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rocksibblingsau · 2 days

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Actually, honest question on Chaz cause being the only Smooth Jazz troll we ever see, has some semi lonely implications. And the actual idea of Chaz, whose people may be very very very nomadic and feeling very out of place in spaces, and t!Branch also feeling out of place and just....genuinely bonding over vibing together, talking bout dangerous stuff, ways to keep safe....like I could honestly see them just....intimate together, not even hot and nasty, just lowkey vibing while really physically close. Like knowing the other gets them, removes some kind of physical boundary and they just....can't stop touching each other, like holding hands, or arms, or laying on the other, or messing with their hair. Just super intimate stuff, but also like....completely platonic? and then Synth being their energetic enabler and respecter of boundaries makes his way in and suddenly its either Synth and Branch, Branch and Chaz, Synth and Chaz or if all of em are in the same place, Synth Branch Chaz and everyone is busy trying to figure out...the everything, but its literally what you see is what you get. Just pure powerful Best Friends who looked at Boundaries and Respectfully stepped all the way over for each other in the best way. All getting used to touch and companionship in a different way. Branch getting more comfortable in his skin with people who don't judge him nor blame him, and being comfy expressing his want for touch and physical affection. Chaz also enjoying the physical affection with the actual emotional weight and understanding that these touches mean something more than just the physical, emotional grounding weight he craves. Synth enjoying the calmest slowest vibes and how its ok to slow down, and learning to enjoy a longer drawn out sensation than a constant build towards a drop, and this one doesn't really have to end, so he can really slow down and enjoy it. Its good for them, and they don't really give it too much attention past what it requires. Its the best kind of Mindless Affection, cause its fully conscious, fully consensual and fully enjoyed as it is.

This is actually so sweet???

According to Chaz in the episode 'Smooth Operator', Chaz is the only Smooth Jazz Troll. While he might have been lying for sympathy, I'd fully believe that he is a sub-genre that broke off from Jazz itself, which may be somewhere in the world of Trolls.

I think Chaz being the only Smooth Jazz Troll would explain why in the "noncanon" media like Trollstopia and Remix Rescue he's obsessed with turning other Trolls into Smooth Jazz Trolls, because there are NO other members of his genre. That's gotta be incredibly lonely and I think Techno Branch would sort of understand how it feels to be the odd one out as he was a grey troll amongst Pop trolls and he's a Pop troll amongst Techno trolls.

While in Remix Rescue, Chaz not wanting his music remixed is shown to be because he doesn't care for any other genre, I could see Chaz being protective of his genre because his songs are the ONLY songs of it. Not only that, but any art student might know the feeling of making a piece they really like, only for their art teacher to draw on it and 'fix' it. Chaz would prefer his songs stay unremixed, and I think Branch would respect that. He'd ask Chaz how he'd like for people to incorporate Smooth Jazz into their genres and Chaz would likely say if they wrote their own take on Smooth Jazz then that would likely be okay. He's extra protective because his genre is quite literally in its infancy. It doesn't have hundreds of years worth of artists and songs for people to be drawing this inspiration from or remixing since it's old and popular, it's just him. One guy.

Synth initially wanted to remix his music, but when he hears Chaz's reasoning he can't fault him for being protective of his hard work. I think Synth would ask if he'd ever want to make a song with the intention of it being sampled, or letting him record bits to use. Chaz would probably need to think it over but until then he's open to coaching Synth on the structures of his genre.

All of this to say...

Techno Branch could fix him.

#sibblings qna #techno branch au #trolls branch #trolls chaz #trolls synth

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reverie-starlight · 7 months

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I've been feeling extremely depressed this week, but I kid you not kuroo's bday is bringing me back to life today so if you see me going a bit wild on the dash, don't mind me <3

#reverie rambles #it does feel kinda silly that this is the reason my mood is lifted #(not for any reason other than being judged for it in the past and it makes me a bit self conscious now but I'm getting better abt it)#especially bc I'm not doing anything special for it lol #but at the same time #I'm just so glad to have a reason to feel happy again I'm not gonna think too hard abt it #mind you I'm also seeing a couple friends today so that helps #but it's mostly the bday honestly #haikyuu- singlehandedly pressing the pause button on rev's depressive episodes since 2020 lmfao #kuroo is v special to me <3 #one of the absolute best comfort characters I've ever had for sure.#anyway sob sob yeah yeah stop rambling rev you're so sappy

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a-little-ray-of-fantasy · 4 months

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An analysis on how Sir Pentious' character design represents his personality and development perfectly (beware of Hazbin Hotel spoilers)

Let's get this out of the way: Sir Pentious is a snake, an animal mostly known for generally believed negative traits such as poison, deceit and betrayal. We don't know WHY he's in Hell, maybe he was a "snake oil salesman" considering he comes from the Victorian times and he's into hyping up what he does, or maybe he was into war. Thing is, he's a Sinner whose design just scream "Evil".

(BTW, a snake could also represent "fertility": looking at you, Egg Boiz!)

He always had eyes all around him not just because of a stylistic choice.

Sir Pentious always felt like he was watched, and had to watch out for any danger.

"Everyone here is too nice: obviously it must be a lie! I can sense they are planning to kill me, but when?! HOW?! I must be PREPARED!"

Sadly, he's been constantly berated by other demons, far more effective in destruction, status, cruelty and charisma. Alastor won't ever bother to remember him, Cherri always ones up him, and the Vs, the ones he admires to most, won't care less about him.

To the point that Vox sent him as a spy without the intention to save him if things were going to fail. Heck, he even openly tells him to die while calling him a failure.

So of course he's got reasons to have trust issues, or taking everything so seriously, being constantly reminded of what he can't accomplish. So he puts an air of grandure that may be very flamboyant, but is VERY frail.

But, if we have to be frank here, his biggest source of insecurities... is himself.

He has eyes on his tail (his softer, more vulnerable side, which is ironically made even MORE lieable to getting hurt because of how sensitive those organs are), and inside his hood, so he could look out better for danger when on alert mode.

Heck, even the mark on his hood kinda resembles one eye.

Problem is, when you see his hood folded, when he's at ease, neutral or sad, those are not looking at outside sources.

They're looking at him, at his back. A constant stare that happens everytime he lets his guard down and shows how vulnerable he is. A gaze that can sense all of his weakness, his struggles, his insecurities.

And it's all him.

Pentious constantly believes that his inferiority complex will fade away once he'll accomplish something grand that will make others accept him. But he is his biggest critic, his worst enemy: HE is the one who believes he's a failure, that he'll never gain approval from others.

This show takes place in Hell, but this is Sir Pentious' personal Hell: insecurity born out of self hatred. Doomed to feel everyone's gaze upon him, including his own. Believing the danger to his self esteem is from others, when it's really from him.

But then he's accepted at the Hazbin Hotel: Charlie forgives him, he bonds with Angel, Husk and Niffty who don't care a bit about what he's accomplished or not, or what he's done in the past.

He feels more comfortable in showing his vulnerable side, and no one judges him for how easy it is for him to get emotional.

Of course he's still very insecure, considering how he struggles to confess to Cherri, but notice how he stops building machines or planning to attack others as soon as he starts bonding with the others: he doesn't have a reason to destroy or attack, now that he knows he's loved.

And his final design, when he goes to Heaven, shows how much he's changed, yet stayed the same. He may have died a hero, but he's still the same awkward snake we've come to love.

Speaking of love, let's talk about that!

No more eyes on his tail, now it's just on his chest (showing he's opened his heart), his glasses are now heart shaped, and even the markings inside his hood resemble kiss marks more than anything else.

And look: the mark on his hood is now heart shaped!

Why all these hearts? Why did all the eyes disappeared from his body? Even his eyes that were looking at his back?

Simple: love. Love defeated his insecurities and self hatred. He died for love.

He died protecting his friends, his new family, his new home.

He confessed and kissed Cherri knowing full well he wouldn't have made it, and yet he went anyway.

The usually cowardly and timid Pentious actually faced a great danger with courage and determination: he acted selflessly by putting himself in harm's way, he didn't steal (naturally) and by going against Adam he did indeed "stick it to the man"!

He used his weaponry knowhow and battle experience not to conquer, but to save his loved ones.

His only thought up until his demise was: "I'll go down protecting them".

And he's been rewarded not only by becoming an angel, but also being spawned directly in front of Emily and Sera, two Seraphim, the highest rank for an angel to have, who have also been depicted as snakes of fire throughout history! Sir Pentious, the lowly demon considered a failure by everyone, actually has been noticed by the Seraphim! He's come so far!

He's now come to represent the REAL symbolism of a snake: the duality of death and rebirth, transformation and immortality (ironically a reference to the fact he's been around since 1888 without ever dying from any Extermination or blessed weapons).

And isn't so poetic that a snake, the "source of the original evil", was the first sinner to ascend to Heaven? Or that this episode was released on February 1st, or National Serpent Day?

And of course, as the Bible itself says:

"Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends."

(John 15:13)

And knowing him, I'm confident in saying he'll keep helping his friends even in his new position, like the soft hearted noodle he's always been, but was to afraid to show it up until now.

#Vivziepop #Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin Hotel Spoilers #Hazbin Spoilers #Sir Pentious #Fave Character #Comfort Character #Personal Rambles #What a wonderful lovable character he turned out to be 🥲#Character Analysis

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yuri-is-online · 11 months

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And in With the New (Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, and Diasomnia x Yuu)

"Look I would get rid of this thing if I could afford a new sweatshirt." You drag the offensive article of clothing over your head completely missing the spark of curiosity and mischief in your companion's eye. "I've got a lot of bad memories associated with this."

"If it's that uncomfortable we can go look for a replacement instead of-"

"Oh no not like that, it's super comfy. I just don't like it because it technically belongs to my ex."

notes: they/them used for Yuu, their ex is implied to be kind of a shit person, other dorms can be found here (x) Ortho is somewhat included in Idia's part but does not have one of his own.

Kalim- "Do you have any other things from your world?"

Kalim has expressed a desire for you to see as much of Twisted Wonderland as possible, and he stands by that, but it would really suck if the only physical connection you had to your home was something that brought up painful memories. Your past relationship isn't something that makes him jealous, just concerned since it clearly causes you distress. He can wait to get you more appropriate clothing until after he makes sure you're ok. If the sweatshirt really is the only thing you have from home, he'll be asking if there are any foods you remember or activities you liked to do with the people you actually cared about that the two of you can recreate in Twisted Wonderland. That way you won't have to feel the need to hold onto something painful and he gets to make you happy.

Jamil- "Then why didn't you get rid of it before you came here?"

On the one hand he does feel a bit second rate at the thought of you holding onto something form an ex, but his primary concern is the implication that your financial straights have always been this... dire. He definitely wants to know about your previous relationship so he can judge them for how much better he is, but once he notices that the memories are a bit on the traumatic side he stops pushing and feels just the slightest bit guilty. But really, if it's something that hurts you to hold onto then why do it? You aren't him, you don't need to do that, people love you and want to take care of you, him included. He's not going to just give you his hoodie, he would literally die of embarrassment, but he does get you a sweatshirt. If for no other reason than to keep him from staring holes into your back now that he knows where the other one came from.

Vil- "It doesn't suit you at all."

If his treatment of Epel is anything to go by, Vil is not above spending money on something he considers to be a pet project. Not that this... friendship is one of those, nor is he particularly jealous of some no name extra who was too blind to beg on their hands and knees to get back in your good graces. Not that he needs to do that you understand; as arrogant as Vil has a reputation for being, he is one of the people who has been more genuine when expressing concern and gratitude for you. His comment isn't meant to be a slight, clothing that makes you feel bad about yourself is failing to do its job as fashion, and as a world class super model that is unacceptable. In other words get in the car looser we're going shopping.

Rook- "Ah, I thought it was something like that."

Is it bad if he says he meant he hoped it was something like that? Not that he was rooting for your ex to be a bad person, he would never wish a subpar lover on you. But when he saw the tattered edges of your sweatshirt and how it clashed with the things you bought for yourself, he hoped that maybe someone in your world hadn't wanted your hands to be cold. If that's not the case, then if you are ok with letting it go as a lover of romance who is he to deny you your freedom? Granted tossing roses onto a fire while you burn an ugly sweatshirt is both very extra and very Rook but hey. He's having fun and you've got a new jacket.

Epel- "Afford shamford I could'a just made ya one!"

Offering their sweetheart their hoodie is something manly tall guys get to do and Epel has really really REALLY. Been looking forward to getting to that point in his relationship with you. He wants to feel like a real man, like your real man to be specific. The thought of some other piece of shit getting to do that first and treating you like a used dish rag pisses him off. Best believe he is huffing and puffing his way back to Grandma Felmier's boot camp with a mission to do you one and your ex two better by knitting you a pullover to go with your uniform. Everything that comes from Harveston is a top quality product prefect, better than whatever you left behind he guarantees it.

Idia- "So this is that kind of route huh..."

Of course you had a partner back in your world, if he can see your good points then a normie absolutely could. That doesn't make you less appealing, it just makes him feel all that more convinced he doesn't have a chance. He's halfway through whipping out his tablet to excuse himself when Ortho asks what you meant by "shitty memories" and they both get blindsided by just how much vitriol you have for a person whose clothing you technically kept on you. And suddenly he's back in business because there are few things that unite Idia with someone faster than a good old fashion bitch fest. Sure, his insults are weirdly possessive of you, but if he had any doubts about your feelings for this person he doesn't now! He's never heard you talk about anyone like this before and he finds it so attractive he almost forgets to short circuit when Ortho convinces you to try on his hoodie. Almost.

Malleus- "..."

Sometimes he feels like a broken record, constantly marveling at how little fear you have of him, but really child of man, you have no fear. Malleus has very little in the way of emotional intelligence, so he doesn't fully understand that what he is feeling is jealousy he just knows the thought of you with someone else's clothes hurts. Unfortunately for you both, in addition to not being emotionally intelligent he also isn't with the times and there is a non zero percent chance he will be bringing you a cloak and be genuinely confused when you don't immediately replace your old hide for his. (Lilia takes responsibility for that, he was making a joke honest.) Oh? The point was it's supposed to be something he wore so you can feel closer to him when he's gone? Well why didn't you say so child of man, he is more than willing to offer you a scale- what do you mean you can't wear that either?

Lilia- "Oh? Are you asking for one of mine?"

Shame has not been a word in Lilia's vocabulary since long before you showed up prefect. He always buys oversized clothing because of how cute the long sleeves look on him, but oh they would be so much cuter on you prefect, don't you want to see? Oh and while the two of you are at it, why don't you let him paint your nails and do your eye shadow. He's never had one of those slumber party things you humans do, you should make a night of this so you can both get a new experience out of this. He can have a slumber party and you can be the center of someone's world. Also what do you mean you're supposed to summon the devil at these things, he's already here.

Silver- "Would you like one of mine?"

Lilia raised a very good boy who thinks nothing of offering the shirt off his back to save someone in distress. Silver isn't a jealous person by nature, he's more concerned with making sure you are safe and taken care of than he is making sure you don't still have feelings for your ex. Above all else, Silver wants to be a safe space for you to come home to at the end of the day, like a proper knight in shining armor. Though he does have to admit, you look really nice in Diasomnia colors, they're really close to Briar Valley's so if you decide to come and visit he's assures you that you will fit right in. He's sure his father would be very happy to play host. Maybe too happy.

Sebek- "HOW UTTERLY DISGRACEFUL."

You think he's upset at you but he's not, that's made painfully clear with the rant he starts to go on about proper courtship procedure. Offering clothing to someone is supposed to be a sign of high affection, nay eternal devotion! And it suddenly becomes clear to you that Sebek has somehow managed to confuse the concept of a stolen hoodie and a knight's favor. He seems to have managed to convince himself, in the span of two seconds, that you are wearing this not because it is one of your only pieces of clothing, but because your ex convinced you that they're the only one who could love you which IS NOT TRUE. YOU UNDERSTAND HUMAN? DO YOU UNDERSTAAAAAAAAND?

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #kalim al asim x reader #jamil viper x reader #vil shoenheit x reader #rook hunt x reader #epel felmier x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #silver x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader

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lovelybluebirdie · 5 months

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A sight to behold

Astarion x gn!Reader

Summary: Astarion is far more than his beauty, and you want him to know.

Word Count: 1,7k

fluff, comfort

[AO3]

“You should get some rest, love,” Astarion whispers against your hair. He holds you comfortably in his arms, your fingers loosely grasping the end of his collar while his hand strokes along your waist, caressing your battle-bruised skin.

Usually sleep didn’t take long to claim you after an exhausting day of defeating vigorous creatures or learning another disturbing fact on the tadpole inside your brain, but tonight it seems to avoid you for some reason, leaving you tossing and turning within your bedroll until Astarion eventually pulled you into a loving embrace.

“I’m good,” you mutter as a deep yawn escapes your throat, smothering your last syllables.

Astarion cups your chin between his thumb and index finger, surveying your face. “You’re a weary little love if I ever saw one.”

“Fine, you’ve got me,” you reply in a drowsy voice. “Maybe I am a little tired, but somehow I can't find any sleep.”

His brow furrows. “Is anything troubling you, my dear?” he asks sincerely, pondering if he might’ve done something wrong.

The unpleasant thought has no room to spread its hooks any further, as he's met with only fondness from your tired eyes, leaving his ribcage bursting with adoration.

“No need to worry about me, Astarion. I promise, everything’s alright,” you assure as you begin to massage his ears, causing them to twitch.

“You still need to get some sleep though,” he scolds with half-closed lids. It's more of a moan, as he’s unable to suppress his desire for your blissful fingers to go on. You seem to know exactly where he enjoys them most, he notices, when another quiet groan spills from his lips.

You brush the pointy tip of his ear once more, cautiously not to overstimulate this sensitive part of him, before you rest your fingers on his neck and playfully raise an eyebrow.

“Perhaps you’ll allow me to indulge in your beauty a little longer before I find myself dozing off.”

A benign remark, and yet something inside Astarion shifts. Something he can’t fully fathom at first, a faint sense of melancholy starting to linger, despite the comfort of your touch.

He’s been called beautiful more times than he can remember, but he’ll never be able to judge for himself, being robbed of his reflection since Cazador turned him into a vampire spawn centuries ago – his own appearance remaining a dark shape from his past.

“Beauty you say?” he mumbles quietly. “Tell me then, what is it you see when looking at me?”

Your expression softens as you grasp for his hand and squeeze it lightly. It seems you’ve already caught his musings, as you often do, without him needing to vocalise that something’s on his mind.

“Well, your most outstanding features are probably your piercing eyes – crimson, like rubies,” you explain before resting a kiss on his cheek.

Astarion listens attentively. His gaze must indeed be exceptionally sharp, he thinks, trying for a brief moment to recall the colour his eyes were before he was turned, but to no avail. A shiver runs down his spine as he wonders if you might think of him as a dangerous predator at times, uncertain whether this poses a pleasant or a frightening notion.

“Sometimes they’re full of anger, resembling freshly shed blood. And other times they’re… so soft. Reminding me of the cutest puppy eyes I’ve ever seen, almost competing with Scratch,” you giggle as you draw your thumb along his cheekbone, right where your lips parted from his skin.

Astarion stares at you in bewilderment. “What do you mean – puppy eyes?! I’m a century-old vampire spawn, not some gushing maiden.”

“You asked what I’d see when I’m looking at you, didn’t you?” You offer him a mischievous grin before blowing a strand of hair off his forehead. “Or do you prefer me to stop?”

Astarion rolls his eyes and lets out a sigh. “Fine, go on.”

Although not particularly delighted by the comparison you draw, he can’t resist the urge to listen to you further describing him.

“There are also your beautiful white curls – so smooth that I often find myself wondering which soap you use for them to stay that way,” you say as you take one of said strands between your fingers. “Come to think of it, those are probably one of my favourite parts of you, my love.”

“Mhm, I certainly have the best hair in camp,” Astarion purrs approvingly, a smug grin playing around his lips, vanishing the furrow on his brow from your previous remark.

“Don’t let Shadowheart hear,” you joke before continuing. “Of course I also adore your smile – seeing those little wrinkles when you laugh.”

Astarion’s grin freezes as he quickly feels the spot beneath his temples.

“My sweet, you surely must’ve noticed by now that one of a vampire spawn’s rare perks is eternal youth, so I’m quite positive that there are no such things as wrinkles on my face.”

“If you say so,” you chuckle as you reach for his hands to press loving kisses on his fingertips. “This was supposed to be a compliment, you know.”

“Perhaps if I wasn’t your lover, but your doting grandmother,” he grumbles with pursed lips, but doesn’t pull away.

“I sense you desire to listen to some of your less grandmotherly features, then?”

Astarion battles another grin but loses, his lips twisting to a wry smile. “Yes, please.”

It's true, he doesn’t want you to stop, secretly enjoying how sincere you express your sentiments.

“Let’s see if I find some, though…” you tease, earning a gentle nudge to your hip before your eyes are glued to his face again. “Honestly, you're stunningly beautiful, Astarion – a goddamn sight to behold.”

Astarion’s smile widens at your flattery. “Oh dear, that sounds far better than being described with the attributes of an old lady.”

“As I thought,” you reply, brushing one of his curls behind his ear. “But do you want to know what I adore about you most?”

Astarion's eyes grow round. “As humble as I am, I'm always thrilled to receive some more praise.”

He notices a flush to your cheeks as you let your finger slowly trace along the bridge of his nose, until it comes to a rest on his lips.

You clear your throat, seeming in search of the right words.

“You’re so much more than your beauty,” you begin, your fingertip still resting on his bottom lip. He presses a kiss, his curiosity roused.

“I love the way you make me laugh, like no one else can, despite all the madness we have to endure. Or watching you reading for hours, chuckling at little passages you like. Seeing how you squint when you take in the details while you embroider a piece of fabric.”

You pause to cup his face in your hands and smother him with gentle kisses, starting at his jaw, moving up to his nose and then his eyes. Astarion remains silent, graciously relishing your warmth.

Your words and touch are like a balm, and not for the first time he wonders how he came to deserve such kindness.

“Your skin is cold, yes, but no one has ever kept me this warm when being in their presence. You’re brave, and despite everything you had to endure, you turned into this wonderful man I came to love more than everything I ever held dear. You're most precious to me Astarion, and I never want to spend a day without knowing you by my side.”

It’s not often that Astarion finds himself speechless, and yet your genuine affection robs him of the ability to respond. He has to hold back tears that dwell behind his fluttering lashes.

Deprived of his ability to speak he can only press a kiss to your forehead, followed by another peck to the tip of your nose, before his lips crash into yours – hastily, in need of you.

Astarion can sense your pulse quickening as his tongue enters your mouth, a soft moan escaping your lips while your hand runs through his hair.

He gently bites your lower lip, the initial rush of his kiss replaced by a sudden tenderness, a flutter spreading right where his dead heart once beat.

Astarion has never felt like this with anyone but you. Perhaps you've turned him into a love-struck maiden after all, he thinks with a smile as he kisses you once more, gentle and soft, before your lips part and he glances at your endearing eyes, finding his voice again.

“I love you too, you cheeky little thing. Even if you have the guts to describe me like a grandmother first, and then almost make me weep from your loving words,” he chuckles while grasping the fabric of your nightgown to pull you closer against his body.

Astarion is used to conceal his emotions behind his jesting shell, and yet when he’s with you, his façade naturally crumbles.

“Guilty as charged,” you reply fondly.

“But honestly… Thank you,” Astarion speaks softly. “For seeing me, like no one else does.” His words come out raw, honest. “You know I don't pray to any of the gods, but if I did, I'm sure I would've caught myself thanking them for bringing you into my life. You're a vision, and through the time I spend with you, it almost feels like my dead heart starts beating again.”

“You’d better stop with that loving talk yourself, before we'll both start to weep,” you laugh as you reach for the corner of your eye, a single wet streak glistening on your skin.

Astarion moves up to kiss it away. “As much as I like to revel in our mutual affection, I don't wish to see more of your tears.”

“Well, perhaps we should call it a night then. I’m certain I’ll find some rest soon,” you whisper as you shift closer in the crook of his arm.

“You truly should, as I'm positive there’ll be more shenanigans awaiting us tomorrow,” Astarion replies and places a kiss on your hair. “Sleep well, my love.”

“You too, Astarion,” you hum, sounding slightly weary again. Maybe sleep has decided in your favour after all, he thinks as he notices your breath becoming more even.

When you finally doze off in the safety of his embrace, Astarion's chest is filled with warmth over the love he holds for you.

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arctrooper69 · 4 months

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As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

Beta-read by @dragonrider9905

Chapter 1:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Jealousy. Brief mention of blood. Canon violence.

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You couldn't even look at her.

That thought alone made you sick to your stomach. The fact that you couldn't bear to look at a woman simply because she was interested in the same man that you were, made you want to cry.

Am I really that shallow? You thought bitterly as you slammed the hydrospanner into the damaged component of the landing gear you’d been trying to dislodge.

I can’t believe I was so stupid! You jammed the point of the tool violently into a crack, trying to pry it out. Of course he’d go for her. She was prettier than you - funnier too.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath.

Hunter is his own man. He likes someone else. Not a big deal.

Except for some reason, judging by the heavy ache in your chest, it was a big deal, no matter how much you tried to fool yourself into thinking that everything was fine.

The landing gear piece was still stuck fast. You set down the hydrospanner and picked up the plasma cutter.

This better kriffing work or I’ll have Tech up my ass for a month about it. Not to mention having to tell Hunter that I broke the ship. Again.

You ran your fingers over the healing scar on your cheek and looked at the carbon scoring around the piece that stuck fast, fused in place by laser fire.

A smile made its way across your face as you remembered how it all happened. You were providing cover fire so they'd have time to escape - more exposed than you'd like to be, but it wasn't anything you couldn't handle - until a stray shot hit the ship at just the right angle.

Hunter had tackled you to the ground, shielding you from the blast with his own body.

Despite the chaos around you, being in his arms felt safe.

“Don’t ever do that again!” It was meant to be an order but it felt different than any of the others he’d given over the past year. The way he’d taken your face into his hands, carefully examining the small, insignificant wound on your cheek. His face was unreadable but as you’d looked closer, his eyes were a whirlwind of relief that you hadn’t been hurt worse. There was something else there too - something that fed the hope hidden away in your core that your feelings toward him were reciprocated. He’d kept his hand on your arm as you stood up. They were strong, steady hands that kept you warm and stayed on your arm seconds longer than the moment demanded.

But then you’d found him in a closet with Phee’s sister only hours later at Cid’s parlour.

I’m so stupid. How could I have read him so wrong? What made me think I’d ever have a chance with a man like Hunter? You shook your head, angry at yourself for letting your guard down. For the first time since the beginning of the Clone Wars, you’d felt alive in a way that didn’t involve throwing yourself into violently dangerous situations. You felt at home with this band of misfit clones. You had finally allowed yourself to feel and acknowledge the emotions that came with it. Now you remembered why you hadn’t done that before. It was stupid and you would make sure that it wouldn’t happen again.

Finishing with the plasma cutter, you brought a wrench down hard with a loud clang. The piece barely moved an inch and you threw the tool down with a frustrated groan.

“You okay over there?” Phee poked her head around the corner, eyebrow raised.

“I’m good!” You grinned, hoping the faux smile would keep her from asking anymore questions. “Just trying to get this stubborn kriffing piece out so Tech can replace it when he gets back.”

Phee chuckled as you glared at the offending part. She walked over to the side of the ship, looking up and down at the stripped landing gear.

“Damn… what’d you guys get into this time?”

It was your turn to chuckle, grateful for the distraction from your spiraling negativity.

“That is a very complicated story,” Tech answered for you as he rounded the corner, “However, I do not currently have the time to tell it. We have another mission from Cid and should be leaving as soon as we’ve made our repairs.”

Good, you thought. Another mission might be just what you needed to get out of your head and back into the groove of things. Back to normal.

Tech stopped next to Phee in front of the landing gear, surveying the mess of tools and ship components. He frowned. “Although, it seems as though that may take a bit longer than I originally thought.”

He grabbed the hydrospanner from the ground by your feet and began prying at the piece you’d been working on. “I will fix this. You pick up the tools and get that carbon scoring off of those panels.”

Phee grinned as she began helping you scrape. “I love it when you get all bossy like that, Brown-Eyes.”

Tech’s cheeks darkened, the only indicator that he’d heard her at all.

You smirked. Tech and Phee were so different from each other. Her carefree sense of adventure and aptitude for playing fast and loose with the rules seemed opposite to Tech’s academic personality and rigid structure. But despite their differences, they seemed to bond over an innate sense of curiosity and wonder. They belonged together.

Like Hunter and I should be, you thought bitterly.

The silence that fell on the group as you worked was deafening. Every so often you caught Phee pausing to watch as Tech worked his magic with the repairs.

Tech remained oblivious, but found himself sending subtle glances towards her as she worked. Every glance felt like daggers through your chest. A reminder of what could have been yours.

“How’s it looking, Tech?” Hunter walked around the corner, setting a crate of explosives down for Wrecker to load onto the ship.

The knife you’d been using to scrape the panel suddenly felt heavy and clumsy in your hand. It slipped through your fingers as you frantically tried to catch it but failed as it hit the ground with a dull thud.

You gasped as a thin line of blood blossomed across your pointer finger and the palm of your hand.

“Kriff!” you grumbled under your breath. Hunter stepped forward quickly only to be intercepted by Phee who grabbed your injured hand, inspecting it.

“Eh, you’re fine,” she pulled a bacta patch from her pocket, quickly wrapping the injury as though she’d done it more than her fair share of times. “Be more careful with that next time,” she chided. You looked up expecting to see Hunter but he was gone.

--------------------------------------------------

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morallyinept · 8 months

Text

I don't rant very often - it's negative energy that I don't want or need in my life - but I feel that as a fan of Pedro Pascal, I'd like to take a moment to highlight what being a fan actually means.

As clearly, some people, some "fans", have demonstrated having a hard time grasping that concept...

Being a fan of Pedro Pascal means I enjoy his career, his portfolio of works.

Sure, I enjoy his physical looks too; the man is certainly as handsome as they come, let's be real here. Yes, I find him attractive.

More importantly, I enjoy what Pedro stands for; his beliefs, his passions. He stands up for injustice, he is an LGBTQIA+ advocate and friend. He is a feminist. He is politcal. He's proud of his heritage.

Is Pedro perfect? Do I believe the sun shines out of his ass? No, he's human and has flaws and off days like the rest of us.

Ain't no-one that is perfect, babe. That's delusion talking if you truly believe that.

I enjoy that Pedro inspires me to be a better human being.

Being a true fan, to me, means only positive things.

It means respect.

It means respecting Pedro's boundaries, be that in person, or online.

It means respecting Pedro's privacy. He has the right, just like any one of us, to a personal life seperate from his career.

Pedro doesn't have to answer to you, me, or anyone else about his private life.

You are not entitled to him, or his time, just because he is a celebrity. (God, I fucking hate that word.) He does not owe you anything, and nor should he be expected to.

Pedro Pascal is a human being.

As a fan of Pedro, I will not write fanfic about him. Only his characters, because his characters are primarily the reason why I admire Pedro. His characters are how I discovered Pedro to begin with.

He can make me laugh, cry, fall in love, wince when he loses an arm, gasp when he double crosses the protagonist. I can survive a fungal apocalypse with his characters by my side.

That's an incredible testament to his talent as an actor that no matter what role he plays, I don't see Pedro on the screen. I only see his characters.

It's his job and he enjoys it. As a fan, I enjoy his craft.

If you do write about Pedro, that's up to you and I am not going to judge, but for me personally, it's a hard no. And I won't be reading any of it either, sorry.

As a fan of Pedro, I can draw the line between fantasy and reality. Meaning, I would never go out of my way to invite, devise, plant myself in deliberately, or exploit a situation where Pedro is in my personal space, or I in his.

Firstly, I'm a realist. And secondly if I ever met the guy, chances are I'd walk right past him and not even notice. (It's happened a lot, not with Pedro but with other actors etc... I live in the capital, there are a lot of them here.)

And thirdly, I am not a stalker.

I would never intentionally track him down in another country whilst he is working or vacationing, and then post about how slighted I am on IG that he told me to politely leave him alone because I was too persistent in getting too close. I would never relocate and uproot my life just to live near him in the hopes we bump into one another and fall desperately in love. 🙄

This is real life people, not a movie.

This kind of behaviour from Pedro's so-called fans is questionable, and frankly concerning to anyone with a sane mind.

I would also never bully or belittle anyone because their fan account is more popular than mine. I would never actively enforce or seek to enforce the deliberate closure of any fan accounts because I am petty or jealous.

Unfortunately this has happened and I am sorry to have heard about those who were affected by it - you did not deserve that.

Sadly, all these things have happened. For real. And it's utterly gross behaviour from, in most cases, fully grown women who are old enough to know better.

We are all here to enjoy and support Pedro, so why is that such a hard concept to grasp? Why does fandom have a toxic corner?

I'll tell you why.

Because thanks to social media, and platforms like Tumblr, it's all too easy to sit faceless behind a keyboard and do and say whatever you want, without any real consequence.

There are always a few bad eggs, in any fandom, who feel they are superior, that they know everything. That because they found a new image or a clip first that they are entitled to police everything. That they are entitled to dictate how fandom should be run.

I've got news for you; you're not.

Fandom is inclusive, sharing, a creative hub for ideas, inspiration. A place to forge friendships, relationships because you have common ground. The coming together of like-minded individuals to celebrate and endorse their admiration for their idol in a safe, non-threatening place.

A place for creativity to flow, for confidence in yourself to grow. To create original stories from canon, to create unique head canon because we don't want these lovable characters to die. To paint amazing pictures. To get excited over Pedro's new projects and discuss your favourites.

That's fandom. That's being a fan.

Being a fan doesn't mean creating, spreading, peddling or posting harmful material that 1) is frankly abhorrently disgusting and is not only insulting to Pedro, but also his family, his friends etc... and 2) could also be potentially damaging to his career.

I am referring to the vile deepfake of Pedro currently doing the rounds now on Tumblr because some idiot thought it was funny to clog up our timelines with it.

I don't want, or need, to see that, thanks.

And whoever created it originally should be fucking ashamed of themselves. I would wholly encourage you to report and block any accounts that have done this.

Imagine how you would feel if your face, your image was used and violated in that way.

You'd be outraged, right? Hurt? Sickened?

This kind of manipulation of AI is exactly what the WGA and SAG-AFTRA are concerned about and were/are striking for.

What Pedro is striking for, and then someone has the gall to pull this sickening stunt.

It's what artists are concerned about. What writers are concerned about. AI wasn't created to be abused in this way.

So, what makes you think that all this behaviour is acceptable to do to a man, who is nothing but generous and kind?

A man who would give you help, no questions asked, if he ran into you, in his own words:

And you have the audacity to call yourselves fans?

A man who, if he knew, what his "fans" do, I'm certain he would be absolutely disgusted and not condone any of it.

☝🏻Let me make it abundantly clear:

If you have looked for, deliberately searched for, posted, jerked off to, liked or shared that vile deepfake clip, video, pic - whatever the fuck it is - in any way then, YOU ARE NO FAN OF PEDRO PASCAL.

And I am certainly no fan of yours.

Do better. Don't be a dick.

#pedro pascal #jett has spoken

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yenqa · 6 months

Text

night secrets

sypnosis — in which the two of you reveal your deepest secrets to the other in the middle of the night.

warnings — profanity, hurt/comfort, angst, crying, mentions of bruises/injuries, lmk if theres more!

pairing — spiderman!niki x gn!reader

wordcount — 1590

a/n — happy bday niki!! sunghoon work coming soon guys i swear

The shine of the moon peers through your window, lightly illuminating Riki’s soft expression looking at you. You two are tangled together on your bed, facing each other.

His hair is slightly ruffled, and you can tell he’s tired just by his eyes. The room is silent, the only noise being the infinite white noise of the fan tucked onto your bedside table.

You can feel a chunk of your hair lifted, being felt by Riki’s gentle hand, he softly combs through it—untangling each knot that you had made while laying down.

He treats each strand as if he’s strumming a guitar, replaying the same chord over and over again until moving to the next.

It almost feels surreal, you’ve been hopelessly in love with this man for years and now you’re lying next to him. You lift your hand to his cheek, brushing it slightly—making sure that he isn’t some illusion your mind made up.

You let out a breathy smile on your face, admiring his sharp features that make your boyfriend.

Fate had a play in your lives. If that attack hadn’t happened during your first year of highschool you wouldn’t have been next to Niki right now, three or four years later.

Though fate had also made you trip over yourself in the hallway yesterday, fate has also placed Niki beside you to catch you. Fate was a scary thing to think of, how is it that everything happens for a reason? As crazy as it is, you would have wished for your life to go any other way.

It’s quiet in your room, but not an awkward silence. In Fact you enjoy it—but something inside you compels you to voice your thoughts to him.

Staring at his face, you try to imagine how he’d react to your thoughts, a few hours ago—when you were both wide awake he would’ve laughed and made some corny joke about it. But it’s different now. The moon’s out and the darkened sky makes you more vulnerable than ever.

“Is there something on your mind?” He asks, pausing his hair combing.

You’re not even sure your voice works after keeping silent for what felt like a couple centuries, but you answer anyways, “It’s nothing, keep brushing my hair, please?”

He chuckles quietly and you can feel the slight vibration in his chest, “Nothing? You’ve been staring at me weird for the past minute.”

“Promise you won’t judge me?” You hold up your pinky finger, though you can barely see it, you feel his arm shuffle to interlock with yours.

“Okay um—this sounds really corny but I’ve liked you since forever. I know I told you I started liking you last year because of that one time that villain came to our school and you protected me then went to help others but—I’ve liked you since seventh grade, and It feels so—so crazy that I’m laying in bed next to you right now, y’know?”

Everything you say sounds so rushed out in your world, but in Riki’s it feels like time is slowed, seventh grade? Even when he was a total loser who wore neon shorts to school? Even though he comes to school—or even to your home with bruises and injuries everywhere that taint his reflection in the mirror?

“You’re being so quiet—Why are you being so quiet?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, and Niki can’t help but showcase a big grin.

“I didn’t know you were so in love with me” His hand moves to teasingly pinch your cheek, ignoring the scowl on your face.

Ah. This was the reaction you should’ve expected.

Annoyed, you turn your body around to face the wall, but he grabs your waist, turning you around to face him once again.

“I love you too, Y/n. Sometimes I feel as if I don’t deserve you with everything I’ve done.”

You squint at him, trying to make out whatever flaw he thinks he has, “What do you mean “everything I’ve done”? If being the perfect boyfriend is everything then I think that you’re perfectly up to standard?”

His mouth opens slightly, as if he has a secret that’s dying to come out, one that seems to fight his way to his thoughts.

“Y/n, I have a secret for you too.”

Shuffling in your position, you look up at him with curious eyes. “What is it? I won’t laugh or tease you I promise.”

He sits up, and you follow. He ruffles his hair slightly, as if trying to get rid of his nerves. You grab his hand softly, playing with it to calm whatever nerves he has.

A sigh leaves his mouth, “I am uh—I’m Spiderman.”

His voice is shaky, as if it was caught in his throat and he had just forced it out. But—you can’t tell if he’s being serious, I mean it’s not like you knew Spiderman personally so you couldn’t really compare and contrast.

Though Niki was always a jokester, you decided that not believing him was the safer option. “Ki—that’s not funny. I thought we were being serious.” You furrow your brows, unable to read his face.

“I’m not joking! Look—”

White webs emerge from Niki’s wrist, shooting straight into your wall. You let out a gasp, tightening your grip on his wrist to find any evidence of a prank. You look at him with your mouth still as he patiently lets you search his arm for any evidence of silly string or something.

“Niki, if you’re joking I swear I’m going to fucking kill you.”

His hands raised in surrender, “I just showed you my webs! I also have my suit in my bag, I carry it everywhere with me.” He points to his duffle bag in the corner of your room which conveniently has a glimpse of red sticking out of it, squinting, you swear you can see the black design.

“And that night when that super villain came!” He frantically adds, “I left not to go help other people—but change into my suit so I could get rid of him!”

Your body is frozen, internally clicking the pieces together. All of the sudden, you know why he randomly appears with bruises or injuries or if he leaves in the middle of something important and comes back out of breath.

“Are you serious?”

“I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

Your mind scrapes through everything you thought of him ever, unable to even comprehend that your friendly neighborhood spider man was just a teenage boy. Specifically the one standing right in front of you.

More importantly, you’ve seen the things people have done to spiderman. Publicly shaming him or even just getting tossed around by villains. And instead of getting a thanks from the city and some kind of prize, he’s judged for making a mess while saving your city.

Your mouth lays open slightly, unable to even think of the mistreatment he’s been getting, the amount of help he needs but can’t get without hurting anyone, the amount—

“Can you say something other than are you joking? Or are you serious, please?” His words are similar to yours just a minute ago, there are words you’d want to hear, and words you wouldn’t. There's an obvious decision you make.

Ignoring his plea, you envelope him in a hug, tucking his head in between your head and your shoulder. Letting him sit comfortably for a few seconds. The words barely come out of you, “I’m so proud of you.”

“What?” His words are muffled, he’s confused. But it comes out in a soft tone, almost fragile. You lean back, cupping his face in your hands.

“You’ve gone through so much with no help at all. I mean—you’re just a boy. And you’ve saved the city what—at least five times and you don’t get any credit for it at all. You come home with injuries every day because you’re busy saving everybody's asses—”

He leans back into you, dampness fills your shoulder as his body starts to tremble. You panic, lightly rubbing his back. “Fuck—I’m sorry, please don’t cry. I love you and I’m proud of you—please don’t cry.”

Your words only evoke more cries, until he’s full on sobbing on your shoulder. Every few seconds he sniffles.

Unsure of what to do, you whisper sweet words into his ears, letting him cry out all his worries as you continue to do your best to console him. Though your shirt will surely have a huge wet spot on your shoulder, you have hundreds of more to wear.

You couldn’t ever imagine what it would be like to be Spiderman. Having to be responsible for saving the city at least every week, having to come home limping and not being able to tell anyone why or even getting the appropriate help. Having to lie to your loved ones to protect them.

You couldn’t imagine ever having to go through the suffering he goes through, just to have to do it again the next week.

So, you continue to stay still. He cries until he runs out of tears, you softly lift his face to face yours, placing a soft kiss on his lips before tucking him into bed, whispering a soft “I love you, and I’m so proud of you, Niki.” you lay down next to him, intertwining your fingers and succumbing to your own drowsiness.

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cutielando · 7 months

Text

lucky number 100 ~ lando norris

Summary: Lando finally gets the win he deserves in his 100th race.

Word count: 1.2k+

Other works: my masterlist

♡♡♡♡♡

100 races.

If someone had told you that you would be with Lando and see his 100th race with McLaren, you would've probably laughed in their face.

You and Lando have been together for years, you being by his side ever since he started his racing career. You had never missed a race, not a weekend went by when you weren't seen on the paddock proudly wearing your boyfriend's number on your back.

With the COTA Grand Prix coming up, it also being Lando's 100th race in Formula 1, it was safe to say he was more nervous than he usually was.

That is precisely the reason why it was 1 in the morning before race day and Lando couldn't get himself to go to sleep. Thoughts plaguing his mind, all sorts of scenarios regarding the race going through his head.

You had fallen asleep earlier that evening, having been exhausted by the qualifying and everything. However, you woke up a little past 1, stretching your arm over Lando's side of the bed in search for his warmth but you were met with the cold sheets, making you frown.

"Honey?" you called out, rubbing your eyes and waiting for a response.

When you couldn't hear anything, you pulled the covers off your body and took Lando's hoodie that had been discarded on the floor and pulled it over your head.

You opened the door to your bedroom and walked out, quietly searching for your boyfriend in the middle of the night.

You found him sitting on the couch in your living room, watching TV with the volume down with a lost look in his eye.

"Baby, what are you doing up? You need to get some sleep before tomorrow" you said, making your way over to him and sitting down next to him, snuggling up in his arms.

"Sorry, I couldn't sleep. Kept fidgeting so I decided to come out here so I wouldn't wake you up" he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and kissed your temple, savoring the feeling of your body snuggled up to his.

"What's got you worked up?" you whispered, trailing one of your hands up and down his chest, knowing it was one of the things that helped calm him down in any situation.

"The race, I guess" he shrugged, not being able to really pinpoint the trouble himself.

"What about the race?" you pushed, knowing he had to get whatever it was off his chest.

"I don't know, I just feel like everybody expects me to win because it's my 100th race and everyone will be disappointed if that doesn't happen and I'll let everyone down"

You nodded your head, understanding now where he was coming from.

A lot of his fans and people in the F1 business are constantly talking about him winning this race, how amazing it would be if he did it and how it has been long overdue, which obviously puts a tremendous amount of stress on him.

If he does deliver, he's going to be on top of the world. But if he doesn't, people are going to judge, they're going to talk shit and judge him.

"You don't have to listen to anyone. Screw what other people are saying, you don't need to put this pressure on yourself. Just drive how you know you can and let the result be whatever it may be. I'm still going to be proud of you, regardless if you end up being P1 or P20, baby" you raised your head and took his chin in your hands, making him look at you.

"You're not going to be disappointed if I don't win?" his voice was so soft and vulnerable, it made your heart break at the thought of possibly being anything but proud of him.

"Baby, no. I'll be proud of you if you finish first and I'll be proud of you if you finish last. That doesn't matter to me. All that I care about is that you are safe and come back to me in one piece. I love you, and I'm always going to support you in everything, but you need to stop letting these things get to you. You know what you're capable of, put that talent to use and have fun"

He sighed but a small smile made its way on his lips before he slowly nodded his head.

"You always know what to say, one of the many reasons why I love you" he leaned in and pecked your lips, bringing you into an even tighter hug afterwards.

"I should consider switching my job as a full-time wag to being a motivational speaker" you joked, enjoying the sound of his laugh filling the room.

♡♡♡♡♡

"10 minutes to go" Lando's engineer said as he poked his head in his driver's room where the two of you were hanging out.

Lando nodded and his engineer left, leaving the two of you alone again.

"This is it" he spoke up, looking at his hands which were fidgeting on his lap.

You took his hands in yours, intertwining your fingers with his in order to calm him down.

"Remember, don't push yourself too hard and risk crashing or getting hurt. It's not worth it. You'll get your win, baby, but don't push it today if it's not meant to be. Be safe, please"

Lando nodded and gave you a reassuring smile, kissing you deeply after you stopped talking.

You squeezed his hand as you pulled away and stood up, motioning that you should get going.

You walked with him until you got to his car, giving him one final kiss before he got into the car and put his helmet on.

Lando's engineer motioned for you to join him, giving you a pair of headphones so you could be up to date with everything happening.

You all watched the formation lap before every driver got into their respective positions. You held your breath as you saw the lights before it was time to finally begin the race.

Lights out.

♡♡♡♡♡

He did it.

He had won first ever race in F1.

You couldn't explain the pride and love that filled your heart when he was the first one to see the checkered flag.

He had absolutely dominated the whole race, managing to overtake every single car on the track and maintaining his position when it seemed that he might be under attack.

You don't think you had ever seen him drive better than he did today.

"Y/N! I did it!!!" he shouted as he ran to you, helmet and balaclava already off.

"I'm so proud of you, baby!!" you squealed and jumped into his arms, squeezing him like never before.

"Oh my God, I did it, my love. This is all for you" he exclaimed, holding you tightly and squeezing your waist.

"No, Lando. This is for you. You've been waiting your whole life for this, you've worked so hard all these years and today everything finally paid off. I'm proud of you to the moon and back, baby" you pulled away from the hug just enough so you could lean in and kiss him, pouring every single feeling of pride and adoration for him into the kiss.

"I love you so much" he muttered against your lips, refusing to let go of you when his PR manager called him for some interviews.

"I love you too, my winner"

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kirain · 9 days

Note

I don't get people who say Gale just whines about Mystra all the time. Like do they not realize WHY? Do they not realize there's a perfectly understandable reason for it!?!

Yeah, I don't get it either. Every character "whines" about someone. Astarion whines about Cazador, especially during the second and third act. Lae'zel whines about pleasing Vlaakith, especially during the Crèche mission. Hell, she'll even betray you if you fail her persuasion checks. Shadowheart whines about Shar and snaps at you if you criticize her goddesses of darkness. Then, if you prove she's being used, she falls into a deep depression and still whines about Shar. Wyll whines about Mizora and she's a constant presence in his life, to the point that she'll park her abusive ass directly in your camp just to torment him. If you romance him, she sees everything. She watches you 👀. He has no privacy. I think Karlach might be the only companion who doesn't constantly whine about someone, but she does complain about her engine a lot.

But these aren't criticisms. They're absolutely, 100% justified. Astarion has every right to whine. Lae'zel has every right to whine. They all have every right to whine. I just want to emphasise the hypocrisy when it comes to how players judge Gale. Every character has a dark past looming over them, our chatty wizard included. If you get mad at him, it's only fair to keep the same energy for all the other companions, because they're in the exact same situation. They're trapped. They're victims. They're suffering. Of course it's going to be a major talking point, especially when there's a person/goddesses/devil responsible for that pain.

Honestly, I think the only people who get annoyed when Gale talks about Mystra are would-be romancers who get turned off when he doesn't immediately throw himself at their Tav's feet. Have you seen the somewhat viral video where a streamer drools over him, but goes full jealous mode when she sees him conjuring the image of Mystra in his palm? It's funny, but she acted like they were already a couple ... but at that point in the game Gale didn't even know she was interested! I'm certainly no expert, but isn't that how relationships work? It's pretty hard to find someone who doesn't have an ex, and he only talks about Mystra in a positive light before you express interest. He's insecure and he feels lost without her, but if you romance him it makes him realise how messed up their "relationship" was in the first place. It's a healing process, not a competition. He never compares you to Mystra in any way other than to say that you're better, and that's only if you ask.

Gale is also arguably the most romantic character out of the bunch, so I don't know why people get so upset. Mystra, much like Shar, Cazador, Mizora, etc., is a constant negative in Gale's life and the reason he's dying. She could remove the orb with ease but she won't, so of course he's going to "whine" about her. He feels guilty at first, then he feels used and angry, and by the end you can either convince him to become her Chosen again (which is entirely on you, though you remain his priority) or you can convince him to reject Mystra and leave the crown in the sea. The orb remains lodged in his chest, because Mystra's too petty to remove it, but it becomes completely inert. Either way, he's happy and he devotes himself entirely to you, not Mystra.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 mystra #mystra #astarion #lae'zel #shadowheart #wyll ravengard #karlach #cazador szarr #mizora #shar #minthara

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ratatouillewastakendammit · 1 year

Note

i can't stop thinking about Hawks getting pissed during an interview where another pro hero makes a remark about how Hawks pretty little sidekick could do so much better at their agency,,, and he has to sit there and play nice but once it's over hes allllllllllll over her,,,,, yea <3

I was at a con when I got this request and it got me giggling out loud and shit.

This took so long to write because I had writer's block, but I hope you like it <3

Warnings: the tiniest bit of spice, basically just enhanced making out, I tried to make this one a bit more fluffy, language, a random oc because I couldn't really think of any other pro-heroes within the age range who were assholes

Word Count: 2.5k

"And now for our next set of guests, I would firstly like to introduce the primary reason that half of our female viewers tuned in tonight."

The live audience erupted into applause as the pro made his way onto the stage, waving a hand before running it through perfectly-styled golden bangs.

The host, a middle-aged man with strikingly purple hair met him halfway. "Hawks, how are you doing tonight?"

"I'm doing great." He smiled, perfectly aware of how easily that grin could melt hearts. "Happy to be here."

"We're happy to have you!" The host reflected his expression, flashing a set of teeth that were so flawlessly white it was almost unnerving. "And next up, we have another hero slowly climbing up the ranks, the Hound Hero, K-Nine!"

Another man hopped on to the stage, earning another round of cheers from the crowd in front of him.

Umber hair had been wrapped into an unkempt bun, matching the deep shade of his eyes. He could be considered pretty attractive, Hawks supposed, if you could look past the ears poking past the up-do.

Although he didn't know the hero's legal name, nor did he care enough to look it up beforehand, he was ninety perfect positive that it started with the letter 'K.'

Cheesy, but he wouldn't judge. He'd been known to appreciate a good pun.

What he didn't appreciate was that fact that he PR rep had dragged him to another interview on his supposed day off.

Still, he was better than most at keeping up appearances, flashing that heart-stopping grin and throwing in a clever comment when the time called for it.

The host asked the usual questions, the similarities to K-Nine and himself, even though he was sure that those ended at their shared animal-based quirks and the fact that they were both in their mid twenties. Regardless, anyone with eyes would see that the two could barely be considered to be on the same level, something that brought an air of dullness to the interview.

As usual, the winged pro found it difficult to pay attention, leg bouncing in anticipation of how long he would be stuck here. That was one of the less-apparent downsides of being someone who prominently valued speed; sitting through such monotonous situations was quite the feat.

Instead, he droned out the voices as the men across from him started to discuss the importance of sidekicks.

And that's when he heard your name.

He perked up, immediately recognizing that K-Nine was staring in his direction, wolfish grin only accentuated by the sharpened canines poking out from under his lips. "I gotta say, I'm jealous."

Hawks cocked an eyebrow. "Jealous?"

Nodding, the brunet allowed the surface-level authenticity to settle for a moment. "Someone as cute as that? I don't know how anyone there manages to get work done."

It was almost unnoticeable, practically unseen over the televised pixels many were watching through. Regardless, the slight tense of his wings in pure irritation was undeniable.

So, that's what this was about.

Forcing a smile, he replied. "Considering our criminal apprehension rates, I think you'd be surprised."

K-Nine leaned back into his chair, haughty expression flickering between the good-hearted playfulness he was supposed to be exuding. "All I'm saying is a pretty little thing like that could do a lot better at my agency."

Golden eyes narrowed slightly as the connotation, fingers digging into the plush sofa as he used every bit of mental strength to will the spite from his tone. "As far as I know, all of my sidekicks are perfect content to work with me. Just like I'm sure yours are happy to work with you. Not sure how they handle all the fleas, though."

The cluster of people in front of him busted into laughter, and he joined, but the sound seemed to be laced with a soft malice if you managed to listen hard enough.

Playing nice for the public was one of his strong suits, and considering his resilience in a long-term business relationship with Endeavor, he could rightfully say that he was able to handle difficult personalities.

All that tolerance seemed to fly out the window when it came to you.

And the hero across from him either had the social recognition skills of a goldfish, or was too dumb to care.

Regardless, K-Nine turned to the audience. "Come on, I've got a chance, right?"

Some man in the crowd let out a whistle and Hawks felt a compelling urge to hurl a shoe at his nose.

"Speaking of romance," the host verbally silenced the room, making Hawks more grateful than he thought momentarily possible, "I've got to ask, anyone special worthy of a mention?"

Internally, he breathed a sigh of relief, the inquiry signaling the closure of the interview, which had seemingly gone on for a few decades at the very least.

It was always like this, the same question would be asked, and then he'd give the same bullshit-answer about the love from his fans being more than enough.

Fuck, how great would it be if he threw your name into the mix.

That'd shut that arrogant mutt up real quick, that's for sure.

But he'd keep his mouth shut, if not for his own benefit, but for yours.

With your take-down rate, it was blatantly how talented you were as a hero and, even if it wouldn't be many, Hawks would be damned if anyone questioned your acceptance into his agency.

In all honesty, he had initially recognized your power and intelligence, traits that had gotten you the job in the first place.

It was in those first few months that he had begun to realize how much he liked you, how much he liked to watch you kick ass, or how pretty you were, even if it was preposterously early in the morning.

So he'd stay quiet, if only to keep a few impudent naysayers off your back.

Not to mention that you might wring his neck.

Instead, Hawks sat simmering with annoyance on that plush sofa until the cameras were cut and he was forced to shake hands, first with the host, then with his fellow interviewee for the night, the latter receiving the tiniest bit more squeeze.

The night was cold but he opted to fly back to his agency, allowing the chill tangle through his hair and hopefully disperse some of the vexation he desperately needed eradicated.

Besides, driving would mean lesser access to his office skylight, which also meant a long-ass elevator ride that he didn't have time for.

It was unlocked, thankfully, and he slipped into the room. He moved to shrug off his jacket, but paused, double taking at the light blooming under the thin fracture between his door and the marble flooring.

Obviously, he wasn't scared. Anybody would have to be pretty idiotic to attempt robbing a place belonging to the number 2 hero, and even more so to leave a light on.

Regardless, he stayed quiet, hoping to avoid an unnecessary interaction with a coworker he didn't have the patience for, and crept around the corner, expression softening a bit at what he saw.

It was you.

You were huddled over your desk, typing furiously at some important looking document. The computer screen illuminated your features, casting a dull glow over the otherwise unlit room.

Hawks recognized the soft tense of your eyebrows every few seconds, the way that you would pause to collect your thoughts because issuing that recognizable click-clack of your keyboard in focused chunks of writing.

He leaned back on the wall, arms crossed as he watched you work with a fond grin gracing his features.

After a while, you sighed, taking a moment to rotate the stiffness beginning to take place in your neck. Your gaze lazily flit over the room and you jumped. "Fuck!"

"Wow, that took you forever, sweetheart," he sighed, tilting his head in a teasing inquiry. "Do we need to work on awareness skills with the other sidekicks?"

"If you're gonna keep lurking behind corners like the boogeyman, then probably." You rolled your eyes, allowing his petname to settle in your mind. "And I thought I told you not to call me that during work."

"Why? Because you get all blushy and embarrassed?" He pushed off the wall, strolling over and nestling his head on your left shoulder.

You tensed a bit as he arms snaked over that of the chair, hands wrapping around your torso. "I don't."

The hero laughed, pulling at your cheeks like he could feel the heat creeping into him. "Work hours are over anyway. Which means that you should be here."

"I need to finish this report." You nodded to the screen as if to prove your point, eyes narrowing as he continued to bury his face into your neck. "Are you okay?"

He paused, eyebrows furrowing as he backed away. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You get extra clingy when you're upset. Did something happen at the interview?"

So, you hadn't seen it.

"How dare you," the faux-hurt lacing his tone was a stark contrast to the satisfaction he felt knowing that you were close enough to recognize some of his physical tellers. Still, you didn't need to know that. "I do wonderful in interviews."

You smiled and he felt his heart melt. "Well, I'm just going to have to check and make sure."

Saving the work on your current tab, you moved your mouse to open up a new one before finding YouTube, which would most likely already have clips of the program uploaded. You were barely hovering over the search bar when the man all but threw himself on to your lap, arms latching themselves around your waist. "Don't. There were so many annoying people there."

"I thought you had an avian quirk," you groaned, arms straining as you tried to detach his. "If you had boa constrictor powers then I would've liked to know."

He glanced up, eyes wide and oddly reminiscent of a child waking up his parents in the middle of the night. "I'll let you stay and work overtime if you let me hang out here for a while. It's been a very long day."

"Oh, I'm sure it has." You rolled your eyes, sighing in exasperation.

Despite the sarcasm, you succumbed to his request, letting go of his annoyingly firm grasp in favor of continuing to finish your report. Hawks found himself relaxing into your thighs, overly hyper brain surprisingly calmed with the muted tapping of your keyboard.

After a few more minutes, you shifted, pushing his unsuspecting form onto the floor and giving a laugh at the pout overcoming his face. "Bathroom. I'll be two minutes, at the very most."

It was, in fact, just past one-hundred and twenty seconds by the time you returned. The hero was currently taking up occupancy in your swivel chair, oblivious to the confusion at which you glaring at your phone with.

"Do you somebody named Kano Kirisaki?" You asked.

"Who?" He asked without looking up.

"The Hound Hero. He's somewhere in the late sixties on the charts, I think?" Despite your career as a pro-sidekick, you weren't exactly overly concerned with the rankings.

"Oh," he replied, ignoring the urge to add a 'called it.' A tic of annoyance threatened to emerge on his forehead, but he did his best to ignore it. "What about him?"

"I just got a text. The guy said that you gave him my number. Is that true?"

That made him pause.

"He said what?" The vexation simmering in his copper gaze was downright terrifying, only extenuated by the slow upturn of his chin as his eyes met yours.

"Apparently not." You made a beeline for the door, device still in hand and fingers typing away. "I'll just let him know that-"

Something whizzed past your face and you came to an abrupt halt, feeling the breath of air over your cheek as the object whirled by and just barely missed you.

You blinked, taking a moment to recognize what had just happened. You hadn't been hit, but the object previously in your hand?

Less lucky.

Spinning around in shock, you were met with the stupefied face of Hawks, who was currently staring in horror at the item stuck in the wall and the feather protruding out of it.

He just skewered your phone.

You turned again, silently walking over and yanking the hardened plume out before inspecting the damage. The screen had been shattered, the back cameras also blown to bits from the harsh impact.

"Oh, fuck." The hero stood, movements quick and panicked as he ran over to you. "Oh, shit. I am so sorry."

"What the fuck?" The sentence was less of an aggressive statement, more of an actual, bewildered question. Seeing as how completely flabbergasted you were, it was almost hard to be genuinely angry for the first few seconds.

"I swear, I don't know why I did that," he assured, running a hand through his hair in alarm. "But I'll get you a new one. That model was kinda old anyways."

You scoffed. "Oh, thank goodness. I was hoping to get a replacement. How wonderful that you happened to impale this one."

His arm caught yours as you turned to leave, forcing your line of sight to meet his. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

Against your best efforts, you felt your chest lighten a bit at the tenderness he was regarding you with. It was almost impossible to stay cold when the guy you had been admiring for weeks was looking at you like that. "I just don't... I just need you to know that you can be honest with me. I don't know what's wrong, but if there's anythi-"

Your eyes shot open as his mouth smashed against yours, taking a pause before fluttering to a close.

One of his hands curled into your hair, the other finding its way around your waist. His kiss traveled over your jaw, trailing until it was above your collarbone.

With his enhanced senses, it was easy to tell what areas you were most sensitive. He relished in every pleasured breath, the way your heart rate would speed up when he bit down ever so gently.

It took a tangible amount of self-control to keep himself from jumping you when the smallest whine fell from your lips. Instead, he lifted his leg in between your thighs, watching your form falter as a spark of warmth shot through your abdomen.

You around an arm across his shoulder, an attempt to steady yourself as you watched him pull away, arrogant grin gracing his features and eyes glowing softly. Their soft luminescence was nothing less than beautiful and you silently questioned why you hadn't scheduled more late night patrols. His fingers grazed underneath your shirt, tickled the skin of your waist with their gentle warmth.

The breath had escaped your lungs, but it was nearly impossible to keep the smile from your features. "What the fuck happened in that interview?"

Hawks chuckled, touch brushing over the small mark on your collarbone that he had left behind. His heart jumped at the thought of leaving more, leaving zero questions about who you belonged to. "Nothing that you need to worry about, sweetheart."

It was less than a day by the time you got your new phone.

#mha hawks #bnha imagines #bnha hawks #hawks x reader #hawks bnha #hawks x you #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami #keigo x reader #mha imagines #mha #bnha #hawks #hawks imagine

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charliehoennam · 1 month

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sweet stranger

A/N: request made here by @annekelovesreading

Summary: the war veteran Alfie seeks comfort in a stranger in hopes of returning to his old self

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, reader is a sex worker.

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

part two

"Thanks for the ride, James. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

You climb out of the Bentley and adjust your coat, smoothing out the wrinkles of your dress before strutting towards the hotel, your heels clacking against the pavement and then marble floors of the lobby.

You sense the judgemental eyes already on you, but you've learned how to ignore them. If their judgement paid your rent and bills, then you'd finally be able to retire. But until then, you did what needed to be done.

The service you provide is simple and clear. You meet the client, humor them a bit and fuck them before leaving at first light.

You are lucky enough to work for a powerful and strict madame that actually recognizes the importance of her employees' well-being and ran a high-end business.

Her rules were clear. No marking, no hitting and contraceptive must be used.

Just because her empire dominates the professional area of sexual pleasure does not mean she runs a funhouse. Many would mistake Madame's care for benevolence when it is really just a matter of logistics.

Black eyes don't allow her employees to escort her wealthy clients to prestigious social events. And the only reason her business dominates is because she assures clean employees to her clients. An employee with the clap gets the boot and replacing them is expensive.

After giving your name at the front desk, you take the keys you're headed with a smile and head to room 403.

The name is not unfamiliar. You've heard plenty of Alfie Solomons and part of you is afraid of what he'll be like, judging by what you've heard.

The ring of the lift snaps you our of your thoughts. You flash a smile at the liftman and thank him before stepping into the hallway.

Alfie Solomons is not your first client - nor will he be your last - but knowing he is the first gangster you're about to meet and sleep with has butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You mentally repeat Madame's rules to yourself to try and ease your nerves. But then again, do rules hold any standing to criminals?

Taking a couple of deep breaths, you manage to relax as best as you possibly can in the situation and simply remind yourself that he is no different than any other client.

You lift your hand to knock on the door. There's movement behind it and the metal of the lock on the side rattles as it slides to open.

Your lips pull into a welcoming smile at the broad, tall man that opens the door. Taking in his features, you quickly notice his wet hair.

The smell of soap emanates from his large frame along with a faint scent of rum and an irresistible natural musk that almost lured you to touch him.

It's obvious that he took the time to wash himself and, to be honest, you're quite thankful for that.

"You must be Mr. Solomons."

"Punctual little thing, ain't you? Come on in, love. Don't mind me."

His tone is rather calm even with his heavy Cockney drawl. His fingers, however, seem to confess his nerves with the way they flick back and forth.

"Punctuality is a necessary characteristic in my line of work, Mr. Solomons."

"Right, right" he nods as you walk past him. He still can't seem to look you in the eye, but you've yet to discover why.

Most of the nervous clients that you've had were first-timers, young men eager to lose their virginity especially before being sent to war.

Alfie is very attractive and pleasing to the eye with his large strong build, but he is no young boy. You find it hard to believe that this would be his first time being as wealthy, cunning and wealthy as you heard he is.

"May I take your coat, love?"

"Yes, please."

You turn to back to him to allow his assistance, taking in the sight of the hotel room. You've been in this hotel before, but despite that, the lavish decoration of the suite never fails to impress.

Alfie can't help but feel intimidated by the simple scent of your perfume as he stands behind you, taking your coat to hang it for you. He doesn't want you to pick up on the fact that he feels so out of his element.

Before the war, Alfie had his fair share of women. He used to be so different. So young and naive and confident - which is the only characteristic he can successfully feign more than well in the wicked world he treads in.

But now, he's in foreign territory. So much has changed for him.

Getting his affairs back in strict order took so much work, sweat and blood from him that he hadn't prioritized his romantic desires.

If age hadn't been enough, the night tremors made it impossible to sleep beside anyone. Red blotches were beginning to spread throughout his body due to the psoriasis. His sciatica only worsened with age and the harsh conditioning the war had forced onto it. And now the fucking cancer, which only added to his list of secret insecurities.

The confident young man he used to be was gone. Alfie was still human, however. And like many other humans, he yearned for companionship. The problem is that a man like Alfie can't confide in just anyone. He can't expose it without the risk of his enemies seeing it as an opportunity to use it against him.

Good thing about Madame's business is that her turf is neutral and independent ground. For now, at least.

Alfie knows he has to overcome this hurdle if he plans to get married one day and start a family and he just thought this would be the best way.

He's got a beautiful woman in his hotel room; he knows what you came here to do. He's just not sure what to do at this point other than to confess it to you. He doesn't want to say it, but deep down inside, he feels a bit humilited.

It shows in the way he avoids your eyes, the way his head hangs low.

"There's no shame in that, Mr. Solomons. I'm happy to help however I can. We don't have to rush into anything just yet... Do you drink?"

"Not often. Clouds the mind."

"Precisely. What do you drink?" You smile warmly at him.

"Wine is my favorite."

"Let's get you a glass then, Mr. Solomons."

Just as you expect, the wine is successful in loosening him up a bit.

You're careful enough to avoid asking any questions that concerns his business, so you focus on asking him to share things he enjoys like music and books.

After a couple hours and a couple glasses, he's warming up to you as you listen attentively to his childhood stories. Despite the wine, he is cautious enough to leave out certain details that are too personal for you to know that could bring him or his family harm if they ended up in the wrong hands.

You can't take it personal, and can only imagine that trust does not come easy in his line of work which only confirms that pressing him on such information wouldn't be very smart.

No matter how easy the conversation is flowing or how comfortable he may seem to be, you can't forget who he is beyond these four walls.

As he finishes his glass of wine, he sets it down on the table in front of you while raising a hand to his shoulder to rub at the aching knot in his muscle.

"Would you like me to take care of that for you, Mr. Solomons?"

"With what, love? Oh, this?" He asks glancing at his shoulder. "Oh, no. You don't have to do that."

It almost like he's forgotten the reason you're both there.

"Really, I don't mind at all. It's the least I can do for you, sir."

With a sweet smile, you stand as you finish off your glass and set it beside his on the table before walking over to his chair to offer him your hand.

"I promise I won't do anything you don't want me to."

His blue eyes narrow their gaze at you for a moment as if he's trying to read you. You can see him physically tense before accepting your hand.

The talkative Alfie is suddenly replaced by a quiet and insecure version as he watches you, from where he's sat in the bed, take your heels off - your almost bare feet still covered in your black stockings - before climbing onto the bed.

You stand on your knees , which are spread to accommodate him between them, and sit back on your feet after taking the small bottle of rose scented intimate oil from your purse.

"It's like riding a bike. Your body knows that to do, but it needs time, patience and practice, so you have to go slow."

Your breathe on his neck has chills racing up his arms as you reach to his front to unbutton his vest and slide it off his wide shoulders. You do the same with his shirt, but pause before sliding it off as his hand instinctively hold your wrist.

"May I? I'd love to see you, but if you don't want to, I can just slide it down a bit."

He ponders for a moment but replies with a silent nod as he releases your wrist.

You slide it off and much to your impression, he seems even wider and stronger than you'd imagined.

A couple scars and red blotches already here and there on his skin, but they don't stop you from marveling at the rippling muscles.

"My goodness... Mr. Solomons, with all the utmost respect, but you are quite the work of art."

He can't help but smile at your compliment, although he thinks that you're just saying what you think he wants to hear, so it's hard for him to believe.

You let your palms gently wander over his large back and arms, with a gentle squeeze to his biceps.

"Carved from stone, are you?" You joke, bringing a chuckle out of him.

"No, love. Just flesh."

"Fortunately."

Using the pipette, you pinch a couple drops of the oil onto his shoulders before closing the vial to set it aside and letting your fingers get to work.

Alfie groans softly and his eyes instantly close as you start massaging to undo the knot that's been bothering him for weeks now.

"How is that, sir? More pressure?"

"No, love. That's just fine...just perfect," he sighs relieved. "Fucking 'ell, love. That feels fucking great. You've no idea how long that's been bothering me."

"I can imagine. You've got knots like this all round. It can't be easy to live with them.

Slowly but surely, Alfie starts to relax. It's impossible not to. It's been a while since he's been touched by anyone, much less massaged by them.

The tension is his body begins to ease as your fingers work away not only the knots caused by the stress of his days, but the anxiety of being intimate again. It doesn't seem so foreign suddenly.

Building up the courage to place a gentle kiss onto the back of his shoulder, you lower your head and press your lips to his skin.

"Is this alright?" You whisper.

"More than alright."

"I can go lower if you'd like me to."

He nods, so you glides your fingers down the middle of his back, pressing against ether side of his spine.

"Fuck, love... That is heavenly."

You smile at the praises and take it a sign to continue the gentle teasing, moving your kisses up to the crook of his neck.

You take your time to ease him into his arousal. The lower you go down his back, the more convinced he becomes.

"Would you like me to touch you?"

You ask nuzzling your nose against his ear and he nods.

You reach a hand to his front and rub your palm against his clothed crotch. Although you can't see his cock, you can tell the man's been blessed with girth as it twitches against your touch.

Alfie gives in to the instant pleasure and moans, letting all his worries melt away. He can't remember the last time he's been able to feel so at ease.

As you whisper encouraging praises into his ear from behind, Alfie allows you to unbutton his trousers and slither your hand under the fabric to stroke his cock with a firm grip.

The room seems to spin around him. His head feels heavy from the pleasure as it leans back against your shoulder.

"That's it, sir. Just let me take care of you" you smirk kissing a sensitive spot on his neck that he didn't even know could make him tremble.

He isn't sure how much longer he can last. It's been a while after all.

"L-love, you feel so good."

You chuckle, letting his thick cock spring free from its confines.

"You're fucking beautiful, sir."

"Oh, you think so, yeah?"

You nod as your hand strokes his dick, coating it with his own pre-cum and the essential oil you'd brought.

"Lemme get more comfortable, love. Wanna see more of ya," alfie says holding your wrist to stop your movement for a moment.

He stands to kick off his trousers, standing in all his naked glory before sitting further up the bed with his back against the upholstered headboard.

"C'mere, love. Lemme see you hm?"

His invitation is made with calloused hands guiding you to straddle his lap. You make quick work of unbuttoning the dress and sliding the straps off your shoulders to reveal your chest with a sultry smile.

"May I?"

You can't help but smile at how he's a gentleman in such a moment. Most clients wouldn't even bother to remember asking, but Alfie makes you forget that he is just another client.

His large hands reach to knead your breasts, giving them such attentive appreciation as he licks his pink lips, eager to get them on you.

"It's alright, love" you whisper, seeming to read his mind.

The way his beard scratches your sensitive skin has your back arching into his warmth. His gentle and considerate admiration lures you into a trance; into a heated dream where you are able to finally feel like a woman loved.

You welcome him with fingers lacing into his messy brown locks still damp from his bath earlier. Your hips move mindless as you grind your clothed sex against his exposed cock, reminding him how good he feels and how you want him to feel the same.

Shifting onto your knees between his legs on the bed, you pepper tender kisses down his chest and stomach as your breasts dangle down and rub against his cock.

The anticipation has Alfie balling his fists into the white sheets.

"You are the most beautiful woman in the world, love. Fucking 'ell," he mumbles as your hands run up and down his thigh, giving gentle squeezes to tease him on.

"It's gonna be a long night."

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons fanfic #tom hardy

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lostdreamr-blog1 · 2 months

Text

Pinky Promise 2

Pinky Promise Part 1

Part 3

Summary: Part 2 of Pinky Promise. The two of you become close friends, but one night shows Jake just how much you trust him.

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: Hi friends! It’s been a hot minute since I have put something out but I promise you I have a good reason for it! I just had a baby and haven’t had time to sit down and write. But hoping to put out more content here soon! Thank you all for reading!!! - C

It was an ungodly time in the morning when you heard the doorbell ring. It took more will power than you would like to admit to even sit up in bed, head pounding with the slight elevation change. You wiped the sleep and last night’s makeup from your eyes, most likely smearing streaks of it across your face. And you sat there contemplating all of your life’s choices up to this point.

The doorbell seemed to yell at you, telling you that whoever was on the other side must have been impatient. A quick glance at the clock said it was 8:30 and you had to take a deep breath to not hurt the person who was making you get out of bed.

A few stumbling steps later, you opened the door to find a delivery guy with a bag of food. While you took the bag from him, the confusion was pretty clear. Even the guy who was turning to walk away could see it. “There is a note on the receipt.” And then he was gone.

Between the hangover from hell and very few hours of sleep you got; you were slow moving to get back inside. To anyone walking by you must have looked like you lost your mind with the amount of time you spent looking at the bag. But by some miracle, your legs took you back to bed while your mind was still reeling.

The bag didn’t have any sort of logo or name on it, but it did smell good. You opened it up and reached for the receipt first, trying to find answers.

The tacos I promised you. – Jake

A laugh came out as you put the piece of paper aside, making your way to the things that were making your mouth water. Breakfast tacos greeted you and suddenly being woken up was not a bad thing anymore.

You went to reach for your phone to thank the blond-haired pilot but stopped when you remembered exactly why you now had tacos. Your drunken self called your brothers most hated teammate last night because you didn’t want to get your brother involved. You winced at the thought of him finding out and pulled your hand back.

You dreaded looking at your phone, knowing Bradley most likely had blown it up after last night. So, instead of being a responsible adult who answered for her own actions, you turned your phone over. What you couldn’t see meant it wasn’t there. Denial was one of your favorite places to live in.

Jake seemed friendly enough, offering help whenever you needed. He also wasn’t quick to judge you like others. It wasn’t lost on you that Bradley had most likely told his teammates how “reckless and wild” you were, already painting a bad picture of you. But Jake didn’t make you feel that way. He actually made you think that you might be able to call him a friend, even if he didn’t see eye to eye with your brother.

Jake heard a knock at his door and tried to think who would be here at this time of night. The confusion only grew when he opened his door to find you walking past him and making yourself home on his couch.

“Ever think about how dumb Tuesdays are? Like the only thing they are good for is tacos.” Jake had to blink a few times for his mind to catch up to what was happening.

“I can’t say that I have. Did that burning question drive you all the way over here?” He closed the door and walked to the adjacent couch to sit. He had a feeling this was going to be a long visit.

“I had to thank you in person for the tacos since I’m ignoring my phone.” Jake’s eyebrows rose that comment and pushed you on it. He watched as you played with your hair, giving him a hint at one of your tells. You were either uncomfortable or nervous about your answer and he locked that piece of information away for later.

“Look, my brother can be a bit much sometimes and I didn’t have the energy to deal with him this morning. Then this morning quickly turned into this evening, and I figured it’s a lost cause now.”

Jake bit back a smile, “So, you thought ignoring him was your best option?” He thought back to his conversation with said pilot at work this morning and was surprised when he saw a new side of him.

Bradley at first apologized for “having to deal with you.” But once he realized he didn’t mind making sure you got home safe, he thanked him and said it won’t happened again. Jake brought up his sisters and how he would want to make sure that if they needed help, someone would be there regardless of how good of terms he might or might not be with that person. This seemed to clear the air between them a bit, making work a little easier.

“I know it isn’t exactly my smartest idea, but you can only be called irresponsible so many times before you lose it. Was he mad at you this morning?” Jake shook his head, “Thankful for getting you home. That’s all.” He watched you nod your head but could see you didn’t fully believe him.

“You pinky promise I didn’t make things worse for you at work?” Jake laughed at yet another pinky promise.

“Yes, I pinky promise. Have you eaten dinner? I have leftovers I was about to heat up.” And with that offering, it opened the door to a new friendship.

Jake often found himself answering the door to you, texting you at random hours of the day, and always making sure you made it home safely. The two of you quickly became good friends, making the random house visits become a normal thing. He started to look forward to you coming over, knowing that your carefree way of life would bring him some sort of interesting story.

Until tonight.

The knock on his door was a little later than normal. Typically, you made your way over right after he got home from work. But tonight, it was hours past that time. Jake opened the door expecting you to waltz right in, but instead you were stood rooted in place with your head down. Red flags instantly went up as he tried to figure out what was wrong.

“Hey darlin’. How about we head inside?” His heart dropped when you lifted your head up. A bruise was starting to form around your right eye and by the way you were holding yourself, he knew it was from something bad.

A million different scenarios went through his mind, each worse than the last. But until he could get to the bottom of it, he needed to make sure you were okay. The ever so confident girl he had come to adore was nowhere in sight as he fully took you in. Your arms were wrapped around yourself, almost as if you were trying to be as small as possible. Despite the swelling from the bruise, he could see redness around your eyes from crying.

He moved to the side as you slowly made your way in allowing him to close the door and give you his full attention. “Sweetheart, what happened?” You flinched as he moved his hand towards you, making him stop his motion and put his hand up.

“You know I would never hurt you. I just need to look at that eye.” He waited for you to give some sort of okay before he tried again.

“I had this date and he wanted to go back to his place. All I did was tell him no.” Your words came out as a near whisper, but Jake heard you loud and clear. He had to take a second to calm himself down to not scare you any further.

“Can I give you a hug?” His words surprised you. The two of you were never one to show affection but for him to ask permission before doing it solidified why you chose to come here. A small head nod and he pulled you into his chest.

“I am so sorry you had to go through that. No one should ever have to feel that kind of fear.” And that simple gesture pushed you to your breaking point. The tears started all over again, but this time you felt a sense of comfort as you let them out. He continued to hold you for a few minutes and when he let go, you could see just how much this had affected him too.

He couldn’t help but think about his sisters and what he would do if they were ever in this situation. To have someone hit them simply because they said no made him sick to his stomach. Which is why he knew he needed to let your brother know.

“Sit down on the couch and I’ll grab you some ice to help with the swelling.” You did as he said, and Jake walked into the kitchen to grab a bag of frozen vegetables for you. While he was in there, he sent a quick text to Bradley telling him he needed to come over now. Jake knew he would do it based on the zero interactions they have outside of work. Bradley would know something was wrong.

He walked back out and saw you curled up on the couch, wiping a few tears from your face. When he picked you up from that bar a few weeks ago, he never imagined the two of you would be here. But he was glad to be that person for you.

“Put this on your eye for fifteen minutes and it should help numb the pain a bit.” You took the bag from him and did as he said. “Also, your brother should be on his way.”

The look of panic crossed your face, and he knew there was a chance you didn’t want your brother to know.

“I know you don’t want him to find out, but this is something your brother would want to know. I promise you that.” He watched as you played with the ends of your hair.

“He is going to try and say it’s my fault.” Jake knew the two of you had a bumpy relationship with just how different your lives were. But he didn’t for one second think that your brother would ever blame you for this.

“Let me get one thing straight. This is by no way your fault. A man should never lay his hands on a woman no matter what the reasoning. You said no and he needed to respect that. End of story.”

A knock on the door made you jump, and Jake waited a second before he went to open it. He gave Bradley zero warning on what he was walking into, and you weren’t in the best headspace to begin with. He knew there was a chance this wasn’t going to go well, but your brother couldn’t be left out of this.

Jake opened the door and said, “Try and keep calm.” Bradley walked in and took one look at you and pushed Jake up the wall. “The fuck did you do, Bagman?” Jake knew the initial reaction was going to be rough, but he was hoping he would still be able to fly tomorrow.

You stood up and quickly tried to push your brother away. While he didn’t budge, you at least got his attention. “He didn’t do this. I didn’t know where to go so I came here.”

Bradley looked back to Jake for confirmation and then backed off. He ran a hand through his hair as he looked between the two of you. “Someone needs to start explaining. Now.”

Jake looked over to you to see what you wanted to do. He had no issue telling Bradshaw the whole story, but he didn’t want to step on your toes. You didn’t tell him the two of you were friends for a reason, and he wasn’t sure how much you wanted to explain.

You took a deep breath and tried your best to answer, “Ever since the night Jake gave me a ride home, we’ve been hanging out. He’s been a good friend, one that I probably don’t deserve, but someone I know I can go to. I had a date tonight and it clearly didn’t go well. I was going to go home but I knew it wasn’t the best idea. Here was the next best place.”

Bradley shook his head, “Why here? Why not to my house? You know you can come to me for anything.”

You looked down as you said, “You always say how reckless I am, and I didn’t want this to be another huge disappointment for you.”

You heard Bradley curse under his breath but couldn’t find the courage to look up. Which is why you let out a yelp when he put a hand on your shoulder. “I know I’m hard on you but that’s because you’re the only family I have left. I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t come to me for things. That’s the last thing I ever wanted. But this? This is something I need to know, and I would never say it’s your fault. Something like this shouldn’t have happened and you best believe I am going to kill the guy who did this to you.”

You gave him a small nod and he turned your head to get a better look at your eye. “This is going to be a nasty bruise. Did he get you anywhere else?”

Jake watched in curiosity when your eyes seemed to light up some. “No. I stopped him before he could do anything else. Didn’t hurt as bad this time either.” The two pilots were confused until Jake looked down at your hand to see some slight bruising.

“Looks like you got him good.” Bradley caught on but then asked what you meant by “this time.”

You looked over to Jake for help explaining. “Killer over here has a nasty right hook. Said you taught her how to throw it.”

Bradley slowly nodded his head and almost looked excited when he asked if you used it on Jake. “You wish.” He chuckled some and then looked over to his teammate. “Thanks for looking out for her. Clearly you are doing a better job at it than me.”

Jake smirked, “Just one more thing to add to the list that I’m better at.”

A/N: Thoughts? Still deciding if I am going to add another one of these to the mini-series. Thank you so so much for reading!! - C

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#hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #topgun maverick #topgun #chelsea writes

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