focus on the details!" Sighing, he turned back to his desk. "Besides, it's hard to notice anything past all that soot."

Spy paused. "Soot?"

"Yes, it gets everywhere," Medic replied, as though that had answered the question. "Anyway, why do you ask?"

Tempted as he was to ask about what on earth lied beneath that suit, he held himself back, and very nearly shot back a "classified" at the doctor. However, something else struck him, and he hummed. "You worked with those other mercenaries for a time. Were you familiar with their pyro?"

"Oh, Beatrice?" Medic chuckled. "Yes, she was an interesting one. Quite sadistic, I would say. But what does this have to do with—?"

"She interrogated our Pyro for an extended period of time, and I am wondering if this may account for its strange behavior."

"Strange behavior?" Medic echoed, then laughed, the noise grating on Spy's ears. "No, our pyromaniac is just as crazy as it ever was, in case you haven't noticed! Perhaps you could do with a head examination." In one swift motion he retrieved a clipboard. "I could put you in for next Tuesday—"

"No, thank you." And with that, Spy strode out of the lab, nearly stepping on Aristotle's tail on the way out.

As he crossed the base, he tossed his cigarette to the ground and stomped on it as he passed.

This was ridiculous. Was it not obvious to anyone else? Or was he really just looking for something that wasn't there?

He found himself glaring out a window, staring out at the desert. It was growing dark, now, and he had no reason to be hanging around here—several of the other mercs had already gone home, or to whatever hole they slept in.

The hair stood on the back of Spy's neck, and he whipped around to see someone staring at him from the other end of the hall. He shuddered. "Don't do that."

"Am I not allowed to look at people without a scope up to my eye?" Sniper asked, approaching Spy. He held a cup of coffee in his hand that fogged up his glasses as he brought it to his mouth. Nonetheless, he joined Spy in looking out the window. "You're here late."

"As are you." Spy glared out into the darkening twilight. "Don't you have a van to sleep in?"

"Don't much feel like sleeping," Sniper answered, taking another swig of coffee.

"Then go somewhere else to produce your jarate."

The Sniper only heaved a sigh. "Went to the phone again."

"Yes, very exciting." Spy continued to glare out the window before it struck him what the man was talking about. His annoyance quickly melted. "...Oh." He hesitated for a moment before glancing at Sniper. "My apologies."

"Been a minute since I've done that," he said, and shook his head.

The two stood in awkward silence for a moment.

"...Since you're here," Spy said, "perhaps you could help me with something."

With a lifeless shrug, Sniper did not look away from the window. "Shoot."

"Tempting as it would be to kill you right now, I must decline," Spy said, eliciting a chuckle from the other merc. "Have you paid any attention to Pyro on the battlefield?"

"Some. It watches my back sometimes. Why?"

"Have you noticed anything... strange about it?"

"Hmmm." Sniper turned to face him, and Spy nearly got his hopes up. "Why, have you?"

Spy grit his teeth. "At this point, I'm starting to wonder. Its behavior seems unusual to me for some reason, but no one else in this stupid base seems to think so."

"Everyone's been actin' different, mate. Including you."

Something snapped, and Spy pounded a fist against the windowsill. "Can you answer the question or not?"

Sniper was silent for a moment before he tipped his head back, draining the rest of his coffee. "If somethin's up with Pyro, it hasn't said anything to me about it."

"You—!" Spy sputtered, but Sniper was already leaving. He glared after him, fuming, before spinning around and storming toward the base's entrance.

But as he neared the door, he froze.

It hasn't said anything to me about it.

That was it.

The next day, during their match, Spy kept a closer eye on Pyro than before.

The merc was charging through the map, blasting its flamethrower at anyone and everyone who came near it. If a fellow merc was ever on fire, it quickly put them out before going straight back to setting everything else on fire.

Months ago, when committing such atrocities, it would typically be giggling and laughing and whooping in glee as it stormed through the burning destruction.

Now, it was dead silent, its movements sharp and hurried as it set every enemy in sight ablaze.

Spy, who was cloaked, nearly gave himself away, laughing as his suspicions were confirmed. Yes, something was for sure wrong with Pyro, and he was not going crazy. Satisfied, he resumed his role in the match as normal, decloaking and backstabbing a soldier that the Pyro had missed.

But as the match came to an end and the team returned to their base, it dawned on him: Yes, he'd confirmed that something was wrong with Pyro.

But he still didn't know why.

#tf2 spy #tf2 pyro #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #team fortress 2 #tf2 sniper #tf2 #my art #my writing #fanfic #flickering fanfic #don't forget to read the prologue!

[ashesbreadandbutter]

Vox x Alastor || Tell Me Who Did This, Now.

So I know I know, commission work yes yes I'm getting to it BUT! I wrote a little blurb for that little comic @milariro drew for radiostatic which is literally like my favorite ship I think. 👀

Anyway hope y'all like it! ÙwÚ

Word Count: 2k

Rating: PG(?), maybe PG-13. Mostly angsty ish feel?

-

It isn't the first time he's lost track of him somewhere but every time it happens Alastor hopes it's the last. 

He hasn't seen Vox in days and considering how close they are… it's strange, worrisome. 

Vox usually keeps up with him, taking the time to send messages and letters and pop up at the most sudden of times and Alastor always responds. Life in hell has been growing on the two of them, Vox has been so excited recently… so eager to announce that he had a dream, one where he could publicize the two of them, where they could happily pursue their goals… together and Alastor both loved… and despised the very idea. 

Really he himself is fine with his little following; those few sinners, Vox included, who seemed to always tune in but he'd be a liar if he told himself that he didn't see this …new behavior that seemed to jump out of his friend. Vox was a big dreamer, they had spent many long hours talking to each other, laughing and joking while also spewing their deepest hopes and dreams…well usually it was Vox who did so while Alastor listened and encouraged him but he couldn't help but want to stop the other at the same time.

To tell him that he didn't need to go out there and get big and famous or whatever because Alastor likes the way Vox already is but his friend, his silly friend had his hopes for their pitiful, shameful lives down here so who would Alastor really be to stop him?

To put it lightly, Alastor is anxious over the other demon who was still just hardly taller than Alastor's own shoulder. He's worried that something might have happened to his friend considering how long he's been missing now. After all, Alastor had noticed the way they seemed to draw more attention these days when they were out together… the sneaky glances and judging gazes the other sinners would give them.

Alastor doesn't care, couldn't care less especially considering how easy most demons are to get rid of but… Vox had seemed to grow rather conscious of his presence outside because of it all. 

There's been times where he's even mentioned it, brought it up when it was just him and Alastor together.. Alastor could never forget it, the first time it was ever brought up… the way that Vox seemed to look over his shoulder and double check locks and doors with the excuse of making sure they were ‘safe’. 

It angers Alastor. 

Annoys him so bad to the point that he'd kill them, split their skulls and the ground they walked and before Vox’s very own feet but… for some reason whenever Alastor gets to that point… the point of nearly no return, Vox will lightly brush his hand against his own and while that kind, warm smile and tell Alastor that it was okay. 

That they didn't matter. 

That he didn't care. 

And so on and so forth. 

Alastor moves through the room now, annoyance dripping into the air around him as he seems to get ready to go somewhere… to go look for him because after everything they've been through so far he could admit that he didn't… like it when he couldn't keep tabs on Vox. When they weren't together so Alastor could defend him if needed. When he couldn't hover around Vox like a hawk threatening to peck out anyone's eyes who dared to even spill a drop of liquor on his shoes. He's smiling but he's anything but happy as he gets dressed to go out and hunt down Vox himself..

It's not until he's all ready, a clawed hand reaching out to his front door when his ears suddenly perk as the sound of knocking from the other side fills the room. 

Alastor freezes for a moment, his mind simply going blank in that very moment except for the thought of Vox that lingered and as he shifted gears and continued to reach out and turn the door before another knock could be heard, Alastor found himself faced with Vox. 

Immediately there's a surge of electricity that rushes through his body at being faced with his friend. 

He's relieved, for starters, just seeing him but then that turns into confusion, then slowly into unbridled rage when he takes in the sight of the other more closely. 

“Al..” Vox chuckles softly, that little chuckle that Alastor had grown rather fond of over their time of knowing each other even in those moments when he did it after telling some stupid joke or when it happened when they seemed to press close to each other in the moments when they could. He usually loves hearing it but this time he does not. 

Especially because it's glitchy, corrupted from what he can see. 

Not while Vox stands before him looking like a stray, beaten dog who practically limped its way back to its owner.

“I know I'm later than I said I'd be but hey, I'm here now yeah?” Vox starts off, or at least attempts to through riggidy default settings and his scratchy voice box though Alastor seems to understand him anyway. 

He doesn't want to though. 

He doesn't want to be faced by him when he's like this and all Alastor manages to do is let out a glitchy sound himself though unlike Vox he's not tired or worn, he's energized, livid. 

His eyes move over Vox's form; looking at his heavily dirtied and wrinkled shirt that seemed to be missing a few buttons then they look at the way Vox seems to cradle one of his arms and of course Alastor takes in his screen which seemed shattered, clearly punched in. 

Rightfully so, Vox seems to grow self conscious as the way Alastor hasn't responded yet. He knew that appearing like this at such a late hour would be one thing for the man but it's so strange to see Alastor so… serious. Vox laughs a little, lowering his gaze as if shy, unwilling to show his face as he slowly looks down to his shoes.

A moment of silence washes over them and Vox can't help but rub his already sore arm.

Maybe he shouldn't have come after all? Perhaps Alastor was even angry with him for doing so after already being hours late… Vox knew he shouldn't have come, should have just dealt with this on his own like he preferred to do so but they both knew Alastor would have come looking for him if he hadn't shown up because that's just who Alastor was when it came to Vox. 

His rushing thoughts come in bundles, so much so that the silence becomes deafening and Vox can't help the way his body wants to just naturally step back and walk away as if he never came to begin with, and maybe that was for the best? He hates bothering Alastor, hated not being strong enough to always hold his ground or to scare others away like Alastor so easily seemed to do and maybe it makes him feel inferior, unworthy of being with the other man which always makes his heart ache when he comes down to such a conclusion. He has so many dreams for them but at times much like these ones he wondered if he was just getting reality messed up with said dreams. 

It's not until a finger slips under his screen and lifts it to make Vox's gaze focus on Alastor's once more but this time… Vox seemed to freeze at what he saw on the other's face, his functioning eye growing wider at the scene as he finds himself suddenly holding his breath. 

He's distorted, glitching and reversing, sigils forming in the air behind him as his eyes look into Vox's. His neck twisted over to the side and eyes big, red, and ticking in a way that makes it seem that Alastor is just barely clinging to patience… like he could burst at any moment in a fit of claws and teeth and as Vox stares up at him, shocked, he can feel shivers run up his back as Alastor continues to hold his head in place. He's gentle but firm, refusing to let this go which was something Vox would also say to him..

To just forget it and move on but no, nonono.

Alastor refused not to be pissed and as far as he knew, he had worked to do..

People to punish, bitches to burn. 

“Who… Did this.. to you?” He says and with the way the room seems to shake it's clear that Alastor is not in fact asking but instead demanding to know. Vox can feel the bloodlust leaking off of the other demon, the fury he carries and Vox was sure that if he was anyone else in hell in that very moment that Alastor probably…wouldn't have hesitated to spill his blood and the ground he stood on. 

Vox recognized the look, his eyes slowly lowering again now while Alastor shifts his hand to caress the side of Vox's face, running his thumb over the undamaged side and though it's a kind gesture Vox can feel the way Alastor's hand seems to lightly shake. 

Vox makes a soft sound, something that he didn't make often and closes the gap between the two of them, wrapping his arms around Alastor and clinging to him and at first the taller of the two freezes at the reaction before slowly but surely… calming, at least as much as he could right now. 

It takes a moment for Alastor to immediately respond but Vox doesn't mind, not when he can feel how warm Alastor was and smell his scent so closely and after everything it seems to take some pressure off the TV demon. When Alastor does hug him back his hold is a bit firmer, a bit tighter, like he may get upset if Vox dares to pull away from him now. 

“Alastor, please…” Vox sighs softly,  brokenly and though Vox's voice box is fucked Alastor still makes out those words and the gentle way Vox seems to speak to him. 

“Please just…just leave it.” He says next, moving to bury his head in Alastor's chest and stepping in closer only to tumble forward onto a knee making Alastor jolt and quickly grip him closer before he finds himself in both of them. “Please let it go… I'll be okay, I'll recover. I always do don't I?” he says, practically begging the other man and Alastor feels his face twitch and he's never before more angry at his own curse for not being able to show just how upset he is right now. Yes of course he was sure Vox would be okay but he despised the idea of the other growing used to being treated this way by others...

“I'll be okay see?” Vox tries to convince the other or maybe… he's trying to convince himself now as he lifts his head and gives Alastor that silly, stupid smile again and it both annoys the deer demon but also convinces him enough to not leave right now and go hunt down however did this for there was all the time in the world to do such later. 

Vox had come to him at this time for a reason and even if the reason was simply because Vox had no one else Alastor didn't care. He'd help him just like he always did… and so with a huff Alastor looks down to Vox with that everlasting smile though it does seem strained. 

“Come inside… I'll take care of you.” He says and though Vox still feels guilty for showing up and possibly ruining Alastor's day with his appearance he also feels… grateful knowing Alastor was there just like he always was. So Vox gives in, sighing and nodding softly, gathering himself and getting to his feet and as Alastor holds the door wide open for him he trails in before the door closes back and snaps shut behind the two of them now allowing them to be alone together, where they were always guaranteed safety from the hellish world around them. 

Where Alastor could continue to keep a close eye on him for just a while longer. 

~

#hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #alastor x vox #alastor #viviz #hazbin hotel fandom #fanfiction #fandom #fanfic #fanart #radiostatic #alastor the radio demon #vox x alastor #blurb #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #i will write almost anythin #writing commissions #please commission me #writing comms open #fanfic writing #writers of tumblr #writer for hire #writing #writeblr #hurt/comfort #fav ship

[daedelweiss]

“LIFE MISSION: SAVE MY BROTHERS” 💖 The Red Knight’s Mission (Episode 1: The Buried Memory Page 28-41)

and, finally, the last set for this episode. this was actually harder to get through compared to the rest of the sets, physically and emotionally 😭 drawing leo grieving broke me and i cried like a baby sketching that panel. i wish i could add more panels in but i didn't want to drag out the comic too long and give myself too much work. it was supposed to play out similarly to "E-Turtle Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" where leo's memories pushed back against him to avoid painful memories but i feel like that would've destroyed the vibe and somberness of the softer moments. plus it'll make the episode much MUCH longer. also leo didn't actually lose the colors of his scarf. it was more for symbolic reasons. and if the last panel of page 35 looks familiar, i took inspiration from the movie and imitated the expression mikey had when he tried to open the portal for the third time to save leo. (no, i did not trace it) it may or may not be foreshadowing for later 🤭 and yeah, the comic will be taking a hiatus……. to make more of the comic 😂 dw it's not for mental health or personal life reasons… actually it's partly that because i have an upcoming VISA interview 😭 bUT i'll still be making LM stuff behind the scenes, dw >:3 next episode won't be as drama or action packed as this one but… we will meet raph for the first time 👀 i'm really rEALLY excited to work more on the comic, and that's TWO reallys! i just hope y'all will be patient with me because it is no easy feat working on this. i love it but i'm only one person, after all 😄 thank you so so much for supporting this comic again! comments and shares are very much appreciated! 💖 BEGINNING / PREV / NEXT EPISODE (coming this april) •

( 🌿 please do NOT repost, edit, trace, use, and/or sell 🌿 )

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #tmnt 2018 #unpause rottmnt #unpause rise of the tmnt #save rottmnt #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt raph #my ert #rottmnt life mission AU #life mission AU #separated AU #rottmnt life mission comic

[randomshyperson]

I Put A Spell on You - Wanda Maximoff Kinktober #03

Summary: After a tense week and a training session, Wanda finally had enough of your attitude.

Warnings: (+18), heavy smut with power dynamics,  brat tamer!Wanda and sub!Reader, edging, orgasm denial, slapping, a lot of teasing, blindfold and magical restrictions, enchanted strap, kind of rough,  implied enemies to lovers, some cursing | Words: 3.559k

A/N-> This is almost late. I totally forgot I had to post the stories.

General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

It was Natasha's idea, or at least it was a Black Widow kind of thing.

Most of what Wanda knew about it came from Steve's official report on the training, and the rest of the story came from Sam gossiping around the tower.

But in a nutshell: You had your vision temporarily impaired on the last mission, you were knocked out by it and it almost fucked everything up. Wanda would have thought that this was all it took to diminish your ego a bit, but instead, you and Nat had a weird widow's agreement about eliminating weaknesses or whatever, and this was adapted to your training.

The whole story was the reason you were training with a blindfold on. 

And don't let Natasha hear this, but you were an impressive fighter, even more than the older widow. Somehow you were more agile and stronger than Nat, and it was the kind of thing that made Clint remark worriedly about how much harder your widow training could have been and secretly made Wanda's heart beat faster.

But back to the point: Wanda shared very few training shifts with you. Steve and Nat found peaceful interaction between team members advantageous, so as you didn't get on so well, she had fewer training sessions in your company.

Well, that changed because you seemed determined to prove that you could block blows without seeing them.

"Wow, you're still here." It came out more ironic than she wanted, but Wanda was actually almost impressed. It had been nearly a month since the whole thing had started, and this training was coming after a particularly exhausting mission. She was just going for a quick session - so that the muscles wouldn't lose habit as Steve liked to say - when she found you in the empty tower gym. 

The eyes covered by a black cloth were an almost comical sight, or at least, Wanda assumed that finding it funny was what she was feeling, every time she saw your serious and concentrated form, sweating in the gym.

"Good evening, Wanda." You greeted her without looking at her, your head down. You were listening to her movement she assumed. 

Wanda muttered the greeting back, busy leaving her belongings on the bench and looking for a treadmill. But you cleared your throat. "Don't you want a real challenge?"

She chuckled, rolling her eyes. "Oh, and that would be you, of course."

You smile, your hands behind your body. Wanda thinks she likes the blindfold, it allows her to stare you brazenly, without you even knowing.

"I'm a legendary fighter, yes."

She has to laugh at how naturally you say that. She takes a quick look at the treadmill, and well, smashing your ass really does sound more interesting.

"Okay, real challenge, show me what you've got."

Wanda positions herself on the opposite side of the mat from you, and clears her throat when you remain static.

" Won't you take your shoes off?"

She grimaces softly. Yeah, your hearing was starting to impress. Sighing begrudgingly, she uses magic to make the shoes come off and float away, and before she even has a chance to speak, you do.

"No magic tricks." It sounds like a serious warning, rather than a request, and Wanda doesn't miss a chance to torment you.

"Oh, is that too much for a legendary fighter?" She mocks, but all she gets back is an easy chuckle that she isn't able to reciprocate because you adjust your training gloves and the movement is distracting enough.

After a moment, you get into position. "I'm ready."

"At last." She scoffs, stepping forward. 

Ultimately, she's impressed. And she almost begins to believe that maybe the cloth is fake - there's no chance that you can dodge absolutely all the blows she's so exhaustively learned with such ease. 

It doesn't take long for Wanda to start getting impatient, and for you to start smiling at her, in that smug way that makes her skin itch.

She makes a mistake, and it's enough for you to knock her to the ground.

"Again." You say, standing next to her, equally out of breath but without a scratch. Wanda huffs.

"How the fuck are you doing this?" She asks, getting to her feet with a magical push. You swallow dry, taking a step back, very alert.

"Practice, of course." You mutter. "Are you ready to continue?"

But Wanda narrows her eyes, her head tilting slightly at your sudden alertness. She decides to test a theory, and red sparks appear in the air near your head.

The leap you make in the other direction makes her giggle playfully. 

"Something wrong, darling?"

You grumble, raising a hand in warning, irritably hitting exactly the right spot to point it at her. "Stop this. I told you, no magic."

But Wanda is tired, and she's feeling naughty tonight. Something about your vulnerability makes her body heat up.

She chuckles darkly, taking steps away that only make you swallow dry. "Someone's scared." She sighs, and the sparks appear again. You gasp, clearly anxious and not knowing where to strike.

It's Wanda's fault, there are too many of those and magic is much harder to defend against.

She chuckles at your state, and you snap back almost immediately."That's not funny, Maximoff." 

A magical tug pushes under your knee, behind your elbows, near your foot. Everything makes you jump with fright and sends Wanda into a fit of giggles.

"You're not so cocky when you're scared."

In a desperate attempt, you try to attack the magic, which only disappears into thin air against your skin. Wanda just stands back, watching the scene with amusement.

With an impatient grunt, you raise a finger at her. "Stop this shit, I'm warning you-"

"Don't be rude, darling. I like you best when you're polite." Wanda interrupts, and your exclamation of indignation turns into a grunt of pain when a magical tug forces you to your knees on the mat.

"What the hell?" You gasp, raising your hand to remove the blindfold. 

But the sensation that follows is like ropes grabbing your wrists and pinning your fists behind your back. Your heart is racing at the same moment. "Wanda, what the actual fuck you're doing?"

Although you can't see her, you hear her very well. Her slow steps towards you, until she makes you jump gently when she touches your cheek. You swallow dry. "Stop this bullshit, Wanda, I'm serious."

She pushes her tongue into the roof of her mouth, a clicking sound that makes you swallow dry again. Her fingers caress your cheek, and the lack of visibility makes everything all too vivid.

"You have a very dirty mouth, kotenok (kitten)." She retorts in a tone that makes you shudder from head to toe. With a dry throat, you look up, even though you can't actually see her.

It must be a good thing for your sanity, though. God knows what you would have done if you could have seen the way Wanda's eyes darkened with hunger when she saw you on your knees, looking up at her.

Licking your lips, you say calmly: "Be very careful with your next action, Wanda. It will be definitive for our future interactions."

She bites back a smile, and her hand leaves your cheek for your hair, the motion in the strands at the nape of your neck drawing a stubborn sigh from your lips.

"See, it's much better when you're polite." She says softly, letting her fingers slide between the strands, stroking your hair gently. "That's how it goes. You behave nicely, and you're rewarded. Behave badly, and well..."

To illustrate, she moves her free fingers. You hear the magic before you feel it - right under your blouse, like a rough tug on your left nipple that makes you grunt in pain.

"Fuck, you little shit-" But swearing at her makes it worse. The sensation is repeated on the other nipple, not real enough to hurt the flesh, but enough to cause pain. And in the current scenario, on your knees and blindfolded, just the right amount for a wave of pleasure to wet your panties. 

It takes you by surprise, so much so that instead of grunting in pain, you practically moan. And that makes Wanda smile, especially as she can see the blush rising on your face.

"You need to improve that attitude." She starts again, adjusting the grip on your hair to force your face in her direction again. You bite the inside of your cheek hard, certain that this time, you would have whimpered. "You've been acting like this for too long, you've gotten comfortable in your naughtiness. I can fix that."

"Wanda..."

"Shush, darling, now you don't talk. You listen. Isn't that what you were hoping to train yourself to do?" She teases, and the grip loosens. You don't have to obey, but you're desperate to do so.

With a lump in your throat, you nod and remain silent. And the next second, when the sound of a zipper fills the room, you grow restless and alert.

You're ready to question when Wanda sighs.

"Shit, honey, that's been working for me too." She panted and you were dying to understand what the hell she was talking about when, along with her shortened breaths, you heard a sound that shook your body to its core. 

Was it really possible that Wanda Maximoff was fingering herself right in front of you?

"W-wanda-"

The slap isn't magical - nor is it weak. Your cheek burns, but Wanda grabs your face anyway.

"I told you to be quiet." She grunts, and in a way, the affected voice is confirmation enough of your suspicions. You can feel your underwear starting to feel uncomfortable with the dampness gathering. "You've talked a lot of shit since I joined the team, now you listen, you brat."

Not only do you hear it, but as the movements continue, you can smell it. Her sweet, intoxicating essence is enough to make you moan for the first time in the night.

Wanda let that one slide, because the sound is too good to punish you for it.

And because you've held still long enough for her fingers not to be enough anymore, she's decided that you deserve a reward.

"Open your mouth, darling, I've got a little treat for you." She sighs, and you obey almost immediately, even though your face is burning.

Wanda removes her fingers from inside herself, sighing softly as she does so. Unhurried, she presses them against your tongue and has to bite down hard on her own when you buckle forward, sucking on her fingers with enthusiasm.

"Look at you, who knew you were such an eager little thing?" She taunts, although the sensation of your tongue on her fingers is almost making her lose her train of thought. She can only imagine how deliciously warm you must feel elsewhere.

You just keep moaning, sucking all her wet pleasure from her fingerprints, and Wanda has to reach down and grab your hair once more to regain some of her sense of grounding.

Her voice is hoarse when she speaks again, but you don't seem to mind. "Did you like your treat, darling?"

You open your mouth to reply but hesitate before doing so. And Wanda smiles proudly when she realizes. "Oh, dear, you can speak if it's to answer my questions. Tell me how much you appreciated your treat."

Swallowing dryly, you lower your head. "I loved it, Wanda. And I would love to taste it from the source."

She bites back a giggle, using one hand to lift your chin. "You didn't even thank me."

"Th-"

The magic squeeze comes directly to your clit now. You let out a little yelp, but Wanda's hand doesn't let you lower your head. 

"I didn't tell you to thank me. Rather, I was reprimanding you because good manners don't come to you naturally." She clarifies, and with tears of pain and pleasure in your covered eyes, you nod in understanding. Wanda sighs. "I'm going to make a good girl out of you, even if I have to keep you on edge all night for it."

The whimper that escapes your throat is humiliating, Wanda loves the sound. 

The next sensation on your skin is that of a chain, wrapping itself around your neck. 

"We need to continue this in a more private place, darling. Where no one will interrupt us." Wanda guides, and the chain gives a gentle tug, the hint caught just in time by you, who are on your feet almost immediately. Wanda bites back a smile. "Fuck, I could get used to this."

She manages to lead you quietly and obediently through the empty corridors, but your anxiety overcomes you at the door to her room.

You stop walking, gulping. Wanda smiles because you're waiting for permission to ask a question, even when you're dying to have it answered.

"It's my room." She clarifies, but you shake your head, signaling that it wasn't your doubt. She shouldn't be impressed that you've already become able to memorize the sound of the way to the rooms, but she is. Smiling, Wanda brings a hand up to your face again. "What do you wish to ask, darling?"

You sigh at the permission granted. "Are you... are you sure? About this..." Wanda is taken aback. Your hands are still bound, you're still blindfolded, at her mercy, and yet you're worried about how sure and comfortable she is. You take a deep breath as if trying to find the right words. "This is important, Wanda. We can't go back to how things were before if I come in. And if you're not sure, send me away, and I swear we won't talk about this again and-"

Wanda moves in, it's quick and less hungry than she thought your first kiss would be, considering recent events and frankly, the way she's been craving you.

Your lips are soft and kind of addictive. Your mouth kisses her with real confidence as if you've done it a dozen times, and Wanda has no idea how often you've done it in your dreams. 

But reality is superior to any of those.

You grunt against her mouth, impatiently, and Wanda knows it's because of your trapped hands. But all she can do is smile mischievously, using hers to pull you by the shirt into the room.

The door is magically closed behind the two of you.

You're not surprised to be put on your knees again - even if a moan of protest escapes you. Wanda smiled, feeling a wave of excitement at your vulnerable anxiety, your eyes blindfolded and your head moving gently as if you expected to hear what she was up to.

Wanda bit her lip, working on her own clothes without magic, so that you could hear the motions. It brought a shiver to watch you squirm gently, swallowing dry as if you could picture her naked. And your pleading sigh, practically meowing her name, made Wanda lose her mind.

Now wearing only her underwear, she grabbed your face again and kissed you with everything she had - teeth and tongue - and swallowed every throaty moan until she needed to breathe again. When she pulled away, a line of saliva connected your lips.

"We need a system, darling..." She murmured, her fingers working to open the belt loop of your sweatpants. "You know the color one? Green for go, and red for stop?"

"Y-yes, Wanda, please, just keep going-" She interrupted with a kiss mixed with a giggle at your desperate response, the hands that had opened your pants helping you to the bed, laying you down. The magical chains had adapted, and your hands were attached to the headboard now, holding you open for Wanda. Your arousal grew so intense that Wanda could see your muscles twitching.

She sighed contentedly as she sat on your hips, watching your curious and expectant movements. Magic did the work of removing your pants, but Wanda was taking her time teasing your skin under your blouse, having the best time in the world watching you squirm and gasp.

"Tell me what you want." 

You swallowed dryly, forcing your voice out: "Anything you want to give me."

Wanda bit back a giggle, her fingers tracing your torso. "Good answer, darling." She sighs, and in one tug, rips off your shirt. The remaining pieces are swept away as you try to keep your breathing under control. Wanda adjusts herself and sits on your stomach, her wetness and warmth against your skin making you wince. "I have an idea, you let me use you and I might consider letting you touch me, what do you think?"

"Fuck." You moan, and Wanda can't let that one slide, though the slap on your cheek is light, and much more of a teasing warning than a punishment. It makes you throb inside.

"Language." She warns, and you sigh.

"I'm sorry."

Wanda strokes the soft red on your cheek, leaning in in a way that makes her wetness slide down your abdomen. The involuntary contraction of your muscles draws a gasp from both of you.

"Behave yourself." She warns, and it seems to be as much about the language as your slight movements, and although you nod, you repeat the gesture. Wanda gasps and grips your cheeks tightly. But you force your body upwards, and her grip loosens as she begins to grind against your stomach, giving in to the sensation. 

It brings some kind of pride to know that she's just as affected by this as you are, but even as she's drenching your skin with her hot pleasure, Wanda lowers herself to wrap her hands around your throat and as she uses your tense abdomen to reach her own orgasm, her grip warns you who's in charge. She doesn't take long to come - all the teasing outside has gotten under her skin - and it's the hottest thing that's ever occurred to you, even if you can't see it.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." She gasps through the last waves of her orgasm, her hips thrusting hard into you, who pants beneath her. Her juices run down your belly and you squirm impatiently.

"Please, Wanda. Let me touch you." You beg breathlessly, but she kisses you hungrily, her hands going down to your waist. At first, you think she's going to give you what you want, but Wanda gropes you in an unusual way, and you hear her magic before you feel a new volume between your legs. It takes you by surprise, the enchanted item and your tense body makes Wanda break the kiss.

With her forehead pressed against yours, she asks: "Red or green, darling?" As if to encourage an answer, Wanda grabs the conjured fake cock in her hand. It's really enchanted because you feel everything and the pleasure of the moment's stimulation brings a gasp. You move your hips, in the same direction as her without realizing what you're doing, and Wanda giggles. "I still need words."

"Fuck, green, yes." You moan and Wanda gives you a warning bite on the lips for cursing, but your head is spinning with pleasure from the movements that continue between the two of you.

Toys are nothing new - but a magic strap-on that you can feel as an extension of you certainly is. And Wanda seems willing to drive you to the brink of insanity when she simply adjusts the toy at her entrance and sinks in all at once.

You whimper, almost coming at once. She rocks gently against your lap without caring.

It's hard to breathe, especially when Wanda picks up speed and practically jumps on your cock, her warm walls clenching around you, trying to stop you from pulling out. Everything is too hot and just when you're ready to come, Wanda grabs your throat.

"Hold it." It's an order, almost impossible to obey when she rides your lap with such determination. You choke, struggling against the chains, the hot knot in your belly begging to break.

You almost sob. "I-I can't... please-"

She lets out a wicked giggle and doesn't stop moving. "Don't worry, babe, you're not coming. No matter how much you want to."

Wanda moans, and suddenly her movements stop. She groans heavily, gets impossibly tight and you think you're going to come, but something holds you back. Almost like a force of strength, and when Wanda falls limp against you, and her body continues to tremble from the intensity of the orgasm in contrast to yours, burning with more frustration, you understand what she's done.

"Wanda, what the fuck?" you gasped in a mixture of disbelief and irritation. And instead of losing her temper, she giggles mischievously at you.

"That's why you don't deserve to cum, baby. You're a foul-mouthed brat." She bites your jaw as she sits up, and you gasp, feeling her clench around you. "You're not coming until you improve this attitude."

She thrusts into you as a warning and although you feel as if you could come, your body simply won't obey. Because of the blindfold, you can't see her red irises either. 

"You're so mean, Wanda." You groan, sighing at the sensation of her pulling out. 

"Oh, darling, we have barely started."

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #kinktober 2023 #wanda maximoff oneshots

[talesofesther]

sweet like cinnamon

Jenna Ortega x Reader

Summary: The small coffee shop became Jenna's favorite place in town, more so when she meets someone special there.

Requested by anon

A/N: The classic coffee shop story, we love to see. <3

Masterlist

When one is working on a movie, spending most of their day in a busy set surrounded by ten things happening all at once; it's inevitable to crave some peace now and then.

Jenna considers herself a little lucky. For the time of the filming, she's settled in a smaller town, and, all on her own, she found a small place to hide away sometimes.

It was the consequence of a wrong turn that brought her to the simple cafe; it was all warm colored, tones of brown and orange, overflowing coziness. Its back wall was brick, with multiple order options written on black boards; there were fairy lights all around, they were the main source of light, giving the place a dimmer look; the seats were 80s styled, insanely comfortable, and all around there were vintage decorations, from vinyls to an old arcade machine; not to mention they served one of the best coffees she's ever had.

Jenna fell in love with the place. It was her little secret spot.

She visits at least twice a week.

Today, she walked in hugging her hoodie closer to herself, feeling the cold air from outside dissipate into warmth and a fresh scent of cinnamon as the glass doors closed behind her. Jenna breathed in the calming atmosphere, smelling something sweet in the air. Maybe she'd have more than just a coffee today.

"Hello, sweetheart," the old lady who usually took the orders greeted Jenna, already used to her weekly visits, "the usual?"

Jenna nodded happily, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her hoodie; "and a piece of whatever this sweet smell comes from."

The lady smiled knowingly, writing down Jenna's order, "that would be my classic apple pie, you'll love it."

"I know I will."

Jenna sat by her usual spot by the window, it was a smaller table with just two seats and gave a view of the whole coffee shop whilst still being reserved enough. The actress slumped on her chair, feeling the weight of the week down on her shoulders — there was no better feeling than putting on her biggest and most comfy hoodie and sweatpants and finally taking a moment for herself away from the commotion; Jenna loves her job, but she's still human. The fairy lights in the ceiling were easy on the eyes, and the low tune of a 70s song was like gentle waves rocking her body. It felt like recharging.

"Jenny!"

The resemblance with her name got Jenna involuntarily looking up, and sure enough, a girl she's never seen before was placing her coffee and pie down on the counter. A rather cute girl, Jenna noticed.

She got up, walking over with a grin teasing at her lips. Her manicured hands closed around the coffee cup, feeling the warmth of it seeping into her skin; "it's Jenna, actually," she grinned, glancing up at the girl who now looked at her with comically large eyes.

"Shit," you mumbled, "that does not look like an 'a'." You gestured to Jenna's name written on the coffee cup.

Jenna turned the cup around, and sure enough, the calligraphy there wasn't the best.

"I'm sorry, I'm new."

Came your voice again and Jenna returned her gaze up, only to catch you pursing your lips, face growing hotter by the second as you shifted on your feet.

Surprisingly, Jenna felt her own cheeks warming up. "That's alright," her glance darted down to the tag in your uniform so she could catch your name, "gives me an excuse to properly introduce myself."

That was the first time Jenna saw you.

Her visits evolved to three times a week.

———

The small bell above the door dinged, and you looked up from the cappuccino you were making. It was just a young man looking rather tired. You cursed under your breath for the involuntary expectation.

It's not like you were waiting for her. Or maybe you were. Thing is, she only showed up once this week, and it's already Friday.

And when, for the last two weeks, she's been showing up at least trice without failure, your heart tends to jump to your throat every time you hear the doorbell.

You remember the first order you gave to her, a latte and an apple pie; simple, yet delicious.

She usually asks the same, the coffee at least. You know it by heart.

She was also the prettiest girl you've ever seen; touche, you knew who she was, but you liked to think that her social status didn't influence your relationship — could you call it a relationship? — she certainly doesn't seem to care.

The bell dinged again but you refrained from looking up this time, keeping your eyes on the filled-to-the-brim mug you were carrying to the old lady on the table nearest the door.

"Fancy seeing you here."

You flinched at the sudden sweetness of her voice right beside you, feeling a drop of warm coffee spill on your thumb.

"Christ, Jenna," you mumbled, glancing up at Jenna only to see that dazzling smile of hers being directed at you; her shoulder-length hair half up and half down; cheeks a little pink from the cold outside; black headphones hanging from her neck. She took your breath away so easily these days.

"Missed me?" She teased, getting your stomach all fluttery.

With a chuckle, you indulged her; "you could say that," before turning around to deliver the old lady's order.

Jenna made herself comfortable on her usual table, keeping her gaze aimlessly out the window as she soaked up the cozy atmosphere. The smell of freshly baked goods hang in the air; there was no music playing today, just the sound of the coffee machine and cutlery clinking together.

A mug was suddenly placed in front of her, catching Jenna's attention. A perfectly made latte macchiato. She bit back a smile.

"Can I get you anything else?" You asked, standing beside her with your hands behind your back and the ghost of a smile on your own lips.

"Maybe a bit of your time?" Jenna raised a brow, bringing the mug to her lips and taking a sip, she hummed approvingly at the taste.

Taking a deep breath in, you take a glance behind the counter to where your manager stays. You wonder if you'll get in trouble for getting too cozy with a customer.

Jenna does that sometimes; ask for more of your presence, flirt — at least you think that's what it is. Most of the time, you don't know what to do with yourself when it happens. You don't know what she wants. She has the habit of making your heartbeat skyrocket.

"It's your fault if I get fired," you said as you sat down on the chair in front of her.

And then Jenna scrunched her nose, almost closing her eyes as she said something about five minutes not killing anyone; and your heart just about melted.

"Did you always live here?" Jenna was itching to know more about you.

"Not really, I visited before" you hummed, leaning your arms on the table, "but I've moved here recently, wanted a change of scenery I guess."

You could feel her eyes on you as she twirled her coffee, spoon clinking against the porcelain. "It's a pretty little town," you shrugged.

"It is pretty," Jenna agreed, her eyes not leaving you once.

Conversation flowed quite easily between you both, she felt comfortable around you, something that doesn't happen often. It didn't help with the natural attachment she was already developing for you.

Frost was collecting on the corner of the windows yet Jenna could feel her hands slick with perspiration. Nervousness is creeping up on her more than she thought it would, the words she rehearsed this morning are shuffled in her mind.

Eventually, she cleared her throat, feigning calmness the best she could; "I was thinking, maybe we could go out sometime, explore the town together?" She finally averted her gaze from yours, "I don't have any filming to do this weekend."

You panicked, "Oh, uh-" unable to form a coherent sentence for a second, so you blurted the first thing you thought of; "I'm working this weekend."

It was the wrong thing to say because Jenna deflated a little, she pursed her lips and curled in on her herself; "that's okay, I was- it was," she shook her head, forcing a smile, "it was a stupid idea."

No. You wanted to say. It's not stupid at all. But you didn't have the courage yet, you just mumbled you had to get back to work and left her table.

Jenna watched you leave with her heart in her hands, sure she'd ruined whatever you two were or could be.

———

Jenna didn't show up for a week.

It felt like a part of your day was missing.

———

It was late at night when Jenna finally managed to walk out of the set — or more so, drag herself out. Her feet were heavy to lift off the floor with each step, her posture not as straight as it usually is.

She didn't register where she was walking until she came face to face with the glass doors of the familiar café; its fairy lights, comfy seats, and general warmth were calling out her name.

Given the time, there were only a few people inside, already finishing their drinks. Jenna spotted you through the window, her breath got a little stuck; you were cleaning the counter, swaying gently from side to side, no doubt following the tune of whatever old song was playing inside.

Jenna pushed open the door. You looked up instantly, almost as if feeling her presence.

She raised her hand in a timid wave, unsure of what to say.

You regarded her for a while and Jenna felt some kind of vulnerable under your eyes, until you simply motioned with your head toward her usual table.

Jenna understood quickly, thankful for the way you read her. She sat down, and not long after, her coffee order was being placed in front of her.

There was no need for her to ask you to stay today, you did so willingly, making yourself comfortable in front of her.

"Hi," you said softly.

Both her hands closed around the warm mug, Jenna blinked slowly, managing a smile; "hi."

"Are you okay?" The look in your eyes didn't mask your worry, her sudden fragility was tugging at your heartstrings.

Jenna nodded slowly, becoming hyper-aware of her hanging eyelids, darker eyes, and tousled hair. "Yeah, just tired."

You smiled something melancholic, "you look the part."

Jenna chuckled humourlessly, brushing away strands of hair that had fallen into her eyes, "I know you're closing soon, I won't stay long."

"I'm the one closing today," you explained quickly, leaning on the table so your hands were just short of brushing Jenna's, "so you can stay as long as you need."

Jenna tapped her mug with her nails, her eyes focused on your hands. She wondered if you could hear her heart and its frantic beating, if you could tell how much she wanted to drown in your warmth.

"Please, your company is my favorite." The tip of your fingers brushed her knuckles and you hoped she understood what you couldn't say.

Jenna took your hand. You felt gratitude, relief, and something else lingering on her touch; unaware that you had become part of Jenna's safe haven.

———

The next time Jenna walked into the café, it was because you had asked her to.

She sat down on her table, butterflies going wild on her stomach and her knee bobbing up and down as she waited for you to appear.

You came to her with two to-go coffee cups in hand, a scarf snug around your neck, and a beanie pushing your hair down, with a smile reserved only for her; "I thought we could take a walk around town."

Jenna took one of the cups from you, her hand touching yours just a tad too long, and she knew her cheeks were as red as a tomato. She didn't care.

She didn't care, because you intertwined your fingers with hers on the way out. While the coffee kept one hand warm, you kept the other.

Jenna is one of those people who just happen in your life. She shows up on your first day at work and invades your dreams on the same night.

She's the one who makes a walk around town feel like the best date ever.

She's the one who kisses you when you're in the park, with brown leaves beneath your feet and cold wind on your cheeks. Her lips warm and tasting like brown sugar and something spiced, all cinnamon and coffee. 

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Jenna’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @thenextdawn @alexkolax @aahdiieb @mindingmybidness12 @melthedwarf @smugchorizo @the-lazy-turtle

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega #wednesday #wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega x you #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #jenna ortega fanfic #jenna x reader #my story

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

loved the beach Jake drabble!!! It got me thinking about one of the daggers ACTUALLY catching him full on in the act (if that's something you'd wanna write of course xx)

YES I DO, YES YES YES - also thank you sm, glad you liked it!!!! disclaimer for this one: i know nothing about the us military so. haha. if he'd get fired for this um. ignore it.

as always, feel free to keep requesting (here)!

top gun masterlist | top gun blurbs

It's risky. You're well aware.

But it's also late. And you're pretty sure no one's coming back into the locker room anymore.

So you don't say no. You don't even say maybe. You just cross your arms behind Jake's neck and pull him down to you before he can finish asking if you're sure.

You've got him out of his flight suit in half a minute, let him work his fingers into you for about two more and then mewl so pathetically into his kisses that he chuckles and gives in to your pleas.

He's thrusting into you a few moments later, your legs wrapped around him, your fingers tangled in his hair, scratching down his neck, your back against the cold metal of his locker, his lips leaving a trail of kisses down your chest - sloppy, wet and quick, all of it.

You're needy and whiny and entirely too close too fast as he rubs circles against your clit, your moans carrying far and deep into the empty room.

"Jake", you whimper, over and over, strung together incoherently as he hits all your sweet spots, groans into your skin and sinks his teeth into your throat. "Just like that."

His skin is so warm under your fingertips, so easy to drag your nails along, and he's doing everything right, everything, and you're so needy, so desperate, so close-

"Holy shit!"

Jake freezes and snaps his head around and you genuinely feel like your soul leaves your body for a second there, your heart thumping against your ribcage so hard and fast that you wouldn't be surprised if it jumped right out of your chest.

Over Jake's shoulder, you can see Bradley standing in the middle of the room, phone in his hand and door wide open behind him.

You'd been far from hearing the door open.

You'd been far from hearing anything.

Bradley's mouth has fallen open and his eyes are so comically wide that he looks straight out of an animated movie. He stares at you for one, two, three seconds too long.

You stare right back.

Nobody moves. Nobody says anything.

Then Jake presses his palms against the locker next to your head, shields your body with his.

"Get! Out!", he seethes, enough anger in his voice to snap Bradley out of his trance, who immediately throws up his arms in surrender and spins on his heels.

"I'm going! I'm going! Sorry!", Bradley calls out in blind panic, nothing short of sprinting out of the locker room with an unintelligible string of what you think are probably another few hundred sorry's.

You gawk after him for too long. Much too long.

So long that Jake drops his head against your shoulder and takes in a shaky breath.

You're panting as well, heart still racing too fast and too much adrenaline pumping through your veins. The reality of the situation takes a while to sink in.

There'd been a risk of getting caught, of course. But a risk that you'd kind of dismissed in the first place, because the squad had already left when you'd sneaked into the men's locker room after Jake.

And now... Now, Bradley had actually caught you.

He'd caught Jake fucking you against the lockers, plain and simple.

"Shit", you mutter. Jake pulls his head back and looks at you. He's still inside of you, his hands still caging you in, his lips still kiss-swollen and smeared with your lipbalm.

His eyes roam your face. You let him. You wouldn't know what else to do anyway. So you just let him take you in and slowly try to calm your breathing.

Then, softly, he presses his lips against yours - just once, touching briefly, lingering for a second too long. Your eyes flutter shut instinctively, waiting until he kisses you a second time, then a third, then a fourth, each one longer and longer and longer. You've stopped counting when his tongue brushes along your lips and you part them eagerly, scratch your nails down his neck again.

When he starts moving, you're meeting his thrusts - deliberately at first, but the desperate need for him hits you like a wave and within minutes, you're moaning again, whining and whimpering as his kisses get sloppier and his fingers drop to your clit once more.

Tomorrow, you'll have to deal with Bradley and the squad, who he's probably already texting frantically. But tonight, you'll take Jake home and he'll make you forget about all of it for a few hours.

#x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin smut #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin smut #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin #top gun #top gun x reader

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

you don’t have to answer this question if it seems redundant and/or ever-changing (ie: there’s not going to be a solid answer until there is one) or if the answer is to just wait and see, but do you still plan on 5 seasons for wdau?

i scoured the FAQ like four times for this question and i also did search your blog for answers, but i mostly found older posts, and i’m not sure if those answers have changed! i definitely understand that the comic has been very fluid in terms of what it takes to get the story told, and i’m very interested in seeing how the story gets told (i’ve been keeping up with this comic for a really long time! i love it a lot <3)

all in all, i don’t mind what it takes to tell the story, i was just wondering if any of the plans you shared with us, however small, had changed in any way :o

Ah, hm. Good question.

I think I've mentioned it before, but I've never made it easy to find, so that's not your fault.

At the moment, I think the story will be 6 seasons. If something changes, MAAAYBE 7? But I'm trying to keep it to six.

#chekhov answers

[im-getting-help]

Okay but what about:

Oliver is plastered. He's still holding a half empty pint of beer, the last one of the night. He's completely zoned out, eyes heavy with sleep and a dumb smile. He takes occasional sips, making absolutely no progress to finish the drink. And of course, he's looking at Felix.

Actually, 'looking' is not exactly the best way to describe what he's doing. Oliver is staring, he's studying Felix's face. Oliver is observing and admiring. He's completely lost in Felix; in his eyes and how long his eyelashes are; in his brows and the perfect arch they form when he's surprised; in his blushed cheeks that get a bit redder every time he drinks a shot; in his soft looking lips and the perfect curve of his cupid's bow.

Felix noticed, he always notices. He finds it cute when Ollie gets like this, all slow and sleepy and loose. He's used to Ollie looking at him. It gets really intense every time he's drunk or high, and they got drunk and high plenty.

He remembers the first time it happened, how uncomfortable it made him. He was trying everything to make Oliver look away for a minute. He tried to include him in the group conversation, he tried to make him talk, he tried to make him laugh, he even tried to point to something behind him, but nothing worked for long. Oliver went right back to staring.

When he finally got tired of it, he turned to confront him, looked back at him directly and realized, Ols was just completely relaxed and out of it. He probably didn't even realized he was doing it. He had this dopey smile that made Felix smile too.

After that he just let it be. Ollie stared when he was drunk, so what?

Felix was chatting with Farleigh and Jackson, the only two other survivors of the night, more like morning at this point. Once in a while he turned to check on Ollie, just to make sure he was still sitting and awake.

"You're good, mate? You need anything?"

Oliver takes a second to think, then he shakes his head side to side and takes another sip of his pint. Felixs chuckles and pat his head.

Farleigh yawns and stretches his limbs in a comically exaggerated manner, making Felix think of a big cat, a panther maybe.

"Well, I'm done with you guys for the night, see you tomorrow... or never".

With that warm farewell Farleigh put out his cigarette, gets up and heads for the door. Jackson too, drains his glass in one gulp says a quick goodbye and follows him out.

And then, only two remained.

Felix looks arround, the bar is practically deserted, only a few other patrons scattered over the tables, he can count them with one hand. He looks back at Oliver who's sprawled in his chair, holding his glass with both hands, lips curled up, staring at Felix, still in his own little world.

"You're going to finish that?"

Felix points at the beer in Oliver's hand. Ollie looks at the glass and takes another minuscule sip before going back to openly and shamelessly stare at Felix. Felix feels a little bit jealous of Oliver in that moment, he too wants to be completely spaced out.

They stay like that for a minute or two. Felix isn't the kind to openly stare at someone but Ollie isn't just someone, is Ollie. And he's started it, so without thinking it much he indulges.

He finds himself smiling instantly. He understand now why Ollie finds it so easy to get lost in it, is fascinating. Oliver's face was always very captivating to him. His icy blue eyes, bringing such a contrast against his dark hair and thick eyelashes. His pale skin, now that he was looking closely he noticed, had the faintest freckles, how cute. His angular and defined jawline and full rosy lips. 'Ols, you're beautiful mate' he thought, and giggled a little.

Oliver moved his glass up, ready to take another sip of his by now very warm beer, and Felix watched how his lips pressed against the edge of the glass and he swallowed the golden liquid. He watched as his throat, his adam's apple, bobbed with the action.

Felix wanted to put his hands around Ollie's neck, he wanted to gingerly press his fingers there and feel it as he swallowed.

Felix made eye contact with Oliver and in a moment of silliness he stuck his tongue out.

Oliver, still in the middle of drinking, snorted and immediately started coughing and laughing. Felix laughed too.

"Why?" Oliver gasped, voice broken.

"I don't know"

Felix giggled. Oliver was still coughing, shaking his head, cheeks red and smiling through it.

'Ollie, you're beautiful when you laugh too'

#Felix doesn't know he loves him #saltburn #oliver quick #felix catton #cattonquick #oliver x felix

[nikox400x]

Kung Fu Panda 4-All the budget went to the animation (spoilers)

Hey all, its me, the guy who everyday make a tour around this site but almost never talk. How are ya?

Two days ago something arrived to the cinema's screens, something that me and everyone were waiting for since 2018, the fourth film and the begginig of the new kung fu panda triology.

You know? When I sat on that theather seat with my friends to see what Dreamworks had prepared for us, I told myself; "Maybe that post I made a while ago throwing shit at what seemed like Kfp 4 was going to be was a bit hard, I hope I can come out regretting what I said that time"

And as soon as the credits ended, it was clear to me, I dont regret a shit. Maybe it was a little exaggerated, compared to what a megamind fan would think about the terrible sequel they made, but still: the film is crappy and boring most of the time. But why?

I'm going to explain some points.

1- Po? Is that you?

I don't know you guys, but i don't think the panda we knew in the end of the third film is the same as this one. Seriously, he share more comparisons with the Po from the legend of awessonless than the one from the films, maybe its a personal thing but it feels that way. At least in the beggining of the film feel like that.

And I don't know what he was thinking about when he decided to follow a thief he doesn't know at all and who tried to steal in his own palace, and that suspiciously know who is the chameleon, whose were her plans, her past, where she lived, where exacly they had to pass through avoiding all the guard inside her home, why the others thiefs of the city hate her so much... With Po's experience with criminals this is like a chef throwing water on a pan with boiling oil, it's obvious what is going to happen.

2- Zheng- Female Nick Wilde but without charisma or half of his intelligence.

I knew it from the first moment I saw Zheng's desing, the people who know me can corroborate that; her facial expressions, her tone while she talk, her animal race, her position as thief, her final when she is part of the justice same as the protagonist... it's clearer than water I think.

Everyone could say this is forgivable if she's smart, but surprise, she's not. This character is just an absurd try of this company for """"conect with infant audience""""(I don't know in what sense, I supose for the cute design, idk). But the point is, the supposed objective of the hollywood companies is give the new generetions better things than we got at their age, but what I see is laziness for write a decent scrip only for take an advantage of a known IP and make easy money. Even the children have quality standars, this is not the dragon warrior and of course this is not kung fu panda.

And talking about the dragon warrior, having our deep and lovely Tigress with her magnific development or Tai Lung back from the spirit realm... why in the hell this character exists?! Oh yeah, for being trending topic in twitter for three days. Yay...

3- The furious five and Shifu, for us : our pretty boys, and for Dreamworks: living jokes.

What made Kung Fu Panda what it is, is not the fucking panda, it's them. They're the inspiration for Po, their allies, the royale representation of kung fu and the ones which everything started with.

Po's a comic relief, and his mission is show his development in part using his humor, but the humor in this film barely works because of the lazy script. Something that even the talented Jack Black himself can't fix, beacuse his only role there is dublin his character, unlike the rest of the residents of the Jade Palace except Dustin Hoffman.

Seth Rogen (Mantis) himself even said that he wasn't even contact by Dreamworks in the first place, only for make a scream in the credits, that's sad beacause he really wanted to see Mantis on the screen. And I know and I understand that the five are expensive, but cmon, they could just simply change the voice actors and offset it with a good script but that's not the case of course. Their role in the film is being a counter for Po's constant jokes, for not to saturate the spectator with jokes, now that's not in there anymore, thank you Dreamworks.

4-The chameleoooohhn and her "motivation".

I can't say much, basically because out of her design she's nonsense. She says that because of her size, she was reyected for being a kung fu warrior.

Yeah of course but only one little thing, what about Shifu? Viper, a warrior without tips? Mantis, literally a dawn insect? Master Oogway, a TURTLE? The masters goose? C'mon even there's a fucking master chicken! Don't talk shit chameleon!

Her importance for the plot? Its almost a lie, the others villains had links to important characters; Tai Lung (with his link to Shifu's past), Shen (with his link to Po's past) or Kai (with his link to Oogway's past), all of them related to important characters. And her? To zheng's past and present I guess? But again, anyone know this character. She's like a villain from a Disney show, you know the type of villain who say a lot of things but at the end, she don't support nothing to the lore.

And her personality is like a mix of all the previous villains, and this sounds good right? HAHAH nope. Do you remember when as a child you mixed all the plasticines of all the colors to create the final color and you ended up with a color similar to poop? well that's exacly how her personality feels like.

5- Po's dads; the only reason they're there is because they ran out of characters to make the film.

The tittle itself tell everything, they don't do anything for the script in all the film, and their objective could be done since the start.

The script of the film except for the final looks like a draft which they didn't know how to complete, everyone who watch it can see it perfecly. The animation, the music and the backgrounds are the only things notable here.

6- Tai Lung and the cheapness nostalgia.

Fan service is not necesarry bad, above all if is used in a good way, they sold us Tai Lung as a miracle but his importance for the plot feels just like a Stan Lee cameo, I like Tai Lung I can say that. But this is too weak, Shen and Kai are only characters in the background who don't do nothing except being defeated or make facial expressions (I don't even joke that Shen would show respect to Po considering what we saw in the second movie, and Kai wasn't supposed to be destroyed as a spirit, what the hell is he doing here again? *sign* I'll to stop trying to make sense of this).

By the way, anyone else think that the dragon warrior role is understimated? I mean Shifu obligated Po to transfers the role to another one just because yes, i mean he only has been the dragon warrior for less than 5 years and now they want to replace him with a random. Everything just for at the end, he choosed a thief with at least 30 crimes registred and who was a traitor during the 75% of the movie.

7- The """""""""humor"""""""", except they forgot the parts where I must to laugh.

Seeing nonsense hits only beacuse yes stopped of being funny a long time ago, and no, I don't want to talk about the bunnies of the portrait because I would get sick. I had to go to the cinema drunk to endure the filler that the movie had, no joke, it was the only way to laugh at those jokes.

So I think about applying the same method as in any movie with bad jokes, ignoring the jokes. I tried to do the same thing but with the pace that the film managed, such a thing was impossible, the pace of the movie seems to be made for Tiktoker children with attention deficit. From the chaos in the quarry until Po takes the bitc... uhg fox out of prison, only 10 fucking minutes pass, all of that for what? So that you feel like the baseless information and the nonsensical plot that they tell us is of any use? they could simply make a non-canonical short and that's it, but no, yes or they were going to tell us a story written by rotten old men who spend the entire day watching Tik Tok. It's not going to be that the child who sees this doesn't get bored, we know that much today's children don't have many neurons as they say, but even to make movies for them you have to have a certain talent.

In some point at the beguining Po make a joke about the ausence of the furious five saying that at least he had them in cardboard posters, and this would be a good joke. Only if the stupid film could be prove that the franquise can do something memorable without the furious five, but again, that's not the case.

Don't have any respect for this movie, look what it had with you. I understand that it is enjoyable because of the animation but it does not go beyond that line, it destroys important things about the canon and spoils its teaching about the need for change by treating it in a terrible way.

Coclusion: KFP 4 is just another Po's adventure as Shifu says, it won't tell nothing to you or make you feel different, it's a shame but after Megamind 2 I imagined something like this. It's a dark era for film, expecially the animated one so like Scar said; Be prepare, there're worse things waiting for us.

Do you want something with real quality? You don't even need kung fu panda 1,2 or 3, for make it easy to this film let's take this marvelous example; kung fu panda: secrets of the scroll (2016). You'll say; "An animated short, this is not like-" Shhh Just watch it, you won't regret it.

If you think I'm wrong in something, just rewatch the film. And if still you aren't agreed with me, well, I respect you and I'm happy you like it. I wish I could love it as you do, but that doesn't mean that the movie isn't bad, because if you watch it with your brain on or remembering the previous movies it's terrible.

. Me? I've to write a story, I love you all. Except you, Dreamworks, I'm mad with you, expecially when you do this at the same day as Akira Toriyama's death :(

#kung fu panda #secrets of the scrolls #kung fu panda 4 #kung fu panda 2 #tigress #furious five #akira toriyama #dreamworks #po ping #lord shen #tai lung #general kai #kung fu panda 3 #the lion king

[acapelladitty]

As part of a very fun trade with the lovely @cooldreamyfox have a little bit of Captain Boomerang x Female Reader fun 😊👀💦

As with all things, the tension finally boils over after one sarcastic comment too many but as Digger's chapped lips press against your own, a sense of victory alights in your chest that you had not been the one to give in first.

He's not a bad kisser; his enthusiasm making the scruff of his beard score along your much more softer skin as his nasty tongue forces itself into your mouth with a soft moan on his part. He tastes like beer, the residual drops of his preferred drink making your nose crinkle even as his hands loop around your hips to hold you in place.

Heat pooling in your groin, you feel almost dazed as he pulls back with a bright grin.

"Man, if you fuck half as well as this then I might have to get on one knee here and now." He announces, thick accent skipping over the syllables as his fingers continue to grope roughly at your hips.

"That mouth of yours needs washed out." Wrapping an arm around his neck, you hold steadfast against him deliberately brushing your thigh against his groin in a playful tease.

"Depends on what part of you is doing the washing." Digger grins, eyes dipping to the short skirt which hangs just above your knee as his hands drop to his waistband. "At this point, I'll take whatever's going if it means i get a ride."

Rolling your eyes at him, you press harder against his groin. "Yeah, we'll see who's fucking who."

Shoving at his chest roughly, the force catches him off guard and he falls to the couch with a comically shocked expression, his hands still fumbling with the zipper of his slacks.

Without giving him a moment to gather himself you slide atop his lap, skirt pooling around his hands as you place your fingers on his stained white shirt, deftly freeing the top few buttons to expose the russet hair which covers his chest.

"Hairy." You comment, tugging at the expanse of fuzz with pinched fingers.

"Sign of a real man, doll." He answers without missing a beat, toothy smile ready to go even as his clumsy fingers finally free his slacks enough to expose the dingy grey boxers below.

From this vantage point, it's easy to see the thick bulge which is desperate to be freed of his confines and you drop a single finger to run along the heft of it.

"Poor baby," you coo, grinding your groin against his thighs, "I really make you feel that needy."

A playful growl breaks free of his throat as his thick fingers slip under your skirt to skim along the thin fabric of your panties, even the soft touch enough to alert him to the wetness which has gathered them.

"Likewise!" He laughs throatily. "You're soaked, sweetcheeks."

"I don't have a rubber."

"I'm clean. I swear! Got the little guy checked out a few weeks ag-"

"If you're lying then I'll cut it off." You warn, hand finally dipping within his boxers to wrap around and free his hard cock. He's short but gloriously thick and the base of his cock is covered with a thicket of russet pubic hair, the slightest hints of grey flicked throughout as it matches his chest hair. You clench your fingers around the base of it, admiring the way his body jumps to attention at the rough sensation. "Deal?"

"Mmm hmm. Yeah! Whatever you say, sweetheart." His voice is deep, arousal pulling his syllables even lower as he bucks into your hand. "Cut it off. I heard ya."

Raising to your knees, you pull the fabric of your panties to the side and drag the head of his cock along your slit, coating him in your arousal for easier entry. A bolt of pleasure forces a shudder as his cock brushes roughly against your clit, a sweet sigh breathing from your lips at the contact.

"Be good for me?" You ask, teasing his cock as it presses against your hole, just waiting to be allowing entry.

"Never. I'm a bad boy and no good at following instructions. Failed most of my classes in school. Proper dipshit."

The comment catches you off guard and causes a pretty giggle to bubble up from your chest. Wet and ready, you adjust him slightly with your hand and you press against the head of his cock, allowing it to slip within you even as the slight stretch forces your breath to hitch.

God DAMN he was thick and, judging by the smug smirk which tilted his lips, he knew it.

"Gotta say, your tighter than I though ya would be."

Your hand collides playfully with his cheek, the slap sounding more aggressive than it was intended to be but it has the desired affect as his face twists into a determined scowl and his hips jerk off the couch roughly, impaling every inch of him within your cunt in one rough thrust.

A noise somewhere between a groan and a growl slips free of your lips at the sudden fullness, the deliciousness of his stretch quickly melting away the discomfort as the heat of his hands pins you into place. He's filthy and masculine, his fingers leaving the slightest hint of dirt on your pale skirt as the scent of him, woody and tinged with musk, swirls around your senses.

Clenching without thought, a similar grunt of satisfaction rolls through his frame and your hands are quick to drop to his chest, once again planting themselves within the thick crop of chest hair as you roll your hips on his cock and slowly begin to fuck yourself.

Digger allows you to set the pace. His hands remain on your hips but they only seem determined to keep you stuck on his cock rather than to guide your movements. The steady rise and fall has your breath coming in short bursts as the girth of him pulls at your walls to spark the most delightful heat which leaves you wetter with every passing moment.

"You're so tight, babe. Wet as a slut and twice as up for i-" A yelp stopped his words in their tracks as your fingers slipped further into his open shirt to pinch and tug roughly at his nipples. They were already hard and he seemed to appreciate the rough treatment as his cock jerked within you, hands pulling you down for another brutal thrust.

"Do you like a rough touch, babe?" You ask, throwing the petname back at him as you shake your head with a mocking lilt. "And you had the cheek to call me a slut."

"Do that again and I might blow my load early." He warns with a daring grin. "Then how would we have fun?"

Tugging at his curled hair, his head falls back in open invitation as you dip forward and lick a soft line across his throat. He tastes of sweat and cheap cologne, the mixture heady, and you keep a harsh grip of his hair as you squeeze around him.

"I don't know, Captain, I'm sure that big mouth of yours is good for something other than talking shit."

If anything, the look of utter arousal which washes over his face at the obvious suggestion was almost enough to make you regret that you hadn't taken the opportunity to sample his skills before fucking him. However, as he shifted forward, his blunt teeth scraping along your neck in kind as he renewed his assault on your aching cunt, you supposed that there was always time for a second round against the ropes.

#captain boomerang #captain boomerang x reader #digger harkness #digger harkness x reader #flash rogues #dc comics

[neuvillove]

childe takes you on a laser tag date !

tags- sfw, fluff, gender neutral reader (no prns)

~ 863 words

a/n- i apologize if this isn't that well written, i'm trying to recover from writing block and it's my first time writing char x reader. that being said, any and all advice is (very) welcome (´⊙ω⊙`) (sobs this is my first time on tumblr too, i migrated from ao3)

“Y’know I’m not gonna go easy on you just ‘cause you’re all dolled up, right?”

Tartaglia grinned, looking at you with his dead-fish blue eyes as you strapped on the laser tag gear. You stared at him and his charming smile before rolling your eyes.

“Shut up and help me put this on.”

“Your wish is my command.” He replied as he began to walk over, placing one hand on your hip while the other adjusted the velcro strap on the back of your vest.

-

As per to your beloved’s request, you and Tartaglia had been put on seperate teams. You grumbled as you walked towards your team’s designated site with a bunch of snotty kids who’d been droning on and on about how who’s going to get more eliminations and you honestly couldn’t care less about what they were on about. The overworked arcade worker’s voice broadcasted on the loudspeaker above and after the procedural speech, the lights dimmed and you finally felt that adrenaline kick in. It was suddenly pitch black with only luminescent neon lights lining the crevices of the arena and speckles of glowing green and blue paint splattered on the walls. You subconsciously gripped the cheap plastic gun tighter at the thought of bumping into one, or god forbid two, kids in the dark.

An obnoxiously loud and comical countdown boomed throughout the room before you could hear the giggling and the running of the kids getting fainter and fainter. Feeling bad for the kids on your team, who’d already got such an unwilling participant, you decided to get a move on yourself as you trudged down one of the paths.

The footsteps were oddly muffled by the carpeted floor and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of tension as two of your senses were dulled. At this point you’d already been shot multiple times, while only shooting a handful of the other team. That was enough running around for you. You walked around what felt like the quietest area of the whole place, humming to yourself as you wondered how much time was left until you could leave this dark and silent death trap.

It was quiet, so quiet.

“Boo.”

Suddenly, you felt a familiar pair of cold hands resting on your shoulders. A yelp escaped your lips before you turned around at record speed, seeing Tartaglia’s pale skin painted with the neon blue lights above. You could see a cheeky smile creep on his face in the dim light before you could feel him gently push you, pressing you up against the wall behind you two.

“You scared the shit out of me, Tartag. What the hell is wrong with you?” You huffed, placing your hands on his chest.

He chuckled as he leant closer to your face, his warm breath lightly hitting your face as he laughed.

“Sorry darling. Was looking for you for so long, got a little excited when I saw you.” He replied, “Y’know, I’ve overheard some very interesting things from the kids in my team.”

“What did you hear?” You replied cautiously, expecting him to say something stupid with that shit-eating grin on his face.

“They’re saying that the old lady on the other team was, ah what did they say? Easy kills?”

“They did not.” You replied, feigning a distraught tone.

“Mhm, they did. Little do they know that I know said old lady very well.”

Before you could come up with a witty remark, you felt his lips on yours. His lips moulded with yours perfectly as he gently kissed you. The moment was soft and fleeting, yet it lingered on your lips even after he pulled away. It was sweet, well, it was almost sweet. As you stood there, eyes closed and still in bliss from the kiss, you heard a loud beeping noise as your chest piece buzzed. You looked down, startled before seeing Tartaglia’s gun pressed up against your glowing red vest.

“Guess the little guys were right after all.” He laughed.

“You’re unbelievable.” You scoffed, yet a smile fought its way on your face as you watched him blow a kiss to you as he ran off.

-

It wasn't long before the game came to an end and you found yourself standing in the little room that you were at the beginning before entering the dark room. The arcade worker glanced tiredly at everybody before redirecting their attention towards the little monitor that displayed the leaderboard.

“Player ‘Childe’ got the most number of eliminations. Following ‘Childe’ was…”

The voice of the worker faded away as you looked at the leaderboard yourself. Childe was first by just one elimination. You looked at him, finding that he was already watching you with amusement in his eyes- as if he was waiting to see how you’d react.

After you both left the laser tag booth, you turned to him with an unimpressed look on your face.

“You couldn't have won without me, y’know?” You said, your tone unamused yet your expression saying otherwise

“I know.”

That was all he said, a loving smile resting on his lips as he grabbed your hand, pulling you to another booth.

#childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe x you #tartaglia x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n

[elvisabutler]

mess dress

fandom: elvis 2022 | elvis presley rating: m pairing: elvis presley ( army era ) x female plus size reader word count: 2323 warnings: thigh riding. uniform kink. mild innocence kink. public play-ish. implications for future p in v sex. author’s note: welcome to day 7 of ally’s wet hot smut summer, uniform kink with elvis presley x reader. so fun fact i've had this 95 percent finished since friday. i have also been without internet because construction knocked out my internet for the weekend. however this is done now. so this erred accidentally into a sort of public play kink thing as well. hopefully y'all enjoy it regardless. this is sort of a sequel to called ya, didn't i? but you don't have to read it for this to make sense, necessarily. i do really want to hear how y'all feel about my fics and i know i don't always reply to comments but reading them delights me so much. as always imagine who you'd like i'm not picky.

You're no stranger to Army functions, little soirees that you shouldn't be invited to but you are because your Daddy's always loved showing you off even as there were whispers about how it wasn't proper that his daughter's waist didn't taper just so. But being at one when you're involved with Elvis Presley- well, that's another thing entirely. It's one thing to be on your Daddy's arm and another to be on your boyfriend's arm knowing how that arm feels wrapped around your waist as you do things very good army brats shouldn't do.

The thing is, you want to think Elvis is willing to stay with you, you want to think he's a good man even if all the papers and the press think he's cavorting around with every girl in Europe. And he's been proving it with every innocent date and every not so innocent moment where you cry out for release as his fingers play you better than any guitar. Elvis wants to be with you and even as things are winding down in Europe, he's whispering jokes and plans about asking your Daddy if it's alright for him to whisk you away to Memphis.

"Told 'im I'd take real good care of ya. No funny business, either. Not 'less I got a ring on your finger."

After hearing that, you almost swooned like you were a Victorian maiden, the rush from hearing those simple words— that simple potential promise had your mind whirring and your heart thumping a quicker beat than it ever had in your life. Never mind that you and him already had indulged in some funny business, it was all the kind that could be hidden. Not the kind that had you filling out dresses and telling your Daddy he's got a grandbaby on the way.

Hearing that put your mind at ease and allowed you to dream a little of a future with Elvis. It allowed for a picture to be painted of you at Graceland or in Hollywood, maybe with a child or two— and a world where you might still be told you don't look proper for a woman but there's gotta be something about you that's got Mr. Presley all shook up and stuck on you. Saying yes to Elvis about going to the function was easy after that even if you had to tell him that he didn't have to get you a dress despite his arguments for doing just that.

"I-I jus' wanna show 'em how pretty my girl is. Tell 'em what they missed out on. Show Charlie I can get me a ree-spec-tuh-bull girl." He had teased, hands against your hips as he kissed your neck in front of your mirror.

Your hands should have swatted at his arms and you should have told him to keep his hands on your waist but instead you moved your hands to lay on top of his and smiled. "You will, Elvis. I'll pick something pretty and we'll have pretty pictures to look at. You'll probably even have one to take home."

A look flitted across Elvis's face that you couldn't quite put a name to and you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at it before he shook his head. "Yeah, I can have a picture. Just— I mean it, baby, I'm gonna show ya off. Tell 'em I like ya wit' or without all this dressin' up."

It's practically comical the way you and Elvis look at each other the moment you open the door to see him standing there in his full dress uniform. You've seen him in uniform before and had told him rightfully that seeing him in it did something to you between your legs but seeing him like this? All ironed pants and dressed without a hint of a flaw had your mouth watering as your eyes traced over every inch of him, settling embarrassingly on the subtle bulge between his legs. You've felt it before but to see it look like it's starting to rise to the occasion just from looking at you right now in those slacks has your breath escaping from your lungs in a quiet whine.

Not that your boyfriend was any better, taking in the way your dress outlined your chest and your hips and practically shimmered in the light. You matched his dress uniform almost to a tee with a little feminine flair. Your mother is the one who comes upon the two of you staring at one another and tuts quietly, shooing you out the door with a shawl and a yell about how Elvis needs to bring you home before a certain time. You don't dare speak until Elvis enters the other side of his car and sets a hand on your clothed thigh.

"Honey— ya tryin' to kill me? 'Cause it's workin'. Didn't know ya—" He starts before you silence him with a kiss and a shy smile.

"I had it specially made. Thought tonight deserved something special, since you said you'd show me off, remember?" You bite your lip, knowing full well you're probably ruining your lipstick. What you're saying is the truth but a part of you, a small part that's listened to a friend or two who thinks Elvis is so sweet on you that he might want to marry you thinks this was the perfect outfit to prove you're the sort of girl who can be Mrs. Presley. All sophistication and charm that a good boy— a good man like him needs.

"I- I do. Now I'm thinkin' everyone's gonna be tryin' to steal ya from me if I show ya off. Lord, darlin'. Make a man wanna—" His breath comes out in a rush, a puff of air that moves a surprisingly errant curl from his head as you giggle.

"Maybe later? Before you take me home?" The words are questions but from the way you look at Elvis you know that he catches your meaning. That you want him to do something to you as much as he wants to do something to you. Truthfully just looking at the buttons of his uniform and every single detail on it has you clenching your legs together— forgetting that Elvis's hand is right there until he groans as he starts the car.

"Gonna be the death o'me," he mutters only to hear you laugh again and say three simple words in French.

"La petit mort."

You both know it's a little improper to have you sitting on Elvis's lap, but the night's been winding down ever so slowly and Elvis— can get away with things other men can't. Sure, this might get back to your Daddy but it's not as if he doesn't already have an inkling that Elvis is head over heels in love with you. You haven't ended up with a baby in your belly yet and that's— well, that's as good as he can hope for when it comes to the pair of you, he figures. He'll allow it as long as he can think his daughter is as pure as can be. Besides, Charlie is very good at covering for you and Elvis when things look a little more salacious than they should. Right now as Elvis's leg keeps bouncing between your thigh, you figure you'll get use out of those skills yet tonight.

The conversation is one you're not fully paying attention to, having heard half these things a million times over as you've grown up but when you feel the brush of warm air against your ear your eyes widen just a hair.

"Fallin' asleep on me, darlin'? Gonna leave me to talk to everyone by myself?" His whisper is low and inviting in a way that has you shivering just slightly as his arm grips your waist a little tighter. "That woke ya up?"

You don't trust your voice just yet especially when you feel Elvis's leg jiggling between your thighs, his knee brushing against your clit with almost every movement. Your only answer is a small hum as you smile at other people.

Elvis flashes a charming grin as he shifts both of you, allowing the bottom of your dress to cover his leg entirely and exposing your underwear covered vagina to his knee. He bounces experimentally and watches as your eyes widen and you let out a soft whimper that you quickly cover with a cough, your chest bouncing from the effort. Your thighs try and tighten around his leg in an effort to stop the bouncing only for his hand to grip your hip, reveling in the way it feels underneath his grip.

"Elvis," you hiss, turning to look at him after one particularly intense bounce as your nipples hardening in your bra and has you starting to soak through your undergarments. "What are you doing?"

"Ya been eyein' me up like a piece of meat all night, baby. Know that place 'tween ya legs has been achin' somethin' fierce 'cause of it. Didn't think ya wanted to wait. Jus' in case I gotta rush ya home." He explains like it makes all the sense in the world and you find it's hard to argue with him over it even as you know how bad this looks.

"But we're in public. Just because I wanna rip your uniform off doesn't mean we need to—" you start only to have him brush against that spot earning a bitten back whine and a grind down from you. "Elvis— oh."

It shouldn't be pleasurable, your fear of being caught and the potential shame should stop you from doing this but the only thing it's stopping you from doing is ripping off Elvis's uniform that you've seen on a million men before but none of them have been him. Maybe it's the way you had seen the bulge between his legs pressing against his pressed slacks or maybe it's because he was all dressed up to take you somewhere. To show you off. Whatever the reason was, you don't stop Elvis from moving his leg, from bouncing it just so in a way that has your vision starting to blur and has your nails digging into his other thigh in order to keep quiet.

"Gonna make a mess of us, ain't ya? Gonna stain my uniform, darlin'? Make it so I gotta tell everyone I had a lil sweat on my knee?" He mutters his filthy words against your ear and you nod as slow as you can as your eyes dart around the room and around your talking companions. Had any of them noticed what was going on?

"They ain't payin' attention. Ya a good girl, 'member? God, darlin' wanna see ya come apart in front of 'em. Do that for me, will ya? Do that and I'll ask ya daddy to marry ya tomorrow. I gotta or 'm gonna ruin ya 'fore I can."

You have to take a breath or five to be able to speak as his knee picks up speed. "You'll wear your uniform when you do? So I can see it again?"

The grin on his face is downright evil as he nuzzles your neck and places a kiss or two against it. "'Course. Jus' for you. Jus' to see ya get all hot 'n bothered 'bout it again. You gonna make a mess f'me, mama? Gonna show how I got the best girl 'round wit' ya plump yittle thighs and those big breasts a yourn? And that stomach that's softer than anythin' army issued?"

Any other time and you might feel a might bit embarrassed about the way you nod quickly. Truthfully you can feel a bit of shame when you catch the eye of one of the other women. Her eyes are a little widened and you— that should be your cue to stop but you're so close that you can't help but cast your eyes downward as Elvis follows where your eyes went.

"She's just wishin' it was her. Wishin' her date would do this to her. Don't— Don't be shy. I gotcha, darlin'. Let go f'me?"

Somehow the way he phases what is technically an order or a request as a question sends a jolt through your body and has you holding back noises that threaten to leave your mouth as you feel yourself coming. Feel that tension inside your lower belly finally release. You feel your body twitch ever so slightly as the pleasure rolls through your body as Elvis's arm tightens around you to keep you from slumping forward. Your chest heaves in the confines of your bra and your dress and Elvis's lips curl into a bit of a smirk against the back of your neck as you try and catch your breath without being too obvious. Against your backside you can feel Elvis's cock nudging you and with a bit of a smile you shift just so in order to hear him grunt.

"Are you two okay?" You both hear someone ask— maybe it's Charlie or maybe it's someone else, you're both not too sure but it prompts you to stand up, adjusting your skirt as you do and eyeing the sizable damp patch you've left on Elvis's leg in his uniform. His eyes look down before they widen and he pulls you back down to sit on it.

"We're— we're fine." A short answer said by both of you as the two of you exchange a look and you grab Elvis's hat to plop it on your head. The look Elvis gives you is filled with more love than you thought he was capable of even though you can see his still blown pupils and see the arousal lingering in those ocean blue eyes.

After a moment of staring you turn back to everyone and smile, "so what were we talking about? You've got both of us at attention."

taglist: @ab4eva , @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @araxw, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7, @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis, @stylespresleyhearted, @be-my-ally, @mooodyblue, @pixiedustcosmos, @jessicarcates, @amydarcimarie, @flwrs4aust, @myradiaz, @adaydreamaway08, @elirobin, @goldieharry. i'm tired i don't know if i tagged everyone sorry if i forgot you..

#elvis presley #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x plus sized reader #elvis presley x you #elvis presley x y/n #army elvis #austin butler elvis #austin elvis #austin elvis x reader #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fic #ally writes #ally's wet hot smut summer

[happy74827]

Can you do Young Neil x reader ^.^?

Art of the Mixtape

[Neil Nordegraf x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: In true Neil fashion, he gives you the best birthday present he possibly can.

WC: 1942

Category: Fluff

I literally passed out while writing this on the couch last night, so I had to finish it today, but here ya go! Our precious Young Neil 🥰

『••✎••』

In the dim glow of Neil's room, scattered with posters of indie bands and vintage comics, he hunched over his old cassette player. His fingers delicately selected each track, infusing the mixtape with a subtle rhythm that mirrored the beating of his heart.

He knew he was being a little overly sentimental, but your birthday was one of the few times each year he was allowed to be a bit gushy, a rare occasion where he could take his time, choosing his words and actions with deliberate care. It was almost like the world was on pause for a moment as he navigated the relationship.

It was a simple thing, a few notes strung together on tape, but Neil carefully considered every word.

For you, the song's lyrics are more than just lyrics—they are an expression of his emotions, one that would surely be lost on anyone else. But in your hands, he knows you will understand him better than anyone.

"Love is like a fire; the more you try to hold onto it, the faster it burns."

The words are burning into your brain when Neil presses play.

You're still unsure what the song is meant to say, but you've come to realize how much it means to Neil. As the track loops for a third time, you sneak a glance over to him—his eyes are closed, and his lips are slightly parted. You wonder what he sees in this moment—perhaps he is lost in a memory. You try to picture what he might be thinking of, but you're not sure if your imagination could do it justice.

In the past, you were never very good at interpreting what someone was trying to convey, and the times when you tried to express your feelings always left you with a sickly feeling in your stomach—a heavy knot of nerves that would eventually bubble up into bouts of tears. It's not that you were unaware of what Neil wanted to say, but rather, you were too scared even to imagine it.

The cassette player runs through its cycle a fourth time before the song finishes playing, and Neil's eyes slowly open. His gaze meets yours, and you can see the soft glow of his smile reflected in his eyes. You don't need to say anything because his smile is an unspoken promise of an affection that will last far longer than any cassette tape could possibly play.

His smile fades slowly as he leans towards you. As his lips meet yours, you swear that you can hear the song playing once again in a new refrain—one that promises more than a handful of words.

“Happy birthday…” Neil says quietly, and you swear you can see a faint blush rising to his cheeks. You know how difficult it is for him to be so candidly emotional. You know the words he longs to express—he's told you time and again—but he's afraid to say them out loud.

You're grateful for that. You know it's not an easy thing for him.

You kiss him again and smile.

"Thank you... I love it."

"It's nothing, really. Just uh, small gift." He looks at you with his warm, tender gaze, and you know he's worried you might not like it. "I know you like the vintage stuff, and uh, I found this old cassette player, so I just thought—"

You gently place your hand on his.

"Neil... thank you."

He averts his gaze, and you can see that he's bashfully smiling. He tucks his hair behind his ear and shakes his head lightly.

"I, uh, I'm glad you liked it."

He turns to look back at you and gives you another gentle smile. He seems content just to gaze upon your face, but you don't mind it. After a long moment, he glances down and turns his attention to the cassette player in his hands.

"There's uh, there's more. If you want to hear them..."

He holds the cassette player out to you. You take it in your hands. You turn the cassette player over in your fingers and feel its weight. It's an old cassette player—you know he had to have spent some time scouring thrift shops for it. It's one of the few things he owned that had a personal attachment to it. He was the one to first introduce you to mixtapes and indie music, after all.

You glance down at the player and then back at Neil. He's looking at you expectantly. You know he's hoping for a particular reaction. It's only natural that he would expect that sort of response from you. But, as he's well aware, it's not something that comes so easily.

You smile and nod.

"Of course."

You open the cassette player, and another one of the tracks begins to play. You recognize the melody—it's the song Neil played for you the very first day you met him. The song was a lot more incoherent then, but now the melody is clear. Neil put some time and effort into choosing each track. You can see it now in the careful way he arranged the songs on the cassette. He'd gone out of his way to create a playlist that fit your preferences.

"It's beautiful."

Neil seems surprised to hear your voice, but it quickly melts into a soft smile.

"You think so?" He hesitantly reaches out to touch your hand, and you can see his cheeks turn a shade darker. He runs his fingertips along your palm and gently traces the lines of your hand. "I wasn't sure if... I wanted to get you anything since I know you don't really like, uh, receiving gifts. I just wanted to make something for you, I guess..."

He looks at you, and you see a hint of nervousness in his expression. You can't help but chuckle to yourself. You give his hand a gentle squeeze, and his expression softens. You smile, and he smiles back.

"I love it," you tell him.

Neil smiles wider, and you know that he knows you're sincere. The tension in his shoulders visibly relaxes as he looks back at you. He nods in reply.

"Good," he says. He pauses for a moment, and then he continues, "I wanted to make something for you, but, I dunno, I didn't know if it was right for you or... it would have been too weird..."

You raise an eyebrow at him. "Too weird?"

Neil shakes his head and glances away. "Well, I wanted to make something, like, something you might have liked, but I just... I dunno, I kept thinking that you might not be interested and, uh, I thought, I mean, you're so cool, you know, and..."

You laugh as he begins to ramble. You squeeze his hand and gently pull him closer to you. He tries to look away from you, but you reach up to cup his chin, turning his gaze towards you. You kiss his cheek, and he looks away bashfully.

"Thank you," you say softly. "I don't need anything more than this."

He looks at you, and you smile.

"You mean it?"

You nod. "It's perfect."

He glances down and shyly smiles. He hesitantly reaches out to tuck some of your hair behind your ear, his fingertips lightly brushing your skin as they trail down. You lean into his touch, closing your eyes as you feel the warmth of his hand on your cheek. His thumb brushes against your skin, and your smile widens.

The cassette player is still playing softly, but you don't care. The song isn't important, not right now. You have a different song to sing, and the melody you wish to sing is nothing he could ever hope to craft in a tape player.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close as you press your lips against his again. His lips are warm and soft, and you swear you can feel the gentle vibrations as the melody plays out. He relaxes in your embrace and places his hand on the small of your back, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine as his fingertips press into your skin.

His breath is warm, and his heartbeat is steady, and the more you hold him, the more you can feel him. His lips are gentle as he returns your kiss, his hands holding you tenderly, and the longer you kiss, the more you long for his touch. The soft sound of his song playing in the background makes you feel like time has stopped, and all that matters is this moment, where your lips are pressed against his.

And even when Stephen barged in, shattering the peaceful silence of the moment, it still wasn't enough to break the spell. Neil looked at you with that same bashful, sweet smile he wore moments ago, and you could feel your heart melting.

Stephen glanced between the two of you, then sighed.

"Neil," he said, "Steph called again. She wants to make sure you’re aware that she’s visiting in two days. Are you?”

“Uh, yeah. I know. I talked to her... earlier.”

“Alright, cool. Hurry up and eat then. We have practice, remember? I can only cover for so long...”

Stephen left the room, leaving you and Neil alone again. Neil smiled sheepishly at you, and you knew that he'd forgotten about the practice session Stephen was talking about. You only halfheartedly remembered the date Stephen had mentioned, but you were more interested in watching Neil's reaction to being scolded.

"He's right," you tell him, "Can’t have Sex Bob-Omb without their bassist."

Neil laughs, and you feel your heart melt at the sound of his voice. “Maybe, uh, you can join us sometime? You could bring your drums or uh... I don't know, like a guitar or something."

You smirk. "Is that an invitation to jam with you guys?"

"Sure, why not? You're a better player than me."

You chuckle and shake your head. "I don't think that's true. Even Scott said you’re better than he was. Even the whole ‘Young Neil’ thing was dropped. I think you should be proud of that. I know I am."

"Yeah?"

You nod. "Of course. I'm very proud of you, Neil."

Neil's cheeks turn a faint pink as he ducks his head slightly. He laughs and shakes his head. "I, uh, I guess that's good to hear, I guess." He glances up at you, and you catch the way he's trying to hide a smile. "Thanks."

You lean close to him, brushing your lips against his cheek. He sighs, and you kiss him again. "You're welcome. I'm glad I get to help Sex Bob-Omb live out its dream."

He laughs softly, his hand cupping your cheek. He kisses you again and pulls you closer. The cassette player is still playing, and you've almost forgotten what song it is. Almost.

"Do you really think I'm good enough?"

You kiss him again and wrap your arms around him.

"You're the best."

His smile grows wider, and he buries his face against your neck. His laugh is soft, and his lips linger on your skin. You squeeze him tighter, and he presses his forehead against you, breathing in your scent.

"Thank you, really," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It’s my birthday wisdom to share."

"Yeah, yeah... Happy birthday, really."

He lifts his head to look at you and smiles, and you're sure there's no place in the world that you would rather be than right here, holding him. Because that’s all you'll ever need—a cassette player, an old song, and your love.

#young neil #young neil x reader #young neil x female!reader #spvtw young neil #x reader #reader #fanfic #fanfiction #neil nordegraf x reader #young neil gifs #neil nordegraf #neil nordegraf x female!reader #neil nordegraf x yn #young neil/reader #neil nordegraf/reader #johnny simmons #johnny simmons x reader #spvtw #spvtw post #spvstw #spto #spto spoilers #scott pilgrim x reader #scott pilgrim fanfiction #scott pilgrim vs the world fanfiction #scott pilgrim vs the world #scott pilgrim vs. the world #scott pilgrim takes off #scott pilgrim #young neil x yn

[ineffable-endearments]

Trying to picture where Crowley goes from the end of S2 and it looks like this to me:

Sticking around Soho: I have read lots of fic and seen lots of art for this premise that I love. However, if I'm going to try to guess where actual canon might go, this option seems both too painful for him as a character and too stagnant for the story. Like, wasn't the point of the beginning of the season that he had stagnated? It feels like the Final Fifteen was the cataclysm that had finally broken that stagnation. Something about the flow of Crowley staying in or near Soho, or his Mayfair apartment, for that matter, doesn't seem right.

Going off to live his own solitary life, like as a hermit or as a snake in a cave or something: Seems way too boring for Crowley. He needs things to do.

Going off to live in a human community: This could happen. I could see him living in a human community that he wants to protect from the Second Coming. But it seems a little too healthy and well-adjusted for the climax of the story's conflict, right? No? Maybe? I think we see many signs that Crowley is moving in this direction in Season 2, but he might not quite be there yet. Or he could be! I started off thinking this probably isn't it because it felt too easy, but there's a bit of poetry to the Serpent establishing his very own Garden that he wants to protect and, after everything is said and done, accepting a lost angel into it. Er, maybe that's a bit too sugary or uneven. Idk. I'm rambling.

Going back to Hell to become a "proper" demon: Lol.

Going back to Hell to fight against Heaven: Mmmmaybe? My main problem with this is the fact that the strings in Hell are ultimately pulled by the same people/person who run things in Heaven (the Metatron?), and while I'm not sure he's explicitly said anything about it in the show yet, I think Crowley is savvy enough to figure that out. So rejoining Hell simply to abide by their rules and start another war does not seem exactly right. One of his primary points in the Final Fifteen was that you can't fight an oppressive system by cooperating with it, and in the end, Hell is cooperating with the system as much as Heaven is. I guess we could assume Crowley hasn't quite figured it out yet, and his discovery of who's really in charge could be a plot point.

Going back to Hell to agitate the demons to revolt: This feels pretty good to me. Whether it's by taking on a position of authority and secretly feeding a resistance or by taking advantage of the chaos to establish an openly-rebellious group, I feel like Crowley could do this. It feels right for a moment of high conflict because it would involve significant character growth - Crowley choosing to embark on a mission to save the world instead of haphazardly getting thrown into it. However, since he'd be actively working to undermine Hell and would have to figure out where he belongs if the system does indeed collapse, encouraging resistance would not, on its own, get him to where he needs or wants to be. There would still be plenty of room for change and growth.

Maybe, if Crowley tempts his fellow demons to enjoy Earth things like Aziraphale does, he could slowly get them working toward stopping any future Armageddons just because they, too, have found things they like on Earth. Encouraging demons to enjoy Earth would potentially give Crowley a chance to work with more humans. It would also give him a chance to work toward one goal (Hell saves Earth?) only to accidentally accomplish another (demons discover free will).

Mandatory acknowledgment that I could be COMICALLY wrong here.

#go s2 spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #good omens #go3 speculation