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brain-rot-central · 5 months

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The Cellar

A/N: I feel like I hit my quota in the smut mines, for this weekend. I left this open so I could eventually make a part two, if it so suits me, heh.

Words: 3.1k CW: 18+, dry humping, Virgin!Tav, masturbation, fingering, dubcon (?? not really sure but I'm gonna put it), sexual themes, pining, Astarion being a little shit Pairing: Astarion x Female!Tav (the reader is Tav) Summary: You and Astarion were looting a particular cellar within the Blighted Village when you happened to brush hands. As brief as the exchange was, it quickly escalated to something more. You can't stop thinking about it, and neither can Astarion. What portal into the Hells have you opened for yourself?

“Hello, my sweet.”

Astarion sought you out from the opposite side of camp, the flap of your tent closing behind him as he entered.

“Oh, Astarion! Hello,” you greet him. You're sitting on the floor of your abode, wiping various kinds of blood and grime from your armor. Thank the Gods you wear a metal breastplate; you couldn't imagine how tough it must be to remove blood once it's soaked into leather.

“You do know that Gale called everyone for dinner not long ago, right?” He tilts his head slightly back toward the direction of the campfire, a clenched fist raising above his shoulders. The thumb of his hand echoes his head, also pointed toward the middle of camp.

You place the armor and handkerchief off to your side, standing up. “Oh, yes, I did happen to hear him.” You cast your eyes to the floor and let out a brief chuckle, patting your hands over your lap to brush off some dirt. “I guess I just got carried away!” Your eyes move from the floor and up to Astarion's face, and you can see it immediately spelled out on his expression.

You're bullshiting him, and he knows it.

With his head still tilted to the side, he furrows his brows together. His eyes draw into narrow slits, and the corner of his mouth turns upward into a smile.

Truth be told, you were thinking about him.

You'd removed most of the blood on your breastplate hours ago. Though, your mind drifted to thoughts about your vampiric companion.

His fingers have brushed up against yours a few times on your adventure, mostly when you were both looting an old residence you'd come upon. You'd place your hand on a particular item, only to feel Astarion's hand covering your own from the opposite side of the shelf. You mindlessly began scrubbing every nook and cranny on your armor as you imagined his long, lithe fingers ghosting over your own.

~~~

A chill shoots down your spine at the sensation and you instinctively pull your hand back, a small startled yelp leaving your mouth.

“My apologies, darling. Didn't see you there!” Astarion calls from behind the shelf. He steps around the corner of the shelf, quickly enough to see you shaking off your hand.

“I-It’s quite alright, Astarion,” you stammer. An unsettling warmth radiates over your body, and you realize that his eyes are fixated on you.

But, something is different about this look.

He looks… hungry.

His eyelids have dropped and he's stepping closer, closer, until his cologne tickles the underside of your nose.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice dripping with honey. “You look rather distressed.”

You briefly scan the room around you, only to realize that yourself and Astarion are the only occupants. Your breath catches in your throat as he clasps a hand over one of yours, bringing your hand to his mouth.

His eyes drift closed and he kisses the inside of your hand, interlocking his fingers between your own. He begins trailing kisses down your palm and to the inside of your wrist.

“Astarion, wha-” you manage to choke out before he cuts you off.

“I know you think of me, Tavaria.” Astarion's voice is a growl, low and throaty. He steps before you, his chest mere centimeters from yours.

“I see it in the way you stare.” He takes both of your arms, fingers skating gently over your forearms before sinking into the skin, and guides them to wrap around his neck. “Oh, so eagerly.”

~~~

“Of course, I'm sure you did,” Astarion says, his voice cutting you free from your thoughts. He's still smiling, as if he knew exactly where your mind had just been.

“Anyhow,” he continues, “I'll be out there mingling amongst the others. Do be sure to eat while it's still warm, hmm?”

With a wave of a hand, Astarion turns on his heels and walks out of your tent.

You release a sigh you didn't know you were holding as the flap to your dwelling draws closed again.

You haven’t yet told him you were a virgin. The chance hasn't come up naturally yet, though it almost did that night in the cellar.

Again, your mind drifts.

~~~

You gasp as his hands come to hold each side of your waist. He grinds his pelvis into yours, and you feel it through the layers of your clothing, nudging against your mound.

That's him.

The pressure of the lewd contact against your front sends a delicious wave of electricity down to your core. Your cunt throbs with each rut of his hips into yours and your mouth falls open in a silent cry. Your hands fall to grasp his biceps, needing something, anything, to help ground you in this moment.

Astarion drops his head to your ear, nipping softly at your earlobe. “Does our ‘illustrious leader’ touch herself while alone in her tent, as she thinks of me?”

You groan and collapse slightly into his grasp, wetness gathering at the apex of your thighs. This fucking bastard. How did he know? Did he overhear you at night?

…Did he stay up just to listen?

~~~

The thought sends your mind reeling all over again. You shake your head vigorously, hoping to rid yourself of the memory and the newly-formed blush across your cheeks.

He would have fucked you, right then and there. Would have happily taken you on the dirt floor of some musty old cellar. Probably would have shoved your face down into the dirt as he mercilessly plowed into you from behind, stuffing your cunt to the brim with his seed as he roared through his climax.

He would have never known that was your first time.

The thought excites you more than you'd ever care to admit.

Whatever you lacked in experience, you made up for in knowledge. You knew what you liked, and what lines you were hard pressed to cross. You were learned in the topic sex, knew of erogenous zones for humans and elves alike. You weren't quite sure if your hand felt as good as Astarion's cock would, but you made due. It was a worthy substitute, for now.

Your mind did indeed travel often to visions of the pale elf. You dreamed of your lips interlocked in a slow, tender kiss. You envisioned his hands traveling up and down the expanse of your back, coming to settle on the swell of your ass.

But mostly… you think of the cellar.

~~~

You groan through clenched teeth as his fingers pump languidly into your core. You can hear how wet you are, how much of a mess he has made of your body. You've never been touched like this before; it's better than anything you could have imagined.

Astarion's fingers curl into a “come hither” motion within you and you careen, back arching and your mouth falling open in a ragged scream. The palm of his hand grinds against your clit, and you swear you're going to die.

You swear he's trying to kill you, swear he's doing this so he can drink every last drop of your blood without consequence.

He begins to move his fingers in earnest and it's too much, too much too soon, your body has never known pleasure like this.

“Astarion-!” you call his name, your voice a panicked whisper. Suddenly, you shatter. Your vision bleeds into solid white as tremors overtake your body. Your hands seek purchase on his forearms, your nails digging deep enough to pierce his skin.

“That's it, little girl,” he coos into your ear. “You’re doing so well for me.” His fingers continue their assault against that particular spot inside you and you whine, dropping your head onto his shoulder. It's too much, you're too sensitive.

Your chest heaves, sucking in deep breaths as Astarion finally removes his fingers from your aching hole. A pitiful sob escapes you at the lost sensation of being filled. He chuckles darkly and takes his hand, the one that had just brought you to the peak of pleasure, and shoves it down the front of his trousers to adjust and squeeze his straining cock into a better position. Astarion lets out a soft groan as his length rests up against his abdomen, pulling his hand free from his leathers.

You finally find strength enough to lift yourself straight into a standing position, bracing your hands on his shoulders for leverage. You look up and do your best to focus on his face, watching as he sucks the two fingers he just had in your cunt, and on his cock, into his mouth. They're sure to have tasted of you and him, at this point.

“Absolutely exquisite, my darling. Truly the nectar of the most forbidden fruit,” he states with a sultry tone.

Half-lidded eyes were transfixed on yours and you suck in a shaky breath. You follow his tongue as it weaves around and between each of his digits, cleaning them diligently.

~~~

You raise both hands to your face, digging the heels of your palms into your eyeballs.

This fucking bastard.

He knew what he was doing. And by the Gods, did he do it well.

“It's all a bit of fun, my dear,” he told you after your encounter. Just two, beautiful people staring down the end of their lives together. Why not go out with a bang?

Your nose catches a faint waft of Astarion’s signature cologne, reminding you he had been in your tent mere moments ago.

“Probably best I go and grab supper,” you say to yourself. Not that you'd mind Astarion returning to your tent again, but you weren't necessarily prepared for the possibility of things… escalating.

You draw in a deep breath and cross the threshold of your tent. You're greeted by sounds of laughter coming from around the campfire. Wyll seems to be telling an entertaining story, based on Karlach wiping tears of joy from her eyes. Shadowheart watches as she sips from her goblet, Gale looking attentively at Wyll as he speaks.

Lae’zel has taken her dinner back to her tent, taking small bites in between the sharpening of her blade on the grindstone. Some might call it unsettling, but you feel a sense of calm and safety knowing she is always prepared to strike within a moment's notice.

Astarion is seated on the end of the wooden bench, a tome in hand as he laughs in response to Wyll’s story. You see a purple aura emanating from Astarion's lap, and you recognize the book he's holding to be the very one you found that same day in the cellar.

The Necromancy of Thay.

You'd taken down a Spider Queen and her clutch in order to obtain the purple oval gemstone placed in mouth on the book’s cover. It pulsed a brilliant violet light in Astarion's lap, his fingers slowly tracing each line of text within the pages of the tome.

You weren't quite sure why Astarion was interested in this book, but you let him have it. “That looks awfully heavy,” he had told you. “Why don't you let me carry it for you?”

You didn't know much about Astarion yet, but you knew that he was never quite pleased with the hand life had dealt him. Perhaps he was seeking answers to cure his vampirism, or hoping to find a weakness to exploit against his old master, Cazador. Whatever his motivation was, his eyes were glued to each page of the book, making sure to absorb each shred of information it had to offer.

“Good evening, everyone,” you say, picking up a bowl from around the edge of the campfire. You ladle some stew into your bowl, pleased to see that it's boar meat this time as opposed to rabbit.

Your companions nod and wave in your direction in acknowledgement of your presence. You hear slight murmurs as they resume their prior conversation.

“I figured I'd bring back a fresh kill for you all to enjoy,” Astarion spoke up, lifting his eyes momentarily from his book. “Why waste perfectly good meat?”

Gale clears his throat. “An excellent contribution to our feast, Astarion. We're most pleased by your generosity,” Gale says as he shovels his last spoonful of stew into his mouth.

“I’ll admit, it was the most flavorful boar I've had in a while,” Shadowheart adds, taking another small sip of wine, “though I'm unsure if it's due to hunger, or the meat being fully exsanguinated prior to butchering.”

Astarion rolls his eyes in response, settling them back onto the pages in his lap. “Remind me never to be nice again,” he retorts.

Wyll chuckles. “Oh come now, Astarion. We truly appreciate you sharing with us. You could have left the carcass to rot, but no! You were thoughtful enough to consider your fellow companions.” Wyll clenches a fist and brings it over his heart, dipping his head to the floor. “We thank you for your generosity.”

Astarion scoffs audibly as he turns a page, his face scrunching up in disgust.

“It was merely a matter of convenience that Astarion brought the boar back to camp,” Lae’zel suggests, coming to drop her bowl in the wash bin next to the fire. “Had Astarion not required blood, we'd be feasting once more on the lean, pathetic meat of a field rabbit.”

Astarion’s head lifts up from the book in his lap, his arm extending toward Lae’zel’s direction. “Finally, someone who truly understands!” he exclaims, voice jovial. “Thank you, Lae’zel. I always knew you were smarter than you looked.”

Lae’zel groans in response and returns to her tent, grabbing a cloth to polish her armor. A brief moment of silence spreads over the camp, the firewood crackling and hissing into the night air.

Karlach places her bowl on the floor between her feet and looks toward Astarion. “Hey, Fangs,” she says, “what's the book you got there?”

Astarion softly closes the book on his lap and holds it up with both hands, as if displaying it for the others to view. “Oh, this old thing? Just something Tav and I found while looting a residence in the Blighted Village.”

You watch as his eyes dip low, settling on you. “It was located in a cellar, along with some other most delightful trinkets.”

You swallow thickly around the innuendo, somewhat startled, nearly choking on a chunk of boar. You audibly clear your throat, casting your eyes downward at the bowl resting on your thighs. You feel your cheeks begin to burn and you dare not return Astarion's gaze. You mindlessly begin spooning your stew.

You'd read of vampires having the ability to charm their victims, particularly those who are of the young, innocent, female variety. Astarion had told you he was simply a spawn, lacking the powers and abilities of a vampire lord. Though, you didn't believe it. How else could he have lured so many people back to Cazador? They'd surely fallen under his thrall… to some degree.

Astarion is a portrait frozen in time, turned at the peak of his physical maturity. He has hard, chiseled muscle covering the entire expanse of his body. His face is cut sharply, as if carved out of diamonds. His cheekbones sit high and his nose is strong and prominent, the slightest bump seen right below the bridge. His jawline is well defined, drawing together into the soft cleft of his chin. Soft silver curls envelope his face in a halo, and he truly looks god-like when the evening sun shines over him just right.

A forever young, devastatingly handsome vampire, destined to walk Faerûn for all of eternity.

“Huh,” Karlach spoke up, breaking your mind free from the confines of your latest rabbit hole. “Well, what's it about?” Her questions were innocent enough, bless her Hellfire engine of a heart.

“It's a book of the dead,” Astarion explains. “I'm hoping to gain some particular knowledge from it.”

Both Gale and Wyll chime in together, almost in unison. “I don't think that's a good idea,” they say in near synchronicity.

Astarion's face scrunches into a scowl as he rises from his seat on the log. “Well, good thing it isn't either of you reading this tome.” He gestures toward you as you spoon another mouthful of stew past your lips. “Tav was gracious enough to share it with me. I think you all should have a bit more faith in our exalted leader.” His voice is positively saturated in sarcasm.

Shadowheart scoffs, crossing her legs. “You always somehow manage to deflect everything onto another, don't you, Astarion?”

With a wave of his hand, Astarion begins to turn on his heels and walk back toward the direction of his tent. “This conversation has outgrown its purpose,” he replies. “And for that reason, I shall retire for the evening.”

He suddenly turns back around, eyes again meeting your own. “But before I go,” he states, raising his free arm above his side. He dips his head in a gentle bow, crossing that same arm over his chest. “Please, let me know if you'd care for a detailed report of all I've learned, thus far.”

Your eyes widen and heat creeps up your neck once more. The bastard is really doing this in the middle of camp? In front of everyone?

“Goodnight, my dear,” he says in a hushed tone. You catch his mouth turning upward into a devious smile, and he once again turns his back to you and continues his path toward his tent.

“Go-goodnight, Astarion,” you manage to choke out. “Thank you a-again for the boar.” He waves a hand in acknowledgement before retreating into the safety of his tent.

“So, Astarion is trying to teach himself the secrets of Necromancy, is he?” Gale says, hand rubbing over the tip of his chin. “Out of all the magicks of the Weave, Necromancy is one that is strictly forbidden.”

The conversation drifts into Gale giving an explanation of Mystra rejecting the practice of Necromancy for her followers. The rest of camp seems drawn to his story, though your eyes are fixated on the red fabric of Astarion's tent across camp.

Was he giving you an invitation to join him later tonight?

A shiver passes over you at the thought, and you deposit your bowl into the wash bin near the edge of the campfire. You stand and nod gently toward your companions, ushering well wishes of good sleep and pleasant dreams to each. They return the favor, and you begin to walk back toward the direction of your own tent.

Perhaps you'd pay Astarion a visit later, after everyone has settled in for the night. It seems as though he’s awfully eager to show you something.

Yes, you think you will pay him a visit. You just have to wait until the camp quells for the night… which you hope doesn't take much longer.

#astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion smut #astarion ancunin #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #fanfiction #bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x you #astarion fanfic

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shakirawastaken · 1 year

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dsmp if... you were a romance trope

i got inspiration (sapnap, dream, george, karl, quackiy, wilbur)

sapnap (hockey x figure skater): - im in the middle of heartbreaker rn and SHUT UP - i LOVE THIS TROPE - IM NOT EVEN A FIGURE SKATER I DO TAEKWONDO BUT I STILL FROTH OVER THIS SHIT - and then in addition to that one tommyinnit is a figure skater and everyone else is on a hockey team “ice these hurts” or smt h like that - i love this trope. - anyway i think that this trope comes hand in hand with enemies to lovers - his hockey team and ur figure skating group are at the same winter sports competiton - and you have to share a rink - booooo - so everyday you end practice with the sight of a bunch of hockey buffs roughhousing in the stands, waiting for you to finish - and everyday a certain brunette one sneers and smirks at you as you walk off the ice - “had a nice practice ice queen/king?” he asks you teasingly - “shut up, yeti” you mutter back gratingly as you bump your shoulder into his build as you pass him - and he comes up with a new one everyday - and you quip right back at him, unphased - one day, he comes into practice early just to spite you - what he wasn’t expecting is to see how good you actually were on the ice - he sat there like “ :O” and just watche dyou glide across the ice with what seemed like barely any effort - and he watched how passionate you were in your craft and the dance - and bro was whipped right then and there - so that day as you were leaving he said “you were amazing out there” and it took u jumpscared - you were like “no insult today?” - and he was like “dang, didnt know u liked them that much ;) but not today, not for something as beautiful as that” - and i think you can guess where it went from there... :)

dream (ceo and employee romance): - AKAIAKAKAHAKH TELL ME YOU SEE THE VISION - i mean hes a ceo alr so its like one step in the door you know - anyway hes a ceo - bro wears those fancy ass suits everyday and has like a wine cellar mini fridge shit thing in his office - any way you pull up to his headquarters one day for like an interview and you were so fucking nervous - you ran into him in the elevator (and no clue who he was) - and you basically vented to him for the 30 second elevator ride before scurrying off to your interview - bro didnt even get dreams name or anything - he kinda just smiled and wished you well as you ran away - he thought you were so cute - and you thought dude was hot as fuck - anyway you got the JOB!! LETS GOO - the next day, your supervisor is like taking u around showing u the works - ....and you meet the ceo - its dream - and youre like :0 and he’s like *smirk wink* ;) “hey” - and youre like “well fuck hes the ceo i cant be in love with him” - and you avoid him - but he makes it his life’s mission to get on ur radar - in the break room, in ur cubicle, in the cafeteria, in the parking lot man is ON YOU LIKE A MOTH TO A LIGHT - eventually he convinces you to go to fancy dinner - and WOW hes paying?? so that shit was FIREEEE - fancy wagyu steak and 102379182 year old wine i mean cmon - it was good ok - he asks you out after dinner and assures u ur job wont be at risk and everything - ba da bing ba da boom - now youre dating happily and he spoils the FUCK outta you - lmk if you want this one as a big fic with dialogue

george (neighbors): - tell me why whenever i have my delulu daydreams with george he’s always a neighbor - very much boy next door vibes - omg HES YOUR COLLEGE ROOMMATE NEXT DOOR - stoppppp - on move in day he pulls up with his family and u with urs and youre like - “hi ! nice to meet you im so exicted to move in!” and bros like “same!” - sometimes hes loud bc hes talking to his friends but you dont mind - hes a cs major and ur whatever u want major - one day you decided to start singing rlly loud while cleaning - ur singing taylor swift - and then george could hear you from the room next door to yours - so he writes up a little post it note that was like “loved the concert! when’s the next one?” and stuck in on your door - you found it and started mad blushign - you had a crush on him since day one awwww - anyways you two started communicating via post it notes and songs played loudly through the walls <3 - till one day you hear boyfriend by big time rush - and then you play girlfriend by avril lavigne back - and then he slips you a post it note under the door and you open the door before you could read it - and its an unspoken like thing that you start dating - its so romantic how you can saw you guys starting dating because of taylor swift !!

quackity (academic rivals): - DO NOT GET ME STARTED ON THIS TROPE IT BRINGS ME LIFE ALRIGHT - alright - two law school students FIGHTING IT OUT ACADEMICALLY - you guys met in ur freshman year english class or some shit - clashed together in a discussion group - and its been game on since then - your texts with each other are flaunting texts - “hey alex, guess who got a 97 on the last midterm?” - “guess who got a 99 ;)” - over time, the texts started getting more and more hostile - people started to thing you two actually hated one another’s guts - but in reality it was more for the thrill - but this continued throughout your law school careers - and you both become successful lawyers in the end!! - and when the headmaster calls you both into his office and says - “youre both valedictorian! congrats! you have to give a speech together” - well its like all the hatred faded away - you grinned and cheezed at each other before giving each other the biggest hug ever - so you both wrote a speech together - and soon the day of graduation came - and q goes at the end “i wouldn’t be here without the person who motivated me through it all, so thank you (y/n)” and youre like “hey man *sob* wtf *sob” - and you kiss him on the cheek and cheer to all the graduates - after the ceremony he catches up to you in the parking lot, grabbing your wrist before you could go off with ur family - and blurts out word soup - and ur like what - and hes like “i really like you, and law school wouldn’t have been the same without you. can we be more than friends?” - and youre like “duhhh” and kiss him right there karl (best friends to lovers): - YOU ARE IN LOVE BY TAYLOR SWIFT - that is the song for this SCENARIO - you two met when you were little kids in like first grade - your friends werent there on that day so you hung out with each other - hooked to the other since then and there - it was always “karl and you” and “you and karl” - you came as a packaged deal - through ups and downs you were there together - you graduated high school together and were going to the same college together now - while karl barely got into any romantic relationships, you seemed to be going through a few of them - you were desperate for a love connection and honestly i aint blaming u - one day after a horrible date he came over to your dorm and u had an impromptu sleepover - you were in karls old shirt and some pajama pants and he was in his pajamas - and you two were just watching a movie together - before he turns to you abruptly, and you turn to look at him - and he’s like “you’re my best friend” - and you saw a switch flip in him - since then, the dynamic between you two changed (for the better) - you became more flirty more touchy - you started to act like you were a couple more and more - one day you saw him open his wallet to pull out his card - and u saw that he has a picture of the two of you in his wallet - and then you knew that he was it for you - you ask him out that night - and hes so happy hes picking you up and spinning you around - <3 wilbur (musician x fan trope): - okay this is inspired by those tik toks that are like “did you see the way he looked at me” and its harry styles staring and eyeing down a fan in the audience like YES - and he’s a musician so it fits! - imagine lovejoy is like a HUGE HUGE Band so maybe this is in the future - anyways you and ur friend go to a lovejoy concert - for the sake of the story, youre not that big a fan of lovejoy just familiar with hits like sex sells and one day - the whole time ur friend is like “theyre so good hes so good its all so good” - you two end up a few rows from barricade - and you and ur friend start screaming it up as you should - youre not oblivious to the way the lead singer keeps looking over in your direction, winking and smiling - imagine a sweaty, singing wilbur glancing over at you during sex sells and giving you a smile as he rasps out “you know sex sells i know that” - brb ascending to heaven - anyway a time comes when he stops to speak to the audience - he wastes no time - he struts over to your side of the stage and points at you - “what’s your name?” - and you scream it at him - “what a lovely name!” - the crowd cheers - “ahre you single?” he asks with a grin on his face - the grin grows when u nod at him - “give me ur number!?” he asks and you nod at him as ur friend is dying next to you - he gestures u and ur friend to the front of the stage by the barricade - and he passes you a marker and make syou WRITE YOUR NUMBER ON HIS GUITAR OR HIS SHIRT OR SOMETHING - oh yeahh go you go you thank yoU! let me know if you want any of these to become a bigger story/imagine and LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT A PART 2 WITH OTHER PEOPLE :D reblogs appreciated

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copperbadge · 11 months

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Hello! I live in Chicago but didn’t grow up in the Midwest. The tornado sirens recently really freaked me out, but it seems most Chicagoans were just going about their business. Is there a way for me to know when stuff is about to get serious and I should actually run and hide? I was scared and checking the news, but with everyone else acting normal it felt like overkill. Any advice appreciated!! Thank you!!!!

I actually didn't grow up here either! But I have been in Chicago for about fifteen years now, so I guess I can speak with reasonable authority.

The sirens are for tornadoes, though they have also been set off for high winds, bad storms, etc. They are tested at ten in the morning on the first Tuesday of each month, so a lot of us are conditioned to hear them and think "Must be ten am". I've only ever heard them "for real" a handful of times but I've always paid attention. Probably what you were witnessing was people just...incorrectly not giving a shit.

So, first off: if you hear a siren, get inside. Don't worry about what anyone else is doing. Most people will look around and go "nobody else is freaking out so I guess I don't need to" and that's how you end up dead of Insufficiently Freaking Out. The trick is proportionate freaking out. You want to get inside to safety -- a store, the lobby of an office building or hotel, the nearest El stop, even a car or bus is better than being out on foot. If you can get there safely, go home, that's best, but if you can't get home, get indoors. Once you're in safe shelter you can pretty much stop freaking out unless a storm is actively hitting the building. Take the time to check your phone, figure out how to get home if you aren't, check weather apps to see how long it'll last, etc.

It's not impossible that a tornado would make its way into Chicago, but most of the time when weathermen say "Chicago" they mean "the suburbs". The city itself is so built up, and the lake has such an impact on that kind of thing, that it's unlikely, at least currently. If you are not in a suburb or on the outskirts, the odds of an actual facts tornado are pretty slim. That said, Chicago is subject to high winds at times and the sirens can be set off for that, and high winds in Chicago are no joke.

So for me, the siren is a "stay indoors" warning; the one time I heard it while outside, I didn't freak out, but I did stop what I was doing, turn around, and go home. If you're indoors then you can turn your worry down low, though it doesn't hurt to have the weather on the TV. Just as a matter of course, living in the world, you should have a battery-powered lantern or flashlight and know where it is, make sure your phone is charged or start charging it, and keep an eye on the TV.

If you DO need to get to heavy shelter because a genuine disaster is happening on top of you, it's good to know where to go. You don't generally need to hang out in the shelter pre-emptively unless the weather reporter says to, but it helps a lot to know your options. Most high-rise buildings, office and residential, you want to go to the stairwell; they're reinforced and ventilated. If you're in a house that doesn't have a storm cellar or an apartment like my old one, that was just "top floor of a three-floor walkup", go to an interior room without windows, preferably the bathroom, and get into the empty bathtub.

It's tough to strike a balance between necessary caution and anxious overreaction, and I say that as an anxious over-reactor. But the longer you live here the better your sense will be of what is a genuine emergency. I think it took me about two winters here to get a sense of proportion. Occasional murderous heat waves aside, most of our truly dangerous weather happens December-March, so that's good training in when to wig out.

But yeah -- if you're out in the world and you hear a siren, or you see smoke, or you get a bad vibe somewhere, it is okay, encouraged even, to hit the bricks. Don't wait to see what other people do, don't tell anyone else what to do, just be the person everyone else sees and thinks "Hey, maybe I should be concerned about this."

I once walked onto the northbound platform of the Grand Red Line station when it was actively on fire. I looked around at the smoke and the people casually standing in the smoke waiting for their train, went "Fuck all this noise, I'm not dying for a Red Line train," and went right back out again. Roughly half of the stand-arounds saw me heading purposefully for the stairs and started following me; I had just reached street level again when we heard the evacuation order over the loudspeakers. People make dumb choices until they see someone making a smart one.

ANYWAY IDK how long you've been in Chicago but if you're relatively new, welcome, that kind of shit doesn't happen very often I swear, and if you've been here for a while, sorry for overexplaining. :D I am just very into the idea everyone staying safe and paying attention to the sirens. :D

#chicago #safety #weather

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apomaro-mellow · 8 months

Note

3 though idk how much it will help but I love drama😅

oh my god you instigator LOL I also tacked on @goodolefashionedloverboi's request too

First part

He should've known that telling Eddie to shut the hell up would yield the opposite result. The phone calls were so constant, that Steve stopped picking up. When he saw him coming down the sidewalk, he walked the other way. Eddie had even started to try and send messages via the kids and wasn't that pathetic?

What was more pathetic was how hard it was for Steve to do all of this. He wanted more than anything to hear Eddie out, to find out that maybe his feelings were real all along. But there was no such chance.

There was a panicked moment when Eddie came to his work and he saw him talking to Robin outside. But Robin, steadfast and loyal and just as bitchy as him, told him to step off.

"I knew there was a reason I kept you around", Steve said he pushed a mail cart around.

Robin dug her hand in and handed it off to the white collars of Hawkins in the office building they worked at now. "I felt like a bouncer at a club."

Steve thought he was doing a good job on the break up mend. He hadn't spoken to Eddie in days, he hadn't rebounded on some poor soul, and he only cried late at night when he was all alone with his thoughts.

The moment he thought he was up though, was of course, when the universe brought him back down. He knew Dustin's house was a danger zone, what with the odds of Eddie being there. But Dustin had invoked a Code Red on the walkie and Steve came barreling down the road, nail bat at the ready.

Once again, Dustin pointed him in the direction of his cellar. Steve vividly remembered what Dustin had been keeping down here before. He went down the stairs, heard a familiar voice cry out "No! Wait!" before the door shut above him.

Steve held his bat defensively. He was down here with someone. He was about to swing when a lightbulb turned on and he was face to face with Eddie. Honestly, Eddie might've been safer from his bat if he was a stray demodog.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I don't know", Eddie held his hands up in surrender. "But if I had to guess...I think Henderson wants us to talk."

"Did you put him up to this?!"

"Eddie didn't put me up to anything!", Dustin shouted from above. "You two need to get your shit together. I'll be back in an hour. Don't have make up sex in my cellar."

Steve tried opening it up but they were sealed shut until Dustin, or perhaps Mrs. Henderson let them out.

"The nerve of that kid", Eddie huffed.

"Right? Where the hell does he get it from?"

"Not from me. Us Munsons are humble. He must've gotten it from your side of the family."

Steve smiled as a traitorous breath of laughter came from him and he clamped it down immediately. It wasn't fair. Eddie couldn't do this. He glared at him, ready to blame the whole situation on him even though he was probably tricked as well.

"Don't look at me like that", Eddie said, his voice soft.

"I'd rather not look at you at all." Steve turned his back on him, hoping he could ignore him until they were let out. He came face to face with the mended part of the wall that Dart had dug out years ago. Such and odd series of events that led him here, that led him to Eddie. Just for it to end like this.

"Steve-"

“I fucking hate you.”

“No you don’t. Take that back right now.”

"I won't."

"Then look me in the eye and tell me."

Steve turned and he wished he hadn't. All he saw in Eddie's eyes was heartbreak. He knew because it mirrored the look in his own eyes. But it couldn't be real. It just couldn't.

"You should be in the movies, you know that? Give Hollywood a run for its money."

"Steve just listen to me! I'm sorry for playing with your feelings. I really am! But I wasn't lying when I said I want to be with you. Steve I l-"

"Don't you fucking dare." Steve's grip on his bat tightened. "Don't say that if you don't mean it or I swear..."

"Steve..." Eddie took a breath and stepped closer to him, incredibly aware of the weapon in his hand. "I love you."

Steve dropped the bat and Eddie pulled him into his arms. Steve wanted to beg for so many things. For Eddie to always love him, to treat him gently, to make him believe that he wanted him forever. It all came out in the form of tears.

"If this is another joke-"

"The only joke here if that I had you and fucked it up like an idiot."

"You really want me?", Steve sniffled.

"Baby, baby, baby", Eddie cradled his face and wiped some of his tears away. “I’m not even gonna lie, I’m just so fucking obsessed with you.” He wondered how many of his messages got through to Steve in the end. "Did you listen to any of my voicemails?"

Steve allowed a small smile through. "I think if I did, I would've caved in too fast. I'm obsessed with you too. I love you, Eddie. Too much probably."

"I'll be the judge of what's too much. And you, Steven Malcolm Harrington, are not too much."

Eddie kissed him and Steve felt whole again. Then Eddie kissed him again and Steve felt more than whole. In between the kisses, Steve started to laugh.

"I can't believe we're making out where Dustin kept his pet demodog."

Eddie jumped up into his arms. "His pet WHAT!?!"

Send me a dialogue prompt

#the happy ending has been released from captivity #apo writes #stranger things #steddie #fanfiction #thanks for the ask!

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leiawritesstories · 8 months

Text

Who Gave My Wife Liquor?

Rowaelin Month 2023, Day 20: Drunken Antics

y'all know i cannot resist this prompt 🤭🤭 so enjoy some fun drunken shenanigans involving the whole court of Terrasen plus Fenrys, Dorian, and some potentially bad decisions (but no angst i promise). fair warning: it's total crack, i honestly don't think it makes any sense, but it's (maybe) fun

also based off a prompt sent to @rowaelinprompts: "drunk and clingy Aelin" ;))

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, intoxication, silly goofy times

Enjoy!!!

@rowaelinscourt

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

Aelin was absolutely beaming as she descended the stairs and headed into the well-lit great room of the castle's private wing, where a fire was blazing merrily in the hearth and laughter spilled from the wide-open doors. Her heart was full twice over at the sound of her friends' laughter--they had all been through so much in the last ten years, and the fact that they could still laugh was a miracle in and of itself.

"You're late!" Dorian called, catching her arm and leading her into the informal party. "And about three drinks behind, Your Majesty." Grinning, his sapphire eyes just beginning to glaze over, he grabbed the nearest flask and poured her a cup, tapping his drink to hers. "Cheers!"

"And you have shit tolerance, Your Majesty," she teased, downing the short glass of wine in one go. Dorian rolled his eyes, and she laughed. "Lighten up, Dor. Not all of us have your youthful ability to recover." Dorian, as a human, had less tolerance than the Fae and the shifter and Elide, who could drink Lorcan under the table, but he also recovered rapidly from his hangovers.

"Again with the you're an old man jokes?" Lorcan clicked his tongue, smirking. "Wasn't it you who kept telling me to get creative?"

"That would be your wife, actually." Aelin raised her refilled cup to the hulking, dark-haired male, whose face flushed bright scarlet at her innuendo.

"Galathynius," he grunted, tipping the contents of his glass down his throat.

"Don't be so put off, darling," Elide soothed her husband. "Aelin's just grumpy because you made me scream so loud last night we woke the whole castle up."

"And I'll do it again tonight," he winked.

Fenrys spewed wine all over himself. "Fucking gods!" he shrieked, pretending to be mortified. "You lot and your insatiable se--"

"You're just as bad, Fenny," Aelin smirked. "Or should I say, good boy?"

The normally roguish blonde blushed bright crimson and said nothing, choosing to grab the nearest ounce glass of liquor and tip it down his throat. "How?!" he demanded, both mortified and genuinely curious to discover how Aelin had heard that little pet name.

She beamed innocently and threw back a shot of her own. "That's for me to know and you--and your pretty boy--to find out."

"Pretty boy?" Lysandra wheezed, slinging her arm around Aelin's shoulders. "Holy rutting gods, Fen, I knew you weren't particular in bed, but I never would have guessed you'd want to be the one taking orders."

Dorian was conspicuously silent.

Observant as ever, Aelin turned towards the young king, a smile so friendly and approachable that it was truly terrifying slipping across her face. "Dor, darling."

"Oh fuck," he muttered.

"Have you been satisfied with Lord Moonbeam's visits to your kingdom?" The enquiry was perfectly polite, even diplomatic, but the smirk on Aelin's lips added a twist to the innocent words.

Dorian picked up the closest flask and drained it.

Fenrys snickered. "Don't be shy, Majesty. We won't--ah!" His teasing was abruptly cut off with a soft yelp. Dorian flicked the blonde Fae a look heated enough to boil water.

Aelin had a very good idea just what (phantom) hands had silenced Fenrys before he could make an incredibly ribald remark. "I see."

"For a queen so revered, Ae, you have no propriety," Aedion fake-sighed, reaching across his cousin to grab the glass bottle of whiskey that had definitely come from the back of the cellar.

"Says the one who cavorted his merry way through the mountains," she retorted, passing her glass to be filled. "Say, how is Kyllian doing these days?"

"He's fine," Aedion said, too quickly.

Lysandra grinned and curled herself close to Aedion's side, whispering something into his ear that made him choke on his mouthful of whiskey and splutter the aged liquor all over his shirt.

She cackled, tears of merriment spilling out of her bright green eyes. "There's no need to worry, Aed. We're all friends here, no?"

"How sweet," Elide crooned. She pinched her husband's cheek. "See, Lor? We're all friends."

"Lorcan doesn't have friends," Rowan said, completely deadpan. He'd been lounging in a comfortable armchair, admiring his wife and sipping on his glass of liquor like the civilized old male he was.

Lorcan snorted. "Fuck you."

"Let's keep the past in the past, shall we?" Rowan smirked over the rim of his glass.

For the second time that night, Lorcan's tan face flushed violently red, and the room exploded into laughter.

"I knew it!" Aelin cried triumphantly, pointing at Lorcan. "I knew you and my buzzard were lovers!"

"Best he's ever had," Lorcan mumbled, barely audible.

Elide gasped for breath through her peals of laughter, clutching at her chest and clinging to Lorcan's broad shoulder for support. "We need to get you drunk more often, love," she wheezed.

"The hell you do," he grumbled. "That sounds like a terrible idea."

"I have a GREAT idea!" Fenrys announced, rising unsteadily to his feet and brandishing his bottle of wine.

"You absolutely do not," absolutely everyone else chorused.

"First of all, that'sh' fuckin' rude!" He pretended to pout. "An' shecon'ly, it's a great idea!" He took a long drink from the bottle and pointed right at Lorcan. "Lorky, I dare you."

"You dare me to what, Moonie?" Lorcan shot the younger male an insolent smirk.

Fenrys beamed, which was both hilarious and terrifying. "Clothes off, an' pose as a sh-sht-stashue for three minutes."

"Fine." Lorcan drained the rest of his drink, stood up, shucked his clothes except for his undershorts, and strolled out into the hall. The others followed him, laughing and playfully ogling.

Elide wolf-whistled. "Don't be shy, Lor, pose like one of the ancient sculptures." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Most of us have seen you naked, you know."

Lorcan sighed, and Aelin swore she heard him mutter something about so much for keeping secrets under his breath. "I'm not drunk enough for that, Li."

"Pity," Aelin snickered. "You'd make such a well-endowed sculpture."

"Careful, Rowan," Lorcan drawled. "Your wife's objectifying other males again."

"Who gave my wife liquor?" Rowan called, laughing. "She only does that when she's drunk."

"You're mean," Aelin teased, frowning theatrically at her grumpy buzzard.

"Thought you liked me mean," he murmured, the words a wicked promise that set her blood alight. He wrapped his free arm around her waist and laid his hand against the curve of her ass, squeezing just enough to make her inhale.

"No!" Aedion yelped, throwing his hands over his face. "Shit, I'm standing right here!"

Lysandra doubled over with laughter, throwing a wink over at Aelin. "Look what you've done to your poor innocent little cousin," she giggled, unable to get all the words out without losing her grip on her merriment.

Aelin snorted. "Lys, if Aedy is innocent, then I'm a virgin priestess."

Lys wiped tears from her eyes. "All right, you--is Fenrys naked?"

Yes. Yes he was.

Completely undressed, Fenrys sprinted down the hall and back, grinning like a schoolboy when he reached the others again. "I didn't fall over!" he crowed, exuberant.

"Didn't stand up, either," Aelin muttered, half to herself.

Rowan coughed, a deep laugh billowing out of his chest. "Give him some slack, Fireheart," he laughed. "Moonie here is a little too drunk to perform as quickly as he usually does."

Fenrys shrieked in protest. "I perform longly!"

"Tha'sh'not a word, Fen," Dorian drawled, his words slurring together.

"Neither is anything the two of you are about to say to each other," Rowan whispered into Aelin's ear.

She around and pressed her face into his chest to stifle the fit of laughter that made her whole body shake. "You and your godsdamn impeccable timing," she gasped once she'd regained her breath.

Her husband winked. "I try."

Slowly, their dear friends began to disperse, first Fenrys and Dorian, the two leaning on each other for support but still staggering, then Elide and Lorcan, and finally Aedion and Lysandra. Aelin looked around the room at the empty glasses and bottles and flasks left on tables and couches. "Should we--"

"Later." Without blinking, Rowan swept her up into his arms. "Right now, you need to go to bed."

"Is that a promise, buzzard?" She looped her arms effortlessly around his neck, lowered her lashes, and smiled lazily up at him, sending a hazy image of slick skin and dancing flames into his mind.

He inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring. "Don't tease me, princess." His voice dropped to a thick rumble, the way it always did when she'd pushed just the right buttons. In a blur of Fae speed, he whisked them upstairs to their rooms, kicked the door shut, and laid her gently on the bed.

And she promptly fell asleep.

Chuckling softly, Rowan slipped Aelin's shoes off, changed into his nightclothes, splashed some water on his face, and slipped into bed, curling himself around her. She sighed and went boneless against him, her breaths deep and rhythmic. In moments, he was asleep as well, following his queen into dreams as he did every night.

~~~

TAGS: please lmk if you want to be added/removed :)

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

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kiestrokes · 9 months

Text

Keeping the Cadence | NSFW

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x GN!Reader/You/Yn Rating: NSFW! Mature (18+) Minors DNI.Word Count: 999 (cutting it close) Genre: porn without plot, military au, smut, drabble. Warnings: military setting, abrupt ending, inspired by this Hobi.

Sexually Explicit Content: penis in whatever hole you desire, use of gender-neutral terms for the receiver of Hobi's penis, subtle nipple play and hair pulling, Hoseok has a big dick (obvi), rough sex, quickie, slight pain kink displayed, mutual orgasms, latex condoms used.

Summary: Drill Assistant Jung Hoseok just can't help keeping the rhythm, even while fucking you.

🗝️ Note: I blame @xjoonchildx 🫥 I wrote this in under an hour, has not been beta read! Don't expect too much, it's been awhile and I'm still rusty.

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted below.

The heavy metal door groans shut behind you, effectively sealing you in the dimness of the basement storage room.

“Hurry we only have ten minutes before we have to be back to post” Hobi instructs from behind you. The click of his belt and zipper filled the void of your silence while you worked on sending your pants and panties to a crumpled puddle around your ankles.

“Condom?” You looked over your shoulder just as Hoseok ripped one open with his teeth giving a nod of his eyebrows. You braced yourself over the metal laundry table that was typically used for folding towels, ready for Hoseok.

Not ready enough, you feel his body heat against your back and are jolted when he kicks the inside of your boots with his, effectively spreading your legs as far as the personal shackles of your pants will allow.

“Spit” Hoseok commands, one slender-fingered hand cupping over your mouth as his other hand bends you forward. Following his other demand, Hobi rubs your saliva over your clenched hole exposing it to the cool air of the cellar.

“Ahhh,” you moan as his fingertips toy with the sensitive rim before roughly shoving two fingers inside “Fuck!” Your spine straightens, half from arousal and the other half in delectable pain at the sudden stretch.

“Sorry we don’t have time to stretch you out slowly, I’m kind of-”

“Big.” You finish for him, turning your cheek to graze his nose and fluttering your lashes at his shocked face.

“So, you’ve been looking” He laughs shortly, not the full musical laugh you’ve become accustomed to, this one is laced with carnality. Hoseok’s own eyes lid as he presses himself into you, replacing his fingers with the tip of his cock. His lips part as he slowly works his way into you, with small but firm thrusts.

“Hobi” You moan as he makes it halfway into you.

His hand tucks under your shirt, fingers splaying across your abdomen as he bows over your shoulder for a kiss. Grunting your name into your mouth, as you fervently nibble away at his heart-shaped lips. He stills only once, a lengthy groan rumbling from his chest as he bottoms out. You let out a sharp cry when you feel his hips roll up, his pelvis essentially cupping your ass, rubbing his fat head against the deepest and most sensitive part inside you.

“Shit Hobi,” your body shudders in response but the moment is over as quickly as it came.

Hoseok’s hands glide to fist your waist, drilling your hip bones into the metal of the table as he works himself in and out of your walls. His huffs and grunts and curse words are panted into the collar of your shirt from where he’s pressed across your back.

“Hobi” You whine as he keeps up the insistent pace, drilling in to press into that glorious spot, followed by a thick drag out. You realize he’s fucking you in cadence, and you don’t know why you’re surprised, he is the assistant drill instructor. “Are you fucking me to the marching beat?”

Hoseok’s wild eyes meet yours and he stutters a laugh, “Sorry guess I am, it’s working, isn’t it?” You moan in unison as your insides clench, threatening to suck Hoseok’s massive dick back inside.

“Harder” You gasp as his thrusts sharpen, causing your hands to skate across the smooth surface of the table. Causing Hoseok to fall into you, his hands grasping at the edge to brace himself beside your hips.

You cry out as his wide base stretches your entrance more, Hoseok sucks air between his teeth as you spasm around his cock. He picks up his rhythm again, angling himself under your ass and thrusting up. Each roll in bruising your hips against the table, you recline back on his chest as he grinds you between the metal and his brutal cock.

“How does it feel? Are you close?” Hoseok’s ear caresses your cheek, his voice a paradox of sunshine compared to the hellish way he is fucking you. You look up to find his brown gaze less hawkeyed than earlier, softened just for you.

“So good Hoseok, I’m close” You stutter out the last part, feeling his hand under your shirt, gliding across your sternum in search of a nipple that he finds and pinches. Causing you to bow forward and Hoseok lays you flat on the cool table, his other hand on the nape of your neck fingers tugging at the hair there as he snaps his hips into your ass.

“God, you take me so well,” Hoseok lets out a guttural moan as your body tightens under him.

You recite his name in chant as your hands claw against the slick surface. Your undoing is when Hoseok thrusts deep, swirling his hips into the one particular spot as his fingers pinch the nipple he’s still holding onto, and the other tugs are the roots of your hair. You orgasm hard, release spilling down your legs.

Hoseok gasps out a throaty version of your name as his cock glides you through your climax, your walls squeezing his length so tight you have no idea how he manages to make his way back inside until you feel it. His thighs stiffened against yours, and his release spilled into the latex of the condom. Hoseok’s hands are ripped from your body, and he slams them into the table, pressing himself as deeply inside of you as he can get.

The room is filled with shuddering breaths as the two of you slowly descend back into your bodies. Hoseok withdraws, groaning as you clench at his retreat.

“Two minutes,” You heave yourself upright after glancing at your watch and begin to shakily redress. While Hoseok trashes the condom and mirrors your movements, in an unfazed fashion.

His sharp eyes are back as his gaze washes over your appearance, giving it a quick nod of approval, he slips out the door.

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rileyslibrary · 1 year

Text

Living With Ghosts: 4. Pretty Broken

His body stands straight, but his mind betrays him. He still wears his gun around his left shoulder. It looks too heavy for him now, just like his conscience.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,150

Notes:

Warnings: Mentions of blood and war

As much as I like Ghost’s demeanor throughout the game, I cannot help but wonder what he would be like suffering the aftereffects of war.

Entire work on AO3

Table of Contents

———————————————————————

It’s been days since you last talked to him.

His inattentiveness, however, was not the outcome of your petty little brawl—not the direct consequence, at least. If you had to venture a guess, it’s because he was busy with other matters at the moment—far more important ones.

The Russian Mafia appears to have increased its presence in the region over the past week, raising suspicions of a potential terrorist attack. As a result, the CIA has requested high readiness from the Special Forces operators deployed in the area.

That’s where he is, you fool. It doesn’t matter how abandoned, lonely, or insecure you feel, for he had a job to do. He was right there, at the front line, risking his life for the nation’s—and probably the world’s—safety. You were the last thing on his mind right now; if you ever were anything to him but a mild inconvenience.

Let’s not forget that you also had a part to play in this operation; to actively scan land, air, and sea for irregular traffic and report to the CIA.

Well, not actively, per se—the safe house has a well-equipped wine cellar for that specific purpose.

“Surveillance Control Center,” they call it—SCC for short.

What was once used to store ruby-red Chianti Classico Riserva bottles can now be confused with the cockpit of a spaceship. The CIA engineers have outdone themselves with this one—you give them that.

The SCC is part of a computer network connecting every CIA safe house in the Mediterranean. It incorporates CCTV monitors, cameras, radars, and motion sensors designed to detect unusual movements in the region. Live-streaming feeds are processed using highly sophisticated software, which, upon catching unusual traffic, alerts the SCC’s terminal. The wine cellar also houses an arsenal of weapons and ammunition, just in case the shit hits the fan.

Your job, for now, is to oversee the SCC’s flawless operation and inform Laswell of any findings.

Boring; that’s what your job was. Boring.

“Christmas is coming,” Laswell’s voice sounded over the telephone, “You guys should do something to celebrate.”

“Do what, exactly, Kate? Go from house to house and sing carols on behalf of the CIA?” You reply, leaning forward as if you were trying to physically get your point across.

“If you’d stop being a sarcastic shit, then perhaps you could think a little better.” Her irritation rasped in her voice. “Do something together; think of it as a team-building event.”

He said he’d fix that attitude of yours; when was that team-building event going to take place?

She was right, though—as much as you’d hate to admit it. Christmas does bring people together.

You begin to reminisce about the good times back home when your family used to celebrate every year. You used to cook together, sing along to festive songs, watch Mr. Bean on television, and exchange gifts.

You remember your mother, who refrained from buying ornaments from the shops. She used to bake them instead—yes, bake them. She used to roll out the dough, give shape to it with cookie cutters and bake the ornaments so you would all decorate the Christmas tree with them. The entire house smelled divine with these four little ingredients she used in her recipe—cinnamon, salt, flour, and water.

Ingredients you already had in your pantry.

“Laswell, when’s my shift ending?” you asked in anticipation.

“It ended thirty-seven minutes ago. Tired of me?”

“I thought of something.” You announce, sitting on the edge of your seat.

“Wha-”

“I have to go. Over and out.” You report as you close the comms and head upstairs to the infamous pantry.

Cinnamon, salt, flour, and water.

You were determined to make it work, right here, in this safe house—with or without Ghost.

You hurried outside, scanning the area for the tree branches he trimmed a few weeks ago. If you tie them together, you could create something resembling a Christmas tree.

When was the last time he felt the Christmas spirit? Does he have a Christmas tree at his house? A family to sing together next to the fireplace? A warm, festive meal?

You moved frantically—part Christmas elf rolling out dough and baking ornaments, part Frankenstein trying to assemble a Christmas tree monstrosity.

Time flew by; hours passed like minutes as you worked hard, your creativity unleashed, putting forth your best effort to create something out of nothing.

To create festive decor out of raw ingredients.

To construct a tree out of stray branches.

To form a connection out of two peoples’ broken pieces.

“What’s that smell?”

You were so focused that you didn’t notice him standing behind you.

You turn around to see a wreck, the fragments of a man who has probably seen terrible things and done far worse.

“I—is everything all right?” You hesitate.

“Out of trouble, for now.” He replies.

His body stands straight, but his mind betrays him. He still wears his gun around his left shoulder. It looks too heavy for him now, just like his conscience.

“Yes, I know. I spoke with Laswell. I mean, are you all right?”

“Been better.”

His uniform is dusty, and his boots are covered in mud. There is a slight rip on his balaclava, teasing you with a subtle view of his jawline, like a Geisha exposing her nape.

“It’s over, for now.” you try to comfort him.

There’s blood on his left sleeve—a lot of blood. He just became aware of it as well.

“Not mine.” He announces and hides it behind his back. “What’s that smell?” He repeats, trying to avoid the conversation.

“Cinnamon.”

“Ya bakin’?” He seems shocked.

“Sort of; They’re ornaments for the Christmas tree,” you say, pointing in the direction of your most recent creation.

“A Christmas tree.” He stutters, glazed eyes darting left and right, assessing the new environment.

You want to tell him that there are no booby traps here, nothing dangerous to be careful of. You want to console him that there is no need to be alerted for an ambush here, for this is a safe space. No more killing, no more death, for now. Just you two, a hideous Christmas tree, and badly shaped cinnamon-baked ornaments.

“Do you like them?” You ask reluctantly, trying to divert his attention from this week’s horrors. “I couldn’t find any cookie cutters, so I shaped them with a knife instead. I tried to make them look pretty, but some came out broken.”

“Aren’t we all?” he mumbles as he walks towards the Christmas tree.

“Aren’t we all exactly what, lieutenant—pretty or broken?” you ask, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Pretty broken, kid,” he whispers as he picks up a shattered ornament. “Pretty damn broken.”

———————————————————————

Next ->

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #simon riley #cod mw2 #cod ghost

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stromuprisahat · 4 months

Text

Siege and Storm- Chapter 7 (Leigh Bardugo)

These stories are so strongly biased, I can't possibly take those people seriously. Do they even realize, how ~lucky~ they've been?

One had an aunt who had spirited him away rather than let him be turned over to the Darkling.

Of course a child raised by her (assuming she didn't just dump them ~somewhere~) would see her as heroic, not questioning possible dangers she exposed them to. The phrasing shows an immature individual, who haven't grown up from his uncritical adoration. The way he puts it makes the Darkling into a semi-mythical, evil, child-snatching bogeyman, completely ignoring the moment said Grisha's powers manifested, he became the King's property. The Darkling's merely a figurehead to shit on.

Another had deserted the Second Army.

I'd be much more sympathetic towards him, if it was framed as escaping servitude instead of the terrible Second Army, that gave him food in a starving country, roof over his head and training to be able to defend himself. But no, he's a hero for abandoning his comrades, instead of defying the system that's been taking advantage of his people for centuries...

Another had been hidden in a root cellar ...

This is such a beautiul example of possible harm done by well-meaning do-gooders. I guess the Tidemaker was lucky enough to live in an accepting village. Lucky enough to be far enough from borders, never seen summoning by someone less Grisha-friendly. Lucky enough to be able to learn to control her own power well by herself.

“The neighbors cut my hair and passed me off as their dead otkazat’sya son until I was old enough to leave.”

... and go where?! The whole wide world wants to kill you or worse?! There's more luck hidden here- lucky enough to be so strong she is able to defend herself. Lucky enough not to encounter hatred or betrayal great enough to do them harm yet.

#Grishaverse #Siege and Storm #S&S Chapter 7 #Grisha #rogue Grisha #grishanalyticritical #The Darkling #Second Army #Lantsovs #V #Grisha trilogy #books #quotes #Leigh Bardugo

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vamptits · 6 months

Text

most mortifying part of being bilingual is names. like why are names different in other languages....... im EMBARRASSING myself in front of all my friends because i've apparently just been guessing at what sisyphus (sisyphe) and plato (platon) are called. actually it's words in general i accidentally said "plato's allegory of the cellar" the other day how do you walk that shit back?? is it my fault that the french for cellar is a false friend for the english word cave?? must i suffer eternally? must EVERY word i speak be preceded by the agony of not being entirely certain whether or not this will become an anecdote?

#you are all laughing because i am stupid. in TWO languages.#talks

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artdivadej · 1 year

Text

Survivor’s Remorse

Part 9

18+ | PTSD

Part 10

When I awake again, I feel well rested and secure. I'm curled up in a ball around someone who's unnaturally warm. The arms around me tighten a little as I wiggle. Blinking a few times, I see that whoever was my cuddle buddy, didn't have much choice in the matter. My hands were practically inside their vest as I held it in a vice grip.

Oh.

Oh......

Oh shit!

I tilt my head up and see that I am in fact curled up against Peeta's broad chest, his arms wrapped tight around me as we slept.

This was not safe. I could’ve accidentally killed him in my sleep!

"G'mornin" he mumbles with a yawn above my head

I face the consequences of my actions and pull my head from his chest, sliding back a little, not that his arms allowed me to go but so far. His eyes are groggy but trained on my face, inspecting.

"How do you feel?" he hummed

"Rested" I admit "You shouldn't have slept here"

"Not like you gave me much choice there sweetheart" he chuckles looking down to his chest

I follow his gaze and quickly unwrap my nails from the vest. There are even punctures in the fabric where they'd been clutched.

"I'm sorry"

"Don't be. I haven't slept that well in a while either" he grins sliding into a sitting position

I follow suit and look around the cellar. I'm nestled between Peeta and Cressida, Katniss is checking Finnick's shoulder over on the boy's pallet. It's still dark out.

"How long was I out for?"

"A full day. Tigress brought more food and news about the fighting. We've started planning what to do from here"

"You should've woken me"

"No. You needed the rest. We can strategize and fill you in later"

"What's been decided?"

"The rebels are in the city. Only a few blocks from here so, they're evacuating. Most will be going to the mayor's mansion tomorrow. That's when we leave" he explains

"We'll put on some disguises and fit in with the others going there. Gale and I will be together. I look enough like you that it'll be a distraction in case someone does figure out who we are"

"You could just let me go first. Even if a mob chases me, it's a Capitol mob. I can outrun and overpower them to buy some time for a distraction" I offer, taking the can Cressida offered me

"No. You and I will be together"

"I'm not going to just throw myself at an angry mob" I sigh

"And how am I supposed to trust that?" he fires back accusingly

"I guess you can't. I can't promise the mutt version of me wouldn't hurt you when the gunfire starts either"

"Exactly. So we go together"

***

Haymitch pats my knee twice.

"Even in 13 you didn't have it easy. Yet, look at you now sweetheart" He smirks gesturing between me and Peeta, whose nose is buried in my hair "A Victor doesn't begin to cover the two of you. Don't let each other go. You'll need one another"

"I guess I'd better go pack" I sigh, not wanting to leave the safety of Peeta's arms. In our home.

I wanted to stay buried in his scent forever. Shielded from a world that had taken all of me and even after I regained myself, or part of, they still demanded more. But my Peeta. My sweet Peeta. He had hands that made everlasting memories of warmth and love for all blessed enough to see his creations. As long as I was with him, I could weather any storm.

***

When we got to the train platform I was practically vibrating with nerves.

It was the same train.

I stop cold in my tracks and just stare at the infernal thing. My carryon bag forgotten at my feet. So many hijacked nights from my days and nights on this very train. Why did it have to be this train?

As I feel myself beginning to drown, warmth envelops me from behind, secure arms wrapped around my waist. His lips and nose are buried in my hair and it calms my palpitating heart.

"They didn't give use separate rooms this time" Peeta informs me

"I think after the maybe-baby bomb, they've given up all pretense of us being pure" I snark, pleased that he threads his fingers through mine and give a squeeze

"Not like we ever followed that rule anyway" He chuckles picking my bag up and slinging it over his broad left shoulder, his right hand still in mine.

I let him lead me into the train towards the north end, close to the nose, where our room would be. We're in between it, in the dining car, that is thankfully not set up like a opulent feast. There's a spread but it's humble. A roasted duck, some venison slices, and rabbit with a bowl of greens for a salad. Peeta must have informed the train staff about my appetite. I wanted a bite of that rabbit now, but I knew I had to get settled first.

"I'm going to find Haymitch. Make sure he's not bullying the staff in the bar car. I promised to keep him behaved until we got there" Peeta rolls his eyes playfully

I wrap my arms around his neck and tuck my face into the column of it, taking a large inhale, trying to commit his security and scent to memory. Rubbing my nose against it, I melted my body to his. He dropped the bag and quickly gathers me up in his arms, always understanding me without a need to hear it.

"I'll be right back. I promise"

"I'm ok. I'll be OK" I repeat to reassure us both

I know that Peeta won't let go before I do, so I reluctantly release him, then take a step back to make sure I don't pull him right back into my arms.

"Go. Before I change my mind" I growl giving his hard chest a small shove that doesn't even make him budge

"You're a bossy little thing today" Peeta teases before throwing his hands up in surrender and taking long, quick strides to find Haymitch in the other car.

I take a steadying breath, scoop the bag up and walk into the compartment. When I step inside, my breath catches and sweat breaks out over my cool skin, terror seizing me tight. That bed. I walk over to it with legs of lead, running my fingers over the silken sheets covering the mattress. Even the colors of the sheets were the same. Then the door opens and in he walks.

Mean Peeta.

My cheek throbs, a memory so viciously clear, knocks the wind out of me. I feel the haze taking over and I can't fight against the overwhelming fear. It's threatening to pull me under and I can't make sense of where I am anymore as my breath comes out in heavy pants. Pupils receded to miniscule slits, hands twitching with the need to fight back at the mist forming the Visage that is Mean Peeta. His slow stride towards me, distaste tilting his lips as his too bright eyes look me over with boredom.

He was here. How did he get here!

No!

I roar loudly and throw a lamp that'd been sitting on the dresser at him, refusing to let him near me ever again. He ducks the lamp and smirks at me condescendingly. I wasn't caged anymore. I'd rip his damn throat out.

Where was my Sweet Peeta?!

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hazbinned · 1 month

Text

@arachnaemboss

Valentino wasn't sure whether he had stepped into a British historical drama or a B-grade Halloween flick. The stately mansion that loomed up on all sides of him felt like a weird amalgamation of both. It was black and somewhat ominous, which lead to the 'Halloween movie' feeling he was getting, but it was also in surprisingly good condition and could be considered charming, if one swallowed their own pride long enough to admit it.

Valentino had always had a very clear idea of what he'd thought Zestial's house would look like: a tall, thin, lopsided structure at the top of a winding hill, black in color and in a state of decay, with ancient, leafless trees clawing their way out of the ground. He'd even gone as far to envision crooked tombstones sticking out of the dirt, and a scary trap door or cellar on the side of the house.

This, while still gothic, was... a lot nicer, much more benign, and reeked of 'subtle money.' An actual estate.

He would have preferred the haunted house.

Valentino knocked on the front door and then stood there, arms crossed and foot tap-tap-tapping away on the pavement, for way too long. At least six minutes passed.

"Oh my gosh, seriously!?" he exclaimed, pressing his face up against the door to try to see if he could glimpse anything through the peep hole. "Hel-looo? Anyone in there?" He scoffed to himself. "He's so rich and he doesn't even have a door boy?"

Before he could get even more fed up, the moth demon decided to see if he could troubleshoot, for once in his somewhat useless existence. He squinted around the area, and his blurry vision landed on what looked like a button. A buzzer or something. Not a doorbell, but similar enough.

About time.

He pressed it, and leaned in.

"Hello? Zestial, baby? It's me, Val. I'm here."

Someone answered from some kind of speaker on the wall— a curt-sounding female voice, definitely not belonging to Zestial— and told him to come in, and that Zestial was waiting for him in his office, straight ahead and to the right. Finally!

Valentino didn't waste another moment; he repositioned his hat and stepped inside as soon as the door allowed it.

The moth Overlord's first impression of the interior of the building was that it was filled with artifacts, historical and modern alike. Too scholarly for his liking. It wasn't his style, but it wasn't his house, was it? He guessed he could try to cut the guy some slack. Zestial was old, after all.

"Oh, there you are! Big Z!" Valentino greeted the spider, his golden tooth glinting in the light as he walked into the room. When he reached Zestial, he thrust forth the container he'd been holding in his bottom two hands. "I brought cupcakes! ... Vox's idea, actually-- he said it's good etiquette or some shit. And don't worrrryyy, they're not laced."

He wasn't kidding. They looked store-bought and still donned the "five dollars off" sticker.

"Interesting place you've got here." The moth peered over his glasses at him. "Tudor?"

Valentino didn't know the first thing about architecture.

#arachnaemboss #♠️ : big v / valentino.#{ SORRY IT'S SO LONG. I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED. }

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octuscle · 1 year

Text

DeepTraining Part 2 – Gus

One of the first people to approach Stefek after IronData's presentation was Constantine. Constantine had worked with Stefek on two startups and had also made a lot of money on the exits. Unfortunately, he had been less fortunate with his business ideas after that; much of his fortune had already been spent. But there was more than enough left over for a carefree life. Besides, Constantine was a truly brilliant Data Scientist who loved his work. He was not made for idleness. Stupidly, he also looked like a Data Scientist. He looked like someone who loved to sit at a computer for a living: fat, pale, a bit unkempt. He had been an oddball since childhood. He was always teased. The feminine-sounding name hadn't helped. So he had kept to himself. But after seeing his old pal Stephen, he wanted to change that. If the nerd Stephen could become the alpha male Stefek, he wanted that too.

The two had met in Paris shortly after the trade show where Stefek had presented IronData. Stefek was on a promotional tour of France; Constantine was serving as interim CDO at a pharmaceutical company. "Let me be honest," Constantine got straight to the point. "IronData is hot shit. Great concept. I believe in your success. But your body wasn't shaped by IronData." The two had deliberately not met in public. Stefek had guessed it would be about DeepTraining. But there he was sworn to secrecy. And he didn't even want to imagine what could happen if he didn't keep to the agreement. Therefore, he answered honestly that he could not say much about it. But he could try to make a contact. And he wanted to point out that it would be expensive. How much Constantine would loosen up like that. Constantine was counting up his financial possibilities. He once estimated his fortune at $80 million to $90 million. Stefek slipped him the public business card of the young man from DeepTraining. It looked completely neutral. Nothing pointed to DeepTraining. Stefek thought it might be a little difficult to reach the contact. But a man with Constantine's skills should be able to do it. The two arranged to meet for lunch the next day, after which Stefek had to return to Gdansk.

Constantine had spent the whole night on the phone and at the computer. But he had actually managed to make an appointment with the young man. In three weeks. Somewhere in the countryside of Burgundy. Stefek didn't say a word. But instead Stefek slipped him an envelope. If he should meet someone, he should hand over the envelope. Constantine nodded. The two said goodbye.

A few weeks later, Constantine and the young man were sitting across from each other in a wine cellar of a chateau in Burgundy. The young man read Stefek's letter. He put the paper on the table, smiled at Constantine. What could he do for him? Constantine was sweating. He was nervous. And then he stammered that he wanted to become like Stefek. Maybe not such a colossus. But he wanted to become a man. Masculinity made flesh. He wanted everyone to want sex with him. And that he could have sex all the time. Constantine was in his early 30s and still a virgin. With no chance of ever going to bed with a woman or a man. Sure his money had helped him hook up with hookers and hustlers. But he had always been too nervous to get down to business. That was his driving force. "Well," the young man said. "You have half Greek roots, after all. Southern genes, in my experience, are a good basis for transformation in your sense. From there we should be able to comply with your wishes. I have just read the letter from our dear common friend Stefek. We are making a proposal to you. The transformation costs $100 million. Unfortunately, we cannot do it cheaper than that. Stefek offers to buy all your possessions from you for exactly that amount. We will carry out the transformation in Johannesburg. The authorities in South Africa are quite lax, there it will be easier to integrate you into a new life. Stefek has even already organized a plan for your departure. Settlement of the purchase contract, farewell party. And you should renew all your IDs beforehand to give you as much time as possible before you have to apply for new ones. You'll understand that when the time comes." Constantine looked first at the floor and then at the young man's face. "And what happens then? Then I'll be in South Africa with no money!" "Don't worry, Stefek is a smart man and has thought of everything. You'll get two months paid leave and then become CIO of IronData Africa with a generous salary."

Six weeks later, Constantine was in a limousine that would take him from the airport directly to his transformation. Here, the process was fully automated. After he got out of the car with his bit of carry-on luggage, doors opened and closed right behind him. There was not a person in sight. A few doors down, he found himself in a locker room. And a voice asked him to undress completely. Constantine became more and more nervous. And sweating like a pig again. But he did as he was told. Another door opened. And Constantine stood in a perfect copy of the room in which Stephen's transformation had also taken place. And the sequence of events was also identical. The only difference was that he was naked. My God, what if someone is watching me. Or filming. He felt ridiculous. But when he got on the weight bench to bench press, energy flowed through him. And the energy grew. He could already feel his new body; seeing anything in the dim light and without a mirror was difficult. But then the light came on. And a door opened. The young man and Stefek were waiting for him. But Constantine couldn't help but jerk off in front of the mirror first.

A year had passed since that day. No one had called Gus "Constantine" for a long time. After two months in a backyard gym learning everything he needed to know about bodybuilding and how to use IronData, he had joined IronData's software development team. He had never had a job like this before. Whereas before he had lived a completely asexual life, now he was surrounded only by men who made it hard for him not to think about sex. And more often than not, they were having some. The glory holes in the staff restrooms were legendary. And Gus' cock was a legend, too!

@peepshow321, thanks for the challenge!

@zakucavanje, awesome picture! Thanks for that too!

#tank top #muscle tf #male tf #IronData #DeepTraining

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silentcrowsilentravens · 2 years

Note

Could you write Alcina and the three girls with an s/o that does slight of hand magic?

Apologies for Alci's being on the shorter side.

Daniela Dimitrescu, Cassandra Dimitrescu, Alcina Dimitrescu, and Bela Dimitrescu reacting to a s/o that does sleight of hand magic.

(Gender neutral).

Warnings: n/a

Masterlists here!

Daniela Dimitrescu

Daniela immediately loses her shit. She takes both of your hands and when she sees them empty, loses her shit even more.

How did you do that?

Why didn't you tell her you can do that sooner?

How many other tricks do you know?

Can you show her how to do some of them?!

Please.

Daniela's not going to stop bugging (pun unintended) the hell out of you until you teach her a few tricks.

When she finds out it isn't real magic, she is a little disappointed. But not for long. Maybe two minutes tops. She still wants to learn!

And then once she gets the hang of it, she's going to show anyone and everyone who will give her the time of day.

Daniela, stopping some maid just trying to attend to her duties and aggressively doing the things you showed her: "So? What did you think of that?"

The maid, about to piss herself from nervousness because Daniela was already terrifying enough without the apparent ability to do magic: "V-very impressive, my Lady! I've never seen anything like it before!"

"I know, right?!"

Cassandra Dimitrescu

The first time you do a trick in front Cass, her reaction is a bit delayed. She stares at you for a moment.

"...What the hell?"

She wants to see what else you’ve got.

She is also very determined to figure out how you do them. Don’t you dare give her any hints!

Cassandra’s wearing an expression of intense focus, asking you to repeat certain tricks so that she can study your hands.

She does manage to figure out a few, and is too prideful to ask how you do the rest. She uses this new knowledge for evil. As expected.

She likes to annoy her sisters with it.

"Andi, give it back!"

"I don't have it."

"I can see it in your hand!"

"No, I think you're mistaken," Cassandra smirks and makes her younger sister's knife vanish.

">: O"

Also enjoys doing it in front of maids unfortunate enough to end up in the cellar.

Cass, pulling out a set of keys: "I'm going to unlock these shackles."

"....Thank you for your mercy, Lady Cassandra..."

"Oh, would you look at that? The keys disappeared! Nevermind, then. I guess I'll just keep torturing you."

Alcina Dimitrescu

Simply full of suprises, aren't you?

Alcina has never been considered someone who cares much for magic tricks, but when you do them? She can’t help but find them charming.

She’s fond of the card tricks in particular.

Alcina will simply stick to watching you.

You can try to teach her a trick or two, but the chances of Alci successfully learning are low. It’s like when you tried to teach her how to uninstall an app. She doesn’t have the patience, her hands are too big for the task, it’s just a mess overall.

Bela Dimitrescu

Ooh, you know how to do sleight of hand?

Bela watches you with silent interest, providing mini applause after each trick.

You’re so talented. <3

Afterward, she has many questions.

How long have you been practicing?

Why did you pick the hobby up?

How long did it take you to perfect it?

Bela is particularly fascinated by how sleight of hand fools the brain than anything else, though. The way you purposefully divert where the watcher’s attention goes, how your hands move with practiced ease and manipulate the perceived presence of objects? Very intriguing.

(She’s a big fucking nerd at heart, she can’t help it).

She gets you a book about sleight of hand magic.

Like Cass, she wants to figure out how you pull off your tricks without any explanation from you.

#x reader #gender neutral insert #resident evil x reader #resident evil 8 #cassandra dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu x reader #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #daniela dimitrescu x reader #dimitrescu daughters #lady dimitrescu x reader

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