#[ i may clean it up / make it nicer at some point idk. ]

[shogundad]

@paragonevil​ // I HAD TO.

#[ mun doodles. ] #[ AKU DOING THE THING. ] #[ i may clean it up / make it nicer at some point idk. ]

[leviiattacks]

teacher!levi and teacher!reader headcanons please 🥺

author note :: i expected for this to be better but idk,,, um, you know maybe it’s just me who wishes i executed it better but i wrote this at 3am that’s my excuse. ANYWAY I HOPE U ENJOY ANON :-))) i know it’s not headcanons but here!! also my ask box is always open to feel free to drop by !! 

word count :: 5.4k (after i had to severely cut the word count down because my tumblr wouldn’t let me post the longer version with more detail,,,,)

honestly you’ve never fit in well with the math teachers in particular but you’re still amicable with most

however, there’s one unbearable member of the group that happens to want to play jump rope with your patience constantly

and that person just so happens to be mr ackerman

every single staff meeting the both of you sit furthest away from each other whilst silently exchanging bitter glares

maybe it’s his stony disposition or his unrealistically harsh grading system that makes him seem so off putting to you.

or perhaps it’s your soft and gentle approach to teaching that drives him up a wall

but to make matters simple, the two of you have never got along. nearly everything he says you disagree with and nearly everything you say he has to rebuke.

every outlandish suggestion of his at meetings is met with firm disapproval from you and every time you bring up wanting to provide the children with more time for extracurricular activities he sneers in annoyance

today he’s proposing a plan to set exams as soon as possible

???

you wonder if he’s even thinking with his head attached to his neck because it’ll be impossible for the children to handle all of the content in the form of an exam paper so soon

the workload he’s been pushing onto his math class has become far too ridiculous for your liking and you want to put an end to the man’s reign of terror

it just so happens your classes are scheduled in the blocks next to each other meaning he always sees your students an hour before you do

it’s got to the point where your pupils trudge into english class completely EXHAUSTED

the other day a boy fainted because of lack of sleep and now mr ackerman has the audacity to put forward the exam dates???

“we need to instill these children with discipline. taking them by surprise will give them a much needed reality check.”

you groan at his speech and raise a hand

“may i interject?”

professor ackerman’s tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek the irritation is painted on his face but he nods although he seems reluctant

“these children do not need standardized exams to-”

“would you like for me to completely scrap exams from the curriculum?” without even allowing for you to present your argument he has to cut you off with a mocking grin

“levi, i think-”

“that's mr ackerman to you.”

his blunt correction has you rolling your eyes because YES!! you understand the two of you aren’t exactly the best of friends but he doesn’t even want to be on a first name basis with a colleague of two years??

his pettiness has your blood boiling in searing displeasure

“you have to stop going so hard on these children.”

he’s shuffling through some paperwork not even batting an eye in your direction.

“personally, we aren’t hard enough but of course the english teacher has trouble understanding that.”

the jab he makes at your job only causes the anger inside of you to bubble up again

why does teaching english have ANYTHING to do with this???

“you teach math yet you can’t calculate the reasoning behind your subpar love life. do not insult english.”

personal insults are your favourite to throw at him because he always gets so riled up

and actually for once you have the answer to a math question.

the reason why his love life is so uneventful has to be because of this :

his personality + his obnoxious humour + his looks = a good looking but undatable man

his jaw clenches and the grip he has on the stack of papers in his hands strengthens

ok,, that is kinda hot but that is not relevant at all

you’re able to make out miss ral one of the other math teachers make a move to speak and god you fight the urge to punch her every day because she’s always gushing about mr ackerman

seeing as you don’t want to punch her or anyone for that matter you turn to give her a “if you speak right now i swear to god i will lose my shit” look

she gets the memo incredibly quickly because her mouth closes shut immediately

mr ackerman takes a sip out of the cup of black tea next to him. “i would appreciate if you just sat back and let me do what’s best.”

“children fainting in my lesson is not what’s best.” your rebuttal catches him off guard and he seems more than a little surprised

“wait- fainted??”

you eyes flick over to mr zacharias, you had told him to pass the message on but the way he’s sheepishly looking at the floor avoiding your eyes clearly tells you all you have to know

“looks like someone forgot to pass the message onto you but the other day falco fainted in english.”

“is he- is he okay?? did he say why?”

eyebrows raising you’re quite surprised to see any sort of reaction from him let alone concern

“he stayed up all night completing your homework.”

lips pressing together into a fine line it almost looks as if he’s guilty

“i’ll talk to him about it later.” his voice is back to its usually plain tone and any trace of his previous worry has been masked.

an awkward silence follows. he coughs choosing to not continue the discussion about exams.

principal smith takes the hint and moves on to discuss planned school trips

HOORAH victory!!!

yet another day where you’ve saved your students

“who is fallacy and why are they pathetic?” a few snorts and giggles are heard around the class and you force yourself to laugh at falco's miserable attempt at a joke

you’ve noticed falco’s been cracking more jokes around his new seat mate gabi.

she’s small but feisty always willing to debate and she’s really a joy to teach although she can get a little bit aggressive with the others at times

honestly it’s quite obvious that falco has a fat crush on her. well, actually it’s been obvious from the moment she step foot into your class

and... you couldn’t just ignore the way falco looked at her could you?? and there was an empty space next to him too sooooo, what harm would there be in placing the two together?

it seems as if your attempt at getting the both of them to talk has worked. gabi and falco compete desperately for the top position in the class and are two of the best students you’ve had in a while

also after the day falco fainted in class gabi has been noticeably nicer. things like asking if he’s drank water or how much he’s slept

you have a small inkling that she may like him back

and the budding romance is adorable to you because you too once had childhood crushes

it feels rather nostalgic to see the two interact

but today you notice the two aren’t in

in fact, you notice half of the class isn’t?

“where are the others?” your question sends a jolt through one of your present students but he stays silent choosing to pretend to clean his glasses as a distraction

crossing your arms over your chest you walk over towards his desk

“udo, you can tell me what it is.”

“professor ackerman said not to tell.” udo looks petrified and you’re just kinda wondering what in the hell is going on

lucky for you his resolve is thin and he quickly cracks under pressure

“okay. you can’t say i told.”

nodding in agreement he looks around making sure no one else hears what exactly it is he’s about to disclose

“he’s kept some people back to talk to them about something top secret. i don’t know what but he asked for the students who like you.”

at that you feel a little bitter because if he asked for the student who liked you why on earth is half the class still here??

but oh well, you guess you can’t please them all

“oh no, no, no. you’ve got it wrong. we all wanted to stay but he didn’t let us.”

udo looks genuine so you let it slide

either way it doesn’t really matter as long as the majority prefer you over that sick and twisted math teacher you’re alright

“he does know he’s cut into my class time right?”

“falco told him that and he whispered something about how you’re bothersome.”

you???? bothersome???

WHEN HE’S THE ONE BOTHERING EVERYONE?/!:£:!/)

you don’t even look back as you walk out frankly furious at what’s happened

english is important

ACTUALLY!!!

ENGLISH > MATH

you will stand by that till the day you die

your knuckle meets with the wooden surface of your sworn enemy’s classroom door and almost automatically you’re able to hear the shuffle of chairs and padding of numerous footsteps approach

the door swings open and you step aside to allow your missing students to pass through

they look nervous but one look at your reassuring smile lets them ease up and relax

“well.” a voice behind you snaps “look who paid me a visit.”

“we’re talking about this later.”

you try your best to sound serious but you don’t know if you pull it off as well as he does because he just ends up giving you a disappointed sort of look

“y/n. stick to being the good cop it suits you better.”

“we are not on first name basis. you said it yourself.” is your narrowed comeback

finally turning to face him you’re surprised when your eyes travel to the triangle of space behind him and you’re able to get a peek of what looks to be a list of books on his whiteboard

pride and prejudice

wuthering heights

jane eyre

ville-

before you’re able to read the rest he moves in front of your line of vision

he’s got quite the selection but,, when did he of all the people on this planet start showing any interest in literature?

“the books on the board what’s that about?”

your inquiry flies over his head and he shuts the door behind him completely

his face doesn’t move and if it does it only shows the slightest hint of confusion

“what books are you talking about?” he replies and don’t know why your knees feel a little weak when he looks you straight in the eyes

snap.

out.

of.

it.

“i saw books on the board.”

“you saw wrong.” he barks back and he’s getting agitated now

maybe you did imagine it...

and you have to get back to teach your class so okay fair enough you’ll let it go because you do know you have a habit of daydreaming randomly

however that doesn’t stop you from giving him another skeptical look before you leave because there is NO WAY you imagined it, but it is you and it really could be a possibility

the click clack of your heels against the floor sound out as you remove yourself from the conversation

you assume he’s returned to his classroom

that’s why it catches you by surprise when you hear a hesitant voice behind you

“there were no books on the board.”

you don’t know why he has to tell you that again because it only makes himself look all the more suspicious

“but if they were a list of book recommendations then what would you recommend i read?”

the question is peculiar coming from him

are you in an alternate universe?

is this a dream?

are you talking to a clone?

a robot?

because this can NOT be the same man you’ve been working with for two years

maybe he’s having a change of heart?

but that sounds unlikely

maybe he’s planning to read the book and somehow with that big brain of his formulate a calculation to score it a measly two out of ten

yeah. that sounds more likely.

nevertheless, you still want to give him a recommendation, maybe he’ll find out he’s into books this way

“you should totally check out pride and prejudice :-)”

for once you’re smiling at him and he doesn’t know what to do because the change is sudden but he doesn’t say a word after that

instead he retreats into his classroom

god.

now you’re sure he’s just asked to form a stupid calculation or whatever the hell it is math teachers do.

“he likes you.” hange has a shit eating grin on their face and you can’t help but narrow your eyes and sigh in exasperation

no he does not like you but you don’t try to correct hange because you know they’re firm in their stupid belief

“would you ever date him?” hange fiddles with the last of their potato salad absentmindedly waiting on your reply

the question literally has you choking on your lunch

“i would rather fight for survival in the wilderness. thank you for asking.”

“oh come on... he’s got a thing for you. you read romance novels all the time you should be able to tell he does.”

“yeah and that thing he has for me is wanting to shove my head onto a pitchfork. you’ve got the wrong end of the stick.” shoving a piece of pasta into your mouth you sigh dreamily at the taste. it serves as a momentary distraction

you get one lunch break and you are not!!!! in the mood to talk about him whilst you’re on that break

he’s attractive

and you have to admit he looks handsome in his crisp white button up and pristine black suit AND his cologne is really...

okay, you are digressing from the point

none of what you just said means anything!!!

at surface level he seems like a catch but it’s what’s on the inside that matters and he said he finds english stupid

that’s more than enough of a reason to dislike the guy?

he thinks stuff like the pythagorean theorem and y = mx+c are entertaining

y = mx+c ??? over literature???

you read books to teach and you read books for your own enjoyment

it would be a complete travesty if you had a crush on a book hater

and levi ackerman most certainly can be classed as a book hater.

a pessimistic book hater if the specifics are needed

“OH! SORRY Y/N GOTTA BLAST MOB’S OVER THERE!!!!!”

you don’t even get the chance to say goodbye because hange makes an eager run towards moblit

hange and moblit are inseparable, both are the shared heads of the science department and since he’s been off on sick leave recently you understand why hange’s rushed off to greet him

you wish you had a teacher friend like that but the sad truth is you’re pretty much a lone wolf. the other english teachers are wrinkly old pickles and talk about antiques or quiz shows :-(

“this seat free?”

no way.

it’s not him

it can't be

what does he even want??

“um, well yeah it is free b-.”

“good.” he takes the seat without you even inviting him and now you’re stuck in an awkward situation you didn’t even expect to be in today

you're about to burst into tears because is it too much to ask for a peaceful lunch period???

mr ackerman clears his throat and places a book in the center of the table. “pride and prejudice although not my cup of tea was... mildly enjoyable.”

wait...

is this him...

admitting defeat!??

HELLLOOOOO

you are over the moon right now because you know he really had to have enjoyed it a lot and is simply choosing to withhold that information for his own reputation

“i’m happy to hear you took a liking to it.” you’re munching away at your pasta a little more upbeat now

“okay but the start of the book assuming all single men want a wife? no, all i want is a good night’s rest for once. also mrs bennet needs to calm down, elizabeth can marry who the hell she wa-”

“someone’s a little passionate aren’t they?” you giggle into your glass of water and you catch mr ackerman frowning

“i liked it okay.”

“i thought you said it was only mildly enjoyable just now?” grinning and looking at him through your lashes his cheeks become red

you guess he’s angry or something but that’s the usual with him

“yeah, whatever. i just wanted to play fair and apologise.”

“apologise?” oh wow, now your interest has really peaked because never in the past two years has he apologised to ANYONE

not even principal smith for the one time he flipped out and nearly cursed at a mouthy student at parent's evening

grimacing a little before he does it he finally speaks again.

“english is important. i’m sorry.”

your lips tug up into a bright smile

well???

this is a great interaction??

an apology coming out of levi ackerman of all people

“apology accepted! i’m glad to know you liked the book but now that we’re a tad bit friendlier with each other i wanted to ask for a favour.” your eyes gleam and he swears he can see specks of shining stars in them

“...okay, it depends.”

he’s warming up to you so he considers it

“please don’t cut into my lesson time levi.” his name slips out of your mouth but it’s so natural you don’t even care to correct yourself

“i’m sorry about that too y/n.” your name now ventures out of his mouth too as it tests the waters

wordlessly the two of you agree to first name basis

BUT more important matters are at hand such as how he’s issued you yet another apology?

this is satire surely

because why is he so willing all of a sudden...?

well, that's the power of pride and prejudice, wow you’re really thanking the heavens for blessing this world with jane austen’s existence

jane austen. a woman capable of remarkable things, she's even managed to make an unmoving book hater somehow become a lover

poking at your tuna pasta you and levi are now quiet.

“soooooo, any opinions on mr wickham?” you ask the question hoping to initiate a longer conversation than before

and luckily for you your attempt works

SUCCESS!!

levi pinches the bridge of his nose and the creases on his forehead show he clearly isn't particularly fond of wickham

“don’t get me started he’s so indescribably annoying?”

ok, ok, ok

you don’t even know how it happens but you and levi really hit it off

weeks have passed and you and him have even become lunch buddies

it was so shocking to moblit at first that he dropped his lunch on the floor when he saw you and levi enthusiastically exchanging words

then again, two mr wickham haters are bound to get along

you’re seriously wondering how the two of you ever survived as mortal enemies

yeah, you still disagree a lot but you’re getting there!!

sometimes he helps you out when your computer stops running and in exchange you’re willing to offer him book recommendations

he swears he doesn't want any recommendations from you but you know he enjoys it

yesterday he got microsoft excel out and showed you how useful it really was and you went :O because you never really understood the need for it at all

you’re a little bit of a granny when it comes to tech...

and just today at lunch you recommended he checks some plays out but his nose wrinkled at the mention of shakespeare so the both of you went through a long list of dramas and eventually you were able to interest him in j.b. priestely's an inspector calls

another victory for you!!

anyway, right now the two of you are sitting inside of the staff room seeing as it's that time of the month again.

time for the monthly staff meeting

it's the first one you've had since you and levi became friends and you're worried the both of you will be back at it butting heads

wait, are you friends?

well, you wouldn't mind if that were the case but to be honest you would like to be a little bit more than friends mayb-

no!!! no!!! no!!! stupid thought!!! you retract that statement immediately

no you do not want to be more than friends with levi ackerman, yes he's lovely to a degree but you are not going to elaborate on why it's a terrible idea to fancy him

okay wait, let's elaborate for the sake of elaborating

he's surprisingly charming and wittier than you thought he would be. the fun conversations are making your days now and to be honest it is nice to have someone to spend lunch with (hange usually skips out on lunch all together to tinker in the science labs and set up experiments)

wait... weren't you suppose to explain why you don't want to get with him?

you're an idiot and you don't notice how dumb you really are until everyone just kinda gawks at the both of you because it's so odd seeing you in the same room let alone within a three feet radius of each other.

fuck, you completely forgot you and levi sat at opposite ends of the room

principal smith enters and even he looks visibly shocked at the change in seats but he doesn't mention it and you're grateful he doesn't because you didn't purposefully sit here it just happened on accident

erwin turns in your direction and smiles

"would you like to start off with your proposition for extracurriculars?"

nodding your head you begin passionately.

"well, i'd like to say i don't think we offer the children enough. we have spare funding so why not open another club? cooking perhaps? i understand many of you may not understand the importance of teaching them how to cook but-"

"do you have an obsession for setting these children up for failure?" tensing up you notice it's levi who's spoke and he doesn't sound remotely happy

blinking once and then twice he realizes his tone isn't the best and he mutters an apology "sorry, go ahead i'll add in when you're done."

whispers travel through the room straight away

"did he just say sorry?"

"actually why are those two sitting together?"

"do you think they're you know...?"

miss ral who's sat a little further away is the next person to disagree with you

"i understand the intention but would it not be better to let them have extra math lessons?"

"oh, so you can get a pay rise?" the comeback you make is aggressive and dripping in displeasure

she sits up face burning up

"no- no- absolutely not i take pleasure in teaching all of my classes." flustered and trying to hide her nerves she takes a sip out of her water bottle

you want to pour all of the water out onto that ginger hair of hers

the reason why her interjection is getting on your nerves is due to the fact you overheard her and another one of the math teachers plan to bring this specific point up

and you are well aware that her reasoning behind it has nothing to do with the children

she couldn't care less about them

"do not make me repeat what you and mr bozado were chit chatting about earlier today."

the threat is enough to silence her and just when you think you've handled the situation levi has to give his input

"let's ignore petra's motivations and talk about how teaching these kids how to cook means nothing if they have no tradable skills to offer in the real world." levi's not looking at you. he's either too annoyed or too preoccupied with his thought process

at that moment you feel naive, you thought maybe he would try to understand your opinion seeing as he's been spending so much time with you as of recent but that looks to not be the case

murmurs of agreement fill the room at his statement and you feel pathetic

it's practically the entire room against you now

genuinely how is it these people can manage to be such spoiled sports about everything?

"recently, i asked all of my classes to write an essay about school stress. maybe you won't understand my views because you haven't read their pieces but they need a fucking break." the expletive flies out of your mouth without warning and you flush in embarrassment

that

was

not

professional.

"oh god, i'm sorry i got worked up i shouldn't hav-" fumbling over all of your words you feel even more mortified

the principal raises his hand signalling you stop and you clamp your mouth shut. you're in huge trouble that's for sure

but,,, in spite of the clear difference in opinion between you and the other teachers, soft and well spoken principal smith says the unthinkable

"i have the final say and i believe you are coming from a good place after reading your student's work. how would you feel about running the new cooking club?"

scanning his face for a second you can tell his question is legitimate and the wave of relief that washes over you has never felt better than ever

sighing contently you agree and as the topic of conversation shifts to something else entirely you sense your heart rate picking up

you feel like you're back to square one with levi.

it's yet another day where you’ve saved your students and you should be feeling overjoyed but if anything you feel a little deflated

you wish he would have come around and understood but you can't teach and old dog new tricks

again, the feeling of disappointment wears you down

two weeks have passed since then and your favourite time of year has come. it’s spring term meaning MACBETH

the english curriculum includes plays and it just so happens that today is your first lesson covering shakespeare

and you LOVE shakespeare

something about all the intricate foreshadowing always has you excited

but some children are missing

and it’s way too many to blame on sickness

so you wait for a few minutes but it's consistently radio silent

the last time this happened the culprit had been levi and he promised to never cut into your lesson time

but you could count on him to break his promise after the fiasco that was the monthly meeting

is he back to hating you and hating literature?

well, that's his loss if that's the case!! and no!! you will not upset yourself over the loss of the budding friendship

sighing you get to your feet making a beeline to the door but gabi and falco rush to stop you

awkward chuckles activated they wave their hands to get your attention “OH NO, they’ll only be five minutes!!” their sentence comes out as one big blur of words but you manage to understand them

now you’re doubtful because you know falco and gabi would usually ignore you and allow you to walk out

giving them a knowing glance the pair look between each other

their eyes are clearly communicating and asking if it’s alright to tell you

“i promise i won’t be mad.” you sigh

perhaps if you reassure them they’ll be more likely to spill the beans

“it’s not that you... i don't know. you might be upset.” gabi isn't one to care much for other's feelings so you're slightly anxious even though you shouldn't be

but you’re a tough nut to crack. so, absolutely not. you are not going to upset yourself over whatever it is

“i won’t be hurt. i’ve suffered through reading some of the most emotional classics to ever exist.” hitting your chest with your fist you wince a little because you hit yourself a little too hard

falco’s seems to be too shy to come out with it so gabi takes the lead as she normally does

“some students were talking badly about you so mr ackerman kept them behind to have a talk.”

oh.

yeah, actually you are a teeny weeny bit disheartened because you think you’re nice to all of your pupils but it’s nothing too bad, not everyone will like you

“if that’s all i’ll go get them. thank you for letting me know.” giving them two thumbs up you leave the class immediately

levi is probably scolding them to hell and back

not because he cares for you but because he hates disrespect in general

as you’re nearing the open door of his classroom you hear something you never thought would emerge from levi’s room

“final question. why does mr darcy say he doesn’t want to dance with elizabeth at first?” oh yeah, that’s levi’s voice for sure

an english question?

is he quizzing them on pride and prejudice?

you wait hoping your students don't fail you and are able to provide the correct answer.

“ummm... she’s not pretty enough!!”

levi hums “you answered all five questions right. do you all know why?”

you can’t see the children’s faces but they have to be confused if there’s no immediate response

he grunts in agitation “because your english teacher works hard to teach you every single day. have some respect because that teacher of yours is one in a million.”

taking your bottom lip in between your teeth you fight the urge to smile

“do you know how at every single staff meeting there’s only ever one teacher fighting for you all and what you want. i can assure you that teacher isn’t me, but i believe you can all guess who i'm talking about.”

your heart does a back flip in your chest and you feel jittery but in that really fuzzy good way

like that super duper fuzzy and hazy good way

he’s really very sweet for saying all of this and you're now smiling like an idiot

one pupil takes a chance to make amends “we’re sorry mr ackerman.”

but before levi can give them a response you clap your hands together and walk in unannounced 

“apology accepted, now if you want to all be forgiven forever please return to class and answer the questions on the board!” directing them to the door with your hands you make sure they're conscious fo the fact you aren't mad at them

still, never have you seen them so eager to run off to analyze macbeth. you guess levi's deathly stare is the cause for it

holding back a laugh you clear your throat after the last student leaves

“thank you levi :-)”

it’s quiet for a second and you think to ask him about what has been gnawing at your mind

“you didn’t have to do that. you disagreed with me before so... why did you?”

“i say this at every meeting and you never listen but children need to be disciplined.” his unchangeable tone is unwelcoming

again it’s awkwardly silent and you sorta regret even coming over to see what was going on because now you and levi are just having an uncomfortable staring contest

then he scratches the back of his neck and heaves a heavy breath

“it may also be because i really fucking like you, but i look like an idiot saying that when we’ve been at each other's necks for two years.”

oh.

the sudden and brutally honest confession has the wind knocked out of you, you’re stunned

and then you get hit by it too. the realization hits you like rain hits umbrellas on stormy days. you like him too.

you like him for his witty sense of humour, his pure honesty and his hatred for mr wickham only serves as a bonus

yes, you have your differences. many of them. but you like him

he’s no longer a book hater and so by default you can fancy him. he goes against none of your guidelines essentially

you like him, he likes you back?’//’.;

[SCREAMS]

“well, what do you say? will you be this mr darcy's elizabeth bennet?” hearing the cheesy pickup line from him of all people has the butterflies in your stomach exploding in delight 

“you sound weird, where's the grumpy math teacher from before?" now you and him are simply shamelessly flirting but HEY!! you have no complaints at all

he scoffs at your sarcastic question

"do you want the equation for a two dimensional heart on a graph beca-"

"can i just kiss you?"

wOWIE are you being bold today y/n???

thankfully you don't have to wait for his answer. levi’s right hand pulls your face in and he slams his lips against yours. he gives your waist a squeeze and you hold him tighter by the neck in response. he has a way of somehow making it all feel gentle and relaxed in the same breath

and... you know what? maybe you should have recommended pride and prejudice to him earlier

but oh well.

what matters the most right now is that you're kissing your mr darcy!!

and he’s kissing his elizabeth bennet

:-)

#levi #levi ackerman #aot #snk #attack on titan #attack on titan levi #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi headcanons #levi drabbles #levi scenario #teacher levi #levi fanfiction #aot fanfiction #leviiattacks #attack on titan x reader #levi fluff #modern levi #modern levi ackerman

[silenthillmutual]

hey for the prompts thing, maybe artemy's children and daniil? Also if you wanna stretch your utopian characters writing muscles, something with peter and grace(artemy helping him parent her, since the man was ready to feed her worms)? eva and daniil in the friendship way?? idk, something of that sort. I love your work, you have a delightful grasp of the characters and the english language itself

this isn't my best bc i've just been practicing writing to keep that skill strong, but i decided to do a little of all three :)

-----

“Please, Eva, you have to help me.”

Eva tilts her head at Daniil, her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulder. Daniil knows she’s not that dense; it’s not the with what question, but the why. “Really, Daniil. I think you have a handle on things as it is.”

He absolutely does not have a handle on things. He is in way out of his depth. Over his head. However the saying goes - what’s been expected is far beyond him. Cats, he can watch over easily. They’re mostly self-sufficient, independent, but children? Daniil does not know the first thing about children.

“Humor me, then,” he says. Eva ducks her head, struggling to hide a smile. “Pretend for a moment that I don’t have a handle on things. How am I meant to keep children entertained?”

“Ah, I would think you would remember what it was like to be a child!” Daniil only scowls at the floor, shuffling his feet. “You remember how you wanted to be treated, don’t you? It’s not that different from now. You treat them with respect.”

“I know how to talk to children,” he says, and hopes he isn’t lying, “but how do I keep them entertained?”

“It’s only for a few hours. I think you’re worrying over nothing.” Daniil looks over his shoulder. They’re already seated at Eva’s piano, fingers toying with the keys. Every once in a while they will make contact, a soft plonk as a flat note plays in the open space, accompanied by a giggle. “Besides, Artemy left you in charge, not me. He trusts you.”

“He trusts everyone.” It sounds like more of a complaint than it’s really meant. The haruspex’s undying faith in others is admirable, really. Burakh’s favor is probably the only thing that’s kept the town’s inhabitants from running Daniil out into the steppe. But in this one occasion, that faith seems misplaced. “I should have said no.”

“So why didn’t you?”

Daniil has no answer. Or at least, he has no good answer. Judging by the smile creeping its way onto her face, Eva knows the only one he has. He tries to fan away her concern, and is met with her soft laughter, like the tinkling of glass. “Anyway, I’d feel much safer if you were here to help me.”

“Safer? Daniil, they’re just kids. You’ve done much more dangerous things in the time you’ve been here.” Daniil purses his lips, and Eva sighs. “I’ll help you, on one condition!”

“Name it.”

“Yulia.” Eva huffs, fiddling with her gloves. “I’ve invited her over to dinner, but she hasn’t sent her response. I think she’s nervous about seeing the Stamatins again - tell her they won’t be coming if it makes her so upset! Whatever you have to say, just make sure she agrees. I’ve been dying to see her.”

Much as he’d rather not get involved in anyone else’s affairs, he is sort of desperate here. Yulia can be difficult to convince when her mind is made up on something - impossible, even, he’d say - but he knows how fond the two women are of each other, and maybe his assurance that Andrey will be otherwise occupied will be enough. And really, all he has to do is try. “Fine,” he says, and Eva squeezes his arm in excitement before turning to the kids in the sitting room.

“I see you’ve found the piano. Would you like me to teach you a few scales?”

-

When Artemy agreed to help Peter prepare for Grace’s visit, he had no idea what it was he was signing up for. He’d thought an hour or so - enough time to leave his kids with Daniil and see how they fared together without overwhelming the other man. But it’s been two and a half hours now, and Peter doesn’t seem to be any closer to grasping the basics.

“You need milk, Peter. And eggs. Basic food items.” He stops just short of asking if the man is even aware of what constitutes food. He can’t be certain that the man even eats. He’s malnourished for someone of his height, and from what Artemy can tell his main consumption is twyrine. And that won’t be good for poor Grace.

That’s the main reason Artemy’s stayed so long. He wants to get back to his kids, to spend time with Daniil before the man returns to his work, but he worries about how Grace will fare here when Peter can’t seem to grasp the importance of a clean cooking surface and fresh ingredients. “Forgive me, old boy. It’s been so long since I have sought these things out for myself.”

Artemy tries not to groan. That’s about what he’d figured, and it’s not exactly what he’d call promising.

At least the apartment is looking marginally nicer. There’s space enough for them to walk around in, the empty bottles of twyrine have been discarded and the couch has been cleared of its debris. It’s not much, but it’s a start, and Artemy can appreciate how difficult even this was for the architect.

But it’s still not quite enough. Grace will be over within the hour, and Artemy’s not sure how much more help he can be to the man.

Before he can suggest they hold Grace’s visit off another day, a knock comes at the door and the girl herself enters. She doesn’t look quite sure of herself, her fists curled tight around the fabric of her dress, her eyes cast down; but she enters all the same, and stands just outside the door, waiting.

Artemy is the first to address her. “Grace.” He nudges Peter with his foot under the table. “It’s good to see you.”

Peter looks at Artemy, solemn, and follows his lead. “Welcome, girl.” There’s an awkward pause, and Artemy kicks his shin again. Peter stares at the table. “Come in from the door. There’s room for you by the couch.”

Grace smiles shyly and tucks her hands behind her back as she enters. Her eyes widen, taking in the apartment as if seeing it for the first time. And since Peter doesn’t seem to clean regularly, she very well could be.

“What happened to your paintings?” she asks, her voice quiet.

“I’ve moved them.” Artemy is preparing himself to nudge Peter once again, but this is something he’s more well-acquainted with. He’s slow to stand, one hand on the table to steady himself, and makes his way to what passes for a bedspace in this loft. Artemy watches from the table, chewing his lip, as Peter presents a painting to her.

At least it’s one of the more appropriate ones, though there’s something frightening about the splashes of paint. He’s no art critic, and he won’t pretend to understand, but there’s something very angry about this painting. Artemy wonders how obvious it is to Grace, who hasn’t seen much outside of the graveyard. He can’t imagine there’s much experimental art in the Saburov’s house.

A sudden pang hits him, watching the two interact. He may be frustrated with Peter, but it’s obvious the man is trying his hardest. It’s just been too long since he’s even taken care of himself, that of course it will take a while before he’s able to take care of another person. And Grace has such different needs that Artemy’s unsure the Saburovs will be able to meet. The way they talk to each other, he can sense an understanding between them, even when they’re not talking about exactly the same thing.

He’s going to wind up regretting this, for sure. He didn’t mean to leave his kids with Daniil for so long, but he can’t just give up here.

“It’s about time for lunch,” Artemy says. The two turn to look at him with matching looks of surprise. “Why don’t I show you how to cook something?”

-

Artemy dropped his children off around ten. Daniil expected him back around noon. He doesn’t mind making food for the children, except - well, he’s not the one doing it. Eva caught him attempting to make some excuses to head into the kitchen and beat him to it. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, with a look in her eyes Daniil found almost threatening, “I can handle it. You stay in here and get acquainted.”

“We’re already acquainted,” Daniil pointed out, but it didn’t matter much. Eva was determined to ignore him, making her way out of the room and leaving Daniil with two bored kids.

Murky had moved on from the piano some time ago, laying on the floor with charcoals and sketch paper Peter had left out the last time he’d come to visit. She didn’t ask for permission, but if Eva wasn’t going to tell her off then neither was Daniil. He can’t imagine Peter minding much or even remembering he’d brought the items with him, and as long as it’s keeping the girl occupied Daniil doesn’t have it in him to complain. Sticky, on the other hand, has taken to snooping around the house.

“Looking for something?” Daniil asks, watching him open up an end table drawer.

Sticky shrugs. “Not particularly.” He closes the drawer with a little more force than necessary and turns his gaze to the staircase, his eyebrows near to his hairline. “What’s up there?”

“My room.”

“Can I see it?” The sudden excitement catches him off guard. Daniil fiddles with his gloves. “You have a microscope, right? I’ve never used one. I know Rubin has one, but he won’t let me see it. Do you have slides? Can you show me something? Can you show me blood?”

“One question at a time,” Daniil says, huffing with amusement. Maybe this isn’t so bad. I was the same at his age. “I suppose you can come upstairs and see it, yes. I do have a few clean slides, yes, but I don’t have any samples lying around. I suppose I can come up with something, but…” he turns to look at Murky.

“She’ll be fine,” Sticky assures him. “It’s not like we’re going far, right?” He turns to his sister. “Murky, we’re going upstairs.”

She pauses in her drawing, looking at Sticky before her eyes turn away. “Do I have to come with you?”

“I don’t suppose you have to, no,” Daniil answers. “But if you need anything, you can come up and get us, alright, dear?” She doesn’t seem all that comfortable with the term, her mouth turning into a little scowl. She doesn’t answer, either, going back to her drawing as if no interruption had occurred.

Daniil leads Sticky up the stairs, listening to his babbling about the things he’s managed to glean from listening to Artemy and attempting to follow in his footsteps, from his discussions with Rubin when the man’s come to visit. Once they’re upstairs, he wanders around the room, picking up Daniil’s books and looking at them carefully, trying to pronounce the words aloud to himself. Daniil takes his distraction as a time to prick himself for a blood sample, readying the slide and pulling the chair back out from the table.

He clears his throat, and Sticky spins around, nearly dropping the heavy tome in his hands. “You wanted to see a blood sample, yes?” Sticky nods, scrambling his way over to the desk. Daniil has to guide him in how to use the microscope, in how to get a clearer picture of what he’s looking at. And Sticky has plenty of questions for him about what he sees, about how blood works in the body, about cells and warmth and movement.

As he’s speaking, Daniil simply forgets to be nervous. It’s not all that different to lectures - and to have someone honestly listening to him is actually quite nice. He’s so engrossed in directing Sticky that he doesn’t notice when Murky joins them. When she speaks, it startles him. “Why do you have a bunch of grass in a jar?” Sticky stifles a laugh as Daniil nearly jumps, moving around to the bookshelf where Murky is on her toes, peering at a glass jar. “They’re not even the right herbs. You can’t make anything out of that.”

“It’s not all grass. Take a closer look.” Daniil takes the jar off the shelf and holds it out for her to better see it. He watches her squint, and directs his finger about halfway up the jar. “Do you see the eyes here? This is a conehead grasshopper.”

Her eyes widen. “You keep a bug in a jar?”

“Well, I’d like to get a terrarium eventually, but you don’t seem to have any in town. I’d have to order one from the Capital.” He pauses. People usually find his collection of insects strange, but Murky seems fascinated. “I have books on insects, if you would like to…” Can she read? “Take a look?” Murky nods, and Daniil takes the jar back, looking through the bookshelf for the guide he’d brought with him.

Sticky’s not particularly interested in the bugs, but he entertains himself looking through Daniil’s medical textbooks while Daniil reads passages off of the insects Murky points to. When Eva comes to get them for lunch, he has to agree to bring the book downstairs with him to get her to go.

“Dad won’t let me keep bugs,” she mumbles around her food. “Says they don’t belong in the house.”

“My mother felt the same,” Daniil tells her. It feels strange to admit it, when it’s been so long since he’s spoken of his parents to anybody. Murky turns the pages of his field guide very carefully, silent as Sticky speaks up to ask him more questions about blood flow and circulation.

Now that he’s found ways of connecting with the kids, communication isn’t nearly as difficult as he’d thought it would be. He feels a little silly for winding himself up the way he had this morning - and these are Artemy’s kids, why had he imagined they’d be such a handful? Sure, they’re precocious, but not any worse than the other children in town.

They’ve just made their way back into the main room when the door to the Stillwater opens and Artemy appears. He looks exhausted, and Daniil can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. He knows what dealing with the Stamatins can be like, especially given how poorly Peter takes care of himself. He can’t begin to imagine what took Artemy so long, but things must have been pretty bad if it took him such a long time.

Artemy offers Daniil a small smile. “Thanks for looking after them, emshen.”

“It was my pleasure,” Daniil says, and he finds that for once it’s not simply a nicety. “They’re wonderful children, Artemy. Clearly you’re doing a fantastic job in raising them.”

“Truth be told, they raised themselves.” His smile is fond, turning from Daniil to his kids. “You guys ready to go?”

Murky looks up from her drawing - a new one, an attempt to freehand an illustration of a phasmid from Daniil’s field guide. She still has a slight frown on her face as she looks up at her father. “Now? Bachelor was going to show me how to catch insects with a net,” she tells him.

Artemy looks back at Daniil with some surprise on his face. Daniil can feel himself flushing as he tries to look anywhere but at Artemy. “Why don’t you come another day, Murky? It’ll give me time to get a second net.”

“I’ll be ready to go in a minute,” Sticky pipes up. “I just gotta finish -”

“Oh, you can borrow the book,” Daniil says, waving his hand. “Don’t mind the markings I left in it from school. And if you have any questions, well - you know where to find me.”

#icarus.docx #icarus.txt #pathologic

[clonecest-bin-account]

I totally agree on your opinion re: dogma isn’t a mistreated baby uwu nor did the 501st bully him. He is a man who made bad choices based on poor judgement while in a very shitty situation. So on another vibe, may I request fives/dogma nsfw with aftercare where dogma, emotionally vulnerable, apologizes for his actions and fives forgives him, knowing how much it’ll mean to him? 🥺

(I’m so glad other people agree with me. Idk I’ve always felt like that by making Dogma an uwu soft boi bean you basically destroy his character and the purpose he has in the story. As for the prompt, it’s probably different from what you had originally in mind: I’ve decided to make it happen right after Umbara, so the feelings are a bit raw still, but it has a hopeful ending nonetheless!)

(WARNING FOR SOME MILD DUB-CON)

(Fic under the cut)

This isn’t how Fives thought his evening was going to be, but oh well, so is life.

They’re all still recovering from the mess that was Umbara; some are doing it on their own, some with their brothers. As for Fives, he’s been with Rex mostly, and with the men, trying to reassure them as best as he can, but he needs some time alone now, that’s why he’s taking a walk through the Resolute.

He meets a few brothers here and there, all huddled up together, but otherwise the ship feels pretty empty.

When he arrives close to the hangar, he decides he’s ventured far enough and that he’d better get back to the barracks. As he turns to do exactly that, however… he slams against someone.

 He barely has the time to react that the person he’s slammed against grabs him by the wrist and drags him to the first open room he finds, which turns out to be the fresher. It’s…

“Dogma? What are you doing?”

He drags him to one of the stalls and slams him against the door. “Hey!”

“I’ve been looking for you…” Dogma says then, as if that explains anything.

“So?” Fives asks, confused by what is happening. What the hell does he want now?

 At this point, Fives expected him to start a fight - though a fight in the fresher doesn’t sound that great, doesn’t it? - but to his surprise, Dogma drags him for a kiss. What?

Fives is so shocked that he’s paralyzed, not moving a muscle, prompting Dogma to pull away and look at him with a delirious intensity that he never felt from him before, not that he’s known him for such a long time.

“Don’t you hate me?” Dogma asks then. “Don’t you want to make me pay for it?”

Fives keeps staring at him, not knowing what to say. He does hate Dogma a bit, though he feels guilty about it, because he’s a brother and they’re supposed to be united… But isn’t Dogma the first one who broke this unity? He almost had him executed, and for what, saving the day?!

Dogma leans closer, whispering to his ear. “I’m giving you an opening.”

 Fives isn’t able to resist his instincts anymore, even though he feels there are still many questions that haven’t been answered at all, but it doesn’t matter for now.

He turns them around, slamming Dogma, who’s grinning at his actions. “You think this is funny?” he snarls. Does he think this is some kind of fucked up game?

Dogma shakes his head, though he still has that annoying expression on his face. Fives is going to wipe it away.

One good thing is that Dogma isn’t wearing his armor, and like this Fives can visibly see just how much he’s liking this. He grabs his bulge through his blacks, squeezing it so tightly that it makes Dogma hiss in pain. “Do you enjoy being treated badly? Is this why you’re such a bitch all the time?”

Dogma whimpers, but otherwise keeps his mouth closed. It’s fine: the less he talks, the better.

 He makes him kneel down in front of the toilet, stripping him off his blacks without uttering a word.

He’s not that evil not to prepare him however, although he goes quite fast with that. The only sounds that come out of Dogma’s lips are whines and moans, and nothing more, as he scrambles against the toilet’s surface to hold onto it. It’s quite the image. Fitting, Fives would even dare say.

He’s harsh in the way he moves his fingers in and out of Dogma, keeping his free hand on Dogma’s back to keep him still if he begins to move too much.

“Fives… Sir… Please…” Dogma’s voice comes out more as a chocked sob, but Fives doesn’t mind that at all. Besides…

“Sir, huh? I like the sound of that.”

 He removes his fingers, quickly moving to replace them with his cock. He could go slower, but frankly he doesn’t care enough for that; besides, it doesn’t seem that Dogma minds.

Once he’s completely inside, he waits just for a moment before beginning fucking the daylights out of Dogma.

Sometimes Dogma grunts in pain when he’s slammed against the hard surface of the toilet too hard, but he never asks the other to stop, so he keeps going. At some point Fives even grabs his head and pushes it inside it, close to the water level, but never enough to actually drown him; he could do it, but unlike Dogma, he’s a decent person, so he doesn’t.

He keeps going, he keeps going and he keeps going, until he reaches the apex, coming still buried deep inside Dogma, just to add insult to injury.

 Once this is over and he finally manages to catch his breath, Fives comes back to himself. What has he done?

He pulls away from Dogma, one hand in his hair, tugging at the curly strands. Oh shit.

“Dogma? Are you okay?” he asks, getting closer again. Oh no, he’s trembling, and when Fives reaches out for him, he realizes that he’s crying.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Dogma continues to sob. Fives has no clue what to do. Why did he provoke him like this? Is it because of Umbara?

He hesitantly draws Dogma into a hug, caressing the top of his head. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done this to you,” he mutters then, meaning every single word of it.

“No, no… I deserve it.”

Fives sighs. Sure, Dogma has been a dick, almost having them killed, but not to the point of deserving this. As much as he almost doesn’t want to admit it, but… “You don’t. You understood your mistakes, I hope. I can’t say that everything’s been mended, but… C’mon, why don’t we get out of here? Let’s get you someplace nicer.”

 Dogma doesn’t say anything. He just looks baffled by the kindness he’s showing him now, a kindness that he doesn’t feel like he deserves, not after what he’s done. Still, it feels nice, he can’t deny that.

He nods then, hurrying to dry his tears with the palm of his hand - he hates that he’s ended up crying - but soon he’s joined by Fives, who dries them away with his thumb. He’s giving him an apologetic smile, but Dogma doesn’t understand: he’s the one who pushed him to act like this, so why does he feel like this?

“Dogma?” “Yes?”

Fives begins helping him up, only to stop halfway to shoot Dogma another gaze. “Alright?”

For some reason, Dogma can’t help but to smile. “Alright.”

 It feels weird walking back to the barracks with Fives so close to him, holding his waist gently by draping one arm around it. It makes him feel safe, even though they’ve been getting looks from other troopers who must be wondering what the hell happened.

Fives takes him to the ARC quarters, which grant them more privacy, even though Dogma isn’t sure if he should be there, but he doesn’t voice his doubts.

He helps him clean up, even lends him a fresh pair of blacks, then offers his bunk to him, an offer that Dogma accepts, but only if they’re sharing, first of all because he’d hate to take something that is Fives’, and secondly because… it’s been a very long time since he last shared a bunk with someone. He wants to feel that closeness again.

Thankfully, Fives agrees. It’s a tight fight but they make it work. Dogma doesn’t really mind it that much.

 He’s almost fallen asleep when Fives whispers his name. “Dogma?”

“Yeah?”

“… I’m sorry, really.”

Dogma sighs. “Look, let’s just say that we were both wrong and move on, alright?”

Fives stays silent for a while, then he shifts, pulling Dogma closer to his chest. “Alright.”

Soon, he falls asleep, leaving Dogma as the only one awake.

He still feels guilty for Umbara, but maybe things will get better; if Fives is willing to treat him decently, then it must be true.

Oh well, only time will be able to tell.

Tag list: @maulusque @captainrexwouldnever If you want to be added feel free to let me know!

#assorted clonecest fics #clonecest #cloneshipping #fogma #idk what their ship name is sorry #arc trooper fives #clone trooper dogma #my fics #spicy tag #dub con #letitrainathousandflames

[spooky-luvur]

I hope this isn’t too specific but I have an idea for Micah. gender neutral! reader sees Micah being outcast from the group, so they start to spend more time with him, hoping he’ll open up. Micah starts to fall hard for reader but scared of rejection he asks reader to help him clean up his act and be nicer to Javier, Charles, the women, etc. Maybe the last scene could be them in private and reader says “You’re a good man, Micah.”? Idk just something thats pretty sweet/fluffy. Thanks!

Idk how to write atm bear with me it’s 5:20 am

But I hope this is good enough god he’s a bastard but I love him

Sorry for any mistakes

-

Dutch had let you join the gang after he had caught you attempting to steal his very expensive pocket watch. Much like Sean, he’d seen your potential and they way you thought about what would happen next. He believed it would be useful and convinced Hosea to let you in.

At first, you didn’t really do anything. You sat on the tree stump on the cliff at the edge of camp, watching the days go by. You’d watch the gang members. How they laughed, how they cried, how they danced and smiled and hugged and sang and celebrated. How they helped and smiled at each other.

Except one person.

Micah Bell.

You watched him too. But he didn’t sing or dance or laugh or smile. Instead he frowned and antagonized and drank and slept.

Your first thought of him was: what a sad man.

Why was he so angry all the time?

Well, not all the time.

Sometimes when the gang was dancing he’d politely ask the young author, Mary Beth to dance. He’d stutter and hold out his hand, but she’d harshly turn him away. Then he’d turn away, and if you looked closely, you saw that he indeed was a sad man.

“Micah.”

The man glances up from polishing his precious guns.

“What?”

“Dutch needs us to scope out the hills. A few camps there that may have something worth taking.”

Micah scoffs. “Us?”

“Yeah. Come on.”

———

“I like your horse.”

At first, it doesn’t register. Then Micah turns to you, face scrunched up in confusion.

“What?”

You hum. “Baylock. He’s pretty strong. Healthy. You take good care of him. That’s admirable.”

Micah looks back at the long stretch of dirt road in front of us.

“He’s all I got.”

“How come?”

You see his jaw clench, and he shifts in the saddle.

“Shut up.”

————

There was a patch of trees not far from the back of the hut a few O’Driscoll’s were holding up in. Dutch mentioned there might be some, but they had pretty powerful looking guns.

You and Micah were hidden between a few tight trees, guns clutched in hand.

“You see any dynamite?”

“No. Got any on hand?”

“Not today.”

“It’s two guys. We hit ‘em hard and fast.”

You quickly grab his shoulder, pulling him back down before he can stand all the way.

“What the hell??”

“There’s more than two, Micah. Look.”

Three more rough-looking men emerge from the side of the rundown hut, each carrying their own guns.

“Shit. Well what do you think?”

Your eyes survey the area. The hut is made of wood, but it’s moldy and rotting. Falling in on itself. Dirty, dry, and very flammable.

“How do you feel about fire?”

“About-“

You stand, whistling sharply before hurling a lit fire bottle. It arches through the air before smashing into the roof of the hut. The flames consume the entire thing within minutes.

The O’Driscoll’s immediately turn and start shooting in our direction, making us both duck back behind the trees.

“You couldn’t have warned me?!”

“I asked you how you felt about fire!”

Micah shakes his head, but there’s a grin on his face throughout the time it takes to take out the men.

The hut still burns as we approach, making Micah holster his guns with an irritated sigh.

“And now we got no money. Good job!”

You merely point to a large chest underneath a nearby tree.

It’s satisfying to see Micah Bell speechless.

————

“You’re good with your guns. I ain’t hardly ever seen such quick shooting.”

“...”

“Them O’Driscoll’s didn’t see us comin, huh?”

“...”

“You-“

“Stop that!” Micah finally snaps, glaring over at you as you both make your way back to camp, pockets full of cash.

You meet his eye, not backing down. “No, Micah. You’re good at things and you deserve to know it.”

His brow furrows, lips curling into an angry? Frown. He huffs, looking back over. “Yeah.”

———

With night, comes the singing, the drinking, the dancing and drinking. Music from the radio in Dutch’s tent. Smiles. Laughter. For them, it’s normal. But not for-

“Micah.”

“(Y/n). What can I do for you on this fine night?”

He leans back, pocketing his knife.

“Another job? Dutch got someone else we need to shoot?”

“Will you dance with me?”

His eyes grow wide, and you have to bite back a laugh. You grin though, and the man sputters, then scoffs to hide it.

“Yeah, right.”

Holding out your hand in an actual offering, he glances down at it before looking back up at you. The look isn’t incredulous. It isn’t disgusted, it isn’t mean or perverted. It’s almost...

...sad.

“Will you dance with me tonight, Micah?”

“Look, you can shoot good, but we ain’t-“

“Oh for heavens sake.”

You pull him up yourself, laughing as he stumbles and nearly makes the two of you fall over.

You hold one hand, putting the other on his shoulder. His other hand hovers in the air for a moment before resting on your side.

The slow song, fluttering in the night like a breeze seems to play louder. Micah can’t meet your eye. Instead, he looks to the side, down, at your neck, anywhere.

“Come on Micah. I ain’t that ugly am I?”

“Shut up.”

You give him a smile before closing your eyes, slowly resting your head on his shoulder. You feel his chest rise sharply, exhaling with a quick, muttered word.

“Shit.”

————

“I don’t understand.”

Micah sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Come on, you’re really gonna make me say it again?”

You blink.

“I want...to change....” the word is forced out, his mouth clamping shut immediately after.

You cross your arms.

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really! Javier, the redskin, the women. I don’t exactly treat ‘em right.”

“Okay, first of all, you can’t be racist if you want to get on Javier or Charles’ good side. Or the ladies, for that matter. Now,” you straighten up. “Say their names again.”

“What? I don’t-“

“You wanna be nicer? Say their names.”

He realizes his former mistakes, and his shoulders lower slightly.

“Javier, Charles, Karen, Mary Beth and Tilly.”

“And?”

“Sadie Adler.”

“And pretty much everyone but it’s a start. Sit down, Micah.” You pat the log next to you, scooting over time let him sit.

“Now, what do you think you’re doing wrong?”

————

“Hey, Javier...”

Javier looks up from polishing a throwing knife wit some sort of oil, slightly taken aback from seeing Micah standing there.

“Hey, Micah. You need something?”

“I uh...I heard you needed some Oleander. I found some, could you use it?”

Javier glances down at Micah’s outstretched hand, picking up the poisonous plant, turning it over.

“Yeah, this is...perfect, actually. Thanks, Micah.” He gives him a nod.

Micah quickly turns and leaves, giving you a thumbs up.

—

“Charles!”

His eyes linger on whatever Micah has in his hand for a split second, but Charles’s eyes meet Micah’s when he approaches.

“Yes.”

Micah hesitates. Would this even count as an ‘apology?’ Charles did punch him once, but he admits, he probably deserved it.

“I uh, here, take it.”

His holds out the elegantly carved bow, bound with a strong twine. Charles glances at him before back at the bow, carefully taking it. He runs his fingers over the smooth wood.

“Micah, this is Yew. How did you make this?”

“Well, (Y/n) helped me some. Said you’d care for it.”

Charles sighs, but nods. “I do.” He, like Javier, gives Micah one last look before leaving and for that, Micah breaths out a sigh of relief.

——

Something...odd, was happening, and the gang members began to notice. Micah had begun to yell less, and curse, and mock and accuse and bully. He’d helped Tilly carry a heavy load of clothes, he’d sewn a book cover for Mary Beth, donated more money, (left the hunting to Arthur) stopped kicking Cain, stopped doing things that would make him a *bad person.* Yes, he still got drunk, brushed people off, and pushed Arthur and Kieran around a bit, but other than that? Damn.

At the end of the two weeks, Micah had been sitting beside (Y/n) at one of the tables. They had an odd grin on their face, making Micah a little uneasy.

“You got something to say, say it.”

“Oh I got something to say, but not here. Come on, Bell.”

-

Reaching the large tree (Y/n) had first approached Micah at, they take his hand, surprising him.

“I’m proud of you, Micah. Honestly? I had my doubts. You were such an angry man. All alone, moping.”

“I do not mope.”

(Y/n) laughs, “Well, not anymore you don’t! What would you do without me, huh?”

“Certainly not mope-“

The blond is cut off by a sudden kiss. He doesn’t push away.

Pulling apart, (Y/n) rests their hand against Micahs face, letting him lean into it.

“You’ve changed, Micah Bell. You’re a good man.”

Micah looks away. “I don’t know about that.”

“Things are gonna happen, that we know. But you don’t gotta do it alone.”

————

#rdr2 #rdr2 x male reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 x male reader #micah bell #micah bell x reader #micah bell x male reader

[peach-the-owl]

with valentine's day coming, think Jester, Beau and Yasha help child reader with their valentine?

Ahh, Valentine's Day, a day of gettting free chocolates from people… oh and love too I guess 😆

I took the basics of the ask, but also changed it around a bit… So I’m not sure how this’ll turn out, Valentine’s Day has always been a little different for me. This is gonna be interesting… Sorry if this ends up turning out badly 😖

Sweet Valentine

Child of the Nein (Jester, Beau, Yasha & Child!Reader)

Jester

"Hey, mama?" You say, making your way over to Jester with an important question in mind. Jester looks over at you, still getting used to the idea that you now refer to her sometimes as mama. She kneels down to match your height.

"What can I do for you?" She asks with a smile and boops your nose getting a giggle out of you.

"Ummm… what do you think would be fun to do with a valentine?" You ask, while swinging your arms from side to side. Jester taps on her chin in thought for a moment.

"Well, getting sweets would be a nice start, oh and looking at their favourite shops or maybe get them a gift they really like…" she starts rambling off different ideas, it eventually turned to really weird stuff that sounded like it was more from a storybook. "… and then he’d take you in his arms and carries you across a field and it’s so romantic. Oh Oskar~." Jester stares off in her little daydream.

"Oskar? That's the character from the book you say I’m too little to read yet, right?" You ask, having gotten lost along the way, this breaks Jester out of her daydream and she gives a faint blush while scratching the back of her neck apologetically.

"That’s right, so maybe don’t do all that, but giving someone treats or little gifts to show you care is always good. Who is your valentine anyways?" Jester gives you a curious look.

"That’s my little secret, but I don’t even know if they can or want to be." You fiddle with your fingers a little.

"Awww," Jester places her hands on your cheeks and lifts your head up so you can look at her. "Whoever you ask is going to be very luck, and as long as you have lots of fun that’s what really matters." You smile at her and nod in understanding. "I have to go now, my valentine promised a walk around town. You have fun and don’t get lost." Jester parts ways with you with a smile and a wave.

After a moment or two you got everything together that you needed and bow your head in prayer hoping this works, the sense of a second presents makes you open your eyes and you look over at the cloaked figure that now stood in the room with you.

"What can I do for you?" The Traveler asks simply.

"Will you be my valentine?" You ask excitedly holding up your handmade card to him. He goes stiff for a moment but slowly, carefully takes the card from your hands noticing the small mistake of it saying Happy Valentime rather then Valentine. He stays silent and just stares from you to the card.

"I- that’s not really how this works?" He says slowly, trying to think through each of his words. Your smile drops a little.

"Oh…" You sigh. "I get it, you already have a lot of people who adore you and probably are really busy, I’m sorry. I just wanted to spend some time with you like Jester has." You turn to leave.

"Wait." You pause and look back at him. "I didn’t say no." Once again he speaks slowly, working out each word individually as if to convince himself of something. You don’t really notice as your eyes light up again in excitment.

"Really! So you will?!" You bounce on your feet in anticipation. He balls his hand into a fist and brings it close to his lips in an unsure gesture, again you being too excited to really take notice of it.

"On two conditions." He finally says. You stop bouncing in place and stare at him. "Firstly, you cannot tell another soul about this." He places a finger to his lips with a quiet shushing sound you repeat the action with an eager nod in agreement, while trying to hold in a giggle. "Secondly," he pauses a moment and you see a devious smirk cross his features. "I go, if there’s promise of delightful mischief." Again you give an eager nod. "Perfect, now I need you to close your eyes for a moment." You quickly slap your hands over your face to cover your eyes, there’s a faint whooshing sound and when you remove your hands you see a man with wild red hair and bright green eyes in place of the Traveler.

"Whoa!" You stare in amazement. "You look really cool Traveler." He gives a small chuckle.

"We can’t have you calling me that outside, remember this is just between you and me. So for today and today only you may refer to me as Artagan." You give a small happy squeal and practically drag the man along with you.

The day went by very well, the two of you pulling various pranks on different couples in the streets, the added fact that you had your deity helping you cause chaos wherever you went was a delightful bonus. It wasn’t like you were causing major harm, some of your pranks even managed to bring a few couples closer together. Eventually you had to return to the inn you were staying at, having to sneak around as to not get caught by any anger couples or towns guard.

"That was so much fun! Did you see the look on that one couples face when they discovered their chocolate was spicy?" You laugh at the memory.

"Or the fellow who thought our fake wall was real." Artagan recalled. "Ah, best fun I’ve had in a while."

"I’m glad you agreed to be my valentine, this was great." You give him a large smile, he hums in responce.

"Well, I should take my leave, there’s a lot I have to do." He says a bit apprehensively, and in just a blink of an eye he’s gone before you can give a quick farewell. A moment later Jester enters the room.

"Sooo… did you have a good day?" She asks you. You smile and nod explaining some of the things you did, making sure not to reveal too much like you'd promised. "That sounds like a fun day to me, I’m sure the Traveler would be proud."

If only she knew.

Beau

You march into the tavern and sit down at one of the tables in a small huff, Beau taking quick notice takes a seat next to you.

"What’s wrong?" She gives you a curious side look.

"Is it normal for someone to be mean to the person they like?" You ask. Beau stares at you then gives a sigh.

"I want to say no, but there are people out there who are like that. But that doesn’t mean that they should."

"Ok, I wasn’t sure, because I ran into someone I know from my hometown and they were being a total jerk to me." You look away from her sheepishly.

"Alright tell me what happened." She says, a bit of a protective tone in her voice. You begin your tale…

While everyone else was busy doing their own thing or spending time with their valentine you took a walk around the town, you actually knew the area decently enough because it wasn’t too far from where you used to live, a day and a half's journey if everything went smoothly.

"Hey! I know you!" You hear an awfully familiar voice shout in your direction making your eye twich but for some reason you feel frozen in place. The kid was about your age, maybe a year older at most. Their snarky, judgemental gaze used to make you feel like you were powerless against them and while deep down you knew you weren’t anymore that stare made you revert back to thinking you were. They give you a smirk. "I knew I recognized a nerd when I saw one. You remember me!?"

"Hi… Layn (tried to make it gender neutral, idk)." You greet through gritted teeth.

"Man it’s been a while since I saw your gross face, and it looks even worse now." They laugh pointing at the smudges of dirt you had yet to clean off.

"Yeah it has been a while hasn’t it. I’m not the same kid you think you can just push around anymore." You huff crossing your arms. They give you a teasing look and start to aggressively jab at you, you use your reflexes to block most of them all while telling them to stop, they don’t. You get fed up to the point that you grab their arm and throw them over your shoulder slamming them to the ground and give them a hard look. They stare up at you in shock.

"Why did you do that?" They seemed genuinely upset and curious.

"Because you wouldn’t stop, I told you I’m not the same kid you can just tease anymore!" You fume.

"How else was I supposed to get your attention." You stare at them confused. They carefully pick themselves off the ground. "You always had your face in a book or something when our parents met with each other, I didn’t know how else to get your attention."

"You could’ve tried talking to me." You say matter-of-factly.

"And risk the cooties? No way!" You just stare at them. "Anyways, since no one else will be asking you… I was wondering if you’d like to be my valentine?" They give you and expectant look…

"So what did you do?" Beau raises an eyebrow in curiosity.

"You remember what you once told me about dealing with jerks?" Beau nods, she'd used another word to describe it but you weren’t sure if you could say it aloud yourself.

"Yeah, I told you if they absolutely deserve it, to sock 'em in the face… wait." She turns to face you fully, you give an embarrassed smile along with a light blush.

"I think I broke their nose." You say, scratching the back of your neck. Beau snorts a bit, trying not to burst into laughter, her fist banging against the table. It takes her a bit to finally calm herself down and clears her throat.

"So first you throw them, then you actually punch them. It’s probably good their parents weren’t around to see that."

"Its just that they’ve always been so rude to me, before I knew you I never knew what to do or how to defend myself. Now they suddenly say they like me and expect me to forgive everything they’ve done just like that?! Not happening! I don’t care if they like me, they should’ve treated me nicer then." You rant a bit, getting yourself worked up again. Beau places a hand on your shoulder making you look at her.

"You know what? You’re absolutely correct. People shouldn’t treat you like shiii– poorly if they like you, that’s basically abuse. Now while I’m not sure if punching them will solve the problem entirely, though I’m sure it would’ve been hilarious to see, I think you still made the right choice. I’m proud of you." She gives you a smile and you return one of your own.

Yasha

You sit deep in thought about what to do today, you weren’t sure how you were going to find someone to love and spend the whole day with so you decided to ask Yasha, she might know the answer.

"How do I find love?" You get straight to the point once you see her, Yasha nearly chokes on her drink at your question.

"What?" She looks at you shocked.

"You know a valentine or something, how do I find one of those?" She blinks a bit then give a small chuckle.

"That uhhh, isn’t really how it works."

"Then how does it work?" Yasha goes quiet, now having to figure out how she can explain this to you.

"Ummm… well it’s not just about… hmm… a valentine is someone you want to show you really care about and appreciate them, it doesn’t just have to be about holding hands or kisses." Yasha explains as best she can (I feel that).

"Oh! Okay, I think I get it." You nod. Yasha gives you a smile and pats your head before heading off elsewhere, probably with her own valentine, who knows. You once again go deep into thought trying to figure out who you wanted to show your appreciation to, an idea comes to mind and you begin your search. You stand in front of a door and give a soft knock.

"You can come in." You hear their muffled voice through the door. You open and shuffle through the door suddenly feeling a bit nervous and embarrassed.

"Hey Caduceus, I was, uhhh, wondering if you’d like to be my, ummm… my valentine today?" He looks at you, raising a questioning eyebrow. "Yasha told me that valentines could be people who we appreciate a lot and I, umm, I really appreciate everything you do for us. So I, uhh, I thought maybe you’d like to be my valentine and we could do something nice?" Each word you spoke made your face turn more and more red out of embarrassment. Caduceus just gives you a calm smile and a small chuckle.

"I see no harm in that, it sounds nice. What did you have in mind?" You stare at him a moment, slightly surprised he agreed.

"Oh! Well I saw this little shop that sells tea and biscuits, if you like that is… sorry I’m not very good at this." You scratch at your head and look away a little sheepishly.

"There’s no need to be sorry, I think that's a good idea." You give him a small smile and the two of you head out to the little shop. You did your best to make this a nice little day, but for you everything never really seemed to work out properly, Caduceus having to purchase the treats from the shop as you didn’t really have any money of your own. The streets were a little crowded today too, making you come to realize you may have slight claustrophobia as the large number of people made you very uncomfortable and nervous.

"I’m sorry, I can’t do this! I’ve ruined everything!" You run off crying back to the inn and hole yourself up in your assigned room. There’s a soft knocking at the door after a while. You don’t say anything, you already knew it was Caduceus who was knocking so you try to squeeze yourself into a ball and disappear. The door creaks open after a minute of you staying silent, the bed dipping a little from the new weight on it. He doesn’t say anything, just sits there with you in a calm silence. Eventually you uncurl yourself from a ball and look up at him, he gives you a kind smile. "I’m really sorry, I wanted to let you have a nice day to show my appreciation for you, but instead I ruined it and you still did everything." You pout.

"I don’t think you ruined anything, I enjoyed myself actually. The very idea that you wanted to do something nice I think is appreciation enough for me." You wipe your eyes and look back at him again, a small smile starting to form.

"Is it really?" You ask curiously, he gives you a nod in responce. "Ok… well since we still have a bag of treats, can we share them here? I don’t really want to go outside right now."

"Sure thing." He pulls out the purchased sweets and the two of you happily share them. Come the evening Yasha finally comes back from wherever she had disappeared to.

"Did you have a good day?" She asks. You nod and retell her the events of your day, she smiles as you finish your story. "I’m glad it worked out for you in the end."

"Me too. So how was your day?" It was your turn to ask and listen as Yasha tells you about what she did.

Bonus: (Bad pickup lines I made up for each kid)

Jester: I'd be your partner in crime any time Valentine

Nott: I can’t give you my heart Valentine… because you already stole it

Caleb: Let’s dance together Valentine, better then any colour ever could

Caduceus: I'd make a thousand flower crowns for you or with you Valentine

Fjord: I’ll be your knight whenever you need me Valentine

Beau: If anyone treats you badly Valentine, just tell me where to hit them

Yasha: If I could, I’d fly with you to a beautiful field, but they wouldn’t be as beautiful as you Valentine

Molly: Let me serenade you with any song you like Valentine, anytime, anywhere

Again I’m very sorry if this was bad 😣

#critical role #critical role & reader #mighty nein #the mighty nein #mighty nein & reader #jester lavorre #jester & reader #beauregard lionett #beauregard & reader #yasha nydoorin #yasha & reader #nothing romantic here

[freddiesaysalright]

Just Like a Woman - Part 4

A Roger Taylor x Reader Fic

Summary: You and Roger were once in love when you were young. Only, he went on to be a rock star, and you went on to be a lawyer. Now, quite against your will, you’re representing him in his divorce.

Word Count: 3.7k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @the-moving-finger-writes, @assembledherethevolunteers, @rose-writes-prose, @queenlover05, @26-7-49, @drowsebaby, @moon-stars-soul, @im-an-adult-ish, @ixchel-9275, @jennyggggrrr, @zyanmaik, @mypassionfortrash, @a19103, @madeinheavxn, @beepbeephardy, @lizawritesthings, @qweenly, @blisshemmings, @seasidecrowbar, @internationalkpoplova, @ellystone, @takemetoneverland420, @coffeexcigarette, @lookuptotheskiesandsee, @thatpunkmaximoff, @angelkissys, @rocknroll-stolemyass, @simonedk, @anotheronebitesrogertaylor, @peterquillzblog, @mrfahrenhcit, @joseph-mozzerella, @theprettyandthereckless, @flick-ofthe-wrist, @johndeaconshands, @rogerandhiscar, @queenmaracasandlove, @sunflower-ben, @cubetriangle, @amy-brooklyn99​, @scorpiogemini  If you’d like to be added, let me know! Also, I’m sorry the tags aren’t working for everyone? Tumblr is dumb and idk how to fix it :(

A/N: Okay, time for the full story of Y/N and Rog :) Also. I realize I posted the previous chapter yesterday, but I was in a MOOD today so I hope y’all enjoy!

Warning(s): mentions of abuse

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3

Part 4 here we go!!!

“So, tell me about Roger Taylor,” said Dr. Tracy. 

You scowled at her. “Why, what does he have to do with anything?”

“From what Mark tells me, it has a great deal to do with your relationship,” she said. “I want the whole story.”

It was only your second therapy session, and you were already annoyed. It mostly felt like a way for Mark to spill his feelings about you to someone other than you, and have that person validate him to your face so you couldn’t argue.

You were also annoyed because you felt like the more people brought Roger up, the harder it would be to move on. It had been two weeks since you had confronted him outside the bar, and even though you showed a cool exterior during your meetings with him, your heart was still breaking over what you had learned.

“Y/N?” said Dr. Tracy. “Can you begin please?”

“Fine,” you sighed. “I met Roger when we were six. His father was an abusive and terrifying man, and before my family lived in the house next door, Roger would go to the shed and hide in there. After my family and I moved in, I found him in there on a rainy evening looking for a tool my father needed...”

The skinny blonde boy was sopping wet and quaking behind a large bag of fertilizer. He glared fiercely at you. It was almost frightening, especially with the blood dribbling from his lip. But, his own fear - so evident in those wide eyes - eased your own. 

“Are you okay?” you asked.

A large drop of water leaked from the roof and onto his face. He shook his head.

“D’you need some help?” you wondered. “You’re bleeding. My mum’s a nurse so she’s got plenty of bandages.”

“P-please,” he shivered.

“Well, come on, then,” you said, offering your hand.

He took it. It was frigid compared to your warm one, but you felt his need in his grip. Forgoing the errand for your father, you led the boy inside. You came into the kitchen, where your mother was making dinner and your father was reading quietly. They both looked up and saw you with the strange, helpless boy and they looked at each other.

“Who’s this, Y/N?” your father asked.

You faced the boy. “Oh! I forgot to ask your name!”

“It’s Roger,” he said with a sniffle.

Your mother disappeared into the sitting room and returned with a blanket, wrapping it tightly around Roger’s shoulders. He shot her a grateful glance but then looked resolutely at the floor.

“How’d you find Roger, dear?” you mother wondered.

“He was in the shed,” you said simply. “He’s hurt.”

Your mother knelt down in front of him. She took his chin between her thumb and forefinger and lifted his face to inspect it. She saw his split lip. In the light, she also saw the bruise forming along his cheekbone.

“Have you been fighting, Roger?” she asked gently.

“No, ma’am,” he told her. “My dad got angry at me because I didn’t pick up a toy, so he…”

His lower lip trembled as his eyes filled up with tears.

“Oh, you poor darling,” your mother cooed. “Stay right here, love, we’ll fix you up.”

She bustled upstairs to retrieve her things. Roger sniffled. Your father looked at him.

“Come here, Roger,” he said.

For the first time, Roger released your hand. He stepped warily over to your father. Your dad lifted the boy up and placed him in his lap, caring nothing about the wet clothes dampening his work pants.

“There’s a good lad,” your father said gently, rubbing Roger’s cold arms. “Are you bad hurt?”

Roger shook his head. “S’just my lip, sir. I’m alright.”

“That’s not what I mean,” you father said. “Bad hurt isn’t something you feel on your skin. It’s something you feel in here.” 

He pointed to Roger’s chest. His heart.

“Are you bad hurt, Roger?”

Tears spilling out of his eyes, Roger nodded.

“You father scares you?” your dad continued.

Roger nodded again. “Yes, sir.”

Your father nodded. “You may call me Felix, if you like.”

Just then, your mother re-entered the room, fresh clothes and first aid kit in hand.

“And that lovely lady is my wife, Vivian,” he went on. “And of course you’ve met my daughter, Y/N.” He paused thoughtfully. “Roger, I don’t know how you found your way to our shed, but you’re welcome to come to the front door.”

“Can’t,” Roger said. “I live next door, he’ll see where I went. If I go through the back fence, he doesn’t follow me.”

“Come to the back door, then,” your father said. “I promise I’ll never lock it.”

“Really?” Roger returned, eyes wide with wonder which had replaced his fear.

“Really,” you father assured him. “So the next time something like this happens, or you’re feeling bad hurt, you can come here. We’ll do what we can to make it better for you.”

Gently, your father reached up and wiped the tears from Roger’s cheeks.

“There we go, there’s a handsome chap,” he said. “Ready to let Viv clean you up?”

You mother smiled warmly at Roger. He nodded. Your father eased him off his lap and then Roger took your mother’s hand and followed her into the bathroom so he could change and she could treat him. You looked at your dad.

“Is there anything we can do, Daddy?” you asked. “To make his daddy be nicer to him?”

“I’m afraid there isn’t much that would be effective, sweetheart,” he replied. “But what we can do is show him that there are good and kind people in this world. And we can remind him that he is deserving of kindness. That will have to be enough for now.”

He stood up, patted your head, and went into the sitting room to the piano. Your dad was a banker, but he was also an incredibly talented musician. He always said he played piano and did a little banking on the side as a joke. 

Roger emerged, looking much happier. He drew close to your father and looked at the shiny white keys. 

“Do you play?” your father asked.

Roger shook his head.

“Would you like to learn?”

Roger nodded and grinned.

“Well, climb on the bench, I’ll teach you some,” your father said.

Roger hastily obeyed and clamored onto the bench as your father took a seat beside him. Your mother sat on the couch and you went and crawled into her lap. The two of you watched as your father showed Roger the basics. He learned quickly. Music came easily to Roger, and you thought then that he would one day amount to something great. 

Your father then let you take his place and you taught Roger a few little diddies you knew. Felix and his wife started back toward the kitchen so they could finish dinner and fix a plate for Roger as well.

“What can we do, Felix?” Vivian asked. “Can’t we call someone?”

“We can try, but I’m afraid that will only come back to hurt Roger,” Felix replied. “Let’s wait for now. If things get drastic, we’ll step in. Until then, all we can do is show him as much love as possible.”

She sighed. “Alright, then. Oh, the poor, poor dear.”

They departed to the kitchen. You and Roger stopped playing the piano and looked at each other. Unbeknownst to your parents, you had both heard what they said.

“Roger,” you said. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” he wondered.

“I’m sorry is what people say to someone when they’re upset,” you said. “So, I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” he replied. “For the sorry.”

“Wanna learn a real song?” you asked. “Then every time you come over, we can practice it.”

He brightened at that and nodded. Thus began your journey together.

“I see,” Dr. Tracy said as you wrapped up. “And at what point did you two progress from childhood friends to sweethearts?”

“We were fifteen,” you said. “Roger was starting to sort of realize his appeal to girls and that boys were also interested in me. It actually started from a fight because he had asked another girl to a party…”

“I’m not mad!” you insisted, storming through your front door. “You are perfectly welcome to ask whomever you like!”

“Well, something’s wrong because you’ve ignored me all day!” he returned.

“What’s going on out here?” your mother wondered, bursting into the living room.

“Y/N’s upset with me,” Roger blurted out.

“I am not!” you cried, stamping your foot. “Mother, tell him I’m not upset!”

“I think I’d be hard pressed to convince him of it if you can’t,” she teased, nodding at your posture and deep frown. “Now, what’s this all about?”

“I asked Pam Davis to Mary Key’s party, and now Y/N isn’t speaking to me,” he explained.

“Y/N, is that true?” she asked.

You huffed. “I was just under the impression he and I would...never mind, I was clearly mistaken.”

Your face was bright pink and you looked resolutely at the carpet, toeing it with your shoe. Your mother looked knowingly between you and Roger, who looked equally embarrassed.

“Well, I don’t think I can settle this one,” she said. “You two will just have to work it out on your own.”

You turned on your heel and swept into the kitchen. Roger looked at your mother.

“Better go and fix it, Rog,” she said.

“On it,” he sighed, and followed you.

You yanked the fridge open and reached for a Coke. You tugged the cap off and took a swig, letting it cool you down. 

“Y/N, are you upset because you don’t have a date?” Roger asked. “Because I can get you a date. There’s plenty of blokes who’d be glad to take you.”

“I don’t want just any bloke!” you cried, exasperated. “Can’t you see?!”

“Oh, there’s someone you like?” he wondered, perking up. “Tell me!”

“God, you’re such an idiot!”

“Why am I an idiot?!”

“Because you are!”

“Tell me the reason!”

“I like you, you idiot!” you shouted.

You stared at each other, out of breath and both shocked at the words that had just come out of your mouth. You inhaled deeply, collecting yourself.

“I like you, Roger,” you said calmly. “And I don’t know how you don’t know it.”

“Well, Y/N, we…” he trailed off. “We’ve always been best friends. How was I supposed to know things had changed?”

“I dunno,” you said. “I’m just as new to this as you are. But when you asked Pam to be your date, I was hurt. Bad hurt.” 

“Y/N, I had no idea,” he said gently. “I’m sorry. If I had known, I...well, I wouldn’t have asked Pam.”

“Y - you wouldn’t?” you questioned.

He shook his head. “No. The truth is, I was afraid to change things between us because I don’t think I could stand to lose you. But, I like you too.”

“Really?!” you gasped. 

“Really,” he said. 

He stepped closer to you. You observed suddenly that he was much taller than you remembered. You looked up into his eyes. His hand moved to caress your cheek. Your heart pounded in your chest.

“Can I kiss you?” he breathed.

“Yeah,” you sighed back.

He pressed his lips tenderly against yours. It was a little unsteady and light, giving you the opportunity to stop him. You didn’t. You just kept right on kissing him. Your lips moved with his as gracefully as dancers moved through a waltz. Neither of you really knew what you were doing, but you didn’t care. It was the way you showed what you were both feeling.

“Y/N,” said Roger, pulling away for air. “Come with me to Mary’s party. As my girlfriend.”

“O-okay,” you agreed, a smile blooming across your face.

Not only did you just have your first kiss, but you got your first boyfriend. And it was someone you cared for more than anyone else in the world.

“Now, how long was it before the two of you made love?” Dr. Tracy asked.

“Oh, I’m not telling you that!” you returned indignantly. “That’s private!”

“How long?” she insisted.

“Why is that important?” you demanded.

“Your first experience with intimacy can be a contributing factor in issues in new relationships,” she said. “When did you do it and what was it like?”

You briefly imagined yourself opening your mouth and breathing fire onto this woman until she burned to a crisp. You cleared your throat.

“We were seventeen, and it was wonderful,” you said. “Of course it was awkward and unsure since neither of us knew what we were doing, but we eventually got the hang of it and we were happy.”

“So the sex was good?” she asked.

“It was great,” you said.

“How is the sex with Mark?” she went on.

“Oh, come on!” you cried. “He’s right here!”

“Ah, so not good,” she observed.

“That’s not what I said!” you protested.

“Well, if it was good, you would have just said so,” she said. “And your resistance to talking about it in front of him implies that your opinion would insult him. So, I must assume it’s not good sex.”

“Let’s move on,” Mark interjected. “We can have that conversation at another time.”

“Alright,” Dr. Tracy agreed. “Y/N, tell me how things with Roger ended.”

You sighed. “Well, that was tough. I was still in uni. He had already dropped out and was becoming successful with the band…”

Your dingy little London flat reeked with the food you just burned. How your mother managed to make perfect meals, work, and raise a child was beyond you. Your only responsibilities were studying and work, so why was it so difficult to cook? With an aggravated groan, you tossed it in the bin and started debating what you wanted to get for take out. That was when Roger came in.

“Hello, darling!” you greeted warmly. “How’s recording going?”

“Fine,” he said shortly.

You looked him over. He seemed agitated and nervous.

“You alright, Rog?” you asked. 

“I’m fine,” he replied. He scrunched up his nose. “What did you burn this time?”

“Chicken,” you chuckled. “I’m gonna go for some Chinese. Wanna come?”

“Actually, there’s something I wanted to ask you,” he said.

His tone made your heart skip a beat. You had a feeling that Roger might be about to propose. You had discussed marriage before, but you both agreed now wasn’t the time. But you had also told him you were not opposed to a long engagement. 

“What is it?” you wondered.

He sighed heavily and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“Do you ever feel like you’re missing out?” he wondered. “On other people?”

“How do you mean?” you questioned, brow furrowing as the panic set in.

“Well, it’s just that our whole lives, we’ve only ever been with each other,” he said. “Don’t you ever wonder what it’d be like to...I dunno, kiss someone else?”

“No,” you said. “I love you, Roger.”

“I love you too, Y/N, but I feel like there’s more out there,” he said. “Now that I’ve gone on tour and seen other places I feel like there’s so much to be explored. And...I want to explore it. Don’t you?”

“No,” you repeated, darkly. “I love you, Roger.”

He sighed again. “I love you, Y/N.”

“What are you getting at, then?” you demanded.

“As much as I love you, I don’t want to be tied down anymore,” he said. “I know we’ve discussed getting married, so I’m sorry if this comes as a shock to you, but I’ve been thinking it for a while. The band’s getting bigger, and it’s only going to progress. And I’m not ready to settle down with just one person.”

“So...you want to break up?”

The question hung between you. You weren’t sure how you even managed to ask it with a lump in your throat the size of an ostrich egg. Your heart was cracking inside your chest.

“Yes,” he said.

With that one word, you felt your heart shatter completely. Your whole world was collapsing on top of you. The assurance you had always placed in Roger was an illusion.

“Well,” you choked out. “At least you’re telling me now.”

“That’s all you have to say?” he questioned.

You met his eyes and saw they were just as teary as yours.

“What else can I say?” you returned. “You’ve made up your mind, haven’t you?”

“I have,” he said.

“Well, what do you want me to do?” you questioned. “Beg for you to stay?”

“You don’t want to fight for it?”

“Why should I? If I’m not enough for you, Roger, then that’s it. I won’t guilt you or force you to be with me.”

“I feel like you’re giving up,” he said.

“I’m not the one leaving,” you reminded him.

A moment passed where neither of you said anything. It was so heavy your knees almost buckled beneath the weight of it.

Roger sniffled and quickly wiped his eyes. 

“I don’t even know how to say goodbye to you,” he struggled to say.

“Maybe it’s best if you don’t say anything,” you told him. You felt a tear slide down your cheek. “That way we make it easier on both of us.”

“Y/N…”

“Go, Roger,” you ordered him. 

“Y/N, please.”

“Go.”

He took one last look at you. You were scowling, tears flowing down your cheeks, eyes red and puffy. Even then, he thought you were beautiful and he began to doubt his decision. Suddenly, he realized that he would no longer have his best friend, and it made him hesitate.

“Roger,” you said, drawing in a deep breath. “I really need you to go.”

“Yeah, okay,” he said, resigning himself to the damage done. “I...I am sorry, Y/N.”

“Okay,” you said shortly.

He held your gaze again. Your bottom lip began to tremble as the reality struck you. Roger was leaving you. Roger, who you had given everything too, including your heart, was going to walk out of the door and out of your life. 

He broke away, crossed the room, and opened the door. You heard it squeak as he hesitated again. Then he sighed and left. The door fell closed with a soft click. That was it. No hug, no dramatic kiss, no screaming, no fight. 

When the door closed, you broke down with a wail. This was not the Roger you knew. Ever since the band became successful, you had seen glimpses of his desire for more, but you’d ignored it. You thought surely he loved you more than he craved that lifestyle. And yet, he proved to you he didn’t. It seemed impossible that time moved on when your heart was breaking so badly. If there were any justice, everything would have frozen so you could properly nurse it. But all you could do was crumple into a heap and feel the pain. 

“Life went on,” you said. “He became a successful drummer. I became a successful attorney, and I’m mostly happy.”

It was a lie. Just remembering the day Roger left you made you emotional.

“Mostly?” Dr. Tracy questioned.

“Well, I had hoped to be married and have children at this point, but Rog - I mean, I just never met the right person,” you said.

“Let me ask you this -” she began, but Mark cut across her.

“I think I’ve heard enough,” he said, getting angrily to his feet. “I can see now that you really aren’t over Roger Taylor and I don’t think you ever will be.”

“Mark, don’t be ridiculous,” you said. “Obviously, he was a big part of my life, but I -”

“Don’t, Y/N!” he shouted snatching away the hand you had reached for. “I can’t do this anymore!”

You stood up as well. “What? Are you serious? Just because Roger was part of my past! That’s crazy! I’ve found somebody else, and -”

“No!” he cried. “I’m a placeholder, Y/N, and I won’t stand for it!”

“You are not!” you argued. 

“Okay, then answer me this,” he challenged. “Do you love me?”

“I - well, I don’t know yet!” you insisted.

“Well, I love you,” he said. “And I know that because we’ve been together long enough for anyone else in the world to know! The problem is, Y/N, that love is wasted on you as long as Roger Taylor walks this Earth!”

It was like all the air was sucked out of the room. You felt yourself harden against the hurt of his words. His face fell, regretting them.

“Love is wasted on me?”

“I didn’t mean -”

“No, I think you did, Mark,” you interrupted. “That was the cruelest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“Y/N -”

“No, I think you’re right,” you said, grabbing your things from the back of your chair. “Let’s say our goodbyes. After all, I wouldn’t want you to waste anymore love on the likes of me.��

You said nothing else, but swept out of the office. Hot tears stung your eyes. You never thought Mark capable of saying something so hurtful. 

As you walked, heading back to your firm, you looked at the ground, deep in thought about what had transpired. You paid little attention to your surroundings, and therefore, ran smack into a man who was emerging from a building you were passing. 

The collision nearly knocked you off your feet, but the man was quick to react and steadied you. You looked up to meet the eyes of the very man that started all this.

“Roger?” you questioned. “What are you doing here?”

“I work here,” he said, pointing to the building he had just walked out of. “This is the studio.”

“Oh,” you said.

You bit your lip to keep your emotions in check. You really needed to cry right now so you were eager to get back to your office.

“Y/N?” Roger asked, noticing your eyes welling up. “Are you okay?”

Too upset to bother with your pride, you shook your head. 

“No.”

“Bad hurt?” he wondered.

You nodded. You weren’t sure if it was that you’d talked about him for an hour or the sting from Mark’s statement, but suddenly you couldn’t contain the overwhelming feelings swirling around in your heart. You let out a sob and fell into Roger’s arms.

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x you #Queen #queen imagine #queen x reader #queen x you #BoRhap #borhap imagine #ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody imagine #just like a woman series

[7to3sorcerer]

Of Waltzes and Sugar Plum Fairies

rating: explicit hehe

word count: 11.5k i am so sorry

warnings: fluff! angst! daddy!kink if you squint, loss of virginity, uhhhh sexy times? porn WITH plot because i can. this is truly filthy and totally self indulgent, enjoy at your own risk.

a/n: ok so first fic on here, yay! also, i recommend visiting this page to give you some context about Arkanians if you don’t know about them. idk if the nutcracker exists in star wars, so just go with it. listen to this if you wanna get immersed in the sounds of the dance scene.

ao3 link here

-

Din Djarin knew exactly what he was doing bringing her to Chandrila in the winter.

His princess - a literal one at that - from Arkanis, had missed the taste of home. Not in so many words, but he could tell by the wistful look on her face whenever they passed a shop with dancing gear or a music store.

He also knew that Life Day was her favorite holiday.

“It’s perfect,” she had said one day in the cockpit, her eyes starry as she watched the planets fly by. “You just spend the day with your family, dancing and eating and celebrating. Some cultures even give presents.”

He didn’t know what to say to that then, just gave a grunt and kept his eyes on the nav chart.

But since that day, he’s thought of what that would be like, spending a Life Day with his foundling and his crewmate who he wished would be so much more.

Ever since she dropped everything and ran off with him and the child, his life has been so much...brighter. Full of color when she skips around the ship, the child in her arms as they play dress up with her seemingly endless wardrobe (Din still doesn’t how she manages to keep her quarters clean). It’s full of sound when she plays her holorecords from her favorite ballets, the child following behind her as she does allégros and arabesques.

When she agreed to join his crew to take care of the child and give her extensive knowledge of cultures and history that she gleaned from university, he also made a pact: he would give her firsthand experiences of the galaxy that her life as a royal had robbed her of. 

Her first wish was to visit a cantina, a wish that was fulfilled within her first three days aboard the Razor Crest. Though the dingy, thin clothes she bought from a merchant blended her in well, her stark white hair, white eyes, and ethereal beauty caused a bar fight, one that may or may not have ended with Din breaking a man’s arm, simply because he looked at her suggestively.

In the year that she’d been traveling with him, he’d tried to accommodate her wishes as best as he could, but with the Empire constantly on their trail, their time had mostly been devoted to tracking down the child’s people. But it seemed that the galaxy was on his side for once.

Life Day was rapidly approaching, and Din was scrambling to try and make it special for her, and with the information that Bo-Katan had given them about Ahsoka Tano, Din was torn about what to do. That was, until he charted a path to Corvus and realized it sent them right by Chandrila - the dance capital of the galaxy. A couple of holonet searches later, and he found a showing of The Nutcracker.

He knew it’d make his princess happy, he just didn’t know how to tell her that there weren’t anymore tickets left. He wasn’t surprised really, after all, it was already Life Day Eve, and he knew The Nutcracker was wildly popular, even though it was a Wookiee ballet that was centuries old.

The rapid beeping of the proximity indicator dragged him out of his thoughts. He disengaged and the ship lurched into real time, the blue streaks of stars fading into black mottled with blinking white. He made up his mind in that moment. Squaring his shoulders, Din set the ship on autopilot and made his way down to the cargo hold.

Stopping in front of her room, he could hear giggles and her soft voice as she spoke to the child.

“...and then he transforms into a handsome prince, and leads Masha away into the forest!”

He hears the child giggle again, and can only assume they’re playing with the wooden toys she had crafted once while bored when Din was on a hunt.

Steeling himself, Din knocks.

“Hey, we’re landing...put on something...nice,” he says through the door. He moves to return to the cockpit when the door whooshes open, revealing the princess’s glowing smile.

“Why?” She asks, her eyes wide.

His hand itches to brush the wisps of hair that got displaced from her bun when the door opened.

“I um, I have a surprise,” he says tentatively, suddenly feeling unsure of himself. He shifts his weight as she turns to the child.

“You hear that? Daddy has a surprise for us!” She coos, sweeping him up into her arms as he laughs. She turns back to Din.

His stomach does flips hearing that word come out of her mouth, no matter how innocent the context.

“Well, what is it?”

“That kind of ruins the point of the surprise, don’t you think?” He says, a hint of humor in his modulated voice. He finally gives in to his urges and gently tucks he hair behind her slightly pointed ear.

Din’s heart feels as though it might burst out of his chestplate as she tries to hide her blush behind the baby’s ear, playing it off as though she’s giving him kisses. She hums before looking back up at Din.

“Okay, well what should I wear?”

“I don’t know, something nice.” It comes out a little rough, and Din mentally kicks himself, seeing her face turn into a slight frown.

“Din, I’m a...” she pauses, covering the child’s ears before continuing. “I’m a fucking princess, Din. You can’t just say ‘wear something nice’ expect me to know exactly what you mean by that.”

He huffs. “Move.”

She complies, and he enters her small quarters, stepping over the various toys that litter the floor. He opens her closet, running his gloved fingers along the plethora of lush fabrics inside.

Life Day, Life Day, Life Day, he thinks to himself. What colors go with Life Day?

He pauses on a silky green gown, thinking about how good it would contrast with her skin tone. He hesitates a moment before removing it from the hanger and holding it out to her.

“Here.”

She sets the child down before taking it from him and examining it, a slightly confused look on her face. 

“Din, this is...this is one of my nicer ones. Are we doing something quite fancy?”

He says nothing for a moment, watching the way her milky eyes scan the dress before deciding on his answer.

“I just think...that it’ll look good on you,” he says, so quietly that the modulator barely picks it up.

Her head shoots up to stare him straight in the visor, the very faint grey of her irises making her expression unreadable. Everyone likes to think he’s intimidating, but they’ve obviously never never made eye contact with an Arkanian. Arkanians that belong to the oldest bloodlines have pure white eyes, but if you catch them in the right light, you can barely make out grey irises and darker grey pupils.

Experiencing second thoughts, Din quickly exits her room without another word and the door whooshes shut again.

He leans on the wall next to the ladder leading up to the cockpit feeling like he’s just run a marathon. His heart races as he begins to worry that he was too forward.

“Fuck...” he mutters, leaning his head on the wall behind him. “Too late now I guess.”

Sitting back down in the cockpit, he guides the Crest into the docking bay that air traffic control instructed him to, and sets the ship down as gently as possible, not wanting to disturb anything the princess may be doing to get ready.

If she’s even getting ready at all, his conscious supplies. She’s probably gonna bolt as soon as the cabin depressurizes. 

But as he descends back into the hold, he’s pleased to hear her puttering around in her room. He checks the time on his chrono.

“Hey, I’m going out for a few. I should be back in a bit...make sure you’re ready by then, okay?” He calls out, holstering his gun and attaching his jet pack.

Something in her room clatters to the floor, causing her so let out a string of curses. He hears her give the child an apology, who just giggles in return before he himself gets a response.

“Yeah! Sure, sure, yeah I’ll be ready!” She says from behind the door, but her voice is unsteady, like she knows she won’t be ready in time.

Din just huffs out a slight laugh before exiting the ship.

...

He returns to find her heels click clacking back and forth between the ‘fresher and where the child sits perched on a box, wiping his face down with a rag and the spots of food on his clothes. She turns to Din, who stands just inside the ship, a dumbfounded look on his hidden face.

Her hair is in a low, loose bun with a few pieces of hair framing her face that he can only assume came out while she was getting the child ready. The matte maroon lipstick she wears gives the allusion that she’s much older than 23, but the subtle blush and highlight adorning her cheeks and nose do well to bring back her youthfulness.

“I tried to get him cleaned up as best as I could. I also fashioned this little hat to fit his head as best I could. I don’t want him to be spotted, and I know it’s cold out there,” she rushes out breathlessly, running back into her room and grabbing the beanie and smushing it on the child’s head. “I know it’s not perfect, but I just want us to be able to have one night where we’re not constantly looking over our shoulders.”

She runs back into her room and returns with a small scarf, wrapping it around the child’s neck. Din wants to reassure her that everything’s okay, but he’s speechless, admiring the way the silk hangs on her body, accentuating her curves. His eyes are first drawn to the slit that exposes her leg almost to her hip when she bends down to pick up a toy the child dropped.

She speaks again, but he still can’t answer. He’s transfixed by the way the neckline plunges down her sternum, just shy of where her ribs start. Her tits are unbound, supported by the fabric that stretches up and over her shoulders, turning into yards of thinner fabric that cinch the dress up across her back.  The straps criss cross her exposed back and end in a bow just below the dimples of her lower back, highlighting the expanse of tight muscles that she’s earned in her tenure as a crewmate, and from her earlier days as a dancer.

He watches as that enticing triangle of missing fabric on her chest gets closer and closer until it’s right in front of him.

“Hey, laser brain! Are you listening to me?” She says, waving her hand in front of his visor and snapping him out of his trance.

“What?” He asks, his voice cracking and making it sound like he hasn’t had anything to drink in days.

She huffs, before saying “I was asking if you were ready to go.”

“Oh,” he coughs out. “Y-yeah, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“Are we taking the pod, or just carrying him?” She asks, holding the child on her hip.

He thinks a moment before saying “The pod.”

The princess sets him in his pod before slipping on a long black coat and following Din out of the ship. They head out into the busy streets, the child floating in between the two of them.

“Soooooo,” she drawls out, clasping her hands and giving Din doe eyes. “Where are we headed?”

“Uh uh,” he tuts. “Don’t even try that on me. That’s cheating.”

“Why?” She asks, jutting her lip out. “Because it works every time?”

“Yes,” he sighs. “Because it does work every time.”

She just hmphs and says nothing else as they walk along the sidewalks dusted with a light covering of snow. The streetlamps above cast an orangey-yellow glow on the pedestrians that pass them, many of them carrying parcels covered in paper, or large sacks filled with delicious smelling food.

The child makes grabby hands at some of them and the princess chuckles. Din glances over at her and sees the corners of her eyes crinkle as she laughs. They make eye contact for a brief moment before she looks at something above his head and her eyes go wide.

Din flinches, looking up for the threat, but all he sees is snowflakes beginning to fall from the sky. He looks back down at the princess and watches her stick out her tongue to catch a snowflake. They make eye contact again, but this time, she doesn’t look away. She keeps her tongue out until a small fleck of snow lands on it, then she pulls it back into her mouth. She throws him a sideways grin and then looks away, facing her eyes forward.

Din feels his hands get clammy as blood starts to flow south. Fuck, nononononononono, he thinks, balling his hands into fists and trying to think of literally anything else besides they way that snow looked on her tongue. He grits his teeth and looks around, hoping they’re close to the theatre. Thank the Maker.

Just ahead across the street sits the theatre, its twinkling lights and marquee sign dazzling in the white snow. He peeks at the princess without turning his head, and comes away satisfied when she doesn’t seem to notice it yet. He quickly grabs her elbow and pulls her into an alleyway on their right, covering her mouth with his gloved hand when she lets out a yelp.

“Do you trust me?” He breathes out, his chest mere inches away from hers. She nods her head and he lets go of her mouth. He looks down and presses some buttons on his vambrace, quickly recalibrating the child’s pod before shutting its hatch. “Hold onto me.”

She arches her eyebrows before stepping forward and pressing her chest against his, hissing at the frigidness of his beskar against her clavicle. She wraps her arms around his neck as he hooks an arm just below her ass.

“Din...” she warns, not sure where this is going.

“Just be quiet and hang on.” He commands, and with that, they shoot up and into the sky, the baby’s pod going up with them. He feels the princess bury her face into his cape and groan. In his excitement about the surprise, he forgot she doesn’t care for heights.

They land on the rooftop of the theatre, his knees and his back protesting from the extra weight that he’s not used to. Din gently sets the princess down and opens the child’s pod to make sure he’s okay. He smiles up at Din, who waggles a finger in his face.

The princess still hasn’t let go of Din, and Din still hasn’t entirely let go of the princess.

“Hey,” he says softly, and she pulls her head back from his shoulder but keeps her eyes squeezed shut. “It’s okay, we’re done with the flying.”

She exhales a breath he didn’t know she was holding and lets go, opening her eyes. Din reluctantly lets go of her and she takes a step back, looking at their surroundings. The faint sound of instruments taking their final warmups can be heard through the duracrete below them, and the princess finally puts two and two together.

“Din,” she gasps, shaking her head and covering her mouth with her hands. “You didn’t...that’s like, impossible. These are impossible to get. There’s no way...”

He grimaces behind his helmet and sighs. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I couldn’t. But I came by earlier and figured out another way for us to get insi-oof.”

He’s cut off when the princess envelops him in a hug so tight, he feels his back creak in objection.

“I thought you forgot a-about Life Day,” she says into his neck. “You didn’t have to do all this. N-no one’s ever-”

This time, it’s his turn to cut her off. He gently pulls her back until he can see her face, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“You can thank me later...it’s cold out here, and we don’t wanna miss the show.”

She nods and sniffles, dabbing under her eyes and motioning to the roof access. “Lead the way then, captain.” She says with a blinding smile.

A wall of warmth greets them as Din slices the door open. He glances around to make sure no crew members are up this high before motioning the princess in. The door zips shut behind the three of them and they’re sheathed in darkness, save the warm glow coming from the theatre below them. Catwalks stretch out in either direction, one going across the crowd, the other going adjacent to it toward the stage. They have to be at least 20 meters above the crowd.

The princess rushes toward the railing on the catwalk above the crowd and peaks down and Din finds himself surprised she’s not fainted yet. She answers his question before he asks it.

“This, I’m fine with. What I’m not fine with is careening up 100 feet into the air and 60 miles an hour with no warning and no seatbelt,” she says, fixing him with a glare that could cut durasteel.

This time, he doesn’t hide his chuckle, moving to stand next to her as she removes her coat and drapes it over the guardrail. He leans against the railing, the child floating just to his left, the princess on his right.

“You’re sure no one will see us up here?” She asks, lowering her voice as the lights begin to dim and the music starts.

“Would you be looking up to the rafters during this show?” 

“Fair point, but I meant the dancers...”

“No, I think we’ll be fine, it’s dark up here.” 

She just nods in return and keeps her focus on the stage as the curtains draw up and reveal the setting of Act I.

Din looks down at the child whose eyes light up at the glimmering tree on the stage. Underneath it sit huge presents wrapped in patterns of paper that Din couldn’t even think up. Multicolored garland hangs from the windows on the backdrop. Fairy lights dangle from the ceiling, bathing the stage in a magical light. He sees the children on stage laughing with each other as their parents dance to the music and suddenly feels the urge to cry,

His heart sinks at the thought that he could’ve had all this if the Separatists hadn’t invaded Aq Vetina that fateful day - and maybe he did have all of this, he just doesn’t remember. Did he have brothers and sisters? He hardly even remembers what his parents look like, just blurry features, sad eyes as they locked him away in that cellar to save him. What did he used ask for for Life Day? Did his parents dance with each other like that? 

Resentment burns so hot inside of him that he has to tear his eyes away from the ballet and stare down at the crowd below. He grits his teeth and wills the tears threating to fall away. His bitterness flares briefly toward the princess as he catches the gleam in her eyes, the joy on her face as she looks on with glee as the act progresses. But it fades as quickly as it grew, his features softening under his helmet.

Who am I to be spiteful toward her for something I had no control over?

He looks down at the stage again, having not even noticed that Act II began. The music crescendos as the Nutcracker, having just turned into the Prince, begins to dance with Masha. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the chlid giggle in delight.

Just because I don’t have happy memories of my parents, doesn’t mean he can’t. Woah shit wait fuck. No, Din, shut the fuck up and don’t overthink the weight of that. 

Carefully, Din removes both of his gloves and tucks them into his belt before gently resting his hand on the princess’s lower back.

He feels her gasp before she melts into his touch. She looks over her shoulder at him, the light from below causing her features to look sharp and dangerously beautiful. He leans forward so that his helmet is right next to her ear.

“Show me how you’d dance...if that were you on that stage down there,” he whispers, and this time the modulator doesn’t pick it up, so all she hears is his raw, unfiltered voice.

The princess looks up at his visor and smiles before nodding enthusiastically and backing away. She leans down and ties her dress in a knot at her knees before unbuckling her heels.

Din finds himself thinking that she wanted this all along, that she was made for this. His little wild fairy, stripping herself of the titles and the pageantry, barefooted and relaxed with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.   

She hasn’t taught him much, but he’s tried to listen as best as he could when she’d be doing a routine on the ship.

That’s a pirouette...I think. Okay, okay, plié. That’s first position? No...? Okay, yes, that was first position because this is second position, and now she’s in third.

Din finds himself swaying back and forth and nodding his head to the sweeping instrumentals, and the princess seems to smile when she notices this. She completes an attitude devant before slowing and giggling at him.

“What?” He asks, not quite laughing, but the smile in his voice is evident.

She just shakes her head, her own brilliant smile still plastered on her face before holding out her hand.

“Come on...look, he wants you to,” she says, pointing at the child who has long forgotten the ballet below, instead focusing on the ballerina in front of him.

Din watches the child for a moment more before pushing himself off the railing and taking her outstretched hand. He would be lying if he said this wasn’t the outcome he was hoping for, but when she pulls him into position, he realizes he’s in way over his head. 

“I...I really don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing...” he murmurs, trailing off when she places his hand on her waist, his fingertips meeting the bare skin of her back. She grabs his other hand and holds it up at a 90° angle and it completely swallows her own. He watches her eye their conjoined hands for a moment, an almost awestruck look on her face.

“I’ve never...I’ve never touched you before,” she whispers, looking into his visor where his eyes are. “Like this at least. Your skin.”

He leans in closer to her before whispering “Would you like this to be the last time?”

She slowly shakes her head, keeping her eyes trained on his visor.

“Me neither,” he breathes out. “Now show me what to do.”

She inhales as if falling out of a haze. Clearing her throat, she adjusts Din’s legs by tapping them with her feet before getting into her own position.

“Okay, now I’m not going to tell you it’s simple but you are a fast learner, so I expect you to excel, unless you have two left feet,” she chuckles, straightening her back. “But I’ve seen you in a fight, and fighting and dancing are actually more similar than you’d think. Just like in fighting, if you’re not doing a practiced routine, you have to predict your partner’s moves, and for you, this isn’t a routine.”

“Mmm, cocky are we?” He teases, her reassurance easing a bit of his tension.

“For good reason,” she purrs, giving him a smirk. He doesn’t have time for a smartass reply because she’s already moved on. “Now, the music should be at a good tempo for us to start at any moment if I remember correctly. We’ll take it slow, just remember, feel me, okay? Anticipate my movements, and you’ll be fine. Nothing fancy for now until you get the footwork down.”

She taps her foot and looks out over the balcony, and Din swears he can see the notes swimming in her brain. He notices that in this light, he can see her irises better than he ever has before. But again, before he can complete the thought, she begins moving.

He follows her feet, feeling the way her muscles tense and flex underneath the tips of his fingers. Her eyes move back to his visor from their position over his shoulder and it’s like it clicks for him. If he weren’t going to sound crazy, he’d say it was like she transferred her consciousness to his.

They glide together like that across the catwalk, the child’s giggles following them as the pod, still connected to his vambrace, moves with them. The princess moves to twirl them around and Din’s foot catches a little, but he quickly corrects himself, getting back into step with her. 

She suppresses a laugh before asking “Ready to step it up a notch?”

He just nods and she - seemingly reluctantly - lets go of her grip on his hand and twists so that her back is facing his chest. He readjusts so his grip is on her opposite hip, and she guides him to take her other hand.

“Same steps as before...yeah, good job,” she instructs, and it kindles a fire in his stomach that he thought he had quelled about an hour previous. “Okay, when I tell you to, keep stepping but lift me as you do a 180°, got it?”

His heart stutters, mostly out of fear of his poor, abused back. At 37, he shouldn’t be groaning every time he gets out of bed. But when he glances over at the kid, who is excitedly clapping his hands, he decides he’ll do it.

“Sure, but you’re gonna have to give me a few bacta patches on my shoulders later,” he says, slight amusement in his voice.

“I’ll do whatever you want...now!”

He falters for a moment, his brain short-circuiting like a C-1 series astromech before he realizes she means the lift is now, not...everything else that he wants. She pushes off of her right foot and he lifts her into the air, spinning counter clockwise before setting her down just as the music crescendos and finishes with a loud clash of cymbals and flutes.

They’re both breathing heavily as she turns in his arms to face him, and neither one of them go to move away. The tension is palpable at this point, with Din wanting to just bend her over and take her right there. His helmet tilts down to where her chest heaves and he swears he can see her heart beat in the pulse point on her neck. The thought of sinking his teeth into it and marking up her skin is suddenly overwhelming.

It’s only when the child squeals in delight that they’re snapped back to reality.

“I...I think we should go,” he says, catching his breath and tightening his grip on her waist. “Y’know, because the show’s over and crewmembers are gonna be up here any minute.”

She nods.

“Do you wanna take the elevator this time?” He asks her, hesitantly removing his grasp on her.

Again she shakes her head. “No,” she says hastily, donning her coat and looking like a ball of nervous energy. “Just do whatever gets us to the ship faster.”

They exit the way they came in, the princess clinging to Din, but he notices she’s not nearly as stiff as she was on the short flight up. They land near the same alleyway as before. The princess immediately exits the alley, setting course for the ship as Din struggles to keep up with her brisk pace.

“Hey,” he says, grabbing her arm. “You okay?”

She huffs air out of her nose before crossing her arms and shifting her weight. The snow has picked up since they entered the theatre, big enough now to cling to her hair and eyelashes. He watches as she leans over and snaps the child’s pod shut.

“I don’t know how to say this...” she begins, and Din’s heart sinks.

Dank farrik, I’ve gone and fucked this up, he thinks, his thoughts so loud that he only catches onto the last part of her sentence.

“...a virgin because of tradition on Arkanis, but I’ve wanted you to fuck me on every surface of the Crest since you asked me to join you. And I know this is forward, and maybe too brash, but I can’t stand it anymore and I just think that...I think I lo-”

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. I...” he licks his lips under his helmet and lets his brain catch up. “You want to...you want to have sex with me?”

She fixes him with a look that says “duh, weren’t you listening, dumbass?”

He sighs before responding. “Okay, look, I want this too, I have since the first time Karga, Dune, and I saw you at that library on Coruscant. But listen, if you’re...if you’re a virgin, then this is something I don’t want you to just decide to do on a whim, you understand me? That’s something that should be done with s-someone you care about.”

“Is that how your first time went?” She questions, narrowing her eyes. It’s a low blow because he revealed the answer to her one night while they were both drinking up in the cockpit. In this light, he can’t see her irises at all, and it’s extremely intimidating.

“I, well, no, but you’re missing the point-”

“Am I? I care about you, Din. Do you care about me?”

There’s no trepidation in his voice when he answers this time. “Yes.”

“Then what’s the holdup, hm?”

“Because I don’t want to hurt you!” He shouts, earning furtive glances from the few last minute shoppers out and about. He sighs. “I’m not a prince, okay? I’m not some nutcracker that turns into a handsome prince and runs away with you into the forest. I’m not what you were taught to look for in your happily ever after. I’m not supposed to be your forever. I’m not even supposed to be the kid’s forever...”

The princess glares at the sky, clenching her jaw, and Din can tell from past experiences with the cauterizer that she’s trying not to cry.

“And don’t even try to tell me that it’s not about that. I know you. You crave connection, you feed off of it. You just deserve someone better than me. After I find his people, I’m gonna go back to the only thing I was ever any good at: killing.”

She sniffles and he suddenly, selfishly wishes he hadn’t been honest with her. That he would’ve just lied and whisked her back into the ship so he could fuck her every day until he inevitably broke her heart.

She looks back down, and the placid look on her face terrifies him more than the thought of someone ripping his helmet off (though his faith in the Creed is becoming increasingly shaky). She just sets her jaw and nods, turning on her heel and getting back to her brisk pace from before. It’s then that Din realizes he’s turned the sexual tension into the need for a nasty, ugly fight, having denied his feelings for so long that he’s used to feeling anger and frustration after a close encounter with her.

“Since when are you one to run away like a Corellian hellhound with your tail tucked between your legs, huh?” He says, grabbing her elbow again once he’s caught up with her.

She yanks her arm out of his grip and faces him with a scowl on her face. “Since you decided you were so unlovable, that’s when. You think you’re this horrific, terrible person. Well, Din, I’ve got news for you; plenty of people all over this galaxy do what you do for a living, and then go home and eat dinner with their partners and kids. It’s you,” she says, jabbing a finger into his chest. “That has decided you’re so unlovable. Not this galaxy, not your profession, you. You can’t even call your son yours because you’re so afraid of what? Commitment? Someone giving a damn? And guess what? Even more bad news; you’ve failed so fucking miserably at that, because he loves you. You’re his father, Din, and he loves you. I love you. And you’re not doing yourself any favors by ignoring those two blatantly obvious facts.”

The unshed tears in her eyes start to fall and Din wants to rip his helmet off right there and kiss them off her face, but he doesn’t even know what to say except that she’s right. She’s exactly right and oh, Maker, he’s a dumbass.

“To have you sit here and say that you even might possibly feel the same way about me but in the same breath say that you’re afraid of breaking my heart is...well it’s fucking stupid!” She exclaims, tossing her hands up in the air. “I’d be stupid not to love you, I would know, I literally have three degrees, Din. You risked your life to save your son, you’ve risked your life to save me, Karga, and Dune on multiple occasions. You’re trekking halfway across the galaxy to find some fabled wizard, all for your kid to be reunited with his people. You are one of the most selfless people I’ve ever met, and the only person you’re convincing that you’re some bad guy is you. You’re the good guy...that much is true.”

“I’ve done...I’ve done bad things, sweetheart. I can’t even begin to name them all...” he mutters, looking over at the child’s closed bassinet.

“Okay? We all have. My parents were grooming me to be a politician for fucks sake. What could possibly be worse than that?”

She turns and walks away then again, while he sits there staring at her before his brain, reliable as ever, finally does the mental math. “Oh, Maker, I insulted you, didn’t I?” He calls out.

“Yes!” She barks without turning around, stomping through the snow that builds up on the sidewalk. “If you got me a present for Life Day, I’ll consider it forgiven. Come on, it’s cold, we can talk in the ship...after you’ve fixed that.”

Things Din Djarin needs to stop forgetting: 1) don’t ever insult an Arkanian, or you’ll spend your whole life savings trying to get back in their good graces.

...

They don’t speak a word until they get back to the ship, and even then, words spoken aren’t to each other, only the child. The princess gets him fed and tucked in for the night before disappearing into the ‘fresher. Din fiddles around, unsure if he wants to keep going on their journey or stay on Chandrila for the night. Eventually, he decides to keep going, knowing that the temperatures will drop too much overnight on Chandrila to keep the engine off.

He hears her emerge from the ‘fresher just as the ship lurches into hyperspace, and he reaches over and grabs a parcel from underneath the control panel before heading down into the hold. He gets a strange sense of déja vu, except this time, he knows where he stands.

She’s in her quarters, but the door isn’t shut, so he takes that as an invitation to enter. He sits on her bed, watching her wrestle a chunky knit sweater over her wet hair.

“That’s more like it,” he says, and she turns to face him, a quizzical look on her face. She spots the parcel in his hands, but says nothing of it, just looks at him expectantly. “Your look, I mean. You looked, incredible tonight, but this feels more authentic, more you. You look freer.”

She just nods and bends down to slip on some socks. He holds the parcel out to her when she’s finished and she takes it without a word, sitting down next to him and unwrapping it.

The paper reveals a box. Even though her irritation at his earlier behavior rolls off of her in waves, he can almost feel her excitement piquing.

She opens the box to reveal a pair of pointe shoes in a blush pink color, delicately wrapped in red and green paper.

“...does this make up for me being a fucking idiot?”

She holds the shoes up to the light to inspect them, a revered look upon her face.

“I...I don’t even know what to say.” She whispers.

“Well, you could start with ‘thanks’.” He says, which earns him a light punch on his pauldron. 

“I hope you know it’s customary to give the present on Life Day, not the night before, so don’t think this means you get yours tonight. But how did you know?” She asks, finally turning to look at him.

“Well you only drool all over the sidewalk every time we pass a store that sells them, so I picked some up a few rotations ago when we stopped to fuel up.” He answers softly.

She smiles bashfully and tucks her hands into her lap, suddenly finding a spot on the floor very interesting. Din gently takes her chin in between his pointer finger and thumb, guiding her to look at him again.

“I’m sorry...for everything I said. I’m not used to this, any of it. I didn’t mean to insult you in anyway, but you understand that you and I come from completely different worlds, different realities...” he trails off, trying to find the right words to say. “The truth is...I’m scared, terrified of you leaving me. Everyone I’ve ever loved has...has, well, left. I know the kid is gonna have to leave at some point...I don’t want you to, too.

“After we left Nevarro, before we came here, I wanted nothing more than to take off my helmet and tell you...tell you how I love you face to face, and I’ve wanted to do it so many times tonight, but I don’t think I’m ready yet...to take off the helmet, that is. I-I don’t want you to think less of me for that, but I do love you.”

The princess, his princess, cocks her head to the side.

“I knew what I was signing up for, silly. I never expected you to take it off in front of me, not now and maybe not ever. That doesn’t make it any less meaningful.” She tells him with a smile, resting her hand where his cheek would be. “Even though I would really like to kiss you right now.”

“Well, that I can make an exception for.” He says, and removes his hand from her chin, moving it to the lip of his helmet and pulling up slightly.

He knows she’s staring at his bronzed skin and three day old stubble when he says “Well, kiss me then.”

It’s awkward at first when their lips meet, the angle of the helmet meaning that she has to tilt her head almost sideways to avoid a large gash on her nose from the sharp edge, but after a second or two, it’s like magic. They move in sync, chapped lips moving against perfectly moisturized ones. After a moment, Din takes the lead and deepens the kiss, keeping one hand on the helmet and moving the other to the back of her neck. He tentatively pushes his tongue into her mouth, but his eyes almost pop out of their sockets when she starts to suck on it. He groans and she moves her hands up to the sides of his neck.

“How’d you get so good at this?” He asks as they both pause to take a breath.

“Just because I’m a virgin doesn’t mean I wasn’t a horny teenager once. I spent plenty of summers at the Young Senators Retreat and-”

“Yeah, okay I get the picture,” Din huffs.

She laughs a full bellied laugh, the kind that crinkles the skin around her eyes and shows her teeth.

“Aw, is someone jealous?” She teases, poking the sliver of his cheek that was revealed to her.

He slips the helmet down and moves to stand up, and she does the same.

“Wait I didn’t mean to-”

“Sit down. I’ll be right back.”

He exits her room and takes a deep breath. He’s wanted this for so long, to be touched by another...to touch another. To touch her.

He returns moments later with a strip of thick black cloth in his hand and shuts the door behind him.

“As much as I want to see the look in your eyes when I make you come, I’d much rather be able to see the pretty little expressions you make when I eat you out.” He says moving to kneel on the edge of the bed. Her mouth drops into an “o” shape, her face flushing as bright red as it possibly can.

She clears her throat as he ties the cloth around her head, sheathing her in darkness. “You’re, um, good at complimenting.”

He laughs darkly, removing his helmet all the way and setting it on the floor at the foot of the bed before placing his lips next to her ear. “I think you mean dirty talk, angel.”

If it was possible for her to flush anymore, she would’ve, he thinks. He suddenly stops when a thought flashes across his mind that maybe she’s just doing this because he wants to.

“Hey, is this okay? I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with or not ready for, so if you want me to turn off the lights, or we can just stop altogether, just-”

“Din,” she whispers, reaching her hand out until she finds purchase on his knee. “It’s okay. Please, just touch me before I melt into a puddle of goo.”

Din just hums and stands, beginning to remove his armor. The pieces clank to the floor by the edge of the bed one by one, and he swears her face gets redder and redder from the anticipation. Finally, he’s left only in his underwear. He reaches out and grabs her hand, pulling her to stand. His fingertips move down to brush against the hem of her heavy sweater.

“Is this okay?” He asks, tapping his finger over her stomach and he feels her muscles flutter. She nods her head and he tries again.

“No, you have to use your words, sweet girl. Is this okay?” This time, his tone is more firm.

“Yes,” she replies breathlessly. “Please, Din.”

“Please what? What do you want?”

At this point, he knows he’s just riling her up, making the tension palpable before she snaps. He hears a whine in the back of her throat before she responds.

“I-I want you t-to do what you said you’d d-do to me earlier.” She mumbles, looking down at the ground as if to avoid his gaze, even though she can’t see anything.

“Mmm,” he tuts, stepping closer to her and leaning down to nuzzle his nose against the pulse point in her neck. “Which was?”

She huffs. “I want you to eat my pussy until I cry, and then pin me down and fuck me however you want.”

He pulls back at her sudden forwardness, not expecting her to be baited by his teasing. Her hands are balled into fists at her sides and her chest heaves. She huffs again and starts pulling at her clothes.

When her sweater comes off, Din’s cock gets ten times harder at the sight of her bare chest. He’s so caught up in the way her nipples harden and her chest flushes that he doesn’t realize she completely naked until she gingerly steps back toward the bed and flops down.

“Are you even still alive?”

When Din catches a glimpse of wet slick in between her legs, he decides that he’s not.

“N-no, I’m still here...you’re just. Looks like you were sculpted by the Maker himself. I’m not ever gonna to be able to keep my hands to myself around you.” He murmurs, stepping in between her legs and drawing a finger up her calf.

“You haven’t even hardly done that yet.” She grumbles, twitching as his hand trails behind her knee.

“Mmm, that may be true, but I’m never gonna want to leave this room ever again.”

She smirks and he leans over her to plant a kiss on her mouth, his body not yet touching hers. She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in closer, winding her legs around his torso. When Din feels her wet heat touch the skin just below his bellybutton, his patience thins. He deepens the kiss, carding his hands through her hair and holding her flush to him. She lets a soft moan out and he thinks he might explode.

He pulls away and moves down her body, leaving wet kisses in his wake that have her shivering. He licks a long stripe with the tip of his tongue from just above her clit to her navel and she claps a hand over her mouth.

He stops himself from drowning in her cunt and reaches up to pull her hand away from her mouth. “I shouldn’t have to tell you that I wanna hear you, sweet girl.”

As soon as she says okay, he dives in, immediately attaching his lips to her clit and sucking gently. Her hands fly to his hair and tug, which makes him groan at an ungodly loud volume into her pussy. He releases her clit and licks figure 8′s on her fluttering hole and back up to her clit. 

She squeals and brings her thighs up to cage his head, and Din resolves that if he dies, this is how he wants to go; devouring her pussy and soaking up the cute little noises she makes, getting his head squeezed by her thighs and his hair pulled by her tiny hands.

He sucks on her clit again and she lets out a long moan.

“Din, please, s-something put something-”

He cuts her off by slowly wedging his pointer finger into her and starting to thrust. Her back arches off the bed and she lets out an even longer moan than before.

He lets go of her clit and asks “Is this what you wanted, angel? My thick fingers? Or just my mouth?”

She hums before shaking her head. “I-Is both an option? I w-want both, please.”

“Good job using your manners. And yes, both is an option.” He says before diving back in.

This time, instead of hearing her moans, he’s not even sure he can hear her breathing. He inserts a second finger and she exhales, letting go of his hair to fist the sheets. His dick jumps at the loud squelching sound his fingers make in her pussy as he picks up the pace.

“Ohh,” she groans out, and his eyes flick up to see her tits moving slightly with the force of his fingers. “Din, that feels so good.”

“Mhm, I’m gonna have to give you one more finger, sweet girl. Do you think you can take one more?” He asks, his voice muffled as he keeps slurping on her clit.

“One more? B-But it already feels so...so...” she trails off into a whine when he curls his fingers up and gives her the ‘come here’ motion.

“Tight? Yeah, angel, I know. But I’ve gotta do one more if you wanna be able to take it.”

Her pelvic floor contracts at his words and she squirms, bringing her hands back up to his hair and tugging.

He slowly gives her a third finger and watches her face to control his pace. It scrunches up into a frown that wrinkles her nose, but relaxes when he uses his tongue to lick a flat stripe across her clit. She uses her purchase on his hair to guide him to suck her clit again, and shortly after that, she’s moaning again.

He scissors his fingers on every thrust, trying to get her as relaxed as possible for the real thing. He curls his fingers up one more time and she’s inhaling loudly, her thighs shaking around his head and her fingers tightening around his locks. She screams as she meets her release, the sound coming out rough and scratchy. She curls in around his head, refusing to let go of his hair as he continues to suck on her clit.

She finally lets go and Din keeps thrusting as she exhales and it turns into a whimper. He slowly removes his fingers and crawls back up her body, pushing her legs back up to his torso as he goes. Her chest is still heaving from her orgasm as he leans down to give her a thorough kiss.

“Suck,” he gently commands, bringing the three fingers that were just inside of her to her lips. She hesitates a moment before opening her mouth and doing as he says. He groans as her tongue slips in between each digit and she licks off her come.

Din feels his heart stutter as he watches her.

“You look so perfect like this, all open for me, being a good girl.”

She hums around his fingers and he removes them, shucking his underwear off and fisting his cock with her spit.

“Are you on the implant?” He questions.

“Yeah, it’s against the law not to be on Arkanis...is it going to hurt?” She asks softly, clutching her hands to her chest.

“I think I’ve got you pretty wet and worked open, but we’ll go slow. It might hurt a little,” he answers, rubbing his thumb on the inside of her thigh while his hand spreads her spit around the head of his dick. “Are you ready?”

“Mhm,” she says, nodding her head, but she replies again, seemingly remembering his warning from earlier. “Yes.”

He adjusts her legs so that her calves are resting on his hipbones. He brings his thumb back to her clit and rubs gently as he starts to push the head in.

Now, Din is a cocky bastard by any means, but he’s not surprised when she starts to scrunch her face up and hold her breath when his cock gets about an inch in.

“Uh-ooh uh Din...Din it’s thick. Let me...can I feel...” he slows his movements as she trails off, grabbing her hand and bringing it down to the rest of his length that isn’t inside of her yet.

“H-how is the rest of this supposed to fit in me, what the fuck?” She asks incredulously, barely able to wrap her hand around the diameter.

Din laughs lightly, reaching up and grabbing one of her pillows before lifting her hips up and sticking it under her.

“This might help. Just relax, the more relaxed you are, the quicker you’ll adjust.” He tells her, leaning down to give her a lingering kiss. He stays there, hovering over her as he gently pushes in some more, kissing her again when her face scrunches.

He gets about halfway in before she finally relaxes and Din’s cock doesn’t feel like it’s being strangled. He sits back up and watches as her pussy swallows the rest of his length.

“Oh, sweet girl you’re doing such a good job already. I wish you could see how good your little pussy takes this dick.” He tells her, choking on his words when her muscles flex and squeeze his dick. He pulls out a fraction of an inch before pushing in again and she mewls. “It’s like you were made for me.”

She brings her arms up to drape over her already covered eyes.

“I-it feels good...go faster, please, I want it.” She whines and Din can’t help but run a hand up her stomach and to one of her tits, pinching her nipple lightly before pulling back and giving her what she wants.

“I love it when you beg,” he breathes out, enunciating each word with a thrust that’s not too hard, but just hard enough to redden her chest and make her tits bounce. “Look at you, I’ve got a little princess speared on my cock, hardly able to even talk. Have you thought about this? Huh? Thought about how my cock would feel? I knew you were wearing those tight little leggings and those little tank tops with no bra on for a reason. Dancing around my ship like I didn’t want to bend you over a crate and take you right there.”

She moans, long and loud, and he picks up his pace, lifting up her legs and holding them against his chest.

“K-keep talking, please, please, ple-” Her voice turns into a whine when he angles his hips up and hits a spot inside of her that has her legs locking up and her ankles tightening behind his head. He has to grit his teeth to stop himself from coming too soon because of how much tighter her velvet heat gets.

“Yeah, you like that? This pussy feels so good, baby. I-I wanna spend the rest of my life just fucking you.” He grunts out, emphasizing his last few words with a hard thrust.

She lets out an absolutely pornographic moan when he does that, but it turns into a whine when Din abruptly pulls out. He pulls away to grab his helmet and slip it back on before plopping down on the bed next to her and pulling her hips up and over so she’s straddling his. He reaches up and yanks off the blindfold, causing her to reflexively cover her eyes.

“I have the helmet on, it’s fine,” he tells her, watching her shoulders deflate. “I want you to watch the way I fuck you, angel. Uncover your eyes.”

She tentatively does as he asks and when she looks down at his cock that rests on his stomach, her eyes bulge. When she takes it in her small hand, Din wants to burn the image into his brain. She looks back up at him with a look of amazement.

“There’s no way this was in me...” she trails off, lightly stroking it.

“Mm, yeah, well you can have it back in you if you’d stop talking. I like it more when you beg.”

He watches as the look of amazement turns to mischief, similar to the look she gave him earlier at the theatre. Her milky eyes pierce his visor as she licks her hand and then rubs her pussy, dragging her other hand up her body to grab a handful of her tit.

“Then why don’t you put it back in and keep fucking me?” She asks, looking down at him through her lashes.

“Every fucking day you’re full of surprises, angel,” he groans, grabbing his cock and teasing her clit with it before pushing up and into her. She throws her head back and Din suddenly wishes she had the blindfold back on so he could fulfill his earlier wishes of marking her up.

He grabs her hips and pulls her down to meet his thrusts.

“Look,” he barks, causing her to jerk her head down to the place they meet. “Look at how this cock stretches you. Look at how well you’re doing, such a good girl. Always such a good girl for me, doing what I ask you to.”

He rambles as his thrusts get harder and faster and the princess starts to clench around him again.

“Are you gonna come for me? Gonna come all over this cock? One of these days, I’m gonna make you squirt all over my armor and then I’m-I’m not even gonna clean it, I’m just g-gonna go pick up a bounty.”

The princess lets out a laugh at that, clapping a hand over her mouth as she does and Din slows his pace.

“I’m sorry this feels really good still, but that was just funny. Hot, but also funny. I-I think it was just your delivery,” she giggles, removing her hand from her mouth and placing it on his chest.

Din’s heart skips a beat at the sight of his girl straddling his cock with a smile on her face, looking at him so lovingly. It’s a gaze he hasn’t been on the receiving side of in a long time. He finds himself thankful for once that the helmet is on because of the tears that spring to his eyes. Crying during sex? Not Din Djarin.

He sits up then, holding onto her back and folding his knees under him, hearing them protest as he does. He pushes her shoulders down so that he’s bottomed out inside her pussy and she groans.

“Please don’t ever leave me,” he pleads, looking up and fixing his visor on her face. “Him and I, we need you.”

“I-wh-where did that come from? Are you okay?” She asks, placing her hands on either side of his helmet and looking concerned.

He ignores her question, opting to bury his helmet into her chest and hug her tight while starting to thrust back into her.

“Din...” she warns, but hugs him back anyway.

They stay like that for a few minutes, just slowly moving back and forth together until Din’s patience breaks and he can’t help but start thrusting harder and faster. His hand snakes down her front to rub at her clit and he can feel her start to come undone. Her cunt clenches around him as she’s quickly and quietly tipped over the edge, her thighs and back spasming. She says nothing, just pants heavily above him, clutching his shoulders and brushing the strands of hair at the back of his neck that have escaped his helmet.

“Can I-can I come inside? Please-”

“Yes,” she cuts him off breathlessly. “Please, Maker, yes.”

He thrusts in a few more times before speaking again.

“Tell me you-mmm. Tell me you love me, cyare.”

“Oh, Din, I love you so much. You’re so special, you’re such a special man. I loveyouIloveyouIloveyou.”

He comes inside of her with a long groan, burying his face further into her chest as she repeats herself over and over.

Eventually, Din flops back onto her bed and she follows. He notices she takes extra care to make sure his cock doesn’t slip out of her.

“Wanted to keep all that come in there, huh?” He jokes lightly, giving her a soft pat on the butt.

“Shut up,” she huffs with a laugh into his neck. “I’m gonna have to get up eventually though to turn off the light. Are you...will you stay with me? If the lights are off?”

He rubs his hands up and down her back before exhaling deeply and responding.

“I would sleep in all of my armor just for the honor of falling asleep next to you.”

“Mmm,” she hums, tracing her finger along his collarbone. “Well lucky for you, I have a strict ‘no armor’ policy in my bed. It reads like this: ‘No beskar? No problem.’.”

-

Din awakes with a start to a loud thwump, thwump, thwump from somewhere in the ship. Immediately fearing the worst, he throws his undershirt and pants on and rushes into the hold.

There she sits, his princess, in one of his long-sleeve tunics and a pair of his underwear that fit her like shorts, banging the absolute shit out of one of her pointe shoes. The child, his son, he reminds himself, sits across from her holding the other shoe, trying to mimic her and bobbing his head along to the music playing softly in the background.

He calms his racing heartbeat as he goes to take a seat on the floor next to them.

“Happy Life Day,” she says, leaning over to place a kiss where his cheek would be.

“Happy Life Day to you, too,” he responds tenderly, booping her nose. She looks down to return to her work and Din turns to his son. “Happy Life Day, buddy.”

He babbles in delight, holding up the shoe to show Din all the work he’s (not) done on it.

“Sorry if I woke you up...actually, no I’m not. He told me to,” she says without looking up, nodding her head toward the child who just laughs. “He wants his presents, daddy.”

Din clears his throat and stands back up while the princess just smirks, knowing exactly what she does to him.

“Oh, and while you’re at it, there’s one for you underneath my bed.” She calls out to him as he leaves to go retrieve the Life Day presents.

“Alright, but next time I sit down, I’m not getting back up for at least 20 minutes.” He calls back from the ladder.

When he returns, he sees that they’ve switched shoes.

“So what does that do anyway?” He asks, setting the presents on the floor in between them. The child immediately makes grabby hands.

“Oh, it just breaks them in, but trust me, you’re not gonna want to see my feet for at least a week once you see what pointe shoes do to them,” she laughs.

Din’s helmet tilts, trying to gauge if he should have even bought them.

“Hey,” she says softly, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. “Thank you. They’re perfect. You have to do this with all of them, I promise.”

He just nods and pats her hand before reaching over and handing the child his present.

“This one’s mine?” He asks, holding up a large box wrapped in purple paper with a silver bow on top.

“Mhm,” she responds with a smile, tossing the shoe aside to pull his son into her lap and help him unwrap his present. “There’s a few things in there, but I could only do one box because the paper tax on Vardos was high.”

“That’s rich coming from the princess,” he teases, gently tearing into the paper.

“Hey! You know I don’t like using my parents’ capitalist credits,” she frowns.

He laughs, the modulator making it sound raspy. Their attention is grabbed by the child, who finally gets the box open and squeals in delight at the objects inside.

“Show dad what you got!” She tells him.

Din ignores his own present for a moment to watch as his son shows him a red shirt and black pants.

“Wow! That’s cool! Do you like them?” He asks.

The child babbles and Din looks at the princess. “Where’d you find something that small?”

“A maternity store,” she responds with a shrug, still looking down at the child. “Show him the next one!”

Din’s thoughts are swimming with the idea of her walking around a maternity store when the kid shows him his next present. The mental image has his blood rushing south until he reminds himself where he is and what he’s doing.

He clears his throat for the second time that morning because of explicit thoughts. “Oh, that’s neat!”

His son holds a tukka doll close to his chest with bright eyes and a beaming smile that shows his little teeth.

“Tell your dad to open his present,” the princess leans down and tells him, giving him a scratch on the head. When he babbles at Din again, his heart melts.

“Okay, okay, I’m on it hang on,” he responds, gently peeling open the cardboard.

In the box sits a camera, a photo, a cushion of some sort, and a folded piece of deep red fabric. The first thing he pulls out of the box is the photo. It takes him approximately ten seconds to realize that it’s a picture of him, smiling, as a boy. Next to him sits a girl, about four years older than him, and behind them stand his parents. There’s a tree with lights and ornaments decorating it in the background.

“Do you like it?” She softly asks him, placing a hand on his knee.

“I...how?” Is all he can muster.

“Well, I did some digging...a lot, actually. I found this on the holonet on an Aq Vetina tribute page,” she says, scratching the back of her neck and looking away. “It’s sad how many of those there are. Anyways, I saw your last name, your family’s last name, and figured it had to be you guys. I, uh, had it printed out because having to boot up a piece of technology every time you want to see that seems silly.”

“Is that...did I have a sister?” He whispers, drawing his finger over her picture.

“Seems that way. I could probably do some more digging if you’d like...maybe teach you how to use the holonet while I’m at it, old man.” She softly teases, squeezing his knee.

He’s scared that he broke something when he practically tackles her in a hug. His son hoots in delight, crawling his way up her front to be in the middle of the embrace.

“Thank you...so much,” he whispers in her ear, this time doing nothing to stop the tears that roll down his cheeks and catch on the lining of his helmet.

“It’s the least I could do,” she replies, giving him a soft smile when he pulls away. “If you need a moment, we can take a break before you-”

“No, no it’s okay. I’m fine,” he reassures her, the barest hint of a smile in his voice. “I’m right here where I want to be.”

He pulls the camera out of the box and inspects this.

“This is an older model,” he comments, looking through the viewfinder. “This must’ve been hard to find.”

“Yeah, but I wanted one that prints the photos out so you can keep them on you,” she responds.

“What’s this?” He asks, holding up the cushion.

She laughs. “It’s for your butt. For your chair in the cockpit. It’s supposed to help with back pain.”

He gently pops her on the head with it and she giggles. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“Mhm...pull out the last one.” She tells him, nodding to the box.

He removes the fabric from the box and it unfolds as he holds it up.

“It’s a new cape. I got it so you guys could match.”

The smile on Din’s face threatens to break his helmet in half. “Hey, buddy, look...we’re matching.” He says, holding the cape out to his son.

The child giggles and wraps it around himself like a cape, and goes parading around the little half circle they’ve formed.

“This is...this is nice,” Din compliments, scooting over and slinging his arm over the princess’s shoulder. “All we need now is a tree.”

She leans her head into the crook of his arm and sighs contentedly. “Yeah, well they don’t survive in extended periods of hyperspace...trust me, I already thought about it.”

“I feel bad I only got you the one present,” he remarks, a tinge of disappointment in his voice.

“Mm, I’ve got everything I want right here,” she singsongs, poking him in his side. “Now lets get all this paper cleaned up so we can eat.”

She holds her hands out and he follows her up.

“What if we...uh, can we recreate that picture? The one of my parents?” He asks tentatively once he’s fully standing.

“Like...with the three of us?” She inquires, her eyes widening.

“Yeah.”

“Of course,” she answers with a soft smile. “It’d be best to do it after breakfast before his nap though.”

He watches for a moment as she starts cleaning up the multicolored wrapping paper, thinking about how peaceful and domestic this moment seems. He almost brings up getting their implants removed and having a few more monsters running around the ship, but he decides that maybe that’s a conversation for next Life Day, where hopefully they won’t have to live in the ship anymore or be on the run.

Even if there aren’t any more kids in the picture, or if we never settle down somewhere, this is more than enough, he thinks before joining his princess and his son in the kitchenette for a Life Day feast.

And for a day, all is well with the Mudhorn Clan.

#din djarin #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #no y/n's around here #baby yoda #star wars #pedro pascal #reader insert

[z3ld4]

Mercy Me - Part One

Summary: Jacqueline Laymore can’t really tell when it started to hurt to call Spencer her friend. But that didn’t really matter after she got kidnapped. Right now all that matters is getting home and getting Spencer Reid.

Warnings: Angsty? Mentions of self harm, suicidal ideation, death, kidnapping, is catholic guilt a warning? culty vibes, mentions of torture, and a very small mention of rape and gouging one’s eyes out.

Word Count: 1.3k (its a babey for the first part)

A/N: this is one of my first fanfictions on tumblr and in this fandom, so idk be nice or like really mean, criticize me, i don’t really mind. i used to write aphmau fanfiction nothing really hurts at this point. also this is an original female character fic because i for real can not write fic in the y/n format and i’ve had this idea for a while. it took a lot of effort to post this without puking in anxiety first but i hope it goes well ig.

If Jacqueline was going to die right then and there, she would have frankly been pissed. Sitting in the bathtub with blood seeping out of shallow cuts on her thighs would not be a great way to go. It’s especially stupid because they weren’t even new. Jacqueline knew better than to cut in the tub.

Especially since she’d been clean before the incident.

She wondered if that was the time to back up and take a second to think. Think about her wrongdoings.

Of course, Gabriel doesn’t give her the release of death and instead shot himself in the neck. Her eyes, always the worst part of her body, follow the arterial spray as it stains the yellowing ceilings. She almost wants to take the revolver and shoot herself in the head, but that would contaminate the crime scene.

Jacqueline is smarter than that. But the revolver is so close to her. Yet just out of reach. 

Everything seems to be just out of reach when you’re kidnapped. 

But everything is moot compared to the digging feeling in her stomach telling her that the gun still has five more rounds. 

She doesn’t. Of course, there is more to her life than being a martyr for another’s sins. That isn’t what Father Julien said when she was younger, but Father Julian also tried to gouge out her eyes in the town square.

Father Julian did a lot of things, talking about the grace of God wasn’t one of them. But what can you really expect from a man that creates a psychopath? Jacqueline dug the heels of her hands into her eyes, creating swirling patterns behind her eyelids. Phosphenes. She can hear him say it. Spencer always made sure to tell her the weirdest facts he could remember. She can’t remember most of them but sometimes his voice pops up in her head reminding her of them.

A lot of things pop up in Jacqueline’s head these days. She smoothed her hair back with the water on her hands and stepped awkwardly out of the tub. Taking two towels from the rack on the wall, she wrapped up her hair and body. Carefully stepping around Gabriel’s body and blood pool she enters the bedroom. For a cheap motel, it was quite clean. Frankly, it wouldn’t be half bad if the carpet wasn’t a brown color and she didn’t come with the guy who kidnapped her. She dug through Gabriel’s luggage until she found yet another, white cotton sundress. It wasn’t a bad dress, quite pretty in reality. It was the situation that made it the ugliest rag Jacqueline had ever seen. It fell to just below her knees and the bodice fit her waist perfectly, the spaghetti straps dug into her shoulders but it could have been much, much worse. 

Jacqueline would have liked the dress in another life. However, Gabriel had a thing for the whole ‘white equals purity’ thing and tortured her in a dress similar to the one she was putting on.

She stopped putting the dress on. Blinking through the tears forming in her line of sight, Jacqueline searches for a shirt and a pair of pants that could maybe fit her. She found Gabriel’s taupe button-up and slipped it over her shoulders, buttoning the front up to the third button. After digging a little more she finds a pair of army green pants, a little too high waisted for such a masculine man but she puts them on. Luckily Gabriel also had a pair of hiking boots which Jacqueline took the shoelace out of and used it as a belt.

The sandals that she wore when out with Gabriel would have to do, though it looked a little silly. Jacqueline took her hair out of the towel and ruffled it up a little, she always hated leaving her thick, wavy hair without product in it but it’s better than brushing it. The bangs brushing against the bridge of her nose are going to make her cry though. She used to hate how she looked in bangs but now, with Gabriel’s praises ringing in her ears, she almost likes the way they frame her face.

Almost.

Jacqueline grabbed Gabriel’s wallet on the way out of their hotel room.

The secretary looked at Jacqueline funny as she checked out. Granted, it was well deserved, Jacqueline looked like a mess of men’s clothing. She also was leaving without Gabriel, which sounded a little unheard of considering he didn’t even let her speak when they checked in.

Jacqueline wanted to call the police so the maid didn’t get a nasty surprise. She didn’t have a phone on her but she walked to the payphone on the street corner and quickly called 911. 

“Hi, Hello. Y-yes… I… I need to report a suicide at Maple Leaf Motel, room 3C. My… My p-partner shot himself in the neck!” She wailed into the phone before hanging up. She was always good at faking things. Right now, faking composure seems to be the only thing keeping her sane.

Time to catch a flight to Quantico, Virginia.

Or, more likely, hitchhike. If there was anything Jacqueline had learned in her nine years with the BAU is to not hitchhike. But she had about two hundred and fifty dollars and the clothes on her back. And if anything she could pay for some gas and maybe use the self-defense that Morgan taught her. She knew that from where she was it would be around twenty days by foot. A twenty-hour car ride. And maybe a five-hour flight depending on the airport. The closest 'big' town near Maple Leaf was Lexington. 

And deep down, Jacqueline really wanted to take a road trip. Nebraska is quite a pretty state. Though walking would be a little excessive considering she's technically been off for two months already.

The fact that she’d been with Gabriel for two months sent shivers down Jacqueline’s spine. The bureau wouldn't take her vacation days away for being kidnapped but you never really know with the government, do you? She started walking to the library when she realized that she could email Strauss and talk about her job and how fast she can be reinstated. Luckily the library was a few blocks down the street.

"Hello, dear! What can I help you with today?" The elderly woman behind the help desk smiled. Jacqueline figured that they didn't get that many people inside the small library. 

Jacqueline forced a smile and walked up to the desk, "Can I use one of the computers? I need to email my boss about my... vacation."

The librarian gives Jacqueline a sugary sweet smile. "May I, Deary," The librarian corrected.

"Right," Jacqueline drawls. The librarian walked her to a clunky old computer and logged on before shoving Jacqueline down into the seat. Jacqueline goes through google to find her email service and quickly write one to Strauss. Strauss responded quickly, a short email reading:

Dear Agent Laymore,

You're thought to be dead. I can not grant you the ability to step into your building for recertification and discussions of reinstating you until you prove otherwise.

Erin Strauss

Jacqueline responded:

Dear Erin,

You're supposed to be nicer to people who are held as a hostage. Anyways, I guess a way to prove my identity would be that I can sing 'On My Own' from Les Mis perfectly, I know you have heard me do it. And that your husband divorced you after he gave you half of his liver due to your liver cirrhosis. You told me this one night when I was crying over my brother killing himself and getting disowned. I am the only person on the current team (I assume, though I'm sure Rossi knows ;D) who has that information on you.

With love,

Dr. Jacqueline Laymore PsyD

Ps. Please don't give my job away because I made a joke.

Erin responded with a very annoyed emailing detailing what they will discuss once Jacqueline reaches Quantico. With a valid ID of course.

Now the hard part, finding someone who wasn't a serial killer to hitchhike with. For at least twenty-four hours. In a car.

Spencer's voice called out in the back of Jacqueline's head, reminding her that there is a 0.0000086% of being killed or raped while hitchhiking.

#spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x female original character #spencer reid x original character #spencer reid x ofc #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x ofc #mgg #mgg angst #dr spencer reid #dr reid #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic

[spikeymarshmallows]

Hi! Just saw your WIPS post, if you’re willing would you mind telling a bit more about your Sexworker Klaus AU and Vanya’s book in the museum verse (not sure if someone has already asked about these two, sorry if I missed it!)... thank you so much!!! :3

Hehehe I’m sorry for my slow reply. I was HOPING to have the Vanya’s Book in Museum ‘verse finished by now for Kliego week, but unless I pull off a miracle, it’s probs not gonna happen in time....

Thank you for asking about theseeeeee. I’m sorry my reply is a novel!!!

But.

Here's a tiny snip for the Vanya's Book....

But Diego and Klaus were different. I was never quite sure what to make of them. They didn't seem to share the same energy as Luther and Allison. But I saw how Diego—Diego who was so quick to anger, to take offence, to throw out cruel words—softened around Klaus. It never really made sense to me.

Klaus was not the sweetest of our brothers. He was loud, and forever interrupted everyone, including Dad. Whenever anyone cut Diego off, they'd be met with anger, sometimes stuttered, sometimes not. When Klaus interrupted, Diego stopped, listened.

Klaus may have let Allison paint his fingernails, but he was also the one who stood up to Dad the most after Five left.

He wasn't particularly good at arguing, and his points didn't make sense, but his temper rivaled Diego's and his self-control was lacking. It was not unusual for Klaus to limp out of Dad's office with a puffy, tear-stained face, and a stubborn expression that could have matched Five's.

*

OKAY. SO. I HAVE SOME OPINIONS TM ABOUT KLAUS AS A SEX WORKER.

Or rather, I have Opinions TM about how sex work in general is portrayed in fics. Not just TUA. But... fics. In general.

So... Full disclosure. I know a lot of sex workers. Like. A lot. Like, a good proportion of my RL friends back in my home country are full-service-sex-workers. IDK, I'm in the kink scene, met a few there. Was in a poly relationship and one of my metamours was a sex worker. My best friend in Australia is a sex worker and when I go to her birthday parties, I meet loadddds of them. I know a lot of them. I used to hang with my best friend several times a week. I don't have the experiences of a SWer but.... I know one or two things that I don't think that fic really captures... And it's that Sex Workers are pretty normal people.

So. Basically. I come from a place where I view Sex Work relatively positively, and like many other jobs in that there are good days and bad days.

Yes, there are a lot of survival sex workers. That's a wholeeee other kettle of fish, and it's heartbreaking and emotional, and just so fucked up. A lot of sex workers that I have met started it from the necessity that... well. It was necessary. Some were homeless. Some were almost homeless. And then some... One girl talks about how she turned 18 and walked into a brothel that day because that's all she'd ever wanted to do.

There are also some who make absolute bank.But most of them? Normal people. They might have slightly nicer bags or shoes, but they're not rolling around in Burberry and Bordelle.

Sometimes she'd cancel dinner at the last minute for a last minute booking because she needed to make rent that week. Sometimes, she'd be like "So I'm free earlier! Wanna come over for wine and cheese?"

AnYwAy.... I got a bee in my bonnet and was all "...I wanna write Klaus as a normal sex worker!!"

It's not a stretch to imagine that Klaus has done survival sex work. He's heavily implied it in the show too. But I had this idea that maybe... there were moments in his life... where his life was a little more like the SWers I knew...

And then.... I had the prompt of "Eyes up now. Look at me." from wayyyyy back when.

And... The plan is/was/is/was/idk anymore/is to have Diego going to see a sex worker about a particular kink he has.... And being ashamed of that kink. And encountering an ad that he thinks might be a good fit. And showing up and... oh! It's Klaus!! Oh.....

And Klaus is like ".....well, you're here. I want my money, we may as well do this ;)"

SNIP SNOP SNAPPITY BOP Diego exhaled slowly and before his nerves could any further slow him down, he knocked sharply at the apartments door. It was a modest place in a normal part of the city. The paint was fresh on the walls, and it was clean for inner-city. Nothing crazy fancy, but definitely a few steps above his boiler room.

"It's open!" A voice came from inside the apartment and Diego hesitantly pushed inside.

It was nice, if a little cluttered. Definitely not the terrifying sex dungeon a part of him had expected. There were dream catchers hanging in a few spots, and wind chimes beside the door that lead out to a small balcony. There were some plants on the balcony and Diego squinted; those herbs were certainly not for the kitchen.

There was an enormous rug under a coffee table, and two well-used couches sat facing each other.

And fairy lights. There were a lot of fairy lights.

"Hello darling," a very familiar voice said as someone exited the kitchen to the left.

Klaus pulled up short, eyes wide.

Diego was frozen in place.

"Diego," Klaus said, the first to recover. "Lovely to see you, all that jazz, et cetera, et cetera, but you need to leave. I'm expecting someone any moment now," Klaus said, putting his hands on Diego's shoulders and manhandling him towards the door.

"Uh, yeah, about that," Diego said awkwardly, not letting himself be shoved any further.

Klaus stopped. "Ex-squeeze me?"

Diego said nothing.

"Oh come on," Klaus whined. He folded his arms across his chest, which Diego was only now registering was bare. He was wearing a short, silky kimono which barely grazed the tops of his thighs, his bare chest quite visible like this. "Dario?"

"Maybe?"

Klaus studied him through narrowed eyes. "Did you make all of this up, just to come and lecture me about how I shouldn't be doing this? Because if that's your objective, you can get the fuck out."

Diego's cheeks were flaming. His jaw was hurting from how tightly he was clenching it.

"Ugh!" Klaus said, throwing his arms in the air. "I'm going to make some tea. Just… Sit down."

Diego did so awkwardly. He looked around the room again, trying to note things just to distract himself. There was eclectic art on the walls, and now that Diego knew this was Klaus' place, he was not at all surprised at the decor.

Off of the small living space were three doors. One for the kitchen, one where he could see a low-lit room with a bed in it, and the third that he assumed was a bathroom. 

#meme #spikey writes #kliego

[kitten-keith]

Private Moments

Two posts in a day? Yeah cause while I was fighting with my internet I finally got the chance to sort of proof read this one. Started it in like... March? Last year. was more of a headcanon free form thing that got unintentionally longer and then longer still and then I forgot about it for months, popped in on it a few times, forgot some more and then finally wrote the most ridiculous sappy ending ever like-- last month? two months ago? Idk.

Anyway. Enjoy.

Klance, roommates AU. Lots of smut to make up for those last two I guess. Like this whole thing is born from the concept of Keith trying to find a comfortable way to masturbate.

---

Keith has had to share a room for as long as he can remember. The orphan home was crowded, schools gave you dorm mates. 

When he graduated he couldn’t afford to live on his own and between sharing a studio with Shiro and moving into a two bedroom with Hunk and Lance-- See, Hunk had a fancy catering job that helped him pay a larger share of the rent so he got the room to himself leaving Lance and Keith with twin beds on opposite sides of the second bedroom. It made finding alone time difficult.

Keith is tired of waiting for the dead of night when his roommate has his sleep mask and headphones on, already in some manner of deep sleep, to finally touch himself under the covers.

He hates how hot it is and how he sweats into his sheets when it takes too long and he starts to get desperate. 

Lance is wearing those headphones so maybe he could have gotten away with a relaxed moan or two but he bites his lip hard instead. 

He can’t do that. What if Lance hears him, what if he pulls down his mask and looks over and in the shadows of their shared room he can see Keith’s fist moving. 

He has to restrain himself. He constantly... constantly... has to restrain himself. 

And he is so god damn tired of it.

He thinks of Lance’s eyes on him once and cums faster than he’d thought he would and he wasn’t ready with his designated cum rag so it gets on the sheets and he spends the night terrified that Lance can smell it. Terrified that he’s going to nod off before it’s socially acceptable for him to be up and doing laundry and that Lance will get up first and see— 

He gets hard again, thinking about Lance’s face and the potential smirk that would grace his lips once he realized what Keith was doing in their room at night. 

The resulting stress of this causes him to consider Lance for the following days. 

The next time his body is so damn desperate for release in their room he thinks of him. He has to struggle not to come undone thinking about Lance’s hands and his mouth and those eyes watching him in interest...

He fucked up.

This was a mistake. 

Now when he looks at Lance or when they hangout for their weekly roommate movie he feels himself wanting.

He can’t masturbate the way he wants to while sharing a room with Lance and Lance makes him want to so badly...! 

He takes to going out more, like he used to do in high school. Getting himself fucked in the backseat of cramped cars where he still can’t scream, still can’t be comfortable, still can’t be wholly satisfied—

And then Hunk finally says the magic words. 

“Hey Keith, Lance and I are going upstate for this big catering job I have this weekend, you want to come with?” 

Keith freezes with his hands on the dishes. He’ll have the apartment. Empty. For a little over two whole days. 

Keith feels his throat go dry and tries to clear it, “uh— sorry, I think I might be coming down with something, it would probably be better if you guys go on your own.”

Lance waltzes in, comments on how Keith is totally going to take advantage of the empty apartment and invite his mystery boyfriend over.

Keith rolls his eyes, he doesn’t have a boyfriend. He barely remembers the names of the strangers stretching him out and trying to get him to cum all over their seats while he day dreams about his roommate. But oh, he will take advantage of the weekend.

He immediately orders some toys offline, pays for express shipping because he’ll be damned if he misses his opportunity to go absolutely wild. 

Lance and Hunk leave Friday before he wakes up and Lance only barely makes his bed. 

And maybe it’s because of his ill begotten sort of crush or maybe it’s because Keith is a deprived mess but as he stands over Lance’s bed so blown away that he is actually alone, actually able to relax he just kind of...Collapses into it. 

The remnants of Lance’s scent alone help get him to full hardness and he grinds his hips into the bed, his dick trapped in his pajama bottoms but the whole thing is still so freeing. 

He’ll wash Lance’s sheets later just in case. He’ll thank him for it, they were due soon anyway...

When he cums his voice is raw and his throat is dry as he moans Lance’s name. 

It feels amazing. 

Lance makes him crazy.

He passes out for a few minutes, face down in Lance’s bed, hugging his pillow to his face, damp spot soaking from his pants into the sheets. 

Worth it. Worth it worth it worth it.... 

But he can finally do so much more. 

When he gets back up he gathers up his toys on shaky legs and moves into the living room. The cool air across his pants feels nice. It’s supposed to be disgusting, he’s sure, but it still feels nice because he doesn’t have to care about it. 

He imagines how much nicer it will be sprawled out across the cool leather couch in the light from the window fucking himself on his toys. 

He can get completely naked, he can moan and cry out all he wants. He can make himself go for hours.

It’s going to be phenomenal, he’s already hard again from the excitement of it. 

He strips right there, feeling lewd and on display and it just excites him more. He drops his clothes on the floor and slides onto the couch, he shivers at the cold but it doesn’t dissuade him at all. 

He’s got lubed up hands over his body quickly. His moans are wanton, his breath is shallow. When he stretches himself out enough for the smallest toy he pushes it inside himself and spreads his legs wide just for the sake of it. Just because he can and a part of him gains confidence in that. 

A part of him is sad. 

No one will ever see him this free. This open. 

Because he fucks strangers and doesn’t know how to make an effort for them to be anything but. Doesn’t want to. 

Because he wants Lance. 

Because Lance isn’t a stranger and he’s more than just his roommate. He just...

Well. No. He is just his roommate because he can’t be more. Because Lance is too good for him. Because his laugh is infectious and his heart is too big and he can do anything when he sets his mind to it— 

And everyone loves him. 

Everyone should love him. 

Lance could have anyone. 

Why would he want his shitty socially stunted sexually repressed dumbass roommate??

Not. Even. Remotely... the way Keith wants to be thinking. 

So he shoves his cleaner fingers into his mouth and thinks about what it might be like to suck Lance’s cock right here, out in the living room pinned against the couch. 

He turns on the vibrations for his little bullet friend and feels a bit overwhelmed for just a second before he lets himself enjoy it.

He rolls his hips so the toy inside him drags against his sweet spot and he keens, voice caught with his tongue against his fingers. 

He still manages a sound like his name, because he wants to say his name. Wants to scream it over and over as he wrecks himself. On some level he wants the world to know how wild he can get— with one specific man in mind… but on all other levels, he’ll remain repressed. 

And in this case, he’ll keep his voice sensible enough to be respectable of the neighbors. 

Still, he’ll keep thinking about Lance. Wanting Lance. Imagining Lance’s hands and Lance’s teeth and Lance’s skin. Lance’s broad shoulders and long legs and clear blue eyes. Lance’s voice in his ear and his breath on his neck and his lips on his—

Oh.

He wants to kiss Lance. Very badly. 

So badly he swirls his tongue around his fingers and moans because he may be free but it’s so much easier to pretend he’s about to be fucked by Lance when he’s at least about to be fucked by someone. 

But he’s alone. 

He’s alone and he has to settle because he won’t go out and find someone, they aren’t Lance.

Speaking of... Lance would be bigger.

He retrieves his fingers and slowly removes the smaller toy, he hadn’t even played with higher vibe settings but that was fine, he had time later. Now he wanted the dildo he’d bought. He’ll have to stretch himself a little more but that’s fine. Because he wants to imagine that it’s Lance. Lance who’s thighs he’s straddling rather than the couch. Lance’s dick pushing inside him, hot and pulsing and desperate for him the same way Keith is desperate. 

When he’s finally ready for the purple plastic toy he lays over the back of the couch, warm chest against cold leather as he eases himself down. His legs are spread wide and his dick is slowly dragged down against the couch. He imagines if his roommates ever knew about this they’d probably get new living room furniture, but Keith doesn’t care. He has time. He’ll clean everything up once he’s done and they’ll never know. 

He’ll know. And maybe whenever Lance sits right here he’ll think about it. Think about how he wants to be sitting in his lap. Thinks about how he wants to drag his nails through his hair and not scrape along the leather of th seat back 

Wants Lance’s cock instead of this pathetic little purple bobble.

But he settles, because at this point this is his life and he should just be happy he has the place to himself. 

He sinks to the hilt and whimpers because he isn’t used to it. Isn’t used to the size and the stretch and how it still falls just short of his expectations.

“La-anceee...!” He cries out to no one. His head drops against the couch and he rolls his hips the tiniest bit against the intrusion. 

It feels better. Not good enough. But better. He tries to lift himself up. One hand reaching behind him to steady the dildo and keep it from simply rising with him. The lube makes it easier but it’s a tough sell and he’s still so very aware of the fact it isn’t a real person’s dick. It isn’t Lance. 

Lance would.. would have his arms wrapped around him. Would kiss him all over, bury his face in his neck and make his whole body ache with need for him.

He starts to ease himself back down, dreaming of Lance’s nose bumping at his collar and he starts to melt into the feeling, into the dream. 

He finds a rhythm and it feels good. His body thinks so anyway, with the way the heat builds in his belly. 

He flops onto his back against the armrest, works the toy into himself a little faster. Starts to jerk himself off in time with the thrusts but he’s sloppy and uncoordinated and it doesn’t matter too much if it’s still gonna make him cum.

His mind wanders to a long forgotten memory. Of one of the few times Keith had agreed to hang out with his future roommates back when they’d been high school classmates sneaking into bars that didn’t card. 

Keith had agreed because he was in the mood to drink. Lance, who at the time couldn’t stand Keith, had agreed because he had a date and that meant Hunk had company when he inevitably left him behind. 

The night was primarily a foggy blur in Keith’s mind but now, fucking himself over the armrest of his couch and thinking about Lance—

He remembered Lance’s date. 

He remembered how she couldn’t keep her hands off him and how they’d nearly immediately found a corner to make out. 

Keith hadn’t watched. Hadn’t cared. Drank away his anger over Iverson’s patented daily bullshit and tried to make small talk with Hunk who smiled a lot and was too nice for his own good. 

But occasionally Keith would scan the crowd and see. See how Lance had made that girl putty in his hands. How she leaned back over the edge of the booth they’d found for their supposed privacy and how her mouth hung open to moan or cry, with his lips on her jaw and his hands around her waist and under her skirt.

How Lance just... made her into this simpering mess. 

And at the time, Keith had simply rolled his eyes. Moved on.

But now here he was. Practically the image of that nameless girl and all from the mere thought of Lance. 

How had he been so blind for so long? 

Was it better that way? 

He grasped at the foggy edges of that memory and placed himself directly in her position. Nestled tightly against Lance’s body while he kissed and nipped and sucked on his throat, bare as he stretched further back, giving him all the room he needed as he fucked himself on his dildo and pretended his own hand was Lance’s, smearing precum all over his cock head. 

“Yes...” he breathed out softly. “Yes... Lance...!” 

There really was something about just being able to moan his name like that. So invigorating. 

He drives his hips down hard, the toy accidentally hitting his prostate. It makes his next cry of Lance’s name much louder than he’d planned. Louder, and desperate as his voice cracks and he sees stars. 

God help him, he hasn’t wanted anything more in his life and he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to face Lance again. 

He’s aching, tossing himself front first over the back of the couch again to better his leverage as he keeps driving himself to that edge, Lance’s name a whispered mantra as he squeezes his eyes shut tight against what he’s feeling.

“I can’t take this anymore.” 

Warm arms wrap around Keith and pull, his back against a firm chest. Keith nearly screams but it dies in his throat when he finds he knows exactly who’s touching him. 

“G-god—! You’re— you’re not supposed to be here!” Keith pants as a hand grips his dick. 

Lance’s mouth finds Keith’s neck and the pleasure Keith feels is immeasurable, his tongue massaging his pulse and making Keith cry out. 

“You’ve been here moaning my name so long, I’ve gotta give you a reason for it Keithy...” 

Fuck. What was happening. Lance’s hand was so smooth and his teeth grazed at his shoulder and good god the dildo was being pushed deeper inside him, harder and faster than Keith’s original rhythm.

“Lance...! Lance!”

“You’ve been here fucking yourself to the thought of me... thought no one would hear you? Thought you could get away? Never telling me how badly you want me?” He drags Keith back far enough that his ass is in his lap now. Lance is wearing sweat pants that aren’t doing a damn thing to hide his hard on and Keith loves the feel of it. 

“Can’t believe you. Sprawled out naked on our couch with a bunch of toys... if you wanted my cock so much you could have just asked...”

Keith is going to faint.

“Ask me for it.” 

Keith is going to fucking faint, how is Lance here? How is Lance here and touching him like this— 

“Ask me to fuck you, Keith.” 

The toy is tugged out of him with no warning, leaving him open and empty and wanting. Lance drops it on the ground without a thought, grinding his hips up to push his point home to Keith. 

“Beg for my dick.”

Keith rolls his hips back but can’t find his words, still so lost, still so confused.

“Don’t you want me to? Don’t you want my big hard cock inside you? Splitting you open? Sounded like you did. Sounded like you were desperate for me. Come on beautiful...” 

Keith can only meekly whimper his name, “L...Lance...!”

“Cause man do I want to fuck you... everyday you come home from the gym wearing those nice tight leggings... fuck, it’s so hard not to touch you... and now you’re all open and pliant and calling my name... how am I supposed to not take you?” 

Keith can feel his cock rubbing over his entrance through the fabric and his eyes roll back at the very idea that Lance might actually... 

“R-really...? You want...me..?”

Lance growls against his neck, “Of course I do. Now say it before I cum in my pants, you’re too damn cute.” 

He rolls his hips and the sensation makes Keith keen again before going mostly limp in the arms, raising his ass a little more and giving a little shake to entice the other boy. 

“I want you... I want you so bad Lance... please fuck me...?” 

Lance’s teeth go for his neck and the mix of pleasure and pain has Keith seizing up, a loud moan breaking from his lips and covering the sound of Lance yanking his sweats down one handed.

“You can do better than that. But this once I’ll take it.” 

Keith doesn’t know where he finds the lube because one of Lance’s hands remains on his collar the entire time, but soon the damp head of his cock is sliding into him and Keith might see god. 

The toy wasn’t too far off Lance’s size actually, but the pleasure Lance brought him by comparison was insurmountable. 

“Do you like that...? Do you like how my cock feels, Keith?” Lance grunts against his shoulder as he slowly bottoms out. 

It takes Keith a moment to realize his moans have gone silent, lips dropping open but unable to wield the strength for sound as the feel of Lance completely enveloped him. Lance’s arms around him, his chest to his back, his dick fully seated, like being closer was impossible.

He croaks around his dry throat before offering Lance a very clear and eager: yes. 

Lance chuckles. 

“So cute... I’m going to wreck you Keithykins. Make you come back for me over and over...”

Over and over...

Keith could do that. Keith could absolutely go back to Lance over and over to feel this good. 

“Are you ready?” Lance asks, softer than before. 

But Keith is so ready he doesn’t even answer, simply pulls his hips back and slams back into Lance, rubbing that dick inside him in ways he’d only dreamed of. 

“Sh-shit!”

At Lance’s response Keith has to go again. 

Has to slam back harder, faster, make it worth it to Lance in the long run too, to make him come back to him again and again. 

The sound of his ass against Lance’s waist shouldn’t sound so good to him but coupled with Lance panting and his fingers twitching at his waist as he attempts to get a grasp on Keith to regain control— well it all feels like heaven to him. 

“Fuck! Keith. Keith. C’mere.” Suddenly Keith is pulled away from the couch and onto his back, Lance moves to lay on the couch beneath him, arms wrapped tightly around his torso as he starts his own rhythm, thrusting his hips up into Keith. He’s getting deeper now, and the angle seems to work for his speed too. It’s nearly punishing but Keith is living for it. 

Then Lance reaches up with one hand, cupping Keith’s chin tightly and turning him to face him. 

It nearly stops his heart.

Their lips brush lightly at first. A hint of static between them as it seems to dawn on them, how their relationship is changing with every second. How there’s no turning back from this. Lance’s hips don’t falter though. His eyes are calm, confident, positive that this is right. 

Keith can’t disagree. His hands find Lance’s thighs and give him a reassuring squeeze as he tries to stare back at him in a way he hopes exudes that same kind of sense of calm, lips parting in invitation but hiding his moans. 

Lance doesn’t mind too much, because he clearly wanted the invitation. 

When Lance thrusts up into him at the exact moment his tongue slides into his mouth, Keith considers he might actually have died. 

Died and entered the world where everything is rosy and Lance doesn’t ever let him go. Where these sensations never end and they can stay joined like this always.

Lance moans into the kiss and Keith can’t help but return those sounds in earnest. 

He can’t imagine how he ever went a moment without it in the past. Without this. Without Lance and the way his hands dig into his hips and how he nips at his lips still trying to catch his breath.

“So good Keith... you feel so good. Why weren’t we doing this before...?” Lance moans in his ear, one hand sliding over Keith’s chest to tease a nipple as the other delves south to stroke him in time with their movements. 

Keith shakes his head, unsure he can form words as well as Lance can. 

“I don’t know... I don’t know. We should have. We should have been— like this— like this from the sta—aa—art...! Lance...!”

It’s not long before Lance is pulling out, his cum all over Keith’s thighs and the seat of the couch. Keith’s cum already drenching his hand though Lance hadn’t ceased his strokes, causing Keith to writhe on-top of him through his orgasm. 

Finally, Lance releases him and nuzzles his face into the crook of his neck, letting them both simply lay there, basking in their joint mess, the smell of sex, the constant rising and falling of their chests. 

Sated and content and brains reminiscent of puddles of goo. 

Before they manage to remember to breathe again something short circuits In Keith’s brain and he laughs. He doesn’t have the air to laugh deeply but the sound is apparently enough for Lance to join him, arms coming back around him tightly as they both shake, voices raspy but filled with the same unbridled mirth. 

They end with a long wheeze from Lance, possibly due to the added stress of Keith’s weight. 

It’s silent again. 

Comfortable. 

“You really should have told me sooner...” Lance mumbles though, typical as the one used to breaking the silence. 

Keith turns his head, damp bangs against Lance’s neck. 

“You could have told me too...” he says through a smile that can’t leave his cheeks.

Lance chuckles again, “Point taken.” 

—-

(Bonus)

“...why are you even here? What about Hunk?” 

Keith can feel Lance’s face get warm beside his own cheek. 

He quirks a brow though he isn’t too sure Lance can see it.

“Uhhh... sooo... about that... I hid in Hunks room to try and sneak a peek at your secret boyfriend.” 

Keith raises his head to look Lance in the face. 

“But I don’t...?” 

Lance looks away, “I mean I know that now! But. I just. I didn’t know that. Before. And uh...” 

Keith stares. 

Lance won’t look him in the eyes. 

“...you ditched Hunk because you were jealous of my non-existent secret boyfriend?” 

“I mean I DID tell Hunk I’d meet up with him later!”

“Were you uh… jealous?”

“No I wasn’t— I just wanted to like-- I guess… see what I was up against? Scope out the competition— dooooont look at me like that. Oh my god.” 

#klance #smutty klance #lemon #fuck tagging #ya'll already follow me there's like no way for anyone to find me anymore anyway #reblogs would be cool I guess #pining keith #slutty keith #kinda #also sap #so much sap at the end #smut and fluff #I mean the fluff came out of nowhere believe me I have questions

[purplesurveys]

647

Have you ever done a craft that you found on Pinterest? I’ve never gone on Pinterest for reasons other than looking for interior design ideas lmao, so no. I’m no good at crafts anyway so it’s not like looking at Pinterest will make me feel good or motivated. Do you get scrapbooking layout ideas from anywhere? I don’t do scrapbooking, but if I do start (and I’ve always wanted to), I’d definitely get some tips from the internet or from people I know who are artsy. What do you do to wipe off the dust from ordinary life? Drink. Are you content with mystery, or do you wish you knew everything? I wish I knew everything, no matter how bad the news may be. What do you do when someone irritates you on Facebook? Unfriend them, duh. I could still see them in real life anyway, but I can very much hate their presence online enough to unfriend/block them haha.

Are you judgmental? If I meet a person for the first time only after I’ve heard a couple of stuff about them, I might judge them for a bit yeah. Then I’ll brush it off first and see if they really are what I was told they’d be. Do you think your hair looks better natural or dyed? I’ve never had it dyed, so I wouldn’t know if it looks better. Do your parents disrespect you? My mom does; and she’s typically a disrespectful person. My dad’s pretty chill. Have you found that love covers over a multitude of sins? Sure. People just have to watch out and make sure love doesn’t reach such a point that it ends up becoming a cover-up for toxic behavior. What was the last Grand Opening you went to? Popeye’s HAHAHAHAHA. They opened their (second) first branch in the country around a year ago and we didn’t have classes that day, so we went. Do you have anything coming up tomorrow? No Monday classes for me, so the day would just consist of me doing schoolwork at home, or in a coffee shop, or whatever works for tomorrow. What's one thing that makes your stomach hurt? DAIRY. I’m having milk tea right now and it is a nightmare. But it tastes so good, so lactose town it is. Ever had a living nightmare? You mean the last 22 years of my life? Sure. Do you have a lot of haters? Idk, it’s possible but I don’t worry about that kinda stuff.

Do you think successful people always come with a pack of haters? Of course. People are alllllllllways envious. Do you have supernatural abilities? No. Do you kick yourself when you make mistakes? Do you say, "I wish I would have" a lot? Yeah I do this a lot. It drives my girlfriend nuts and she hates when I start on could have/should have rants, but it’s my thought process most days. Are you doing the most you can with your life? 'The most’ is probably pushing it. I know I can still do more like join contests, volunteer, be in more orgs, etc. but it doesn’t mean I’m unhappy where I am and with what I’ve done. I can still call myself satisfied, and I hope it means I’ve been doing something right. Do you let people walk on you? No. At least I don’t think so. Are you ok? Thanks for asking :’) I could be better, but at least I’m functioning and that’s better than being a vegetable in bed all day. Do you have a friend you miss right now? Yeah, I always miss Angela. Do you ever write snail mail to your friends? We don’t do that anymore dude. Do you make your life look better than it is on Facebook? Yeah. There’s like this quiet mutual understanding among people (at least in my generation) that Facebook is for impressing your relatives and showing how good of a life you have, and Twitter is where you air out your sadness and rants and all the mess in your personal life haha. Do you feel God's presence regularly? There is no presence to be felt. Do you experience chronic pain? Nope. Do you believe God loves you and is rooting for you? Don’t need anyone else other than my friends and myself to do both of those for me. Have you ever dreamt that you were falling? I’ve never dreamt it but I’d sometimes get that sensation when I would almost fall asleep. What would your dream career be? Lawyer. If I wasn’t such a fucking crybaby in arguments I think I’d survive law school just fine HAHA. Are you a daydreamer? Sure. Do you daydream so much that you wonder if there's anyone who doesn't?  Not really. I just daydream when I’m bored. Do you ever just sit and daydream for awhile?  ^ Again, only when I’m bored. Is the snow falling where you are right now? Snow has never fallen in the Philippines. What is your favorite part of nature? Mountains, and the spectacular views they can give. Do you wish you could be a world traveler? Sure. Do you wish you could live in another city for a year? I wish I could migrate to another country – that’s how much I want to get out of here. What city would you like to visit? I’m eyeing Bangkok for my next trip abroad if that’s ever going to happen :) What has been your favorite city that you've visited? Locally, Vigan or Sagada. Abroad... probably Bali. If you had kids, would you take them to Disney World? I’m definitely going to be that parent who takes my kids every year and lets them wear whatever costume they’d want. Have you ever stood in line to get a Disney character's autograph? No. Do you own a birthday crown? I had a tiara for my 7th birthday party, but I’m not sure if my mom was able to keep it. How long does it usually take your hair to dry? Do you dry it naturally or blow-dry it? I have it dry naturally because I get bored blow-drying it. It usually takes an hour or two. Do you straighten your hair? No. I have bad experiences with that because as a kid/teenager, my mom would force me to have my hair rebonded even if I never wanted to have it done to my hair; so these days, when someone asks if I prefer my hair to be straightened, I shudder and say no. Do you sleep with a teddy bear? No and I never did. I was never into stuffed toys. Would you consider yourself a free spirit? To an extent, I guess. I do enjoy being independent and trying out new things, but I always want people to be with me along the way. If I’m gonna travel the world, I need a travel buddy. If I’m gonna go hiking in Sagada, I’d feel better having a companion. If I’m gonna try worms or bugs for the first time, it’s always nicer having someone who’s just as daring when it comes to food. I’m basically a free spirit who never wants to feel lonely, haha. Do you need to clean out your closet? I need to refold some of my clothes, but otherwise I know where everything is. Do you watch YouTube videos regularly? Yeah, I watch at least one video a day. What's your favorite coffee shop? Starbucks will always be my first love for their ambience, but Coffee Bean is pretty great too. Is your Pinterest page cluttered? It’s not used at all. Do you want to start a collection? Yes, I always said I would start collecting all sorts of WWF/E memorabilia once I’m able to afford having a steadily-growing collection. My future house is definitely gonna have its own ~man cave~ except it’ll be for wrestling merch, and it’ll have its own TV and sound system too for when I want to hide from the world and just find solace in wrestling. Are you a role model? Would you consider yourself a good example? I’ve had people say they look up to me for certain traits, but this isn’t something I actively try to become. I have bad habits and vices of my own, so I definitely don’t endorse myself as a role model. But if I can help people in other aspects, then that’s more than alright with me. Are you a leader or a follower? Follower. I like being a leader whenever I can, but there’s too much pressure in being the leader all the time. Who's your favorite person? My girlfriend, durrr. Who have been your favorite American Idol contestants? Siobhan Magnus, Adam Lambert, and Pia Toscano. Did you used to name your Barbies? No. I never liked playing with Barbies either. I think I only ever got one Barbie doll as a present, and it’s because I always preferred playing with toys for boys given that I grew up with mostly male cousins. What unnatural hair color looks best on you?  I’m not sure. I’ve wanted to dye my hair either red or green, though. Is your life boring? No. It’s certainly picked up in the last few months. Do you usually feel better around people or alone? I do great for both situations. It depends on what I need at a particular time. Is there a broken relationship in your life that you want to fix? There’s a broken relationship, but I have no desire to fix it. Do you ever think about Heaven? A part of me finds a level of solace in the idea of getting reunited with lost loved ones when I die, but I mostly think there’s no afterlife. Are you ready for Heaven yet? Are you afraid of where you're going to go? No. I’d like to think I’ll end up somewhere in the universe, and it’s enough to calm me down. Do you have a tree outside your window? Yes, but it’s dark and we have curtains so I can barely see the trees. Do you feel better now than you did last night? I wouldn’t say that, even though I’m feeling okay tonight. I was with Gabie last night, which automatically makes last night better. Is your sleep schedule messed up? It’s still a little bit distorted, yeah. But I’m not too worried about it because at least all my classes this sem start at 10 AM, which means I get to sleep in unlike last sem when I had 7 AM/8:30 AM classes :) Does your body have any problems with it? It gets tired during the day because I’d usually take naps in the afternoon, but it doesn’t affect me too badly. Are you doing ok spiritually? I don’t think about that aspect. Have you taken any huge risks lately? I had a long, blunt talk with Gab last night and it involved topics regarding our relationship that have long been denied and shelved finally acknowledged and let out in the open; and I think that in itself is a big step to take. Silence or songs? I can prefer either depending on my mood. Tea or coffee? Coffee. Books or movies? 10 year old me would say books. Today me would say movies. Do you ever watch your favorite movies from when you were a kid? Yes. I do a Toy Story rewatch at least once a year. ^If you were going to do that, what would you watch? Mostly Disney movies like Toy Story, Finding Nemo, The Game Plan, etc. Do you ignore rude people or do you call them out? Call them out. Do you have trouble staying organized? Yeah, but then again I’m messy-organized so even though I find it hard to maintain being organized, I still end up remember where everything is placed (most of the time). What has been your most favorite adventure? Walking around Bali and my family not knowing where the hell we were or where we were headed. What has been your greatest mistake? I hate questions like this. Are you happy with your life right now? I’m like 75% happy with it, which I’d say is a decently healthy amount. Do you take anything to make your feel better? No. Are your parents still together? Yes. What color socks do you have on? Currently barefoot. Are you under a blanket right now? Nope. It’d be nice to be that right now, though. Are you hopeful? Always.

#survey #surveys

[princessxbulla]

I’m glad we as an internet society as a whole are moving away from “cringe culture,” or at least the kind that gives people severe anxiety over their own interests and modes of self expression. I say moving away from because boy do I still see some pretty piss poor attitudes that have been around for years pop up in fandom communities. 

I’ll be honest, compared to most people I am relatively new to RP. Certainly to the dragon ball RP fandom at least. However, I have the benefit of being a long time fic writer and an actual legit tax paying adult. So I already have years of writing experience and a thick skin to cope with things. Though I admit I also have severe generalized anxiety disorder, so I am still super shy and will sometimes overthink things, but over all I know how to act.

Yet, I know not every new role player has that advantage. A lot of people are young to late teens with not much writing experience outside of ELA class, and barely any, for lack of a better term, social media and fandom smarts to know certain common etiquette. and I really don’t know the best way to transition to my main point, so I’m just going to come and say it;

I really wish people would be nicer to new community members? Like, even people who may not have a solid grasp of character/prose? Because while I don’t know about all of you, I was a teenager once. And a bunch of grown ass adults making fun of me and sending hate and generally acting super elitist and snobby would absolute destroy my desire and motivation to ever improve. 

And believe me, I get the desire to have a clean dash and a good time coming up with intricate well crafted stories, but,,,maybe don’t discourage others from trying to learn as well? Put yourself back into the shoes of being a 15 year old trying to make friends and roleplay your favorite character? Just. Be nice? Because negative, haughty attitudes make everyone miserable. And there’s no reason for it. Being nice to a kid isn’t going to ruin ur fandom cred, or somehow make you less of a good writer. Instead, you’ll be encouraging someone to learn and develop a hobby that makes them happy. Unless it somehow makes you happy to turn other peoples hobbies into a chore? 

Idk man. It really costs $0 to be a decent person and not make kids ashamed of themselves for not being able to write like Shakespeare at 16. 

Also disclaimer: This really is just a mind dump. I promise this isn’t directed at anyone lmao, I just don’t like seeing young people discouraged from developing a passion because someone 10 years older than them doesn’t like to remember that they too were a “cringy” teen once. And it’s not just in the roleplay community, that’s for sure. This can applied word for word to art as well.

#ooc #mun rant #just thinkin about stuff #like I'm in my 20s and I can take it but please don't make young people feel like shit #THIS WASN'T SPARKED BY ANYTHING ON MY DASH BY THE WAY #more just thinking about past experiences on the internet

[xflower-childx]

Taking a moment to appreciate the good.

I look back at when I took my self care weekend, I specifically scheduled myself off on Saturday so I could sleep in, give myself an easy wakeup and go to the cool Hemp place I found a Groupon for. I then went to get coffee from work and stopped at boss lady's house to chit chat and smoke before heading home to change and going to the massage I was gifted from BL. The next day Lex and I drove to Virgina with plans to drive the Blue ridge back home. It turned into a chill chaotic trip as the blue ridge was closed for snow but we still drove it 😅. It was fantastic though and I loved every moment. I loved the whole weekend honestly as I allowed myself to realize that don't ever give myself physical self care in a sense of massages, I will give myself mental breaks, I may wait too long sometimes, but I've learned and continue to learn the signs and triggers for my mental health, but fuck I'm terrible with my physical. I know that. I've conquered my eating disorder pretty damn well though. I'm proud of that. I'm proud of my little stomach I have, no I'm not anywhere near what I used to be but I know that used to have a mindset that would have been horrified by how I look, but nahh, I'm happy and comfortable and I eat what I want, aside from meat. Never meat.

But yeah that weekend I think about how it must have been to prepare me for grandma's death and the depressive episode that happened after. There has been a lot of stress recently and I get that, I may have just let it pile up a bit too much in my head and it really brought me down and brought me to a bit of a halt. Thankfully I've gotten a lot better with communicating when I'm not feeling the greatest so my friends were pretty supportive and my BL gave me a bit of a break on a particularly rough day and even when I fucked up that cake order 🤦‍♀️. I also must add on that my room flooded twice which was a cherry on top. I pretty much came to accept that the week just sucked.

Which led me to doing a protection/healing spell on Sunday night to release bad energy and just start off clean and fresh on Monday. I also meditated and cried during it from seeing Grandma P whom I always knew was a spirit guide of mine. She held my hands and sent me so much freaking love that tears started rolling. It really was beautiful and I appreciated it so much.

Waking up on Monday I decided it would be a good day to lead into a good week, I even kept that mindset after the head baker texted me that our walk in froze over losing hundreds of dollars worth of product and putting us way behind for the day. Everyone was pretty tense as a result but I just kept on smiling, trying to keep the mood light throughout all the chaos in the shop. The same with Tuesday, I dressed a bit nicer and kept the smile on, it wasn't fake or anything, I just wanted to keep some positive attitude for everyone to go off of.

It's Wednesday now, my day off, I sorta slept in as it is a bit rough with kids living above me, but I got lots of alien pup cuddles. I've been diving more into doggo searching and may even have a bite with a doggo (Lol, punny) so I'm pretty excited about that. Her name is currently Marsha so I would probably do a name change, I still need to meet her and she needs to go through evaluation first.

R had stirred the pot with me getting another pup, he didn't push it or anything, he just mentioned it and it motivated me to move in on it more. I had reached out to him after a tarot reading in attempt to befriend him again but it appears he may have ghosted me or something, idk. I'm kinda over it at this point and don't have an interest in trying anymore. I really do wish to be his friend at least and the thought of that makes me happy but like... 🤷‍♀️ I don't enjoy being ghosted. If a homie wanted to maybe make an attempt of not waiting a month to respond than maybe we could get somewhere but geeze, by the time I get a text back I will be married with a farm full of foster kids and animals in New Zealand or something.

Anywho back to the now, I've been thinking on what's next and what to look for and do, and I'm not sure yet, I know I want to travel and see what is around me more and if that means getting a van or trailer than I know that means staying put here for another year or so because of getting that up and running and being financially set for that. Now I do have a wonderfully stable job for that and I do expect a raise to come with the second location opening in a few weeks. I just need to figure out budgeting with all that though to figure out how I want to go about that.

I was talking to a few different friends though with how I wanted the next few years to look and it's made me think a lot on that, it's funny because in my younger years I always looked forward to being 25, it was in my head, a golden year. I expected to have a cool ass job, a partner with our own house, maybe married with a kid. I laugh at that now because I only have the cool job and a doggo kid, 2 by 25, and maybe even a partner? I would love that, someone to travel with for a few years as we get to know each other and the world we live in, make a few mistakes but help each other grow through them and then find a place to officially settle for the time being as we figure out a family and fostering all the kiddos and animals that need to feel all the love we have to give. I am manifesting this and it will be beautiful, it won't be easy but the most beautiful and amazing masterpieces never are and I'm too stubborn to give up on anything 😂

So to close this bitch out I'm happy camper who has to fight her depression sometimes but ay, I can't be all perfect ya know? I'm trying my hardest, and I'm proud of all my accomplishments and the dedication I've put into being where I am.

I also want to note that I feel a change in the wind coming, something good and big. Something exciting? I dunno but I feel it and I'm ready for it 😊🌻

#my writing #feb 3 2021 #feb 2021 #appreciate the good

[gawaine]

by popular demand: welcome to the saga of Fuckboy Supreme

*sigh* aka i’m dumb, what’s new

i’m going to try and keep this short bc ffs

Fuckboy Supreme (FS for short). Mr Popular of my cohort. hangs out at the back w/ the rest of the rugby boys. blonde, blue eyed... not my type.

i’d identified him as the FS of the year early on and Blonde Pop and I established that he, and my other friend Steffan, were probably the two best looking single guys in our course (not saying much). I heard that he was from money and was clearly trying to hide it (E much?) and I saw a lot of similarities. he was interesting to watch every now and then but I didn’t think we’d ever really cross paths.

except one day, we end up thrown together in clin. skills, alongside his best friend + housemate (Human Shield, for future reference. he becomes important later) and we kind of chat and lo and behold, he’s actually a pretty chill guy? nice enough to talk to. to the point where I tell my friends this (we all sit together down at the front) and I shock both FS and HS when I see them around and say hi (after HS and I spend a hospital shift together on NICU). more importantly, in that clin. skills session, me and HS are meant to “watch [FS] closely” to give feedback and I notice that this dude’s legs are absolutely insane, sculpted out of effing marble, and that same day, he’s happy to whip off his shirt (we’re doing resp. exams) and keep it off as he talks to someone. and I see he has a scar on his shoulder and ofc bc ME I’m like “omg sO PRETTY AND CLEAN” and he lets me basically play around with his weird af shoulder (old injury, post-surgery) as he chats to one of our tutors and I’m chatting to another tutor about the scarring. and he smells clean and he’s not super sculpted, as one would expect, but he’s lean in a natural, soft kinda way and i’m like okay, cool. and we chat a little and he’s nice about me not having a science background and w/e.

weeks go by, we say hi every now and then. then I slowly become obsessed with his legs.

it’s a slow process but the boy keeps walking into lectures, right by my seat to get to his, and he wears shorts and seriously... l e g s. but I’m wary of this so I’m happy to objectify him and for a time it works; idgaf if he notices (he doesn’t) and my friends find it hilarious, but I tell them I’m not interested in anything above the neck (or really, anything that isn’t thighs down) bc happy to stare and not know a thing about his personality thank you very much.

... I go out of my way to stand by that. and then, in a particularly shitty lecture one day, as I’m contemplating trying a psych shift, I realise the only person I know of who’s done what I’m interested in is... FS.

I decide fuck it, I’ll just message and ask - no being polite or friendly, straight to the point bc it’s work and I’m not there to open a door (even though, and I tell the girls this, by opening up messaging I feel like I am). this causes a non-stop 45min FB chat - I mean non-stop - and he’s hilarious. super hilarious. he’s also flirting w/ me and whilst I know this is all bc he’s FS (and I tell him so - he finds it v. funny), it’s a fun convo and it’s harmless and I reckon he’s just playing up bc we’re both bored.

... things escalate quickly.

we message back and forth a lot - he’s very quick and sharp, so he keeps up w/ me easily, but I’m treating him as I would anyone else. this lasts a while, but he keeps flirting and I keep telling him he’s a moron and eventually say if he keeps it up I’m just going to treat him like a psych experiment.

... I assume him continuing means he knows i’m being serious.

he becomes my psych experiment. lots of things being studied, including E and stuff from my dissertation etc etc and although at this point I know we’re embroiled in a weird power struggle, I stop giving a fucks because hey, he’s an experiment to me and i’m an unofficial therapist for him, right? win win. i don’t NEED to give a fuck about how it comes across.

2 weeks later, i’m sitting in the library while he’s at home, and we end up arguing over FB. he starts off polite but it quickly becomes i’m being intrusive, messaging him a lot, etc; why can’t I treat him like Aussie Essex (Blonde Pop’s housemate and my friend, as well as FS’) aka a normal friend and I’m like “lol but we’re not friends”, which we’ve both acknowledged before, but my stance is: I know things about him bc I asked specific things bc psychoanalysis. He doesn’t know anything about me. Friendship is mutual, that isn’t. basically I’m like “look, i’m sorry, have a nice life” in nicer words (bc I’m lost bc in my mind - I TOLD him he was a psych experiment??) and he’s all “what so you’re going to ignore me forever now haha” in not so many words and I’m like ???, but when he doesn’t respond, i’m like cool, we’re dead to each other, fine.

the girls notice how fucking ICE COLD we are w/ each other when we’re in the common room, though we wouldn’t normally talk, and Trout (not indicative of her face; a girl we both know, a member of the School - aka the group of girls who worship FS and his friends in my year, they have literally sat at FS’ feet before - who at this point, has been watching me and FS for a while) gets smug. bear in mind, after that first FB chat, I was throwing an event as co-president of the trauma society and was making the rounds around the common room to see who was coming and, after some initial back and forth, I commanded FS to come and he was like “fuck OKAY. okay? shit yes, okay” (he didn’t come and was meant to help me get numbers, but he fucked that too. idk if it was deliberate. it was a success anyway tho so w/e) and Trout was all ?!?!?! because she watches FS like a hawk and so he and I talking clearly confused her

but then a few days later he sees me sitting alone in lectures where I don’t usually sit and he’s like “morning Hannah” and, too shocked to do anything else, I auto-reply “morning [FS]” and just like that we’re okay again?

after the fight, I message him once - a silly message in a lecture by a 1st world Barbie - to test his reaction to the lecture more than anything else, but he doesn’t reply, which I suspected, but after that... no FB. I refuse to break that rule.

BUT I do grab him a couple of times when he walks by my seat in the break; I apologise face-to-face after he says hi and he apologises for the misunderstanding regarding the argument (he may have said hi after that?? idk) and he basically demands we’re friends and I’m like yeah whatever sure pal

but then he walks in one day wearing a beanie just like E’s and I. i just. it becomes a thing. i have a really cute bobble hat I wear every day bc our lecture theatre is colder than the Arctic fucking circle and so as I joke about him competing, I’m really freaking out bc that’s when I realise just how MUCH he reminds me of E. this hat becomes a Thing. I grab it one time and threaten to keep it hostage with Blonde Pop in front of all of his friends and they look at me like I’m insane, confused, lost at how I, a Front Row Person, dares to challenge FS. I’m literally in high school again.

aware of that, I die it down... and long story short, somehow, FS starts saying hi more and more in the morning and we have these mini chats (once the hat thing dies down), but it’s really tiny.

then I fuck up my wrist.

it pisses me off bc he’s clearly curious but doesn’t ask and I’m like “further proof we’re not friends” to myself but by this point, so much little shit has happened that all of my friends know what’s going on (lbr they did anyway) and his School are aware of me too - but OH - so there was this med school ball thing and we both went and that’s when I got more E vibes and I was like “fuck this” bc the more I avoided it the more it was happening and he was avoiding me and so AFTER that I was like “fuck this” and planned on ignoring him but that just... didn’t happen (I’m omitting so much of the finer details).

so yeah, he’s annoying me about my wrist bc he’s eavesdropping when I talk to my friend about it, but... nothing? so I’m like w/e fuck this dude and by this point, as an accidental by product of me being pissed with him at the ball (and myself), I’m dealing with some other male Situations and it’s pissing me off 

bUT then exam week arrives and we have a really lovely chat before anatomy and he’s being all sweet and friendly and the School is confused and HS is confused (HS is perpetually confused when it comes to me and FS, which is odd, bc otherwise we’re pretty chill w/ each other) but at this point something doesn’t feel right bc I’m good w/ body language, right? communication, esp non-verbal, is my thing. and he’s being weird.

then I come home for the weekend to get my wrist seen to and Blonde Pop goes out with everyone else to celebrate exams being over (I leave with 2 of my other friends right after) and FS sees Blonde Pop, who he’s spoken to bc of me enough times now, and he asks where I am - and that’s weird bc we NEVER have spoken in a social setting so I’m like??

we get back; he stops before lectures and comments on my temporary cast (fracture clinic appointment tomorrow guys, prayer circle) and says something like “oh, well it’s good it’s completely immobilised” (30mins later i realise why this bothered me; he’s quoted me directly from when he was eavesdropping on me and my friend discussing the injury accidentally, and I’m like aHA I KNEW IT) and I make a flippant comment about yeah, but it’s not great for getting dressed in the morning and he’s like “oh, I’ll help you get dressed” and I look at him like wtf bc lol he’s such a moron but also ??? but then he sees Kelly and bolts, though he was laughing too and trying to justify that comment (badly) and for perspective, I tell Kelly and she immediately picks up my phone to see it and I’m like no, this just happened in person and she’s like what the actual fUCK bc that is not the level FS and I are in person so it’s not just me ok

and then later I see him sitting with Aussie Essex and when I go to speak to AE he’s like “hi??” and me, not hearing him but seeing him watching me, am all flippantly like “oh hey” and carry on but it throws me tf off bc we’ve had our one convo of the day inside the lecture theatre and this is getting weird and i’m immediately like ?? did he sit with Aussie Essex knowing I’d say hi? wtf?

then it’s the end of term pub quiz collecting money for charity (I’m using so much ‘then’, it’s disgusting and u can see i’m not in writer mode) and my gut tells me to avoid FS bc he’s leaving after lectures the next day but everyone is like wtf no come, it’ll be chill, so I do, and it’s fine, and he’s there and right in my line of vision but i’m like w/e w/e and we kinda say hi but it’s in passing and at this point, I’m on good terms with like... the majority of the guys in his little gang (he lives with 4 of them, so I’m polite to all of them on some level) and so when HS is introducing me to his gf, it’s fine... until he’s like “oh btw I forgot to tell you - this is [FS’] girl”

??????????????????

things escalate quickly. first FS sends me hearts, I flip him off, then he starts talking and I can’t hear so I go over and that’s when I get fucking ambushed by his housemate, who I only have spoken to once or so but know his gf but will hereby be known as Buttface... about how they’ve all (FS’ friends) given every girl on each row a percentage of how much they think that girl fancies FS. I’ve scored one of the highest - 73%, alongside another girl with a slight reputation (no judgement) who has been all over FS the majority of the night so far.

the more I defend myself, the more Buttface claims that’s proof of it being true (as a lit grad, do you know how much that logic offends me???) and FS only repeats that he wasn’t a part of the convo, it was only about him so not to blame him. but he listens smugly. things escalate. i’m ashamed to admit i’m so thrown off that i am not my best and as things continue to escalate, i feel too blindsided to do what I want to (though I do half-slap FS once bc I can’t fully slap him in a room full of our course w/o Drama, and though I go to spill a drink on him twice, everyone stops me) and it’s a mess and once it’s over, i’m raging and have to leave. a lot of people stay out though, so half of the lecture is too hungover the next day... so I don’t see FS and that week, we broke off for Xmas break. but before i left, I nudged HS and was like “wtf so you and your house talk about me a lot...” (literally aLL OF FS’ housemates are familiar w/ the topic) and HS is like “nah, I reckon he fancies YOU” and I know HS is a shit stirrer so it pisses me off more

Blonde Pop is raging for me. Broski is like “meh, men”, though Percival takes offence at the shitty logic; but Deej and Cap (who I travelled with) are like lol what this is a victory. in the power struggle, you’re winning. he doesn’t think we know about all of this; but you’re clearly important enough for all of his housemates to know your name. Lulu and Dragon Jock see me the next day; I make Lulu give me a hug bc I’m like “am I giving off hoe vibes??” and Lulu, who is soft and smiley and a cinnamon roll, is all “nO IT’S LAD CULTURE AND IT’S RUBBISH” and it’s very cute and defensive of me and Dragon Jock is just like “lol i’ll hit ‘em”. which is nice.

general consensus is to ignore the fuck outta him come going back in 2 weeks but?? idk if I can? it’s not that simple bc we have the rest of the course together and I know that he’ll act like everything’s fine and if i say why i’m pissed, Buttface will use that as ‘proof’ (rather than me being horrified at their audacity, I mean CHRIST ON A STICK) and if I don’t, it’s still proof... Broski says this won’t go away anytime soon bc of that reason but that isn’t satisfactory either

and like i clearly try to blend into the bg to avoid drama and now i’m like? why bother?? when we all went for takeout in our last night in Swans before heading home, Cap was like “i find it hilarious how you have so much drama around you” and when I was all “i sit in my room and watch Netflix tho??”, he was like “... that’s why it’s hilarious” and tbh yes, but not in a funny way, in more of a dAMN IT way

fuck blending? it makes no difference? hence me accepting my femininity, bc... screw everyone else, I’ll do what the fuck I want 

but yeah. that’s the latest.

also, in slapping him, i felt his stubble and that was not the one.

berate me freely, go forth...

#the student diaries #fuckboy supreme #goodnight #finndamrron #franklyineedcoffee #i thought it'd be easier to say it in one go

[tinycl0ud]

Do you have any tips on running a Studygram? I'm thinking of starting one but there are already so many Studygrams, I don't know if me making one will make an impact :(

hi anon! i’m not the best or biggest studygrammer out there but I’m flattered you decided to ask me :> i think it really depends on what you mean by making an ‘impact’, so before you start a studygram you rly gotta ask yourself what you hope to get out of it. do you want to gain followers? do you want a visual record of your study journey towards some major exam (like ‘A’ levels)? do you want to make friends online and feel like you’re part of a tight-knit and supportive social circle? do you want people to admire your lettering/ bujo? do you want to post photos of stationery? do you want to get extrinsic motivation in the form of encouraging comments and likes? there are tons of reasons why people start studygrams, not all of them healthy, but rly it’s your life so u can do what u want but u have to be honest with yourself and be prepared for the consequences. 

ok sO I SAID THAT ON MY STUDYBLR I WILL BE 100% REAL SO IMMA DO SOME REAL TALK AND IT MAY BE OFFENSIVE BC SOME THINGS OFTEN REMAIN UNSPOKEN BUT rly if u know me this is how i am 24/7 and if you disagree we can have a civil conversation about it later on. also i’m very sweary so you have all been warned.

if you’ve asked anyone else they’re v likely to tell you ‘the study community welcomes all! just do you and post original content and over time your account will grow’. maybe it’s worked for some people, but idk man it feels like a stock answer and i don’t think it’s working for most people who are in it for the numbers because they later resort to other methods that i will address below.

so before you dive into it i just wanna say that i have seen so many people get discouraged and stop posting / lash out at others because they did not get the popularity they wanted. they didn’t reach their ‘milestone’, an imaginary construct, and then they leave the community silently, or they go off on a rant about how it’s ‘cliquey’ or ‘exclusive’ or how ‘big accounts don’t care about small accounts’. WHY MAKE YOURSELF SO UNHAPPY THO? honestly being numbers-oriented will never give you happiness because THE STUDY COMMUNITY IS ALREADY OVERSATURATED and not every account can eventually ‘make it big’. this is the reality of it. you can try to gain followers by buying them, spending an inordinate amount of time plying smaller accounts with compliments and likes in the hopes that they will follow you willingly, sfs, fff, etc, OR you can not play the numbers game and do it for yourself. post what you want because you’re proud of your notes or your bujo. talk about your day or an exam or a test you screwed up on because you want to look back on both your mini successes and failures and see how far you’ve come. i’d recommend that. and to add on to that here are a handful of more specific ‘do not’s.

1️⃣ don’t obsess over your ratio. what ratio? the ‘posts : followers : following’ ratio. it’s childish and arbitrary. idk how having a 4:10k:70 ratio is supposed to make you a better person or a better student, but people really do that shit. like wtf. they delete/archive their posts and follow only big accounts (who MUST be mutuals) just to maintain that ratio. it’s ridiculous. and idk how someone can have the time to do all that AND get good grades. achieving the golden ratio at the expense of your own future is not worth it ya so fk that.

2️⃣ don’t obsess over making an ’aesthetic’ feed. i know this is really ironic coming from me bc my feed is just about as constructed and artificial as it gets. but that’s what i’m in it for, and my grades don’t suffer for it. also i want to add that i’m here to make something beautiful for myself, not to fit the prevailing ‘white’ aesthetic. i’ve seen so many people apologise for an ‘ugly’ post or an ‘ugly’ feed and honestly it makes me a little sad because what exactly are they comparing their photos to? real paper isn’t white. paper in natural lighting has a yellow tint to it. muji notebooks have yellowish paper. even white bedsheets don’t always come out white in photos. no one has good lighting 24/7. and honestly idgaf about a ‘clean’ feed which more often than not refers to White Everything which is not only unrealistic but Boring with a capital B. maybe your posts won’t get as many likes as you want it to because of the dim lighting or non-branded stationery or your ‘unaesthetic’ ink-blotted desk that isn’t strewn with potpourri. but if you’re thinking along those lines then you’re already doing it for the numbers, y’know what i mean? fk the numbers! do it for art! do it for yourself! art doesn’t need validation to be art! also from personal experience, the prettiest most artistic accounts are often highly underrated. to quote a friend, ‘people relate to mediocrity’. if you try to copy the big accounts because you want to have that kind of popularity, your feed will look boring and generic and lacklustre, like a knockoff version of theirs. except you don’t have the numbers either. so what does that make your account but the ghost of another person’s? just be yourself and post your own shit it’s better in the long run.

3️⃣ don’t apologise for ‘not posting enough’ or whatever. it’s your account and honestly you don’t owe it to anyone to post anything, esp if you don’t have the time or energy bc of exams or impt life events. also i honestly don’t think anyone cares if you don’t post for more than a week?? tbvh no one really cares or notice???? if posting becomes an obligation then why even run a studygram??? isn’t it supposed to be a fun and relaxing hobby? if you’re posting because you’re not gaining followers or impressions and you don’t even like the post that much so you’re gonna delete it later, WHAT IS THE POINT? pls refer to point 2.

4️⃣ don’t ask for sfs / fff. it may work with some of the nicer, more numbers-oriented people, but from what i know most big accounts really cannot stand it when some random upstart comments / dms asking for a shoutout or for a follow or for them to ‘check out their page’. you will be labelled thirsty or attention-seeking, and they may or may not mock you on their private accounts. it’s just really irritating? like why even create a study account if you’re just trying to play the numbers game? are your grades really going to improve if you can ‘reach’ 1k followers? i have never done sfs / fff bc it just feels dishonest to me. if i shoutout someone it’s bc i think their content is underrated and deserves more attention, not bc i want their followers to follow me in exchange for my followers following them. it’s just so…transactional and dehumanising? i don’t think followers should be treated like mere statistics and i prefer having genuine friendships.

5️⃣ don’t do the ‘follow for a followback and then unfollow’ thing and all of its variations, e.g. ‘follow and then unfollow if you don’t get a followback’, ‘leave a dozen comments hoping for a follow that you won’t reciprocate’, ‘leave a dozen comments hoping for a follow first bc u don’t want to follow without a guaranteed followback’, or the worst: ’calling people out for unfollowing you when you never followed them back because you’re obsessed with maintaining your golden ratio’. it’s unsavoury and off-putting and everyone can see right through it.

6️⃣ don’t post a coloured-out screenshot of your latest post on your story informing people of your new post and asking them to ‘check it out’ or ‘show it some love’ when we all know it means ‘pls like my latest post bc numbers matter to me’. maybe it works if you have a big account bc even if it’s only 0.5% of your viewers who will purposely tap on your profile and like your latest post, that 0.5% is a lot of people which translates to a lot more likes. but if you’re a small account it just looks like you’re imitating the big accounts and being thirsty for followers and likes. it’s not classy. to put it colloquially, damn despo lah don’t liddat can.

#anon #advice #real talk #studygram #answered